Escape for Easter: The Brunelli Baby Bargain / The Italian Boss's Secret Child / The Midwife's Miracle Baby. Trish MoreyЧитать онлайн книгу.
appeared to have been lit in the stone hearths of all the rooms.
She thought about her sister-in-law going from room to room to inspect the preparations for their important guests and she shook her head. It made her smile to imagine their amazement when they discovered that she was one of those guests. Though it would be nothing to their amazement when they discovered she was married!
She bent over one of the vases and inhaled the heady fragrance, then heaved a deep sigh before straightening her shoulders. Her emotions had never felt this close to the surface.
When she re-entered the kitchen Cesare was standing in the exact spot he had been when she ran out. His expression was inscrutable but the air around him vibrated with tension.
Sam said the first thing that came into her head. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
His lips twitched, but to her relief some of the tension in the air receded, making it easier to breathe.
He leaned back against the counter and stood there, his arms folded across his chest. ‘Why not?’ He gave a shrug and added quietly, ‘I am not proud of what I did, you know.’
‘I wonder if there’s milk?’ Then she stopped, bit her lip and fixed him with a wide candid stare. ‘It was a vile thing to do, but I suppose you didn’t have to tell me and that at least is something.’
Cesare stopped himself asking if it was enough as he watched Sam open the fridge.
Her eyes opened wide as she saw the contents. There wasn’t just milk and basics, it was an Aladdin’s cave. There was just about every luxury item of food you could imagine plus several bottles of champagne. She lifted one out, looked at the label and whistled before putting it back and taking out a carton of milk.
‘It’s a pity I’m not allowed alcohol.’
‘I will keep you company with the orange juice.’
Sam closed the door. ‘You don’t have to,’ she said, wishing she didn’t have to love him so utterly and totally. ‘Why did you tell me?’
‘I didn’t want to start this marriage with a lie, but I forgot that the truth, cara, is not always better.’ In fact the truth could be highly overrated.
‘Of course the truth is better!’ she exclaimed.
‘The truth, Samantha, is that you married me because you were desperate and I was your meal ticket.’
The pragmatic description caused the hot colour to rush to her cheeks. ‘You think that?’ How could a man as bright as him not know she loved him?
His dark brows lifted. ‘I’m hardly in a position to criticise, Samantha.’
No, but he did just think she was a variation on an avaricious gold-digger. She heaved a silent sigh. Maybe that was actually better than him knowing the truth. ‘You think I married you for your money?’
And wasn’t he right?
But nothing as Sam knew to her cost, was as simple as it looked.
Since the moment when she had seen the look upon Cesare’s face as she had described their unborn child to him it had been an uphill struggle to continue to think of Cesare as the two-dimensional, cold, ruthless despot with a chip on his shoulder she had origninally labelled him.
He was a far more complex man, a fascinating man of strong passions whose worst sins were not loving her and his willingness to do anything for his unborn child.
‘I think you saddled yourself with a blind husband because you want the best for your child. You’re the last woman in the world I’d accuse of being avaricious, Samantha.’
‘You could have told me before the wedding,’ she pointed out.
‘I’m not that much of a reformed character, Samantha.’
‘Are your parents together?’
He shook his head. ‘My father walked out when I was ten, my mother remarried a few years later and I moved out when I was sixteen. Family is something I never had.’
Sam could read the hurt and loneliness behind the bald facts he outlined and, while she didn’t forgive what he had done, she could understand what had driven him to do it. His determination to get married made even more sense now, but the fact that this marriage had always been about the baby made her sad and happy at the same time.
In a perfect world, even in this world for some lucky ones, a loving husband and a father willing to do anything for his child would not be mutually exclusive.
But in her world it was, so she’d better get used to it. She could have him but not his heart. She closed her eyes, not wanting to even think about what it would feel like if he gave that heart to another woman one day.
That was her nightmare.
‘Well, you have one now, so don’t blow it,’ she advised him. ‘And remember you’re on probation so any time you feel any Machiavellian impulses take a shower.’
‘I don’t deserve you,’ he said with more humility than she ever imagined to see him display.
‘Hold that thought,’ she said, putting the milk back into the fridge.
‘We will celebrate together with champagne after the baby is born.’
She turned her head and was startled to find he was standing at her elbow, close enough for her to smell the clean male scent of his body. A stab of sexual longing knifed through her body, snatching the breath from her lungs with its intensity.
‘It is a big thing you have done, Samantha.’
‘Well, I want this marriage to work too. I had the things you missed out on, Cesare. I had a great childhood and I’d like that for my baby.’ She sucked in a deep breath and pushed her hair back from her face.
‘I could make something to eat if you like—steak and salad…?’ Without waiting for his response she added quickly, ‘I don’t know about you but I’m starving so I’ll just go change out of these things.’ She flashed a quick smile in his general direction and left the room.
Outside the room she leaned against the door…and closed her eyes. So far she was handling herself with all the skill of a dancer with two left feet—and both of those seemed to be permanently in her mouth. She had been within a heartbeat of blurting out that the only reason she had forgiven him was because she loved him!
Upstairs in the largest of the bedrooms she found the clothes that Cesare had promised laid out in neat piles on the big four-poster bed.
What she needed, she told herself, was a coping strategy.
But what?
With a sigh she stepped out of her dress and, after folding it carefully and placing it on the bed, walked to the big mullioned window that gave a view of the loch.
She had absolutely no idea how long she stood there lost in thought. It was only when she began to shiver with cold—the basque she wore was not really intended for wearing in the Scottish Highlands—that she realised the moon was out and shining its silvery light over the surface of the water far below. With a sigh she began to pull the heavy brocade curtains across the window.
‘Leave that.’
Sam, who hadn’t heard him come into the room, started at the sound of Cesare’s voice. She turned and saw his tall figure framed in the doorway, a towel knotted around his middle and his jet hair dripping wet.
Her breath quickened as her covetous gaze slid over the perfect definition of his broad chest before sliding lower to his flat belly. She ran her tongue across her dry lips as her heart rate quickened.
‘I thought you were downstairs.’ She was startled to realise she had been gone long enough for him to shower.
His shoulders lifted. ‘As you see, I am not.’
‘You