His benign boredom evaporated in a tide of aggression as he rose, neared her. “Handle it? As in an abortion? Or maybe have the baby then put it up for adoption?”
His most sensitive issue.
How dared he think her capable of either course of action!
“If I’m pregnant,” she seethed. “I’ll have the baby and love it for the rest of my life. You needn’t concern yourself.”
His scowl was spectacular. “You know nothing about me, do you? No child of mine is growing up a bastard.”
“That’s an antiquated view!” she cried out. “Millions of single moms raise children alone.”
His lips curled. “Save your opinion about the advantages of single motherhood until you’ve been one. And then you shouldn’t speak for your child. Would you, who had the benefit of two loving parents, deprive your child of the same security? Would you, a princess in a conservative kingdom steeped in family values, brave being an unmarried mother? Or would you leave Castaldini to be one, all so that you can have the last word? So you won’t have to submit to me? So you can spite me?”
She flinched as his voice rose on the last words, his sudden move bringing her arm up in an instinctive blocking gesture.
She lowered it at once, praying he hadn’t noticed her action.
But he noticed everything.
He looked at her as if she had dealt him a crippling blow.
He at last rasped, “Dio santo, you thought…you thought I was going to…hit you?” She looked determinedly away. “Clarissa! Look at me. Did you think I would? Don’t you know that I’d sooner cut off both my arms than lay a hand on you in anything but passion?”
“Anger is a passion,” she mumbled.
“No, anger is a weakness,” he snapped. “Venting it in physical abuse is a crime. I never give in to the first, will never be guilty of the second. But I’m certain someone’s hit you before. Who was it? I demand to know who the sick wretch is.”
She escaped his seeking hands. “Leave me alone, Ferruccio.”
He caught her back. “I will never leave you alone. And you will tell me who scarred you to the point that you cringed at my sudden move, expecting a blow. This hasn’t happened once before, it has happened repeatedly. You’ve come to expect violence to be the only way someone would express their displeasure.”
“Let me go, damn you.”
“I won’t let you go until you tell me who did this to you.”
“So you’re physically restraining me to make me bow to your will? And you think you’re any better than the person who hit me? Both of you use physical force to vent your frustrations and impose your warped will.”
He let her go abruptly, and she felt as if she’d lost all anchors. His grip hadn’t even been uncomfortable. It had been possessive but not coercive, filled with a power that had told her it would be used on her behalf, would never be turned against her.
“Fine, don’t tell me,” he gritted. “It’s easy for me to figure out who it is. You haven’t had any relationships with men, so it couldn’t have been a stranger. It has to be a family member. And it could only be one. Your father.”
“No.”
“Yes. Who else could get away with abusing you? Your brothers wouldn’t have. I know them. I’m going to take him apart.”
“Ferruccio, stop it. You’re not coming near him.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t give him a taste of his own medicine, even if compared to me he’s as helpless as the child you were when he abused you. I can deliver hits that will hurt far more than kicks and blows. I will dethrone that twisted bastard and exile him. He’ll never have the privilege of coming near you again!”
“You’re wrong, he…didn’t…” She felt she’d faint again.
“Don’t defend him, Clarissa, or my punishment of him will only be harsher, last far longer.”
“You just want to punish him, but not for me, for yourself.”
He went still. “What do you mean by that?”
“You think he’s the reason you remained unacknowledged by your family, and you’re using me as an excuse to hurt him as you imagine he’s hurt you.”
He cracked a harsh laugh. “I couldn’t care less about the acknowledgement of my so-called family. The two D’Agostinos who’ve become a part of my life haven’t done so through the ties of blood—which I think are grossly overrated—but through mutual respect, through clicking on fundamental levels, through being able to like and count on one another. As for the rest of the extensive D’Agostino clan, I care nothing for their opinion of me, or their existence in this world one way or another. In fact, I think if those people had had any presence in my life, they would have only hindered me. I believe that by hiding me from them, your father has actually protected me from their interference and negative influences. So not having the ‘acknowledgement of my family’ certainly won’t be why I’ll punish him. I’ll punish him for you, and only for you.”
She grabbed his arm, shook him. “You won’t come near him, do you hear? Or…or you’ll never come near me again!”
He bared his teeth. “He abused you—”
“He didn’t! He protected me!”
“From whom? Who could have had such access to you, a princess, that your father, the king, had to protect you from them?”
And she wailed, “It was my mother.”
This shocked him so much she felt his whole body stiffen as if against a brutal blow, saw his face seize with horror and confusion. “How? Dio…why?”
She shook her head dejectedly. “Just leave it be, Ferruccio.”
“You didn’t ‘leave it be’ when you woke me from my nightmare. You wanted to know, to help. You think I can do anything less?”
“As you said, it’s in the past. It has been for twenty years.”
“And it’s clearer than ever in your memory. Having been ‘experienced through the impressionability and exaggeration of a child’s psyche.’”
She grimaced. “You have total recall, don’t you?”
His lips compressed. “You should know by now that I can’t be distracted when I’m bent on something. Tell me.”
“You didn’t really tell me anything. Why should I tell you?”
“I’ll tell you everything down to the last detail you can possibly stomach. All you have to do is ask. Now start talking.”