by Penny Jordan
‘Your brothers! Bah! The three of you cling together, speaking with one voice, when it is to me, your father, that you owe your loyalty.’
‘It is not loyalty that binds the three of us together, Father. It is our mutual love for one another. And as for our loyalty, there we have followed your example. Our loyalty is given to the Leopardi name, not those who carry it.’
Rocco watched as something that might have been vulnerability flickered across his father’s face, quickly replaced by anger.
‘With every word you say you show how much you are the son of your mother,’ the Prince told Rocco with contempt. ‘I came here to see what could be salvaged from the folly of this marriage, and was fully prepared to pay this Englishwoman to leave. But now I shall leave you to suffer the consequences of your own making.’
‘As all men must,’ Rocco agreed calmly, then ignored his father to speak to his attendant. ‘My father treats you very unfairly, Aldo. I know it is through no fault of yours that Dr Vittorio’s instructions have been ignored. If you will take my father back to the castle, I shall speak to Dr Vittorio and ask him to call there and see my father as soon as he can. Father, Aldo will take you home now.’
Rocco could see expressions of fury, bafflement and confusion crossing his father’s face at Rocco’s refusal to engage in an acrimonious exchange of words with him.
‘I know you will be disappointed that it has not been possible to find this child Antonio said existed, but maybe it is for the best,’ Rocco told his father, exhaling before acknowledging that Julie had already had a very profound effect upon him, even if she herself didn’t know it. Why else, after all, would he be standing here like this, considering his father’s feelings, and actually feeling pity for him where once he would have only felt bitterness and loathing.
‘Aldo, take me back to the car,’ the Prince ordered his attendant.
Silently Rocco walked alongside the wheelchair as he escorted his father out to his waiting car.
Before Aldo activated the electric ramp that would lift the chair into place in the specially adapted car, Rocco placed his hands on his father’s shoulders and bent to kiss him, first on one cheek and then the other. Not as a supplicant, or even as a survivor, but for the first time as a victor who knew that his victory was unchallengable and who could afford to be generous because of that knowledge.
It was Julie who had given him that gift.
Julie.
As the car pulled away Rocco looked up towards the second- floor windows.
Maria was waiting for him in the hall.
‘I have something I need to discuss with my wife,’ he told her crisply. ‘And I do not wish to be disturbed by anyone for any reason.’
When he crossed the hallway a second time he was carrying an ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
Maria smiled happily to herself. A house like the villa needed a big family to fill it—many bambini—and, unless she was very wrong, the first of them wouldn’t be very long in the creating. She must have a word with her daughter. She was just the right age to train up as a nursery nurse…
‘I think there’s something you need to tell me.’
How calm Rocco sounded as he carefully placed the champagne bucket down on a small table next to the bedroom armchair along with two glasses.
Julie felt sick with despair. She had known that he was bound to demand an explanation for what he had obviously overheard.
‘I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn and…and offended your father.’ Her voice was stiff with the need to protect herself, and she wasn’t going to risk looking at him.
‘To hell with my father. He isn’t what matters right now. Neither is he what I’m talking about, and you know it.’
‘No, I don’t.’
She was almost stammering now, her heart hammering as she wondered wildly just how much Rocco might have overheard.
Rocco counted inwardly to ten. They could play this game all day long, but right now it was the end result he needed and wanted, not the playing of it. He turned his back on Julie, busying himself with opening the bottle of champagne and pouring two glasses, handing her one as he sought an eloquent way to seek an answer to the question that burned in his heart.
Finally he asked baldly, ‘You told my father that you love me, but you told me that you still love James. Which is the truth?’
Dared she tell him? Dared she not? Julie took a quick gulp of her champagne, half gasping under the influence of the bubbles. Rocco was looking at her in the most extraordinary way, with the most wonderful expression in his eyes. As though…as though his gaze was somehow caressing and reassuring her—or was that simply the effect of the champagne? If so… Recklessly Julie took another deep gulp. Now she felt positively light-headed, free of all her doubts and her inhibitions, suddenly overwhelmingly proud of her love for him.
‘The truth is…’
‘The truth is…?’ Rocco prompted.
Julie looked wildly towards the nursery door. This was one occasion on which she would actually be grateful if Josh did wake up without finishing his nap. But her nephew seemed to be more inclined to support his new father than her, because he remained soundly asleep.
‘The truth?’ Rocco repeated.
‘I love you,’ Julie told him shakily. ‘I didn’t mean to, and I certainly didn’t want to, but I do.’
The champagne glass was removed from her hand with such speed that she barely had time to blink before she was in Rocco’s arms and he was demanding against her lips, ‘Tell me that again.’
She tried to frame the words, but how could she when Rocco was licking and nibbling at her lips? He was teasing them with the stroke of his tongue, tormenting her to the point where the only sound she was capable of making was a long moan of hungry need followed by a soft sound of pleasure when Rocco answered the need and kissed her with all the passion and love she had so longed for.
* * *
Later, lying together naked in bed, their bodies sated and the air around them soft with the echo of their mutually given pledges of love for one anther, Julie traced the arrogant line of Rocco’s jaw, laughing when he took hold of her hand and pressed a fiercely possessive kiss into her palm.
‘There’s still some champagne left,’ he told her.
Julie laughed and went slightly pink. She had protested at first when he had poured some of the champagne onto her skin, kissing her and tasting her through it, but she hadn’t protested for very long.
‘If we have a daughter we are not going to call her Cristal,’ Julie warned him.
Rocco grinned, the sensuality of the way he was looking at her making her heart turn over with joy and love.
‘If we have a daughter I shall no doubt feel compelled to lock any man who offers her champagne in my father’s dungeons.’
‘I thought we might name her after your mother.’
They looked at one another.
‘You really think…just now…we…?’ Rocco asked tenderly.
Julie nodded her head. ‘Yes,’ she told him simply. ‘After the way you loved me, it just isn’t possible that we haven’t created a new life. It was so magical, Rocco, so powerful and wonderful, and I love you so very much.’
‘You tugged on my heartstrings the first time I saw you, do you know that?’
‘What? Looking like a drowned rat?’
‘A drowned rat with the heart of a lioness and the spirit of a dove. My one and only love, my heart,’ Rocco told her softly, and he took her in his arms and kissed her.
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
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First published in Great Britain 2009
Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
© Penny Jordan 2009
ISBN: 978-1-408-90947-8
