The Italian's Love-Child. Emma DarcyЧитать онлайн книгу.
felt his strongly embittered sense of having been cheated of years with Matt and kept her mouth shut. This was not something she could argue against. Yet a revulsion against the ruthlessness she saw in him forced her to ask, ‘Were you thinking of getting me pregnant when you carried me off to bed?’
‘No.’ He sliced her a sardonic little smile. ‘I just wanted you, Skye. So much that protection didn’t enter my head. And it didn’t enter yours, either.’ He paused before softly adding, ‘What do you think that says about our need for each other?’
She didn’t answer.
Luc called out to Matt, bringing him back in line with them, taking his hand—a hand that was readily given, unlike hers. Skye wondered if Luc would stoop to seriously playing Matt as a persuasive force in getting her to accept his proposal of marriage. Or was he simply counting on her own vulnerability to a connection with him?
She couldn’t block out the powerful attraction he exerted on her, yet marriage was something else entirely. No way was she going to rush into a decision. Six years was a huge gap to bridge and she was far too conscious of the murky waters that flowed all around them, making a foundation on which to build seem very rocky.
They proceeded to a harbourside restaurant where Luc had booked a table out on the open terrace so they could watch the colourful passing parade of people and the boats in the water—lots of boats on show this weekend, reminding Skye of how she had first met Luc and his brother.
It was at the end of her second year of university and she’d got a casual summer job in the supply shop at the big Cronulla marina. The Peretti family had owned a huge waterfront home nearby in those days. Probably still did. She and her mother had moved from the adjoining suburb of Caringbah after her stepfather had deserted them.
But that summer, the Peretti brothers had sailed every weekend. She had met Roberto first, serving him in the shop. He’d flirted with her and she’d thought him a rather gorgeous playboy until Luc had appeared, completely knocking out the attraction of his younger brother. It wasn’t so much he was better looking, more that he somehow made Roberto seem lightweight in comparison, instantly relegated to the sidelines.
He still had that power.
Skye glanced around the men seated at other tables, the men walking by…all of them paled in comparison to Luc. He commanded attention, compelled attention, and she knew she was in a hopeless position, trying to hold him at a distance when he was intent on reclaiming her.
After lunch they strolled down to the playground area where Luc directed that he and Skye sit on a grassy bank, watching how brave Matt was at using the slippery dip by himself. Encouraged to show off, Matt was only too eager to demonstrate to his father how capable he was of using all the playground equipment, which neatly took him out of earshot.
Skye resigned herself to another private conversation with Luc, knowing there was no ultimate way of avoiding it. One way or another, he’d make the opportunity. Besides, her nerves were so on edge waiting for it, she might as well get it over with. They sat side by side, their knees hitched up, arms resting on them, no doubt looking very relaxed together to Matt, and at least Luc made no move to get closer.
‘Let’s discuss marriage,’ he started without any preamble.
Skye plucked a blade of grass and began slowly shredding it as she struggled to put her thoughts into some kind of sensible framework.
‘You’ve had time to think about it,’ Luc pressed.
‘I don’t know the man you are now,’ Skye said truthfully, keeping her focus on the strips of grass.
‘You want more time.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you are considering it.’
The satisfaction in his voice stirred rebellion against the pressure he was laying on her. ‘There’s a hell of a lot to consider, Luc.’
He came straight back with, ‘Tell me what’s on your mind.’
More pressure.
She slanted him a curious look. ‘Have you run the idea of marrying me past your parents, Luc?’
‘I didn’t discuss it with them, no. I told them flatly that they either accept you as my wife or lose me. And having just lost one son, I don’t think they’ll be inclined to buck my ultimatum.’
It shocked her speechless. She stared at him, stunned by the starkly drawn stand he had made, the sheer ruthlessness of his planning, and the assumption that they would marry, all laid out as though it was already decided.
‘When…’ Her mouth had gone so dry she had to work some moisture in it before managing to choke out the question skating through her dazed mind. ‘When did you tell them?’
‘After I faced my father with your accusation that he’d paid for an abortion,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘And the whole truth of what had happened six years ago was finally disclosed.’
Not this past week…much, much before…after coming face to face with her and Matt for the first time. He’d decided then! Was it to spite his father for keeping all knowledge of Matt from him—a vengeful act on his whole family for having sabotaged his right to choose whatever woman he wanted in his life?
‘Your parents won’t want me as your wife,’ she stated with utter certainty.
A hard relentless pride looked back at her. ‘They don’t have a choice.’
‘I do, Luc,’ she pointedly reminded him.
‘They will accept you, Skye. They have too much to lose if they don’t.’
‘I don’t want to be involved in your fight with them. I don’t want Matt to be a pawn in your game. He’ll feel it. He’ll know he’s not what they want. You can’t force approval from people when they don’t feel it inside.’
‘This is no game, Skye. Believe me, I’m deadly serious.’
Deadly was right, she thought.
‘My parents will love Matt. Unreservedly,’ he pushed on, laying out cogent arguments. ‘He’s their only grandchild and the only one they’ll have if you don’t marry me. Roberto is dead and his marriage produced no children. The whole future of the Peretti family is now narrowed down to our son.’ His smile held a dark wealth of satisfaction as he added, ‘That makes Matt very precious to them.’
A convulsive little shiver ran down Skye’s spine. ‘Don’t put that weight on me. Or Matt,’ she cried. ‘It’s not fair!’
‘I think it balances the scales very nicely. You should feel it does, too, Skye.’
She shook her head. ‘You’re taking advantage of your brother’s death. For all the wrong he did to me and to you, it doesn’t make this right. Nothing can make this right.’ It was incredibly painful to say it but she truly felt the alternative would cause even more pain. ‘You should marry someone else…leave Matt and me out of it.’
‘But I won’t, Skye.’ In a soft, insidiously invasive voice that curled around her heart, demanding entry, he added, ‘You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved…or will love.’
She jerked her head away, frightened of showing how deeply it touched her when she hadn’t realised herself how much it would mean.
He must have interpreted it as a negative reaction. With barely a pause he spoke in a much harder tone, determined possession underlining every word.
‘And Matt is my son.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘THEY’RE grading all the kids for the soccer teams tomorrow,’ Matt announced on the way home from Darling Harbour. ‘Can you come, Daddy?’
‘Your father has other things to do tomorrow,’ Skye