The Italian's Christmas Housekeeper

by Sharon Kendrick

  His gaze flicked over to the dark sweep of the bay before returning to the grey watchfulness in Molly’s eyes and suddenly he was finding it easy to talk about something he never talked about. ‘After the accident, she came to visit me. Every day she sat by my bedside, always in a different outfit, looking picture-perfect. Always ready to smile and pose for the photographers who were camped outside the hospital. She was there when the physiotherapists worked on my leg and she was there when the doctor told me I’d never play professional football again. I’ll never forget the look on her face.’ His laugh was harsh. ‘When I was discharged, she didn’t come to meet me, but I thought I knew the reason why. I went home expecting a surprise party because she loved parties, and that’s when I discovered she’d flown back to the States and was seeing some all-American boy her parents wanted her to marry all along. And that was that. I never saw her again.’

  There was a pause while she seemed to take it all in.

  ‘Oh, Salvio, that’s awful,’ she said. ‘It must have felt like a kick in the teeth when you’d lost everything else.’

  ‘I didn’t tell you because I wanted your pity, Molly. I told you because you wanted to know. So now you do.’

  ‘And, did you...did you love her?’

  He felt a twist of anger. Why did women always do this? Why did they reduce everything down to those three little words and place so much store by them? He knew what she wanted him to say and that he was going to have to disappoint her. Because he couldn’t rewrite the past, could he? He was damned if he was going to tell her something just because it was what he suspected she wanted to hear. And how could he possibly dismiss lies as contemptible if he started using them himself? ‘Yes, I loved her,’ he said, at last.

  Molly hid her pain behind the kind of look she might have presented to Lady Avery if she’d just been asked to produce an extra batch of scones before teatime, and not for the first time she was grateful for all the training she’d had as a servant. Grateful for the mask-like calm she was able to project while she tried to come to terms with her new situation. Because in less than twelve hours she’d lost everything, too. Not just her baby but her hopes for the future. Hope of being a good wife and mother. Hope that a baby might help Salvio loosen up and become more human. And now it was all gone—whipped away like a rug being pulled from beneath her feet. There was no illusion left for her to cling to. No rosy dreams. Just a man who had once loved another woman and didn’t love her. A man who had accused her of lying about her baby.

  A baby which was now no more.

  She wanted to bury her face in her hands and sob out her heartbreak but somehow she resisted the compelling urge. Instead she chose her words as carefully as a resigning politician. ‘I don’t want to upset your parents but obviously I can’t face going for lunch today. I mean, there’s no point now, is there? I don’t think I’m capable of pretending everything’s the same as it was—especially on Christmas Day. I think your mother might see right through me and there’s no way I want to deceive her. So maybe it’s best if I just disappear and leave you to say whatever you think is best.’ She swallowed. ‘Perhaps you could arrange for your plane to take me back to England as soon as possible?’

  Salvio stared at her, unprepared for the powerful feeling which arrowed through his gut. Was it disappointment? Yet that seemed much too bland a description. Disappointment was what you felt if there was no snow on the slopes during a skiing holiday, or if it rained on your Mediterranean break.

  He furrowed his brow. After Lauren he’d never wanted marriage. He’d never wanted a baby either but, having been presented with a fait accompli, had done what he considered to be the right thing by Molly. And of course it had affected him, because, although his heart might be unfeeling, he was discovering he wasn’t made of stone. Hadn’t he allowed himself the brief fantasy of imagining himself with a son? A son he could teach to kick a ball around and to perfect the elastico move for which he’d been so famous?

  Only now Molly wanted to leave him. Her womb was empty and her spirit deflated by his cruel accusations and she was still staring at him as if he were some kind of monster. Maybe he deserved that because hadn’t she only ever been kind and giving? Rare attributes which only a fool would squander—and he was that fool.

  ‘No. Don’t go,’ he said suddenly.

  She screwed up her eyes. ‘You mean you won’t let me use your plane?’

  ‘My plane is at your disposal any time you want it,’ he said impatiently. ‘That’s not what I mean.’ His mouth hardened. ‘I don’t want you to go, Molly.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got to go. I can’t hang around pretending nothing’s happened, just because you don’t want to lose face with your parents.’

  ‘It has nothing to do with losing face,’ he argued. ‘It has more to do with wanting to make amends for all the accusations I threw at you. About realising that maybe—somehow—we could make this work.’

  ‘Make what work?’

  ‘This relationship.’

  She shook her head. ‘We don’t have a relationship, Salvio.’

  ‘But we could.’

  She narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re not making any sense.’

  ‘Aren’t I?’ He lowered his voice. ‘I get the feeling you weren’t too unhappy about having my baby.’

  She stared down at her feet and as he followed the direction of her gaze, he noticed her toenails were unvarnished. It occurred to him that he’d never been intimate with a woman whose life hadn’t been governed by beauty regimes and his eyes narrowed in sudden comprehension. Was that shallow of him? She looked up again and he could see the pride and dignity written all over her face and he felt the twist of something he didn’t recognise deep inside him.

  ‘If this is a soul-baring exercise then it seems only fair I should bear mine. And I couldn’t help the way I felt about being pregnant,’ she admitted. ‘I knew it wasn’t an ideal situation and should never have happened but, no, I wasn’t unhappy about having your baby, Salvio. It would have been...’

  ‘Would have been what?’ he prompted as her words tailed off.

  Somebody to love, Molly wanted to say—but even in this new spirit of honesty, she knew that was a declaration too far. Because that sounded needy and vulnerable and she was through with being vulnerable. She wished Salvio would stop asking her all this stuff, especially when it was so out of character. Why didn’t he just let her fly back to England and let her get on with the rest of her life and begin the complicated process of getting over him, instead of directing that soft look of compassion at her which was making her feel most...peculiar? She struggled to remove some of the emotion from her words.

  ‘It would have been a role which I would have happily taken on and done to the best of my ability,’ she said. ‘And I’m not going to deny that on one level I’m deeply disappointed, but I’ll... I’ll get over it.’

  Her words faded into silence. One of those silences which seemed to last for an eternity when you just knew that everything hinged on what was said next, but Salvio’s words were the very last Molly was expecting.

  ‘Unless we try again, of course,’ he said.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ she breathed.

  ‘What if I told you that fatherhood was something which I had also grown to accept? Which I would have happily taken on, despite my initial reservations? What if I told you that I was disappointed, too? Am disappointed,’ he amended. ‘That I’ve realised I do want a child.’

  ‘Then I suggest you do something about it,’ she said, her words brittle as rock candy and she wondered if he had any idea how much it hurt to say them. Or how hard it was to stem the tide of tears which was pricking at her eyes. Tears not just for the little life which was no more, but for the man who had created that life. Because that was the crazy thing. That she was going to miss Salvio De Gennaro. How was it that in such a short while he seemed to hav
e become as integral to her life as her own heartbeat? ‘Find a woman. Get married. Start a family. That’s the way it usually works.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I intend to do. Only I don’t need to find a woman. Why would I, when there’s one standing in front of me?’

  ‘You don’t mean that.’

  ‘Don’t tell me what I mean, Molly. I mean every word and I’m asking you to be my wife.’

  Molly blinked in confusion. He was asking her to marry him—despite the fact she was no longer carrying his baby? She thought about the first time she’d ever seen him and how completely blown away she’d been. But this time she was no longer staring at him as if he were some demigod who had just tumbled from the stars. The scales had fallen from her eyes and now she saw him for what he was. A flawed individual—just like her. He had introduced her to amazing sex and fancy clothes. They’d made love on a giant bed overlooking the Bay of Naples and he had kissed her belly when a tiny child had been growing there. She had met his parents and they had liked her—treating her as if she were already part of the family. And somehow the culmination of all those experiences had changed her. She was no longer the same humble person who would accept whatever was thrown at her. The things which had happened had allowed her to remove the shackles which had always defined her. She no longer felt like a servant, but a woman. A real woman.

  Yet even as that realisation filled her with a rush of liberation, she was at pains to understand why Salvio was making his extraordinary proposition. He was off the hook now. He was free again. Surely he should be celebrating her imminent departure from his life instead of trying to postpone it?

  ‘Why do you want to marry me?’ she demanded.

  His gaze raked over her but this time it was not his usual sensual appraisal—more an impartial assessment of her worth. ‘I like your softness and kindness,’ he said slowly. ‘Your approach to life and your work ethic. I think you will make a good mother.’

  ‘And that’s all?’ she found herself asking.

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘Surely that is enough?’

  She wasn’t certain. If you wrote down all those things they would make a flattering list but the glaring omission was love. But Salvio had loved once before and his heart had been broken and damaged as a result. Could she accept his inability to love her as a condition of their marriage, and could they make it work in spite of that?

  Behind him, Naples was framed like a picture-postcard as he began to walk towards her and for once his limp seemed more pronounced than usual. And although the thrust of his thighs was stark evidence enough of his powerful sensuality, it was that tiny glimpse of frailty which plucked at her heartstrings.

  ‘I wanted this baby,’ he said simply.

  Her heart pounded—not wanting to be affected by that powerful declaration. But of course she was affected—for it was the most human she had ever seen him. ‘You had a funny way of showing it.’

  He lifted his shoulders as if to concede the point. ‘I’m not going to deny that at first I felt trapped. Who wouldn’t in that kind of situation? But once I’d got my head around it, my feelings began to change.’

  Molly felt the lurch of hope. Could she believe him? Did she dare to? She remembered the way he’d kissed her belly yesterday—and how loving she’d felt towards him as a result. And that was dangerous. When she stopped to think about it, everything about this situation was dangerous. ‘So this time you’re not asking me to marry you because you have to?’ she continued doggedly. ‘You’re saying you actually want to?’

  ‘Yes.’ His shadowed jaw tightened. ‘I do. For old-fashioned reasons rather than the unrealistic expectations of romantic love. I want a family, Molly. I didn’t realise how much until the possibility was taken away from me. I want someone to leave my fortune to—because otherwise what’s the point of making all this money? Someone to take my name and my genes forward. Someone who will be my future.’

  Molly’s heart clenched as she listened to his heartfelt words. She thought of his pain when he’d lost his career and fortune in quick succession. She thought about the woman who had betrayed him at the worst possible time. The woman he had loved. No wonder he had built a wall around his heart and vowed never to let anyone touch that heart again. She drank in the hardness of his beautiful face. Could she dismantle that wall, little by little, and would he allow her close enough to try? She knew it was a gamble—and, despite all the stern lectures she’d given her little brother, a gamble she intended to take, because by now she couldn’t imagine a life without him.

  But if she was to be his wife then she must learn to be his equal. There had been times in the past when she’d told Salvio what she thought he wanted to hear because that was all part of her training as a servant. But it wasn’t going to be like that from now on. From now on they were going to operate on a level playing field.

  ‘Yes, I will be your wife,’ she said, in a low and unemotional voice.

  He laughed, softly. ‘You drive me crazy, Molly Miller,’ he said. ‘Do you realise that?’

  The look she gave him was genuine. ‘I don’t know how.’

  ‘I think,’ he observed drily, ‘that’s the whole point. Now come here.’

  He was pulling her into his arms and for a moment Molly felt uncertain, because she had her period and surely... But the touch of his fingertips against her cheek was comforting rather than seeking and the warmth of his arms consoling rather than sexual.

  ‘I’m sorry about the baby,’ he whispered against her hair, so softly that she might have imagined it.

  It was the first time he had ever held her without wanting sex and Molly pressed her eyelids tightly shut, her face resting against his silky shoulder, terrified to move or to speak because she was afraid she might cry.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THEY WERE MARRIED in Naples in a beautiful church not far from the home of Salvio’s parents. The ancient building was packed with people Molly barely knew—friends of the family, she guessed, and high-powered friends of Salvio’s who had flown in from all around the world. Most of them she’d met the previous evening during a lavish pre-wedding dinner, but their names had flown in one ear and out of the other, no matter how hard she’d tried to remember them. Her mind had been too full of niggling concerns to concentrate on anything very much, but her main anxiety had been about Robbie.

  Because Salvio had quietly arranged for her brother to fly from Australia to Naples as a pre-wedding surprise and Molly’s heart had contracted with joy as Robbie had strolled into the restaurant where everyone was eating, flashing his careless smile, which had made many of the younger women swoon.

  She had jumped to her feet to hug him, touched by Salvio’s unexpected thoughtfulness, as she’d run her gaze over her brother in candid assessment. From the outside Robbie looked good—better than he’d looked in a long time. He was tanned and fit, his golden curls longer than she remembered, and his clothes were surprisingly well chosen. But she’d seen his faintly avaricious expression as he’d taken in the giant ring on her finger and the expensive venue of the sea-view wedding reception.

  ‘Well, what do you know? You did good, sis. Real good,’ he’d said slowly, a gleam entering his grey eyes. ‘Salvio De Gennaro is minted.’

  She’d found herself wanting to protest that she wasn’t marrying Salvio for his money but Robbie probably wouldn’t have believed her, since his teenage years had been dedicated to the pursuit of instant wealth. She’d wondered if his reluctance to maintain eye contact meant that his gambling addiction had returned. And had then wondered if she was simply transferring her own fears onto her brother.

  But she wasn’t going to be afraid because she was walking into this with her eyes open. She’d made the decision to be Salvio’s wife because deep down she wanted to, and she was going to give the marriage everything she could. Who said that such a strangely conceived union couldn’t work?
She was used to fighting against the odds, wasn’t she?

  Holding herself tall, she had walked slowly down the aisle wearing the dress which had been created especially for her by one of London’s top wedding-dress designers. The whole couture process had been a bit of an ordeal, mainly because a pale, shiny fabric wasn’t terribly forgiving when you were overendowed with curves, but Molly had known Salvio wanted her to look like a traditional bride. And in her heart she had wanted that, too.

  ‘Your breasts are very...generous.’ The dressmaker had grunted. ‘We’re going to have to use a minimising bra, I think.’

  Molly had opened her mouth to agree until she’d remembered what she’d vowed on the day of Salvio’s proposal. That she was going to be true to herself and behave like his equal because the strain of doing otherwise would quickly wear her down. And if she tried to be someone she wasn’t, then surely this whole crazy set-up would be doomed.

  ‘I think Salvio likes my breasts the way they are,’ she’d offered shyly and the dressmaker had taken the pins out of her mouth, and smiled.

  The look on his face when she reached the altar seemed to endorse Molly’s theory—and when they left the church as man and wife, the strangest thing happened. Outside, a sea of people wearing pale blue and white ribbons were cheering and clapping and Molly looked up at Salvio in confusion as their joyful shouts filled the air.

  ‘Some of the supporters of my old football club,’ he explained, looking slightly taken aback himself. ‘Come to wish me in bocca al lupo.’

  ‘Good luck?’ she hazarded, blinking as a battery of mobile-phone cameras flashed in her face.

  ‘Esattamente. Your Italian lessons are clearly paying dividends,’ he murmured into her ear, his mouth brushing against one pearl-indented lobe.

  Just that brief touch was enough to make her breasts spring into delicious life beneath the delicate material of her wedding dress and Salvio’s perceptive smile made Molly blush. Lifting up her bouquet of roses to disguise the evidence of physical desire, she thought how perfectly attuned he was to her body and its needs. Their sexual compatibility had been there from the start—now all she needed to concentrate on was getting pregnant.