The Italian's Wife

by Lynne Graham

  protective barrier had said, coolly unimpressed, not even trying to hide

  her suspicion that Holly was simply trying to get her accommodation

  upgraded. 'If you don't return to the lodgings we arranged for you, you

  will be deemed to have made yourself intentionally homeless. I advise

  you to think long and hard before you make that mistake, as you have a

  young child to consider. I'll inform your social worker that you're

  having problems-'

  'No...please don't do that,' Holly had begged, in terror of what such an

  interview might mean where Timmie was concerned. Her baby might be taken

  away from her and put into care. The last social worker she had spoken

  to had started out sympathetic but had lost patience when Holly refused

  to name the father of her child. But Jeff had said that if she dared to

  tell anyone that he was Timmie's dad he would make her sorry that she

  had ever been born...

  Well, she was sorry enough herself about that fact, Holly conceded

  miserably. She had devastated the parents who loved her by giving birth

  to a baby outside marriage. When she had finally admitted that she was

  pregnant her father had cried. As long as Holly lived she knew she would

  never, ever forget the sight of her father crying...or her own sick

  sense of guilt and bitter shame.

  Her eyes swimming with tears at that painful recollection, and lost as

  she was in her own thoughts, Holly did not even notice that she was

  approaching a junction. Staring blankly ahead of her, accustomed to the

  noisy flow of traffic down the main road as a background, she was

  equally unaware of the lights of a car coming from her right.

  The sudden steep drop of the pavement down onto the

  road took her by surprise and sent the overladen buggy lurching

  off-balance. As she made a frantic effort to right it, the scream of car

  tyres striving to brake to a halt alerted her to the danger that she and

  Timmie were in. In the split-second at her disposal Holly thrust

  Timmie's buggy away from her with all her might in the desperate hope

  that it would carry him out of the car's path to safety. But her own

  shaken attempt to make it back up onto the pavement was doomed as her

  heels hit the kerb and she lost her footing. Falling backwards, she felt

  a sickening explosion of pain at the base of her skull and then

  blackness folded in and she knew no more.

  Rio Lombardi leapt out of the limousine. 'Did we hit her?' he demanded.

  'No!' Ezio, who could move at the speed of light when required, was

  already retrieving the buggy and drawing it back from the other side of

  the road to a safer resting place.

  'I didn't hit her... saw her; I was already slowing down. But she walked

  out into the road without looking and just fell over!' Rio's chauffeur

  exclaimed over the top of the driver's door, his attention lodged in

  horror on the still figure lying in the path of the headlights.

  'Call an ambulance...a private one from the foundation hospital; it'll

  be faster,' Rio instructed harshly, his tone of command pronounced to

  steady his companions.

  He crouched down on the road and lifted a limp wrist to feel for a

  pulse, drawing in a slow deep breath of relief when he found what he

  sought. Although her skin felt frighteningly cold to his touch, she was

  alive. 'She's not dead...' Springing upright again, he peeled off his

  suit jacket and bent down to carefully drape it over her, surveying the

  face of the unconscious victim for the first time. 'Dio mio...she's

  little more than a child!'

  A very pretty child too, Rio found himself conceding,

  14

  scanning that delicate bone-structure and the mass of bronze-coloured

  ringlets rioting round her small head, their vibrant colour only serving

  to accentuate her pallor. 'What is she doing out with a baby at this

  hour? Did you see what she did for the baby? She was ready to sacrifice

  her own life to give it a chance-'

  'She's probably its mother, boss,' Ezio suggested, lowering his mobile

  phone, having made the requested call for immediate medical attendance

  at the scene. It's depressing, but kids are giving birth to kids all the

  time these days.'

  Rio found himself strangely reluctant to accept that opinion. After a

  second, lengthier appraisal, he was prepared to concede that the girl

  could possibly be seventeen or eighteen years old. But she looked so

  innocent and untouched, and he had already noticed that she wore no

  rings. Ezio stooped to retrieve his employer's jacket.

  'What are you doing?' Rio demanded.

  'I got your overcoat from the car, boss. It'll keep her warmer. There's

  no point you catching pneumonia.' Ezio had to pitch his voice higher to

  be heard above the noisy sobs now emanating from the depths of the

  covers heaped on the buggy.

  'I'm OK. I wish we could risk moving her into the limo.

  Giovanni...you're a family man; comfort the child,' Rio urged his other

  bodyguard as he accepted the overcoat from Ezio but chose to lay it

  gently over the top of his suit jacket to provide an extra layer of

  warmth for the girl. 'She's frozen through.'

  'Timmie...?' Her head pounding fit to burst, Holly surfaced and with a

  heroic effort raised her head, reacting to the sound of her son's cries.

  Not a pain cry though, only an anxious cry, she recognised in instant

  relief. 'My baby?'

  Rio gazed down into huge anxious eyes as disconcertingly blue as a

  Tuscan midsummer sky. 'Your baby's fine. Lie still. An ambulance is on

  its way-'

  'I can't go to hospital...I've got Timmie to take care of!' Initially

  bemused by that deep dark drawl with its unexpected liquid foreign

  accent larding every syllable, Holly was startled when the man dropped

  down on a level with her and pressed on her shoulder to prevent her from

  lifting herself higher.

  Mouth running dry, she stared up at him just as he turned his arrogant

  dark head away, presenting her with his bold profile and the impossibly

  smooth, proud lines of a high cheekbone to address someone else out of

  her view. 'Have you contacted the police yet?'

  'No police...please,' Holly broke in shakily. 'Are you the bloke that

  was in the car?'

  In silent response, he turned back to nod in confirmation, regarding her

  with dramatic dark golden eyes which could have turned a saint into a

  sinner overnight.

  Shaken by that abstracted thought, Holly said, 'We don't need the police

  or an ambulance. I'm all right. I tripped and knocked myself out for a

  second...that's all-'

  'Have you any family... a boyfriend I can contact on your behalf?' he

  prompted, very much as if she hadn't spoken.

  Even though it hurt, she turned her head away in self-protection. 'Nobody.'

  "There's got to be somebody. A friend, a relative, surely?' he persisted.

  'Well, maybe you're coming down with them but I've got nobody,' she

  muttered in a voice that wobbled in spite of all her efforts to control it.

  Rio studied her in frustration. She wasn't a Londoner. She had a

  pronounced country brogue with rounded vowel so
unds but he could not

  place it, although he had a vague recollection of once hearing an

  exaggerated version of a

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  similar accent in a stage comedy. First things first, he reminded

  himself. 'What age are you?'

  'Twenty. I don't want the police...do you hear me?' Fear made her

  strident and she began to sit up in spite of the sick whirling sensation

  that engulfed her the moment she moved. If she went into hospital, the

  police would call in the authorities to take charge of Timmie and he

  would be put in a foster home.

  When she swayed backwards, Rio shot a supportive arm round her narrow

  spine. 'You must have medical attention. I promise you that you will not

  be parted from your child.'

  'How? How can you promise that?' she gasped.

  The ambulance pulled in, all flashing lights and efficiency, and the

  paramedics took over, forcing him into retreat.

  'Timmie!' Holly exclaimed in panic as she was moved onto the stretcher.

  Rio strode forward. 'I'll follow you to the hospital with him-'

  Holly realised that he was asking her to trust him with her son. 'I

  don't know you-'

  'But we know him.' For some reason, the paramedic who had spoken

  chuckled with decided amusement. 'Don't worry, love. Your kid will be

  safe as houses with this gentleman.'

  Exhausted by the effort she had expended, and trembling, Holly mumbled

  her agreement.

  As the ambulance drove off Ezio passed his employer his jacket and said,

  'We've got the name and address of a witness and we should make a

  statement to the police just to be on the safe side.'

  'Per meraviglia...' Somewhat bemused at the offer he had found himself

  making to placate the girl's fear on her child's behalf, Rio strode over

  to stare down into the buggy.

  In the nest of bedding and beneath the bobble-topped woolly hat, all

  that could be seen was a pair of big, scared blue eyes full of tearful

  anxiety and a tiny upturned pink nose. 'You see to the statement. I'll

  take...Timmie the timid to the hospital-'

  'I could take care of that and the statement,' the older man pointed out

  quietly. 'You haven't slept more than a hour since you left New York.'

  Nor had he been planning to sleep for what remained of the night, Rio

  recalled, his strong jawline clenching hard as he registered that he had

  contrived to momentarily forget the climax of his unannounced visit to

  Christabel. Closing his mind to that grim awareness, he stooped to

  remove the baby from its concealing layers of bedding. Timmie emerged

  rigid as a stick of rock, if possible his fearful eyes growing even

  larger to encompass the tall, dark, powerful man cradling him with

  surprising dexterity.

  'I'm a push-over for babies...especially scared ones.' Climbing into the

  limo, Rio watched as the rest of the baby's possessions were piled in,

  including the two worn carrier bags, one of which spilled over and let a

  feeding bottle roll out.

  Timmie let out a squeal and stretched out a hopeful hand in the

  direction of the bottle, little feet kicking with eagerness.

  'You're hungry...OK.' Rio rooted through the bags and discovered a

  packet of baby rusks but nothing of a liquid persuasion. Timmie wasn't

  picky. He had no manners either. He snatched at the rusk and lodged his

  two tiny front teeth into it, got them stuck and then let out a mournful

  wail.

  Rio was kept fully occupied all the way to the hospital. He discovered

  that affectionately dandling one of his friend's babies while a fond

  mother hovered within reach

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  to take care of all the necessities was a far different affair from

  actually trying to handle a real live squirming and complaining baby all

  on his own. With the aid of a glass tumbler and a bottle of mineral

  water from the built-in bar, however, he managed to quench Timmie's

  thirst-but not without soaking Timmie and himself into the bargain.

  He emerged from the limo at the entrance to the hospital looking

  something less than his usual sartorially splendid self, with rusk

  crumbs scattered all over him and clinging to the damp patches. He was

  also for the first time feeling the effects of too little sleep on top

  of a severe attack of jet lag.

  Ezio attempted to relieve his employer of his baby burden but Timmie

  wasn't impressed and lodged two frantic hands in Rio's hair and screamed

  in naked panic.

  'If you don't smile at him, he doesn't like you,' Rio shared wearily,

  rearranging Timmie in a somewhat unconventional drape over one broad

  shoulder, where the baby hung like a limp but relaxed sack, one large

  masculine hand pinned to his spine. 'He's a real little bag of nerves.'

  Greeted like visiting royalty by the receptionist, Rio was ushered into

  his friend's comfortable private office to wait and a nurse arrived at

  speed to remove Timmie.

  'He needs to be fed...and other things,' Rio warned, wincing as Timmie

  tried to cling to his protector and then bawled blue murder at being

  detached from him. The high note of fear he could hear in the baby's cry

  was traumatic to listen to, Rio reflected, riven with discomfiture at

  the child's distress.

  It was an hour before John Coulter, the senior physician at the

  hospital, came to join him and report back on his most recent patient.

  'I think you just saved a life tonight, Rio,' the older man announced in

  his usual cheerful manner. 'That young woman is suffering from the early

  stages of hypothermia. Falling in front of your car was the best thing

  that could've happened to her. She and that child might have been dead

  by morning-'

  'I noticed she had no coat on, but presumably she would've made it home

  before hypothermia got a grip on her,' Rio slotted in, his tone one of

  casual dismissal.

  'But she was planning to spend the night walking round the

  streets...she's homeless, didn't you realise that?'

  Rio frowned in surprise.

  'I'll have to call in the duty social worker. I'll feel a heel doing it,

  though,' Dr Coulter confided ruefully. 'She's terrified that her baby

  will be put in care, and even though that is very unlikely, as Social

  Services work to keep mother and child together, I wasn't able to

  convince her of that.'

  'How are they?'

  "The baby's in fine fettle. But the mother's another matter... skin and

  bone, needs feeding up and looking after, but there's no sign of drug or

  alcohol abuse, which is something in her favour. That accent

  too...deepest Somerset,' the older man remarked with a wry smile.

  'Somerset?'

  'Cider with Rosie and all that,' John Coulter quipped, referring to the

  classic book set in a rural area. 'Although, come to think of it, that

  wasn't Somerset. I think it's based on Gloucestershire-'

  'John,' Rio groaned. 'Never mind the book.'

  The older man sighed. 'Holly's a country girl and hasn't a clue how to

  go on in a city like London. I imagine that's why she's in such a fix-'

  'Holly? That's her name? Can I see her?'

  'This is your hospita
l-'

  20

  'It belongs to the Lombardi Foundation, not to me personally,' Rio said

  drily.

  Holly lay in her comfortable bed, scanning the elegant and luxurious

  layout of her private room and feeling as though she had dreamt it all

  up. But no, Timmie lay just feet away in the cot that had been provided.

  The kindly nurse had rustled up a proper feed for him, changed him and

  tucked him in. Her son was asleep now, snug and secure with a full

  tummy. Her eyes prickled with weak tears of shame over her own

  inadequacy. Timmie had a right to be snug and secure all the time.

  The obvious solution to their predicament had been staring her in the

  face for many weeks now but she had been too much of a coward to

  confront it. She was not scared of social workers but she was scared of

  being made to look head-on at her own failings when set next to Timmie's

  needs. Timmie had to come first. She had been horribly selfish. What

  kind of mother love put a baby on the streets in the middle of the

  night? She was twenty years old, and she might have left school early

  but she was not stupid. She knew right from wrong and she was finally

  accepting that all along her mother had known exactly what she was

  talking about...

  'If you give the baby up for adoption you can come home to us

  afterwards,' her mother had promised with red-rimmed eyes full of strain