The Sicilian's Banished Bride Page 18

  ‘Where are you going?’ he finally jerked out when she grasped the door handle.

  She stopped but didn’t turn around. ‘I’ve lived in fear for over three years. You can live with not knowing how this is going to turn out. See how you like it.’

  * * *

  He was in hell. Not just any hell. The special kind of hell reserved for bastardi like him who believed they could control the outcome of any event. He’d known the moment Allegra approached him with that cat-with-cream look on her face that his sin was coming home to roost.

  He’d lied to the woman he’d never forgotten, the woman who owned his heart. All so he could hang onto her for much longer than he deserved. Just so he could try this contentment on for size when all along he’d known it was much more? That he simply couldn’t live without her because he was nothing without her.

  The next hour passed in excruciating torture, each second feeling like his last.

  Rocco wanted to honour her wish to stay away, but what if each moment put her farther out of his reach? He’d never been one to sit and wait for things to come to him.

  So, he wasn’t surprised when his feet propelled him out of the door.

  She was sitting with her back against the wall next to the lift, her head bowed. Rocco froze in place as she slowly lifted her head and speared him with eyes filled with pain and censure.

  ‘You handled this badly, Rocco. So very badly.’

  ‘Sì, I know.’

  Tears filmed her stunning green eyes and he wanted to claw his own heart out. ‘You hurt me. So much.’

  Regret and fear shook through him. He swallowed both down. Everything was on the line. And now, more than ever, he needed to play to win. Deciding to risk it, he strode to her, scooped her up in his arms and returned to the suite.

  And when she jerked herself out of his hold, he set her free. ‘I swear on my life that I will never hurt you again.’

  She shook her head, placing the length of the living room between them. ‘I don’t want that sort of promise. You can’t guarantee that if you don’t trust me.’

  ‘I can and I do. Even at that first meeting in London, things Alessandro had said and done niggled at me. I didn’t want to believe it. But on the plane when you asked me to believe you about the blueprints, I knew you were innocent of this too. But...we’d been barely been married for a day. We were so new. And what I felt for you overwhelmed me. All of this is no excuse, amante. But all I ask is that you give me chance to make things right.’

  She brushed at a tear, and he felt it to his soul.

  Dio mio, what had he done?

  ‘How?’

  ‘Whatever hoops you choose, I will jump through them. All I ask is that you don’t leave me.’

  ‘What if that’s exactly what I want?’

  He locked his knees to stop from reaching for her. ‘Is that what you want? Truly?’

  She didn’t reply. But he spotted her fingers caressing her ring. Wild hope flared in his chest.

  ‘What I want is...impossible.’

  He shook his head. ‘Nothing is impossible. Name it, amore. Speak the words and it will be yours.’

  Her lips firmed for a long moment. ‘I can’t,’ she whispered.

  ‘Then let me speak them for you. You want to be loved—ti amo tanto. You deserve to be adored—you are my heart itself. I had no blueprint for love, mio prezioso. Not until you spread your love all over me and showed me just how sublime it could be. Even then, I remained blind. But I’m not blind any more, Mia. I might fail sometimes, but I will never fail at loving you.’

  ‘Oh, Rocco.’ Her voice broke, and, sì, he was un bastardo, because it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

  Unable to stand the distance between them, he crossed the room and reclaimed her. To his eternal gratitude, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  They kissed long and hard and desperately, until she broke free. ‘I’m going to hold you to that promise. You know that, don’t you?’ she whispered.

  ‘I would expect nothing less, amore mio.’

  Then, simply because he believed he would expire if he didn’t kiss her again, he did.

  But again, she broke free. He groaned, laid his forehead against hers, and just rejoiced in having her. His wife. His heart. In his arms.

  ‘Shall we go and find our son?’

  Rocco shook his head. ‘Not until I’ve shown his mother just how much I love her.’

  Her smile was wide, stunning enough to snatch the breath from his lungs. ‘I’m not going to stop you.’

  He swung her into his arms and strode for the master suite. As he walked across the threshold, she laid her hand over his heart. ‘Rocco?’

  ‘Yes, my heart?’

  ‘Just so we’re even... I love you too.’

  EPILOGUE

  Five years later

  THE CLICK OF the camera’s shutter roused Mia from a drowsy sun-drenched nap. Even before she opened her eyes, her lips were twitching with a reluctant smile.

  ‘I should start charging you royalties for all these pictures you keep taking of me.’

  Her teasing admonishing didn’t detract her husband one iota. The moment she opened her eyes, he zoomed in, taking another lightning-fast series of pictures.

  Only when he was satisfied did he lower the high-powered camera. ‘Name your price and I will gladly pay it, amore,’ he murmured, his avid gaze trailing adoringly from her unfettered hair, make-up-free face, and down her body to her belly, where Mia knew he would linger for hours if she permitted him.

  At nearly eight months pregnant with their third child, she had very little inclination to do much besides laze about waiting for their baby’s arrival. A situation Rocco took full advantage of, memorialising each moment of their summer break, including this private beach picnic at their Palermo villa.

  He leaned down, dropped a kiss on her forehead, then traced a few more down to the corner of her mouth. There he paused, his gaze intense as he whispered, ‘Call me primitive if you will, but I find you even more beautiful like this, with our child growing healthy and content, inside you.’ His voice had grown steadily gruff and the kiss that followed lingered until she reluctantly pulled away, glancing over his shoulder towards the beach.

  ‘Keep going and you’ll scandalise the children.’

  Rocco grimaced, then followed her gaze to where eight-year-old Gianni was patiently showing his three-year-old sister, Luciana, how to build a sandcastle. ‘I will contain myself, for the bambinis’ sake,’ he grumbled.

  Mia laughed. As if on cue, both children looked up and grinned. And, of course, Rocco raised his camera and snapped several photos.

  She sighed in contentment, resting her hand on her belly as she mused in wonder over the last five years.

  Save for a few bumps in the road, marriage to Rocco so far had been beyond blissful. The only trying period had been when Allegra’s engagement had hit the rocks and she’d decided to sell Vitelli secrets to a tabloid magazine, fabricating a story about Mia’s alleged clashes with her late husband causing her being disowned by the Vitellis.

  Rocco, adamant about protecting Mia’s honour, had given a TV interview, setting the record straight. And, before the whole world, had issued a heartfelt apology to Mia.

  She hadn’t even known she needed that last selfless act until Rocco had offered it, making their bond even stronger.

  Her smile widened when Rocco rested his hand over hers, love blazing from his eyes when their baby kicked in response.

  ‘No more pictures, please. Just sit with me,’ she said.

  He raised their linked hands and kissed her fingers. ‘Anything for you, il mio cuore.’

  Perhaps it was the hormones. Or perhaps it was the sheer happiness that often felt too big to be contained in her heart, but Mia felt tears prickle her eyes. ‘Y
ou did it, Rocco.’

  He glanced at her, one brow rising in the sexy, arrogant way that stole her breath. ‘Did what?’

  ‘You’ve kept your promise. Every day you make me feel worthy. That I matter. That our children matter. You’ve made us the centre of your world, and I adore you for it.’

  He inhaled, heavily and shakily, his eyes growing suspiciously misty as he smiled down at her. ‘I vowed to you that I would, did I not? I intend to keep that promise. In this life and in the next. Because, you see, it’s quite simple, amore mio. You are my everything.’

  * * *

  Unable to put The Sicilian’s Banished Bride down?

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  The Forbidden Cabrera Brother

  by Cathy Williams

  CHAPTER ONE

  SOMETHING, DANTE THOUGHT as he nursed his whisky and stared out at the floodlit manicured gardens that comprised the grounds of his Spanish estate, wasn’t making sense.

  Behind him he could hear the muffled sound of voices and laughter—all those people, from dignitaries to old family friends, who had gathered to welcome Alejandro, his older brother by four years, and his fiancée.

  It was a star-studded event, even though it had been arranged at fairly short notice. Such was the long arm of the Cabrera family’s influence that an invitation from them—especially, Dante recognised, one that would be hosted at his own sprawling mansion—pretty much guaranteed attendance.

  Intricate lanterns twinkled up the long winding private avenue that led to his house. Behind him, on a warm summer night, the bank of French doors at the back of his house had been flung open wide to a vision of exactly what extreme wealth could get. The serving staff on high alert for empty glasses, the blaze of yet more lanterns adorning the strategically placed trees and illuminating the still splendour of his infinity pool, the massive ice sculpture of a couple, which his mother had insisted on having. And, of course, the very elegant, barely noticeable and extremely expensive trio of violinists providing subtle background music. Here, in this setting, the women in their high-designer elegance and the men, formally dressed, were birds of paradise at home in a setting with which they were largely familiar.

  His parents, naturally, were bristling with excitement at meeting a woman who, as far as they were concerned, was roughly five years overdue. Tradition was tradition and, as the eldest in the family and now in his mid-thirties, Alejandro should have been duly wed and well on the way to producing an heir or two to the throne.

  The vast fortunes tied up with the Cabrera name needed to be kept in the family and Roberto and Isabella Cabrera had been making noises about grandchildren for some time now. How else could the family lineage remain intact if both their sons decided that playing the field was a far better option than settling down to the rigours of domestic life?

  Dante was as keen as his parents were for Alejandro to get married and have kids because if he didn’t, then it wouldn’t be long before their parents began looking to Dante to do his duty in that area and he most certainly wasn’t up for that.

  So when Alejandro had phoned three weeks ago with the happy tidings that he was engaged, it had been champagne all round, a suitably lavish engagement party hastily arranged and expectations running high.

  One small snag, though, was the fiancée.

  Where the hell was she?

  Shouldn’t the loving couple have arrived together? Holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes with undisguised adoration? It wasn’t as though they had been dating for years and had had time to settle into the comfortable routine of taking one another for granted. Oh, no, the fiancée had been produced like a white rabbit from a magician’s hat, so young love should still be fresh enough for the woman to have accompanied Alejandro to the opulent engagement party happening inside.

  Except, she hadn’t and—Dante glanced at his watch before swallowing the remainder of the whisky—it was a mere two hours before the elaborate buffet was set out and the speeches began. Half an acre of lawn had been meticulously roped off so that tables could be laid out with no small detail spared, from the linen cloths to the magnificent arrangements of red roses, as befitting a couple in love. The seating was casual because it was a party, and yet it still managed to feel incredibly formal in its opulence.

  He wondered whether the mysterious bride-to-be would deign to make an appearance in time or whether his brother would have to mumble his apologies while the guests tucked into finest prepared rib of roast suckling pig in the absence of his fiancée. Certainly, Alejandro was strangely phlegmatic about the woman’s appalling lack of manners. Maybe he had become a little too accustomed to the behaviour of a high-maintenance woman who felt that drama was some kind of selling point. Dante wryly thought that he had encountered a few of those himself.

  He was about to turn away and head back into the sitting room, where champagne and canapés would be in full flow, when something caught his eye. In the twilight gloom, he glimpsed movement up the winding tree-lined private avenue that led to the courtyard in front of the house.

  Standing still, he squinted and there it was again, a movement barely glimpsed between the trees.

  He dumped his glass on the broad concrete ledge, straightened up and headed down the sweeping arc of stone steps that descended gracefully towards the open courtyard and then out towards the drive.

  * * *

  Caitlin could barely see. Up ahead, the lawns and a mansion of unseemly proportions were illuminated by the sort of floodlit extravaganza that could be seen from space. Here, as she half ran up the tree-lined avenue leading to the house, the path dipped in and out of the shadows. Any minute now and her already nightmarish trip would be compounded by an even more nightmarish ending, which would involve her tripping over something, breaking her ankle and having to be carried ignominiously into the house on a makeshift stretcher.

  Everything had gone wrong, starting with her mother sobbing down the end of the phone just as she was supposed to be leaving for the airport, and ending with the taxi, booked by Alejandro to fetch her from the airport and deliver her to her own engagement party, for heaven’s sake, getting a flat tyre just when she didn’t need it.

  Now, three hours late, she’d decided that creeping into the house and at least having the option of getting ready somewhere private was far the more sensible choice, rather than the screech of a taxi alerting everyone to her lateness.

  She shuddered at the thought of all those assembled guests piling out of the front door to witness her dishevelled appearance. In his understated way, Alejandro had warned her that it was going to be something of a bash—which, in Alejandro-speak, meant that there would be ten thousand people there, all waiting for her arrival.

  As luck would have it, Alejandro was, as always, nowhere near his mobile phone and her quiet entry through a side door somewhere was disappearing with each reluctant step forward. She’d tried calling him a dozen times and every single time it had gone to voicemail and she was fed up of leaving increasingly despairing messages.

  They were supposed to be in love! In the real world, he would be hanging on the end of the line, worried sick about where she was!

  Caitlin thought of him and couldn’t help but smile b
ecause that was just Alejandro. He would have dumped his phone on a random table somewhere and would have to be reminded that she still hadn’t arrived, which was something of a big deal because the engagement party his parents had arranged had been for both of them.

  Not for the first time, she felt a twinge of intense discomfort at this story they had concocted. Back in London, it had seemed almost inevitable because it had satisfied so many disparate concerns, but here...

  She stopped in her tracks to catch her breath and gazed at the mansion towering ahead of her, ablaze with lights. The courtyard was massive, as big as a football field, and it was crammed with high-end cars of every description. They were parked at haphazard angles but, when she squinted, she could make out two men in uniform and she guessed that they would be in charge of parking so that any of the luxury cars could be moved at the snap of a finger. She shivered with apprehension.

  This was reality now. They weren’t in London any longer. They weren’t sharing their sob stories over a bottle of wine. A plan had been made and she had temporarily turned a blind eye to the fact that plans made in one country appeared completely different when viewed in another.

  Posing as Alejandro’s fiancée had been the answer to both their problems and, in London, that solution had seemed a logical conclusion.

  But here...

  With the sounds of summer insects around her and the grandeur of a sprawling house reminding her that this was where a simple game was always going to lead...

  Her heart raced and she half looked over her shoulder with an instinctive urge to run away.

  About to speed-dial Alejandro for the umpteenth time, she was only aware of a man stepping out of the shadows when he was practically on top of her and she didn’t stop to think before taking action. It had been drummed into her by her parents the minute she decided to leave Ireland for the streets of London that it didn’t pay to trust anyone. London, they had intoned worriedly, was a dangerous place. Accordingly, Caitlin had learned the basics of self-defence and now those ten lessons at the local town hall once a week coalesced into a blood-curdling shriek as she swung her holdall at the looming figure, striking a direct hit against his shoulder.