Her Forgotten Lover's Heir

by Annie West

‘Temporarily. You’re a qualified teacher, specialising in early childhood. As one of the boys has learning difficulties, the parents were eager to get someone with your qualifications.’

  Molly frowned. ‘I gave up a teaching job for temporary work as an au pair?’ Apparently she hadn’t really registered that when he’d told her yesterday but she’d had a lot to take in.

  Pietro leaned back in his chair, fascinated by this insight into Molly’s thought processes. With her ready smile and easy going nature, when they’d first met he’d merely thought her ripe and ready for a temporary amorous adventure. It was only later he’d discovered Molly was far more complex and circumspect. Surprising, given what had happened between them. But here it was again, proof that she wasn’t as carefree as she had sometimes seemed.

  ‘You didn’t yet have a permanent teaching job. I believe you’d had several temporary positions. This was a chance to travel then return to look for something long-term.’

  Slowly she nodded and it struck him how hard it must be, learning about herself from someone else. It made him want to remove her anxiety as much as he could.

  ‘You’re wonderful with the children. Even when they’re tired and difficult.’

  Her smile made her glow, and it sent heat shafting straight to his groin. He imagined that smile in other circumstances. With Molly naked, her arms stretched out towards him.

  ‘And that day in your study?’

  Reluctantly Pietro dragged his thoughts back to the present.

  ‘There was a problem with the pool at the rental farmhouse and it couldn’t be used. My cousin begged me to let the children use mine, under strict supervision, a couple of hours a day.’

  ‘Let me guess—I was the supervisor?’

  ‘You were. Every day, often twice a day, you’d visit with the kids.’

  ‘I bet you just loved having children squealing and playing when you were trying to work.’

  Pietro shook his head. ‘It was distracting but I didn’t really mind.’ For he liked children too. Wanted some of his own. It was why he’d finally begun to think again of finding a suitable wife after the disaster of Elizabetta.

  Family was something money and success couldn’t buy.

  Pietro knew he was lucky. He had an aunt, uncle and cousins. But he longed for more. They’d never come close to replacing the close-knit family he’d lost.

  He was determined to have that again.

  ‘Pietro? Are you going to finish telling this story?’ Molly regarded him quizzically.

  ‘Of course.’ He returned her stare with a smile and watched in satisfaction as she blinked and sucked in a deep breath that made her breasts rise sharply. Yes, this was what he wanted. No, needed. Molly responding to him, trusting him.

  ‘Well, there I was, wrestling with a particularly boring report, when I heard laughter.’

  She nodded. ‘Most kids get noisy in a swimming pool.’

  ‘It wasn’t the children I heard. It was a woman, and her laughter was like liquid sunshine pouring through the courtyard and in through the open door. I got up and followed the sound and found three little kids and you.’

  Molly’s brow knitted in confusion. ‘Liquid sunshine?’ She sounded almost uncomfortable. As if she wasn’t used to getting compliments. ‘That’s a very poetic exaggeration.’

  Pietro sat back, surveying her, watching a betraying hint of pink wash her throat and cheeks. ‘It’s no exaggeration. And the best part of it was you had no idea how alluring it was. It wasn’t contrived to attract attention.’

  He’d learned to tell the difference. Arch looks and tinkling, musical laughs designed to snare a male made his blood run cold. His tongue soured. He’d had his fill of that.

  Pietro remembered his first sight of Molly standing in the shallow end of the pool with an over-sized white T-shirt stuck to her body, revealing the outline of a dark bikini beneath. One side of her head was wet where the children had splashed her and the other was all soft, gleaming waves. And that smile...

  Pietro had looked at her and felt something visceral. A claw of hunger. A throb of want. A desire to capture the brilliance of her laughter and the warmth of her kindness as she played with the kids. A need to possess that svelte, delectable body.

  That, he realised, hadn’t changed. He wanted Molly now just as much as he had then. It was a craving in the blood.

  He had to ignore that, for it threatened to distract him, and he needed all his wits about him.

  * * *

  Molly stared at the chiselled features of the man before her. He exuded charisma, an aura of power and masculinity that was anything but average. Even with her impaired memory she understood that.

  Pietro Agosti was the sort of man who’d make any woman sit up and take notice. His smile alone made her knees feel like jelly. And when he stared at her that way...

  She’d looked in the mirror. She’d seen the ordinary woman looking back at her. She wasn’t some fatally attractive seductress.

  ‘Are you trying to tell me it was love at first sight?’ Even as she said it her heart gave a little thump of excitement.

  Pietro was her husband so they must have fallen in love. Yet innate caution, or perhaps the sense that he held back in some way, made her hesitate. On the face of it they seemed an unlikely couple. A rich, sexy Italian businessman and an Aussie teacher-cum-au pair who looked merely average.

  Pietro’s mouth tucked up at one side in a grin that did something strange to her insides. Her temperature notched up a few degrees and her pulse quickened.

  ‘Love takes more time.’ His smile widened to a hungry grin. ‘But definitely lust at first sight.’

  His expression changed; his gaze snared hers. Heat ignited low in her belly and whooshed upwards like a silent flame engulfing her body. Her skin drew tight, all the fine hairs on her body standing erect as a shiver of animal excitement skittered down her spine.

  Common sense told her the woman she’d seen in the mirror wasn’t the sort to inspire instant lust in a man like him. She looked pleasant enough, but...

  ‘You don’t believe me?’ He must have read her expression.

  Molly shrugged and took a sip of her cooling drink. ‘I’m surprised, that’s all.’

  His gaze rested on her, considering. ‘You don’t think you do instant lust?’

  Of course she did. The way her body responded to him made that obvious.

  ‘Believe me, it was absolutely mutual.’ His voice dropped to a seductive, raspy note that made her shiver and her nipples pucker.

  How did he do that with just his voice? No, not just. Those golden eyes shimmered with molten fire and in that instant all her doubts fled. When his gaze ate her up she felt like Venus herself, beautiful and alluring.

  ‘And we got to know each other while I was staying there?’

  He nodded. ‘You’d bring the children up to the house morning and evening for a swim.’

  ‘It hardly sounds romantic.’

  He shrugged. ‘We spent time together and got to know each other. I like children and enjoyed their company. And then, when they went to bed early, your evenings were free.’ The way he said it, with that throb of inflection, told her those evenings had led to intimacy.

  Fire licked her veins and spread through her body.

  Abruptly she looked away, breaking the taut connection between them. It seemed both natural to feel this urgent, primal response to her husband, and at the same time unsettling.

  Molly took a long swallow of her soft drink, hoping its icy coolness might help dampen the urgent blaze within.

  Maybe it would have been easier if he’d wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap. If he’d showered her with kisses or even just held her hand.

  Instead Pietro kept his distance.

  He’d said it was because she was an invalid. Surely
nothing else could explain his reticence, especially since they were newlyweds? She saw the desire in his eyes.

  Molly fought and failed to keep a satisfied smile off her face.

  ‘So sex led to love? I can picture you sweeping a woman off her feet, Pietro.’

  ‘You insist on thinking it was all down to me?’ Slowly he shook his head. ‘Believe me, I wasn’t in the market for a relationship, particularly in my own home. But you made me change my mind.’

  Something in his voice scraped at her consciousness. Molly stiffened. The subtle shift in his tone whispered a warning she couldn’t interpret.

  ‘You preferred to play the field then walk away?’ It made sense. He was broodingly good-looking. She’d bet he only had to snap his fingers for women to come running.

  Pietro leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs. ‘I’ve had lovers, I don’t deny it. But that’s changed now.’ He held her gaze so long she felt her pulse pound three, four, five times, high in her throat. Had any man ever watched her with such intensity?

  Frustration rose, for she didn’t know even that for certain. She felt like a spectator looking on at her life from the edges. She longed to be able to give in to her attraction for Pietro, to take comfort in the physical side of their relationship. Her body told her it had been both exciting and satisfying.

  Yet along with the sexual attraction was a wariness that held her back.

  He’s still a stranger, even if he’s your husband.

  She should be grateful he didn’t expect her to fall into his arms immediately; that he didn’t touch her, but gave her space to feel safe and in control.

  Except that control was illusory, wasn’t it? She still felt adrift. Pietro’s story of them meeting had made her feel better, yet it still prompted more questions than it answered. Who was she? What sort of woman was the real Molly Agosti?

  ‘What was my maiden name?’ She didn’t even know that!

  ‘Armstrong.’ He didn’t look fazed by her change of subject. ‘You were born Margaret Daisy Armstrong. Apparently you were named after your grandmothers, but you were always called Molly. It’s a short form of Margaret.’

  She guessed her grandparents weren’t alive given her parents weren’t. It seemed strange to grieve the loss of people she couldn’t recall, yet she did.

  ‘And my sister is Jillian.’ It was reassuring to say her name, as if it made her more real. Her sister was her one tangible link with her Australian past. ‘How long before she arrives in Rome?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Pietro spread his hands in an apologetic gesture. ‘She’s proving hard to locate. She’s backpacking around the world, but may have changed her plans and gone to South America before south-east Asia. But I’ve got people trying to track her down.’

  Molly slumped back in her seat, disappointment filling her. She’d counted on seeing Jillian soon. Surely meeting someone with whom she’d shared so much history would finally jog her stubbornly elusive memories?

  Strong fingers enfolded hers, holding her gently. She looked up into Pietro’s steady gaze.

  ‘It’s okay, Molly. We’ll find her soon.’

  She nodded, overcome by a wave of gratitude that he was here with her, being so understanding.

  Now her doubts seemed wrong. Pietro was her husband. He was doing the best he could for her. Clearly he cherished her. Which made her wonder why she was holding back.

  ‘There’s something you should know.’ She licked her bottom lip, her mouth dry and her heart racing.

  ‘Yes?’ He looked like a man not easily fazed, yet how would he react to her news? She wasn’t even sure how she felt about it.

  Molly took a deep breath and hurried on. ‘I’m pregnant.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  FAMILIAR EXCITEMENT THROBBED through Pietro’s chest, the quick pulse of elation making his blood quicken. He met Molly’s searching gaze with a smile that held nothing back.

  One thing Pietro prided himself on—he never made the same mistake twice. Fate, in the shape of Molly’s impaired memory, had given him the chance to replay this crucial moment and get it right second time around.

  The first time she’d told him about the pregnancy, after dinner at the Tuscan villa, things hadn’t gone well.

  Not gone well! It had been an unmitigated disaster. Look where it had got them.

  Regret was a sword thrust through his gut. If things had been different, Molly wouldn’t have been alone in Rome. There’d have been no accident; no trauma or memory loss.

  And he wouldn’t be treading a knife edge, waiting for her memory to return. Playing catch-up to bring off the most important coup of his life.

  ‘It’s wonderful news. Absolutely wonderful.’ He took both her hands in his, feeling them tremble.

  ‘You’re not surprised. You knew?’

  ‘I was told earlier.’ She’d told him in Tuscany, but he let her think he’d got the news from the hospital staff here in Rome. ‘Are you happy about it?’

  Slowly she nodded. ‘I think so. It’s hard to take in. It doesn’t seem quite real yet.’

  Pietro rubbed his thumb over her wrist, feeling her uneven pulse. ‘You’ve had a lot to contend with. It will take a while to adjust.’

  ‘Were we trying for a child?’ Her smile was tentative, almost shy, reminding him that Molly was a complex woman. She had a sunny, easy-going temper, a can-do practical attitude, yet had surprised him with her romanticism.

  Molly really did believe in happy endings and true love. That was something he intended to capitalise on.

  Pietro’s smile grew crooked. He’d known he wanted children but he’d been punctilious about using protection because, after Elizabetta’s betrayal, he hadn’t been ready to trust another woman. Now the die was cast, he felt a thrill at the idea of a child.

  ‘No, the pregnancy was unexpected. But that doesn’t make this child any less a blessing.’

  Hearing his response, her high shoulders dropped and he felt her tension lessen.

  They weren’t hollow words. They came straight from the heart. Hadn’t he longed for a family of his own? It was the reason he’d been gulled by Elizabetta all those years ago. Why her cynical manoeuvre had sickened him into avoiding commitment ever since. But Molly wasn’t Elizabetta. He understood that now.

  ‘I’m so glad you think like that. I had wondered...’

  Pietro lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to it.

  The gesture was meant to be one of comfort and respect. Yet the simple touch of his mouth to her skin, the indefinable, unique taste of her, sent reaction rocketing through him. His hand tightened on hers as something raw and rampant surged to life deep inside him.

  Possessiveness.

  Molly had run away from him once. It wouldn’t happen again. She was the mother of his child and as such her place was with him.

  Pietro’s voice was rough as he spoke against her hand. ‘Never doubt for a moment that I want this child, Molly.’ Then he lifted his head, holding her gaze. ‘All you have to do for now is concentrate on getting the rest the doctors suggested and try not to worry. Everything will fall into place.’

  * * *

  Two days later Molly dressed with care for dinner. After surveying the rows of restrained, elegant clothes, she’d finally found a short dress in vibrant aqua with narrow shoulder straps and gold beads along the neckline. The colour made her feel confident and happy and the slim-fitting cut made the most of her figure.

  Her hand crept to her abdomen. Her pregnancy was only a few weeks along. She didn’t feel different physically, and it would be ages before she began to show, but she was determined to make the most of these pretty clothes while she could.

  Besides, she had another reason for dressing up tonight.

  She put on gold sandals that gave her a few extra inches and, she decided as she twi
sted in front of the mirror, showed off her legs.

  Would Pietro notice?

  Of course he’ll notice. He notices everything. The way he looks at you sometimes, it’s as if he’d like to eat you up, one tiny bite at a time.

  A ripple of excitement coursed through her and deep within Molly registered the liquid heat of desire.

  The feeling was familiar and increasingly frequent. And she was sure Pietro felt the same.

  Her memory was still a blank, despite the long, restorative sleeps she’d had, but there was nothing wrong with her eyesight. Pietro had a broodingly hot, sexy stare that made her toes curl, though she usually only caught it briefly, when he thought she wasn’t looking.

  Whenever he kissed her hand, or touched her when he passed food or helped her into a chair, she’d seen the same shock of reaction she felt. It was in his quickened pulse and flared nostrils.

  Yet he hadn’t done anything about it.

  His touch was completely impersonal and platonic.

  The only time he’d kissed her had been on the hand, the day they’d talked about the baby and he’d assured her he wanted this child.

  Molly had been anxious, not knowing what to expect, and, yes, scared at the prospect of bringing a child into the world when she didn’t even know herself. Fortunately Pietro’s enthusiasm was contagious. When he spoke of the baby and their future, Molly had no doubt he was excited. She’d begun to believe they’d create a warm, wonderful family. Pietro had been everything she needed—calm and supportive, incredibly caring.

  And politely distant.

  Damn distant! She wanted feelings. She wanted passion and connection. She wanted intimacy.

  Molly wanted to feel alive and real, not like an outsider in her own life.

  She was ready to take a plunge and dive back into their relationship. The temptation to do so grew each day. Besides, she needed to break free of this limbo.

  She’d been living in a bubble, first in the hospital and then in Pietro’s flat.

  Molly swallowed hard, banishing the inevitable whisper of distress in her head as the enormity of her loss struck her again. But the doctors were positive. They were confident about the prospects of her memory returning.