She held a hand up to silence him, pressing her fingertip to his lips. ‘I married you because I loved you. I left you because I loved you too much to live with you, when you didn’t feel the same way about me.’
‘Only I did, cara. I’ve been such a damned fool.’
‘Yes,’ Skye murmured, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. ‘But, seeing as you’ve seen the light and are prepared to spend the rest of your life showing me each and every day just how much I mean to you, it would be rather foolish for me to make either of us suffer a moment longer. Right?’ She lifted a hand to his cheek. ‘We are both miserable, aren’t we?’
His eyes swept over her face and he nodded, a grim gesture of agreement.
‘So let’s not be.’ She lifted her hands and held his face, then moved her own closer.
‘What exactly do you mean?’ He was cautious, his expression guarded.
‘You’re my husband,’ she said with an impish grin, mirroring a phrase he used often. She leaned her face forward, so their lips were only an inch apart. ‘And I love you. As much now...no, more...than the day we married.’
His groan was heavy with emotion; his eyes swept shut. When he opened them again, Skye was staring at him, a smile on her sweet, pink lips.
‘Do not kiss me,’ he warned throatily. ‘Or I will ravage you here and now.’
Skye’s eyes twinkled. ‘Then how about we go back to my place?’
‘Right now?’
‘Right now.’
* * *
They didn’t make it upstairs.
They barely made it to her sofa. Skye welcomed her husband back into her home and her arms, needing to feel him more than she’d ever felt anyone or anything. He kissed her, he held her and he made love to her in a way that showed her what he’d been showing her all along.
There was no way their chemistry was just a physical thing.
It was all of them. It was everything.
She lay on his chest afterwards, her head pressed to his toned body, listening to the strong beating of his heart and knowing he was right—that it did indeed beat in unison with hers.
‘Well, cara, what do you say?’ he murmured against her hair, adjusting himself slightly as he reached to their pile of rumpled clothes on the floor beside them.
‘About what?’ The words were heavy with satisfaction and completion. She was energised and exhausted all at once.
He brought his hand close to her face and she blinked her eyes towards him, moving so that she could see him more clearly. She stared at the ring box, and her heart kerthunked against her ribcage.
‘Would you consider wearing this ring? Will you be my wife?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘I am your wife.’
‘Yes, you are,’ he agreed, pulling the ring from its position and holding it towards her. Skye pushed up higher and held out her hand. Her fingertips were quivering.
‘But I want the world to know it.’ His eyes glittered with her possessively. ‘With this ring, in this moment, with all my heart...’ the words were gravelled ‘...I thee wed.’
She stared down at it and smiled, meeting his eyes and nodding. She wasn’t even sure he’d asked a question, but she knew she needed to reassure him. To promise him that she had meant what she’d said in her lawyer’s office.
‘I had it inscribed,’ he said huskily, holding the ring out to her.
She took it and lifted it closer to her eyes, peering into the fine gold band and reading the elegant scrawl.
Tu sei il mio sangue.
‘You are my sangue?’ she asked, repeating the final word aloud.
‘You are my blood,’ he said with a nod. ‘And everything else of me. Always.’
A shiver of delight ran down her spine and she handed the ring back to him then extended her hand.
She watched as her husband slid the ring onto her finger—it fitted exactly. As though it had been designed for her.
‘It’s perfect.’
‘As are you.’ He pushed up and kissed her with a drugging, sensual need. ‘It is very old. One of six that were made in the middle ages by a famous Venetian designer.’
She nodded, but she was moving over him already, her hands and her wedding ring tangling in his thick hair. Over his shoulder, her eyes caught sight of the gladioli she’d purchased over a week earlier. They had begun to bloom without her noticing and they stood now, proud and confident, filled with colour and light, the promise of all that they were fulfilled.
‘You are as much a part of Venetian history as I am,’ he murmured and she nodded, tears sparkling in her eyes.
‘And I always will be.’
EPILOGUE
Two years later
‘ARE YOU READY?’ Skye asked her husband, smiling at him. She had expected to be nervous, given what they were about to do. But it was Matteo who showed all the signs of being on the brink of a breakdown.
Well, that was only fair.
This baby belonged to both of them, after all. They’d both helped make it, over long, exhausting months.
And now it was time.
Finally.
To show the world what the Vin Santos had achieved, side by side.
‘As I’ll ever be.’ He squeezed her hand and his eyes roamed her face. ‘Ti amo.’
‘Lo so.’
‘Let’s go.’ The door to the car was opened and Matteo stepped out, standing aside to make room for his wife.
She was resplendent in a black ballgown. Cameras flashed everywhere, perfectly catching the bright red of the geraniums that tumbled in the moonlight from every window of the hotel.
‘Have you heard news of the twins?’ he asked, tucking a hand into the small of her back.
Skye’s gaze drifted up past the brass flagpoles towards the perfectly restored windows that overlooked the river Tiber.
‘The nanny texted just before. They have been asleep for over an hour.’ She nodded. ‘They’re waiting for us in the penthouse.’
‘Ah! I thought Francesca was going to give us some difficulties there,’ he said.
‘She never does travel well,’ Skye agreed. ‘Then again, she’s only twelve months old. That’s normal for this age, I believe.’
‘And she is very cute.’ He winked. ‘Like her mother.’
Skye felt colour flush along to the roots of her hair, amazed at how his compliments could still turn her insides to mush.
‘And Alfonso is just like you.’
‘Yes.’ Matteo grimaced. ‘I’m sorry about that. His determination is a force to be reckoned with.’
Skye nodded. ‘But we’ll reckon with it together.’
The crowds parted to allow them entry into the hotel. Christmas Eve at Il Grande Fortuna for the first time in decades was just as magical as Skye had hoped—it was everything she’d imagined from Matteo’s stories and the photographs she’d seen. It was sublime.
‘Shall we dance?’
Skye nodded, catching the classical Christmas carols and smiling. ‘Si.’
She put her hand in his and he held her tight, and with his body he promised everything she already knew to be true.
She was safe with him and she was loved by him.
They were a family.
And she’d never feel loneliness again.
* * * * *
Coming next month
THE HEIR THE PRINCE SECURES
Jennie Lucas
He eyed the baby in the stroller, who looked back at him with dark eyes exactly like his own. He said simply, ‘I need you and Esme with me.’
‘In London?’
Leaning forward, he whispered, ‘Everywhere.’
She felt the warmth of his breath against her skin, and her heartbeat quickened. For so long, Tess would have done anything to hear Stefano speak those words.
But she’d suffered too much shock and grief today. He couldn’t tempt her to forget so easily how badly he’d treated her. She pulled away.
‘Why would I come with you?’
Stefano’s eyes widened. She saw she’d surprised him.
Giving her a crooked grin, he said, ‘I can think of a few reasons.’
‘If you want to spend time with Esme, I will be happy to arrange that. But if you think I’ll give up my family and friends and home—’ she lifted her chin ‘—and come with you to Europe as some kind of paid nanny—’
‘No. Not my nanny.’ Stefano’s thumb lightly traced her tender lower lip. ‘I have something else in mind.’
Unwilling desire shot down her body, making her nipples taut as tension coiled low in her belly. Her pride was screaming for her to push him away but it was difficult to hear her pride over the rising pleas of her body.
‘I—I won’t be your mistress, either,’ she stammered, shivering, searching his gaze.
‘No.’ With a smile that made his dark eyes gleam, Stefano shook his head. ‘Not my mistress.’
‘Then…then what?’ Tess stammered, feeling foolish for even suggesting a handsome billionaire prince like Stefano would want a regular girl like her as his mistress. Her cheeks were hot. ‘You don’t want me as your nanny, not as your mistress, so—what? You just want me to come to London as someone who watches your baby for free?’ Her voice shook. ‘Some kind of…p-poor relation?’
‘No.’ Taking her in his arms, Stefano said quietly, ‘Tess. Look at me.’
Although she didn’t want to obey, she could not resist. She opened her eyes, and the intensity of his glittering eyes scared her.
‘I don’t want you to be my mistress, Tess. I don’t want you to be my nanny.’ His dark eyes burned through her. ‘I want you to be my wife.’
Continue reading
THE HEIR THE PRINCE SECURES
Jennie Lucas
Available next month
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Copyright ©2018 by Jennie Lucas
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Bound by the Billionaire's Vows Page 17
