Convenient Brides: The Italian's Convenient Wife / His Inconvenient Wife / His Convenient Proposal. Catherine Spencer

      They could make a baby, and his conscience cared that he was taking such a risk. But his body belonged to her, and he could no more reclaim it than he could count the grains of sand beneath his feet. She possessed him without mercy, and when he came in a hot, shuddering burst, she clamped her legs more tightly around him and milked him of every last drop of seed.

      Spent, he buckled at the knees, and taking her with him, sprawled on the beach in a tangle of limbs. Sand trickled over them, cool, impersonal, nonjudgmental. But he could not so easily exonerate himself.

      Stroking the hair back from her face, he said, “You realize I could have impregnated you? That we could already have placed our marriage in jeopardy?”

      “Because of a baby?” Her eyes stared back at him unfocused, still glazed with the residue of passion. “How could an innocent baby possibly do that?”

      “By placing an impossible strain on all of us. Already, we are stand-in parents to two children in need of security. They should not have to compete with a third who is our own blood child.”

      Her gaze flickered, slid away from his.“ They wouldn’t have to, if we made them feel just as loved,” she said, feverishly attempting to restore order to her clothing—a hopeless task where her underwear was concerned, but she seemed determined to try to repair it. Seemed determined to do anything, however hopeless, rather than acknowledge his very real concerns.

      Catching her hands, he forced them to be still. “Look at me, Caroline, and stop trying to fix something as insignificant as a pair of cotton underpants, when we have bigger problems facing us. You say we’d love our niece and nephew as much as a child of our own, but how can you guarantee that would be the case? Think of it, cara! A baby you carried in your womb for nine months which, once it was born, would demand all your attention. How could you possibly divide yourself fairly among three, when your heart truly belonged to only one?”

      “How could I not?” she whispered, her eyes swimming in sudden, inexplicable tears. “Gina and Clemente are my own…sister’s children.”

      He could have kicked himself. Vanessa’s death was never far from her thoughts, and all he’d accomplished by airing his concerns was remind her of her recent loss. “Forgive me,” he said contritely. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, nor do I blame you for my carelessness.”

      “You should,” she replied, her mouth trembling uncontrollably. “I’m the one who insisted we make love.”

      Smiling despite himself, he said, “In case you haven’t noticed, cara mia, no woman can seduce a man unless he’s willing! Protecting you from an unplanned pregnancy is my responsibility, and I let you down.”

      “Well, you’re probably worrying for nothing,” she said, pulling herself together a little. “It’s the wrong time of the month for me to conceive.”

      “But we can’t rely on that as a foolproof method of contraception,” he pointed out gently.

      “What are you suggesting, then? That if I’m pregnant, I sneak back to Rome and find a back-street abortionist?”

      “Dio, no!” he exclaimed, shocked almost speechless. “Caroline, tesoro, I would never permit you to have an abortion. All I’m saying is that, in view of what happened between us this afternoon, making a formal announcement of our engagement has become that much more imperative. Should it turn out that you are, in fact, pregnant, a wedding arranged to take place quickly would eliminate any suggestion that we married for the sake of an unborn child. It’s the least we can do for the twins, to let them be assured they’re not an afterthought in the arrangement.”

      Subdued, and seeming still too embarrassed to look him in the face, she sifted sand between her fingers and mumbled, “Oh…yes…I see your point.”

      “Then we’re agreed. We’ll move forward without delay. Will two weeks give you enough time to prepare?”

      “More than enough,” she said, at last meeting his gaze. “We’re in mourning, Paolo. A big wedding would be inappropriate.”

      “It doesn’t have to be a grand affair, to be memorable. But if I have my way, this will be your only shot at being a bride, and you deserve something more than a brief ceremony crammed in between the many other things we have to do in order to set up house together. One thing at a time, however.” He climbed to his feet, put his own clothing to rights, then extended a hand to her. “Comealong, my love. Let’s return to the house and prepare for an eventful evening ahead. Wedding details can wait until after we’ve broken the news to the family.”

      “Engaged?”

      Paolo’s announcement, delivered during the cocktail hour, brought the entire room to a standstill. Lidia’s mouth fell open and she clasped her hands at her breast, a ray of pure joy lighting her face for the first time since the funerals. The children merely looked mystified, but were sufficiently impressed by the sudden electricity charging the atmosphere to stop bickering over the puzzle they were working on, and slink closer to each other on the sofa.

      Poor lambs, Callie thought, watching them. They’d learned at far too young an age that life could deal some vicious blows on the innocent, and were obviously afraid another was in the offing.

      Salvatore, however, the only one who’d responded verbally to the news, and not very agreeably at that, said again, with more emphasis this time, as if Paolo had spoken in foreign tongues, “Engaged? To Caroline?”

      “That’s right,” Paolo said. “I proposed to her, and she accepted. Congratulate me, Father.”

      Salvatore scowled and favored her with a look loaded with such suspicion that Callie halfexpected him to accuse her of entrapment. “When did all this take place?”

      “Several days ago.”

      “And you wait until now, to spring the news on us?”

      “Caroline needed some time to decide if she wanted me for a husband.” Paolo smiled at her over the rim of his aperitif glass. “I’m very happy to say that, after due consideration, she decided she does.”

      Clemente spoke up, his brow furrowed in confusion. “How can you and Zia Caroline get married? Uncles shouldn’t marry aunts.”

      “Especially not in this case,” his grandfather muttered in an aside.

      Shooting his father a quelling glare, Paolo explained, “They can if they’re not related to one another, Clemente.”

      “I don’t understand how.”

      “Well, when you’re grown up, you and Gina might be aunt and uncle to each other’s children, but you could never marry her because she’s your sister and you’re her brother.”

      Clemente digested that information quickly enough. “I wouldn’t marry her even if I could,” he declared. “She’s too bossy!”

      Ignoring him, Gina appealed to Paolo, her little face anxious. “Does that mean you’re going to live in America with her, Zio?”

      “No. We plan to live in Rome, quite near your old house.”

      “Oh, this is wonderful!” Lidia exclaimed, setting down her vermouth and embracing first Callie, then Paolo. “The best news in the world! When is the wedding to be?”

      “As soon as you and Caroline can put one together,” he said. “Preferably within the next two or three weeks.”

      “So soon? Paolo, a wedding takes time to arrange.”

      “Not this one,” Callie interjected. “We want something small and private.”

      “What’s the big rush?” Salvatore asked, his radar still obviously on high alert. “We are a family in mourning.”

      “Which is exactly why we want to keep the fuss to a minimum.” Paolo turned to the twins. “But there’s