The Italian's Love-Child. Emma DarcyЧитать онлайн книгу.
need to fight against any pressure racing through her mind.
‘I bet all the other fathers will be there,’ Matt grumbled.
Luc’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. Skye’s heart sank. She knew what Luc was thinking—robbed of five years of fatherhood and still being blocked from taking part in his son’s life. It violated his sense of justice and threw Skye into confusion over what was fair and what wasn’t.
Was she being selfish, limiting his access to Matt? Did she have to protect them both from the Peretti family when Luc had placed himself so unequivocally beside them, prepared to ward off any harmful interference in their lives?
‘It’s not until four o’clock,’ Matt informed, his voice brightening with the hope the late time might make a difference. ‘You can have all day to do other things.’
Skye closed her eyes despairingly. It wasn’t Luc using Matt to pressure her into doing what he wanted. Their son was doing a good job of it all by himself. She heard Luc’s swift intake of breath hissing between his teeth. He was hating this, and God help her, she hated it, too. It wasn’t how it should be for Matt.
Luc spoke, determinedly testing her resistance to the idea. ‘Perhaps I could come by the soccer park…’
Words left hanging for her to pick up on, words carefully strained of any forceful persuasion, words that begged this concession from her.
And she heard herself say, ‘Matt would like that.’
Luc’s relief was palpable.
The thin edge of the wedge, Skye thought, but it was difficult to regret it, listening to Matt’s bubbling pleasure in the possibility his father would come to watch him.
Not possibility.
Certainty.
Skye had no doubt about that. Luc confirmed it before he left that evening, pausing on the front porch to thank her for stretching their agreement and thankfully not pressing her for anything else.
Though his eyes did. His eyes bored into hers, intent on smashing every barrier between them. She knew he wouldn’t be content until there were no limitations on their relationship. But she wasn’t sure what was the driving force behind the burning intent.
Love…possession…revenge?
All of them powerful feelings.
Long into the night Skye lay awake, feeling her own way through Luc’s current conflict with his parents. He’d thrown down the gauntlet to them—lose him or accept her as his wife and Matt as his son. He expected to win the challenge, but would he?
The method used to separate them last time had been an extreme act, demonstrating the depth of his family’s opposition to a relationship which didn’t fit into their world. To Skye’s mind, their grief over losing their younger son, was highly unlikely to change their attitude towards her. They would want Luc to fulfil their plans for him even more now—their one son left to uphold all they stood for.
Luc thought Matt would be a swaying factor—their one grandchild—but Skye doubted her son had the power to pull them into acceptance. The trust fund proved how much they would pay to keep the unwanted by-blow out of their lives. He wasn’t wanted any more than she was.
They probably saw Luc’s reaction to Roberto’s deathbed confession as a rebellion against having been manipulated into giving up a woman he’d wanted—shock at discovering he had a child. His knowledge might stay their hand from any further interference with her life or Matt’s, but there would surely be mounting pressure on Luc to drop them from his life.
It could become a very bitter battle.
Luc had spoken of his parents losing but Skye couldn’t see them rolling over to oblige what might be considered as only wounded pride on his part. Yet it wasn’t pride she felt pulsing from him when he was with her and Matt. It was need. And it kept stirring need in her, as well. Even more unsettling… need in Matt.
Where would it all end?
Roberto’s deathbed revelations had set in motion a train of action she had no way of stopping. Luc was the engine driver and she and Matt were captive passengers. All she could hope for was they didn’t crash against an immovable force which would break them apart with worse wounds to carry into the future.
Eventually Skye fell into a fretful sleep. She was wakened the next morning by an overexcited Matt who declared he was going to practice playing soccer all day. No prizes for working out why, Skye thought wryly. ‘Daddy’ featured in practically everything he said.
Luc was already at the playing field when they arrived. Matt, of course, had spotted the red Ferrari in the parking lot, so there was absolutely no sense of disappointment to suffer through. The only suffering was done by Skye, continually torn by Luc’s and Matt’s pleasure in each other and the fear that she had made a big mistake in not enforcing the limits she had imposed on their relationship.
Yet could the damage be limited, if damage there was going to be? Did time limits mean anything when emotions were involved—emotions that were probably heightened because there wasn’t constant contact. Wasn’t it said, absence made the heart grow fonder?
Watching Matt adoring his father for the caring interest and the soccer advice Luc was giving him as they watched other boys play their games, Skye could barely contain surges of heightened emotion herself. It was all too easy to fall in love with Luc Peretti. Hard experience could bolster her will to fight her feelings, but Matt didn’t know how, wouldn’t understand why there was any necessity to shield himself from possible hurt. She found herself violently thinking she would kill Luc if he ever let Matt down.
There were a hundred and sixty five-year-olds to be graded into teams. Short games were organised for the coaches to view and judge levels of talent. When Matt’s rostered game came up, he ran onto the field with eager anticipation, determined to show how good he was at running after and kicking the soccer ball.
Luc grinned at her as they were left standing on the sidelines. ‘Keen, isn’t he?’
‘Very,’ she dryly agreed. And to stop Luc from assuming too much from the relaxation of rules today, she added, ‘Once they start playing in earnest the soccer matches will be on Saturday.’
His day.
The grin faded into an ironic little smile. ‘My Sundays are not full of other things, Skye. I’d much prefer to spend them with you.’
‘That would be cutting yourself off from the life you’ve led these past six years,’ she said, trying desperately for a matter-of-fact tone.
‘I’m far more interested in a life with you and Matt,’ he returned without the slightest hesitation for second thoughts.
Her eyes begged him to be honest. ‘We don’t belong in your world, Luc.’
‘Are you saying I must give up everything else to have you and Matt?’
Her heart skipped at the intense purpose he loaded into his question. Would he do it? But surely he would regret it if he did, regret it and blame her for forcing such a decision in years to come.
She sucked in a quick breath and answered, ‘No. I’m just saying we’re prisoners of our different backgrounds and it’s foolish not to recognise that reality.’
His mouth quirked into a mocking smile. ‘You’d be surprised how little my background means to me. You hit the nail on the head in calling it a prison—an oppressive prison I wish to be free of.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not how you’re acting, Luc. The bonds are very tight. You’re pressuring your parents to accept us and they won’t.’
‘I’m simply giving them the chance, Skye.’
‘You’re using force.’
‘No. Just telling them I’ve made my choice. Whether