Unfinished Business with the Duke

by Heidi Rice

  ‘Because I was petrified,’ he murmured. ‘I didn’t want to need you and then have you figure out you’d made a mistake.’

  Stepping out from the desk, she wrapped her arms round his waist, laid her head on his chest. And the last of the chill burned away as his hands settled on her shoulders.

  ‘You were right, Issy. I’ve let what they did control my life. I’m not doing that any more.’ His lips brushed her hair. ‘Give me another chance. I know you probably don’t love me any more, but…’

  ‘Gio, be quiet.’ She squeezed him and then looked up. Resting her hand on his cheek, she felt the rough stubble and saw the tired smudges under his eyes she hadn’t noticed before. ‘Love doesn’t work like that. I couldn’t stop loving you even when I wanted to. And believe me, I gave it a really good try.’

  The realisation that now she wouldn’t have to brought with it a surge of euphoria.

  ‘I’ll give you another chance,’ she said, knowing all her hopes and dreams were written on her face, ‘as long as you promise not to shut me out ever again.’

  ‘You’ve got your promise,’ he said, kissing her. But then he pulled back, framed her face, his eyes shadowed. ‘Wait a minute—don’t you want me to say I love you back?’

  She almost laughed at the look of bewilderment on his face. ‘When you’re able to do that, that will be lovely.’ And she knew he would be able to one day—once he’d become completely secure in the knowledge that she meant everything she said. ‘And my romantic heart will cherish the moment. But in the end they’re just words, Gio. What really matters is how you feel. And whether you want to be with me and make a commitment that matters.’

  Ten years ago she would have demanded he say the words. But she wasn’t going to pressure him into it now. He’d come such a long way already.

  ‘That’s really noble of you, Issy,’ he said, the amusement in his eyes puzzling her. ‘But it may surprise you to know I’m not that much of a coward. Not any more.’

  ‘I know,’ she replied, not sure where this was leading. To her surprise, he took a step back and got down on one knee. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Be quiet and let me do this properly.’

  ‘But I told you, it’s not necessary.’

  ‘I know what you told me,’ he said, his lips quirking as he squeezed her hands tight. ‘And you probably even believe it at the moment. Because you’re sweet and generous and you never think anything through before you open your mouth.’

  ‘Gee, thanks,’ she said, pretty sure that wasn’t a compliment.

  ‘Stop pouting and let me say what I’ve got to say,’ he said, his voice sobering. ‘Maybe you don’t need to hear the words, but I sure as hell need to say them. I owe you this, Issy—for what I said to you ten years ago, and for the things I said a fortnight ago.’ He cleared his throat, took a deep breath. ‘So here goes.’ His eyes fixed on her face as excitement geysered up her chest and made her knees tremble.

  ‘Ti amo, Isadora Helligan. I love your sassy wit, the smell of your hair, the feel of your body next to mine when I wake up in the morning. I love that you are always ready to fight for what you think is right and you never back down. I love your passion for life and your spontaneity, and I especially love that drama queen tendency that makes you so damn easy to tease.’

  ‘Hey!’ she said, grinning like a fool.

  ‘But most of all, Issy,’ he continued, chuckling at her mock outrage, ‘I love your courage and your tenacity and your ability to always see the best in people, and that because of all those qualities you gave me all the chances I needed till I finally got it right.’

  She flung her arms around his shoulders, almost toppling him over. ‘I love you, Gio. So much I’m not even going to make you pay for that drama queen comment.’

  He laughed, standing up with her arms still wrapped around his neck. Holding onto her waist, he lifted her easily off the ground, then kissed her with the passion and purpose she adored.

  Setting her down at last, he held her face in his hand, brushed a thumb over the tears of joy rolling down her cheeks. ‘Don’t cry, Issy. This is where the fun starts.’

  She smiled up at him, her body quivering with need as his hand stroked under her T-shirt.

  ‘Is that a promise, Hamilton?’ she said, lifting a coquettish eyebrow.

  ‘Pay attention, Helligan,’ He hugged her close, his lips hovering above hers. ‘That’s not a promise, it’s a guarantee.’

  And then he proved it—in the most delicious way possible.

  EPILOGUE

  ‘I MAY have to hate you.’ Sophia smiled cheekily as she settled beside Issy on one of the comfortable upholstered chairs that had been set out among the olives groves. ‘How did you get your figure back so quickly?’

  Issy smiled, weary but blissfully happy. It had been a very long day—she and Gio had been woken up at three that morning by their baby son—but she wouldn’t have missed a moment of it. ‘Are you joking?’ she scoffed. ‘Haven’t you noticed? My boobs are the size of two small hot-air balloons!’

  Sophia laughed. ‘Hasn’t anyone ever told you? Here in Italy, big is beautiful.’

  Colour rose to Issy’s cheeks as she spotted Gio making his way towards them across the makeshift dance floor. The loose languid gait she adored made even more beguiling by the tiny baby perched on his shoulder.

  ‘Aha!’ Sophia said. ‘Someone has told you, I think.’

  Issy didn’t even attempt to hide the blush as her smile spread.

  ‘Someone may have mentioned it,’ she replied demurely, enjoying Sophia’s delighted giggle as she watched her husband being stopped and kissed by an elderly woman whose name she couldn’t remember. There had to be at least a hundred people gathered at the Lorenzo farm to celebrate their son’s birth—and even with her greatly improved skill in Italian she was struggling to keep all the names and faces and family connections straight.

  As she observed Gio, he took the baby off his shoulder to show him off to the cooing lady, and Issy’s grin grew. All the anxiety and confusion of their first visit a year ago had gone. Gio had been relaxed and completely comfortable today—and she suspected it was mostly their son’s doing.

  One more thing to thank little Marco Lorenzo Hamilton for, whose unexpected arrival had deepened and strengthened their relationship in ways she could never have imagined.

  To think she’d agonised for weeks about how to break the news to Gio when she’d fallen pregnant ten months before. Their relationship then had seemed so precious, and yet so vulnerable.

  Neither of them had spoken about children since that first early pregnancy scare, and, as much as Issy might have fantasised about having Gio’s baby, the abstract romantic dream had swiftly turned into a downward spiral of doubt and panic when that little pink plus sign had appeared in the window of the home pregnancy test.

  How would Gio respond to the prospect of becoming a father? How could she ask him to make more changes in his life when he’d already made so many? And how would they both cope with adding yet more pressure to an already difficult domestic situation?

  For, once the romance of that mutual declaration of love had worn off, they’d soon discovered that living together was a logistical nightmare. They both had homes they loved and careers they were passionate about in two different cities, hundreds of miles apart.

  To solve the problem Gio had insisted on buying a penthouse apartment in Islington, and flying between the two cities three or four times a week. But the long hours Issy put in at the theatre and the nights Gio was forced to spend in Italy meant that even with the exhausting commute they had hardly any quality time together.

  Which was how she had managed to get pregnant in the first place, Issy thought wryly, her face flushing as she recalled the many frantic and shockingly explosive encounters they’d snatched together, often in the most preposterous places. She still hadn’t quite worked out how she was going to tell her son, if he ever asked, that he had been conceived on
the stage of the Crown and Feathers’s Theatre Pub late one night after Gio had flown back unexpectedly from Florence and caught her as she locked up.

  In the end she would have waited a lot longer to tell Gio about the pregnancy than just a couple of weeks. She’d still been trying to second-guess his reaction and formulate a viable strategy when morning sickness had struck with a vengeance, exactly a month into her pregnancy.

  Gio had patted her back while she retched. Made her nibble some dry toast and sip peppermint tea and then insisted she sit down. He had something to tell her. To her total shock he’d announced that they were getting married. That he’d planned to wait until she told him about the baby, but that he couldn’t wait any longer. And that he knew the reason she hadn’t told him was because she thought he would make a terrible father, but it was way too damn late to worry about that now.

  Issy had promptly burst into tears, feeling miserably guilty and totally ecstatic and extremely hormonal—all at the same time. When she’d finally got over her crying jag she’d accepted his proposal, apologised for being such a ninny, and told him she’d never doubted his abilities as a father.

  She’d seen he didn’t believe her, and it had crucified her, but in the months that had followed the agonising guilt had faded as their relationship changed and developed in new and exciting ways.

  Their marriage had been immediate, at Gio’s insistence, and necessarily low-key, but still impossibly romantic to Issy’s mind. They’d said their vows together one wintry afternoon at Islington Town Hall, with only Issy’s mum, Edie, in attendance and had been thrown a surprise reception party by Maxi and the gang at the Crown and Feathers. The baby’s first ultrasound scan the day before had only added to the magic of the evening’s festivities. Issy had watched, dizzy with happiness, every time Gio whipped out the scan photo—which had looked to her very much like a picture of a large prawn—and showed it to anyone who stood still long enough.

  No longer prepared to commute, Gio had announced two days after the wedding that he was relocating his architectural practice to London. The announcement had caused their first major row as husband and wife—because Issy had refused point-blank to let Gio do such an idiotic thing, explaining that she was giving up her job at the theatre instead and moving to Florence.

  Gio had huffed and puffed, then cajoled and shouted, and eventually sulked for over a week. But Issy had got her way in the end—and enjoyed every minute of his irritation and anger and exasperation.

  Gio had been prepared to give up everything for her, and, even though she hadn’t been consciously aware of her doubts, when he’d blithely informed her he was moving to London those last nagging doubts about his commitment to their life together had disappeared.

  Once he’d informed her of his plans in that matter-of-fact way, and the more strenuously he’d tried to convince her it was the right thing to do, the more Issy had known it wasn’t. Her body was ripening more each day with their child, the weight of his ring on her finger made her feel content and secure, and she could see the enthusiasm and excitement on his face when he kissed her growing bump each morning and wished their baby buongiorno.

  The time was right to give up one dream and concentrate on another.

  The ease with which she’d handed over control of the theatre to Maxi and supervised the move to Florence had confirmed her decision. And then to top it all had been that heady rush of love when the Ferrari had pulled up outside her new home and Gio had insisted on carrying her over the threshold—even though she knew she weighed more than a small semi-detached house.

  They had begun an ever more exciting phase of their lives as they’d spent those last two months together waiting for the baby’s arrival. And she hadn’t had a single regret about what she’d left behind.

  Not that she had left it entirely behind. She’d kept in touch with Maxi and the gang, and she’d even found some voluntary work at a small children’s theatre in the Oltarno before she’d got too huge to move.

  But she was more than happy to put her career on hold for now, and enjoy the fruits of her labour. Watching Gio blossom into a warm, loving and ludicrously proud papa had been the sweet, gooey icing on a very large cake. The last of the barriers had dropped away, the last of his insecurities had disappeared. He hadn’t just given his whole heart to her and their son, but also to his huge extended family. And being there to witness his transformation had been so intoxicating Issy could feel tears stinging her eyes even now as she observed him chatting easily with the old woman he’d never met before today—as comfortable and relaxed in her company as if he’d known her for years.

  She sighed, contentment settling over her like a warm blanket. They both had a place to belong and a future so bright with exciting challenges it was hard not to want to rush to the next one.

  As Gio approached, having bade goodbye to his latest friend, Sophia bounced up and kissed him on both cheeks.

  ‘So, how is the proud father holding up?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m exhausted.’ He sent his cousin a quelling look. ‘Next time you and your father and my wife concoct one of these “little get-togethers” my son and I are going to demand full disclosure of the numbers involved.’

  Sophia gave an impish giggle. ‘Stop pretending you haven’t enjoyed showing off your bambino,’ she said, brushing her hand down the baby’s downy black curls. ‘I’ve never seen a man’s chest puff up so much.’

  The bambino in question gave a tired little cry and began to wriggle in Gio’s arms. Feeling the instinctive dragging sensation in her breasts, Issy knew what the problem was. She reached for her son. ‘How’s he holding up to being adored?’

  Gio lifted the baby off his shoulder, and kissed his son’s cheek before passing him over.

  ‘He’s been a superstar. He didn’t even grumble when Uncle Carlo lectured him about the intricacies of olive oil production and the importance of carrying on the family tradition.’

  Both women laughed.

  ‘Don’t panic, Gio,’ Sophia said. ‘My father has been giving that speech to every baby born in the last forty years. So far only Carmine’s son Donato has fallen for it.’

  Issy settled back into the chair and eased her breast out of the nursing bra. The baby latched on to the nipple like an Exocet missile and began sucking voraciously.

  Sophia patted the baby’s head. ‘I should find my own bambino, before Aldo comes looking for me.’ She leaned down to kiss Issy’s cheek, then gave Gio a hard hug. ‘If I don’t catch you later, we’ll see you next month for Gabriella’s first Holy Communion, yes?’

  Gio nodded. ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ he said, and meant it as he watched his cousin leave. Who would have thought that one day he’d actually be looking forward to these insane gatherings?

  He sat beside his wife and child, the feeling of pleasure and contentment and pride that had been building all day making his throat burn. Slinging his arm over the back of Issy’s chair, he played with the ends of her hair. Staring at his young son feasting on her lush breast in the gathering twilight he wondered, not for the first time in the last year, how the hell he had ever got so lucky.

  ‘Slow down, fella,’ he murmured as the baby’s cheeks flexed frantically. ‘Anyone would think you hadn’t been fed in months.’

  ‘Your uncle Carmine calls it the Italian appetite for life,’ Issy said, her throaty giggle sending heat arrowing down to Gio’s groin.

  He shifted in his seat to ease the pressure, and brushed the curtain of hair behind her ear so he could see her face. ‘That sounds like the sort of daft thing Carmine would say. What he means is, our son’s greedy.’

  Issy turned, her lips curving, and his heart thumped his chest wall. ‘Apparently it’s a Lorenzo family trait, though, so that’s okay,’ she said, laughing.

  Unable to resist a moment longer, Gio cupped her cheek and touched his lips to hers.

  He hadn’t meant to be too demanding, hadn’t meant to take the kiss any deeper, but
when she shuddered and her lips parted his tongue swept into her mouth of its own accord. His hand gripped her head as their mouths fused. He feasted on her, the hunger clawing at his gut like a wild thing.

  The little wiggle against his chest and the grumpy little wail had him springing back, so ashamed of himself he felt physically sick.

  ‘Issy, I’m sorry. I don’t know what the hell got into me.’

  Seeing the look of horror on Gio’s face, Issy didn’t know whether to laugh, or cry, or scream with frustration. It had been six weeks now since their son’s birth. And that brief moment had been their first proper kiss!

  ‘Why are you apologising?’ she said, deciding to go with exasperation as she noticed the large bulge in his loose-fitting suit trousers.

  She’d been ready and eager to resume their sex life for weeks now. And she’d seen Gio’s almost constant state of arousal recently, so she knew he had to be as frustrated as she was. Still, she’d waited patiently for him to tell her what the problem was. But he hadn’t. And her patience had finally run out.

  ‘I want to make love again,’ she said, annoyance sharpening her voice. ‘And I’m getting a bit tired of you pulling back every time we get intimate.’

  His eyebrows rose, and then he frowned. ‘I’m being considerate,’ he said tightly. ‘You’ve just given birth.’

  ‘I gave birth six weeks ago,’ she shot back. ‘And I was lucky enough not to need any stitches, so I’m completely healed.’

  He paled beneath his tan and winced.

  Lifting the now dozing Marco off her breast, Issy readjusted her clothing and placed the baby on her shoulder. She kept her eyes fixed on Gio.

  ‘What exactly is the problem?’ she said, her voice rising. ‘Are you squeamish about having sex with me because I’ve had a child? Because if that’s the—’

  ‘For God’s sake, Issy,’ he interrupted, his tone rising to match hers. ‘You know perfectly well that’s not true. I’ve been sporting erections Superman would have been proud of in the last month.’