Alchemy (Siren Publishing Allure)
Page 15
“But they felt an obligation—okay, it was misplaced—to the community.”
He was grimly unyielding. “With a young, vulnerable child, they’d no business to virtually martyr themselves.” He bowed his head. “Their first duty was to me, to look after me, to keep me safe and themselves unharmed.”
She digested this and now understood. Why had they never had this conversation before? Her heart ached for the lonely little orphan, for the man to whom love meant pain and loss.
He hadn’t finished. “And then…” His voice faltered. “I’ve always felt I didn’t do enough to protect them.”
She rested a hand on his neck. “Darling, now you’re talking rubbish. How could you possibly? You were only seven.” But it occurred to her that this was yet another element of his confused thinking. “And now?”
“Then I met someone who changed my life. Who made me realize I have a future.” He couldn’t believe he was finally articulating the feelings he’d held captive for most of his adulthood. Tamsin had unlocked the door for him.
He saw a sudden hurt in her eyes, and reached forward and kissed her. “Darling, I’m home, if you’ll let me stay. You got to me. I love you.”
But the truth game was only just beginning. She slid out of his arms and, going into the kitchen, made a pile of salami sandwiches topped with sprigs of parsley and brought it back on a tray.
She blinked rapidly, sensing the danger in what she was going to say and he rubbed his fingers along her cheek. “You’re tense. What is it, cara?”
The hurt of past rejection mustn’t stop me. Feeling very unworthy, she bit her lip and told him about the perforated condoms. His eyes widened, but he took it in his stride.
“Darling Tamsin, you were so despondent and comfortless. I’m so sorry I drove you to that deceit, drove you over the edge.” He hesitated, then, reminding himself that they could have no secrets from each other if the relationship was to survive, told her about the planned vasectomy.
She was so stunned she couldn’t cry. “We haven’t been open with each other but from now on, if we want to put the past behind us we have to learn to trust.”
“Does that mean what I think it does? That I’ll go to bed with you tonight and every night?”
Her mouth curved in a wide, dimpled smile.
His mouth came down hard on hers and, laughing, he whisked her upstairs. Emptied the condoms from the bedside table and from the bathroom cabinet. Bowed, handed her a pair of scissors. Said, “snip snip” and they hooted joyously as she performed ritual slaughter.
And for the first time in months…
* * * *
“This last quarter the company’s net revenue rocketed by twenty per cent, boosted by a great performance and spectacular returns generated by the Milan office.”
Tamsin’s eyes shone. “That’s wonderful. So what is my very smarty-pants husband going to do about that?”
“The agenda demands a fantastic meal at a fantastic restaurant with the most fantastic girl on my arm toasting me in vintage champagne.”
“And spare a thimbleful for Ruby, who has topped the chart in the first semester’s internal exams and has been dubbed exceptional.”
His mouth moved over hers. “Aren’t we amazing! Let the celebrations begin.”
“Grapefruit juice is my tipple.” Tamsin wrapped her arms round him.
“But…oh my God! You’re pregnant?”
“Yes. Smarty-pants”—she poked the bulge between his legs—“has multiplied two into four.”
“Sweetie…Tamsin, my darling heart.” He gazed deep into her eyes and, pulled her in, murmuring her name over and over again, kissing her and kissing her, a hand pressed gently against her soft belly. My children.
* * * *
The specialist had advised them to wait a year before attempting to conceive again, but eight months after the sad loss of the twins, she and Luca were overjoyed to learn she was pregnant again.
“My maternal granny was a twin, so she’s responsible for passing on the genetic trait,” Tamsin joked when the specialist informed them that, incredibly, they were expecting a second set of twins, this time two boys.
“I’m sorry to say that the high risk of recurring pre-eclampsia hasn’t abated,” he said quietly. He advised fetal reduction—whereby one twin was medically aborted—a procedure that offered a good chance of delivering one healthy child.
Confident that lightening would not strike twice, Tamsin and Luca wouldn’t hear of it. But at twelve weeks, the fetus died spontaneously. There would only be one baby. With blood-thinning jabs and rigorous medical monitoring, Tamsin made it all the way to thirty-eight weeks before pre-eclampsia galloped in. This time the gods were on her side and the baby hung on. With Luca holding her hand and bellowing push, push, their bonnie wee bairn, bawling lustily, emerged in the early hours of the morning tipping the scales at six pounds eight ounces. Over the moon, a beaming Luca snapped away on his smartphone and, with a flourish, cut the cord. Cuddled by Tamsin like a kangaroo with its joey, Dante, so named because, like in The Divine Comedy his parents had been through hell and purgatory to paradise, changed their lives forever.
* * * *
An urgent flurry of e-mails reached Luca, begging him to broker the release of the U.N. Secretary General seized by Somali militants in Kismayo, a port dating back to ancient times on the mouth of the Jubba River, 328 miles south of Mogadishu, during his high profile peace-keeping mission to the country.
The cons? Negotiations would be complex and protracted, with round-the-clock involvement and lengthy periods spent in the Horn of Africa. There’d be no chance of a home life.
The pros? A successful outcome would guarantee a small fortune and a prestigious international prize. A prize that would be yet another feather in the Leopoldo family cap. A prize that would ensure Luca’s name remained forever on the radar.
Luca, seriously considering the proposal for many days, was sorely tempted, confident of hammering out an accommodation for the man’s life and liberty and securing a permanent moratorium on piracy. Today was the deadline for notifying his decision.
His eyes strayed to where Tamsin sat breast-feeding Dante, her chair ranged alongside the elegant silver piece they’d chosen together, that of a crane bird, which symbolizes domestic happiness. My family. My forever heaven.
“Kiddo seems to have had his fill.” She lost herself in his gaze and, for a long moment, nobody but them existed.
Luca crossed the room and kissed her, slipping onto her finger the diamond eternity ring, that he’d chosen himself, engraved with their initials and that of their son. She yielded Dante into his arms. He burped him and jigged around as he snuffled and slumped to his father’s shoulder.
“Dance to your daddy, my little laddie
Dance to your daddy, my little lamb.”
As he crooned the old English folk song, he returned Tamsin’s smile.
“When thou art a man and fit to take a wife
Thou shalt wed a maid and love her all your life.”
“Sweetheart.” He beckoned Tamsin into his study and kicked the door shut. Punched in an encrypted cell phone number and, when the call was answered, uttered just one word. “No.”
THE END
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Serena Fairfax spent her childhood in India, qualified as a lawyer in England, and joined a London law firm. Romance is hardwired into her DNA so her novels include a strong romantic theme.
She has also authored several short stories that feature on her blog. Fast-forward to a sabbatical from the day job when she traded in bricks and mortar for a houseboat which, for a hardened land lubber like her, turned out to be a big adventure.
Apart from writing and reading all kinds of books, a few of Serena’s favorite things are collecting old masks, singing in the rain, and exploring off the beaten track.
Serena and her golden retriever, Inspector Morse, who can’t wait to unleash h
is own Facebook page, divide their time between London and rural Kent. Charles Dickens said, “Kent, sir. Everybody knows Kent. Apples, cherries, hops and women.”
For all titles by Serena Fairfax, please visit
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