Reunited by a Baby Secret (The Vineyards of Calanetti, Book 3)

by Michelle Douglas

  ‘But—’

  ‘No!’ She spun back to Angelo. ‘Do you feel as if this is your home? When you marry your beautiful Kayla, do you mean to settle in this house?’

  He rolled his shoulders. ‘That’s different.’

  ‘Why?’ she fired back at him. ‘Because you’re a man?’

  ‘Because I haven’t lived here in years! I’ve built a different life for myself.’

  ‘And what’s wrong with me building a different life for myself?’

  ‘Marianna,’ Nico spluttered. ‘You do belong here! You play a key role at Vigneto Calanetti—’

  ‘But it doesn’t mean I have to live under this roof. I’ll still be living on the estate.’

  Both brothers started remonstrating again. Marianna tossed the salad for all she was worth while she waited for them to wear themselves out. It had always been this way. She’d make a bid for independence, they’d rail at her, telling her why it was a bad idea and forbidding her to do it—whatever it might be—they’d eventually calm down, and then she’d go ahead and do it anyway.

  Their overprotectiveness was a sign of their love for her. She knew that. They’d had more of a hand in raising her than their parents. But there was no denying that they could get suffocating at times.

  ‘Enough!’

  The voice came from the French doors. Ryan. She glanced around to find him framed in the doorway—all broad and bristling and commanding. Her blood did a cha-cha-cha. She swallowed and waved him inside, hoping no one noticed how her hand shook. ‘You’re right on time.’

  He strode up to her side. ‘Leave Marianna be. The one thing she doesn’t need is to be bullied by the pair of you.’

  ‘Bullied?’ Nico spluttered.

  ‘Who are you to tell us what to do?’ Angelo said in a deceptively soft voice.

  Ryan turned his gaze on her eldest brother—a determined intense glare that made her heart beat harder. ‘I’m the father of her unborn child, that’s who. And I’m telling you now that she doesn’t need all of this...high drama.’

  Her brothers blinked and she had to bite back a laugh. Normally it was she who was accused of the high drama.

  It was her turn to blink when he took her shoulders in his hands and propelled her around the kitchen bench into the nearest chair at the dining table. ‘Oh, but I was tossing the salad!’

  He glanced at the bowl and his lips twitched. ‘Believe me, that salad is well and truly tossed.’ But he brought the bowl over and set it on the table in front of her.

  Angelo glanced into the bowl and grimaced. ‘You trying to mangle it?’

  She bit her lip. Perhaps she had been a little enthusiastic on the tossing front.

  ‘It looks great,’ Ryan assured her.

  The fibber! But it made her feel better all the same.

  Angelo shook himself up into ‘protective big brother’ mode. ‘Are you supporting my sister in this crazy scheme of hers to move out of the family home?’

  ‘I’m supporting Marianna’s right to assert her independence, to live wherever she chooses and to build the home she wants to for her child.’

  ‘And your child,’ Nico said, bringing the steaks across to the table.

  ‘And my child,’ Ryan agreed, not waiting to be told where to sit, but planting himself firmly in the seat beside Marianna.

  ‘Are you planning to marry?’

  Ryan glared at both of her brothers. ‘You want Marianna to marry a man she doesn’t love?’

  Both Angelo and Nico glanced away.

  Her shoulders started to slump. Why wouldn’t they believe she could take care of herself? Maybe if she didn’t have such a dreadful dating track record...?

  She shook herself upright again, took the platter of steaks and placed a portion on each of their plates. She then handed the bowl of salad to Ryan, as their guest, to serve himself first. He didn’t, though. He served out the salad to her plate first, and then his own before passing the bowl across the table to Nico. He seized the basket of bread and held it out for her to select one of the warmed rolls.

  Her brothers noted all of this through narrowed eyes. Marianna lifted her chin. ‘Ryan is going to stay here for a bit while we sort out how we mean to arrange things.’

  Nico’s eyes narrowed even further. He glared at Ryan. ‘Where precisely will you be staying?’

  Marianna rounded on him. ‘Don’t speak to him like that! Ryan is my guest. For as long as he’s in Monte Calanetti he’ll be staying at the cottage with me.’

  Her brothers’ eyes flashed.

  Ryan drew himself up to his full seated height. ‘Marianna and I might have decided against marriage, but I have an enormous amount of respect for your sister. I...’ He shrugged. ‘I like her.’

  She blinked. Really? But... He barely knew her.

  Still, if he could claim to like her after she’d thrown a vase of flowers at his head, and sound as if he meant it, then...who knew? Maybe he did like her.

  ‘We’re friends.’

  ‘Pshaw!’ Angelo slashed a disgusted hand through the air. ‘If Mari hadn’t become pregnant you’d have never clapped eyes on her again. That’s not my idea of friendship.’

  ‘But she is pregnant. I am the father of her child. We’re now a team.’

  Marianna speared a piece of cucumber and brought it to her mouth. A team? That sounded nice. ‘Please, guys, will you eat before your steaks get cold?’

  The three men picked up their cutlery.

  ‘Still,’ Nico grumbled. ‘This is a fine pickle the two of you have landed in.’

  Ryan halted from slicing into his steak. ‘This is not a pickle. Granted, Marianna’s pregnancy wasn’t planned, but she’s having a baby. She’s bringing a new life into the world. That is a cause for celebration and joy, not recriminations.’

  Her eyes filled as he repeated her sentiment from earlier in the day.

  Ryan took her hand. ‘Do you think your sister won’t be a wonderful mother?’

  ‘She’ll be a fabulous mother, of course,’ Nico said.

  ‘Do you not think it’ll be a joyous thing to have a nephew or niece?’

  ‘Naturally, when Marianna’s bambino arrives, it will be cause for great celebration.’ Angelo rolled his shoulders and then a smile touched his lips. ‘I am looking forward to teaching my nephew how to play catch.’

  ‘No, no, Angelo, we will have to teach him how to kick a ball so he can go on to play for Fiorentina.’

  She rolled her eyes at Nico’s mention of his and Angelo’s favourite football team.

  ‘What will you teach him?’ Angelo challenged.

  ‘Cricket.’ Ryan thrust out his jaw. ‘I’m going to teach him how to play cricket like a champion.’

  ‘Cricket! That’s a stupid sport. I—’

  ‘And what if my bambino is a girl?’ Marianna said, breaking into the male posturing, but she too found herself gripped with the sudden excitement of having a child. Her brothers would make wonderful uncles. They’d dote on her child and if she weren’t careful they’d spoil it rotten.

  ‘A girl can play soccer,’ Nico said.

  ‘And cricket,’ Ryan added.

  ‘She might like a pony,’ Angelo piped in.

  Her jaw dropped. ‘You wouldn’t let me get a pony when I wanted one.’

  ‘I was afraid you’d try and jump the first fence you came across and break your neck.’ Angelo shook his head. ‘Mari, it was hard enough keeping up with you when you were powered by your own steam. It would’ve been explosive to add anything additional to the mix.’ His eyes danced for a moment. ‘Besides, if you do have a daughter and if she does get a pony, it’ll be your responsibility to keep up with her. Something you’ll manage on your ear, no doubt.’

  She found herself suddenly beaming. Nico laughed and it hit her then that Ryan had accomplished this. He’d made her brothers—and her—excited at the prospect of their new arrival. He’d channelled their fear and worry into this—a new focus on the positive.

&nbs
p; Reaching beneath the table, she squeezed his hand in thanks. He gazed at her blankly and she realised that he hadn’t a clue what he’d done. She released him again with a sigh.

  ‘Okay, Paulo,’ Angelo said grudgingly. ‘You’re at least saying the right things. Still, in my book actions speak louder than words. I’ll be watching you.’

  Marianna rolled her eyes. Ryan shrugged as if completely unaffected by the latent threat lacing her brother’s words. He glanced across at Nico. ‘Anything you’d like to add?’

  Nico stared at him with his dark steady eyes. ‘I will abide by Marianna’s wishes. You can stay. But I don’t trust you.’

  Marianna’s stomach screwed up tight then and started to churn. She didn’t know if she could trust him or not either.

  Ryan’s mobile phone chose that moment to ring. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the display. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to take this.’

  But...but...he was supposed to be making a good impression on her brothers!

  With barely a glance of apology, he rose and strode out to the terrace, phone pressed to his ear.

  He was supposed to be learning how to be a good father!

  Lone wolf. The words went round and round in her mind. Was this how the next month would go? Ryan claiming he was invested and committed to their child, but leaping into work mode every time his phone rang? Her brothers stared at her with hard eyes. ‘Excuse me.’ Pressing a hand to her mouth, she fled for the bathroom.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  FOR THE NEXT three days, Ryan kept himself busy alternating between conference calls and prepping the inside walls of the three-bedroom stone cottage that Marianna had her heart set on calling home. In her parents’ time, apparently, it had been used as a guesthouse and before that it had been the head vintner’s cottage. For the last few years, however, the cottage had stood empty.

  Ryan had insisted on cleaning everything first—mopping and vacuuming—before Marianna moved in. She’d grumbled something about being more than capable of wielding a mop, but he’d ordered her off the premises. Cleaning seemed the least he could do, even if it had delayed her move for an additional day. He’d claimed the smallest of the three bedrooms as his for the next month.

  As Marianna had spent what he assumed was a long day tending grapevines and whatever else it was that she did, Ryan cooked dinner.

  She walked in, found him stir-frying vegetables, and folded her arms. ‘Do you also think me incapable of cooking dinner?’

  He thought women were supposed to like men who cooked and cleaned. Not that he wanted her to like him. At least, not like that. ‘Of course not, but I don’t expect you to do all the cooking while I’m here. I thought we could take it turn about. You can cook tomorrow night.’

  She grumbled something in Italian that he was glad he didn’t understand. Throwing herself down on the sofa, she rifled through the stack of magazines on the coffee table and settled back with one without another word.

  He stared at the previously neat stack. He itched to march over there to tidy them back up, but a glance at Marianna warned him to stay right where he was.

  Dinner was a strained affair. ‘Bad day at work?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve had better.’

  Something inside him tightened. Had her brothers been hassling her again? He opened his mouth, but the tired lines around her eyes had him closing it again. His hands clenched and unclenched in his lap. What he should do was wash the dishes and then retreat to his room to do some work. Work was something he could do—something he had a handle on and was good at. He glanced at Marianna, grimaced at the way her mouth drooped, and with a silent curse pulled his laptop towards him. ‘I thought maybe you could choose the colours for the walls.’ He clicked on the screen, bringing up a colour chart.

  The entire cottage oozed quaint cosy charm. The main living-dining area was a single room—long and low—with the kitchen tucked in one corner, sectioned off from the rest of the room by a breakfast nook. The ceiling was low-beamed, which should’ve made the room dark, but a set of French doors off the dining area, opening to a small walled garden, flooded the room with light. The garden was completely overgrown, of course, but if a body had a mind to they could create a great herb garden out there.

  ‘Colour charts?’ Marianna perked up, pushing her plate aside. ‘That sounds like fun.’

  Colour charts fun? That was a new one, but he’d go with it if it put a bit of colour back into her cheeks. He removed their plates as unobtrusively as he could. Hesitating on his way back from the kitchen, he detoured past the coffee table and swooped down to straighten the stack of magazines before easing into the seat beside Marianna at the dining table again.

  She moved the laptop so he could see it too. ‘That one.’ She pointed to a particularly vivid yellow. ‘I’ve always wanted a yellow kitchen.’

  He glanced at the screen and then at her. Did she really want a yellow so intense it glowed neon? ‘That one’s really bright.’

  ‘I know. Gorgeous, isn’t it?’

  ‘Um... I’m thinking it might be a tad brighter on your walls than you realise.’

  ‘Or it could be perfect.’

  He didn’t doubt for a moment she’d hate the colour once it was on her walls, but a colour scheme wasn’t worth arguing about—especially if she was feeling a bit testy and—his gaze dropped momentarily to her breasts—sore. He reefed his gaze back to the computer screen. He’d paint her walls pink and purple stripes if she wanted. Pulling in a breath, he reconciled himself to the fact he’d be repainting said wall at some stage in the future. ‘Butter Ball, right.’ He made a note.

  He’d started to twig to the fact that there were two Mariannas. There was the sunny, sassy Marianna he partially recognised from his holiday in Thailand. And then there was ‘crazy pregnant lady’ Marianna. She swung between these extremes with no rhyme or reason—sunny one moment and all snark and growl the next.

  It kept a man on his toes.

  ‘You mentioned you wanted some sort of green in the living and dining areas.’ He glanced around. At the moment they were a nice inoffensive cream. With a shake of his head, he clicked to bring up a green palette. Heaven only knew what hideous colour she’d sentence him to using next.

  She leaned in closer to peer at the screen, drenching him in the scent of...frangipani? Whatever it was, it was sweet and flowery and so fresh it took all his strength not to lean over and breathe her in all the more deeply.

  ‘It’ll have a name like olive or sage or something,’ she said. ‘Hmm...that one.’

  He forced his attention back to the screen. ‘Sea foam,’ he read. It was a lot better than he’d been expecting.

  ‘Does it pass muster?’

  He didn’t like the martial light in her eye. Deflect the snark. ‘It’s perfect.’

  She blinked. Her shoulders slumped and he had to fight the urge to give her a hug. ‘How are your breasts?’

  She stiffened and then shot away from him with a glare. ‘I beg your pardon? What have my breasts to do with you?’

  Heat crept up his neck. ‘I didn’t mean it in a salacious, pervy kind of way. It’s just...the other day you said they were sore and...and I was just hoping that...that it had settled down.’

  ‘Why should you care?’ she all but yelled at him, leaping up to pace around the table and then the length of the room. She flung out an arm. ‘You’re probably happy! I’ve inconvenienced you so I expect you’re secretly pleased to see me suffer.’

  He stood too. ‘Then you’d be spectacularly wrong! I have absolutely no desire to see you suffer. Ideally, what I want is you happy and healthy.’

  She stopped dead in the middle of the room and stared at him, her hands pressed together at her waist. Ryan pulled in a breath. ‘It’s obvious, though, that at the moment you’re not happy.’

  Where did that leave him and her?

  Where did it leave the baby? If she were having second thoughts about keeping the child...

  S
he swallowed. Her bottom lip wobbled for a fraction of a sentence. Her vulnerability tugged at him. ‘If I’m the cause of that, if my living here in your cottage, and invading your space, is adding to your stress, then I can easily move into the village. It wouldn’t be a big deal and—’

  He broke off when she backed up to drop down onto the sofa, covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

  He brought his fist to his mouth. Hell! He hadn’t meant to make her cry. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other before kicking himself into action and lurching over to the sofa to put an arm around her. ‘I’m sorry, Mari. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m a clumsy oaf—no finesse.’

  At his words she turned her face into his chest and sobbed harder. He wrapped both arms around her, smoothed a hand up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her. Protectiveness rose up through him and all but tried to crush him. He fought back an overwhelming sense of suffocation. At the moment he had to focus on making Marianna feel better. His discomfiture had no bearing on anything. Her health and the baby’s health, they were what mattered.

  Eventually her sobs eased. She rested against him and he could feel the exhaustion pounding through her. So far this week all his suggestions that she rest had been met with scorn, sarcasm and a flood of vindictive Italian. Now he kept his mouth firmly closed on the subject.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

  She eased away from him and her pallor made him wince.

  ‘I can’t believe I said something so mean to you, Ryan. I didn’t mean it. It was dreadfully unfair. I know you don’t want to see me suffer.’

  ‘It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘It’s not okay. And it does matter.’ Her voice, though vehement, was pitched low. ‘I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m being so awful to everyone. Today at work when I was lifting a bag of supplies, Tobias came rushing over to take it from me.’

  She was heavy lifting at work!

  ‘I mean, I know he meant well, but I just let fly at him in the most awful way. I apologised later, of course, but Tobias has worked for my family for twenty years. He deserves nothing from me except respect and courtesy. And now I’m going out of my way to be extra nice to him to try and make amends and...this is terrible to admit, but it’s exhausting.’