"Thank you," he said, pulling her towards him. "Come home with me."
Epilogue
Danielle pulled the quilt around her shoulders. She snuggled into Taylor's warm back and let her hand drift over his waist, giggling when he wriggled away.
"Hey, cut that out!"
With a contented sigh, she relaxed against him. The past few months had been hard, making this all the more precious. This small cottage was their haven, this modest little bedroom their sanctuary. They'd kept it simple, because life had been complicated enough. Pine furniture, an old brass bed, rough plastered walls. Here, in this unassuming place, she felt more connected to life than she ever had.
"Want to do it again?"
"What, tickle you?" Her hand reached out. His covered it and stopped her.
"No, the other thing. The one that makes you say stuff like this." He turned, and whispered in her ear. His warm breath made her tremble.
Her eyes widened. "I do not," she protested, although she knew full well she did. "Where do you get your energy?" She snuggled back into him, too comfortable to move. Listening to the wind flinging rain against the window. "You're insatiable."
"Let's just say I'm well-motivated. And you don't do too badly yourself, sweetheart." Taylor reached over and flicked off the bedside light. "Okay, sleep it is. Come here."
There, lying close, his arms locked around her, she felt sheltered, safe and loved. Taylor was vigilant to the point of paranoia, and she knew he needed to be, so she let him fuss and worry about her. Day by day she watched him heal and mend and start to believe in himself again.
There were even deeper shadows in the darkness that had been Taylor's life, but here, wrapped in warmth and softness, his soul seemed to find some peace. Danielle still worried about him. She did that willingly, never forgetting to appreciate the blessings too. This was the better or worse they'd spoken about in their marriage vows just a few weeks ago, and his solid warmth reminded her always that she'd found something worth hanging on to.
"Danielle."
"Hmmm?"
This was something else he did. Chatting with her last thing before sleep. As if talking in the dark made things easier to say.
"You never told me how you got the file."
He hadn't pushed her on that one. She'd told him part of it. The bit about his grandfather realising he still loved him and wanting to make amends before he died. She knew Taylor hadn't believed her, but he'd seemed content to let it go at that.
"I told you already. I made your grandfather realise what a shit he'd been."
"Yes, but you never really told me how."
Danielle pressed her face into his shoulder. "Is it important that you know?"
"I guess."
"I told him I was having your baby."
Taylor's whole body tensed at the words. She felt him struggling to relax, and it was a long while before he spoke. "And are you?"
She couldn't keep the note of regret out of her voice. "No, but I want to. With all the death and destruction around you, it might give you hope, you know?"
"Danielle."
"I know what you're going to say, Taylor. Too dangerous, wrong lifestyle. One day, maybe?"
"Yes, one day. How did the old man take it?"
"I don't know. It seemed to hit him, hard. The weird thing was that even though I felt sorry for him, I was still able to stand there and be the bitch queen from hell. I told him he'd never see the baby."
"And you still feel bad about that?"
"A bit. Didn't know I had it in me to do that to a dying man, but I had to. So I did. How long has he got?"
"Couple of months at the most, I think. Says he's left an apology in his Will."
"You'd take it?"
"I don't know. He deserves to rot in hell. Seems as if he's trying to buy himself out of it. Heck, maybe I'll meet him there one day. The two of us can catch up on old times."
"Don't say that. He came through for you, with a bit of persuasion."
Taylor released his death grip on her. "Always thought you'd have made one hell of a spy. Shall we have one?"
"Have what?"
"A baby."
"You were right, Taylor. It's not the time."
"But when we do, how many shall we have?"
Danielle laughed. "The standard answer is one of each."
"One of each it is, then."
Taylor sighed and she felt him settling, starting to drift off.
"Danielle."
"Yes?"
"Love you."
"Love you too. More than you'll ever know," she whispered. There was no answer. His deep, even breathing told her he'd already fallen asleep. She lay awake for a while, thinking about the database of European resorts she was compiling for Marc. Good old Marc who'd come through as a true friend, inventing a job especially for her. An income she sorely needed.
Feeling herself drift off too, she went through her nightly ritual. A prayer of thanks. A kiss for Taylor. A few moments of contemplating her good fortune. A few more of panic that this was all too perfect and Fate would eventually snatch it away from them.
It would always be a possibility. She knew that, and was learning to live with it. But she'd felt it on the plane and she'd felt it on the beach. The only place she wanted to be was here, doing this, with him.
It was enough.
The End
Thank you for reading Setting Him Free. To find out more about my other books, read a one chapter preview of my new series set on the fictional Italian Island of Sorellina and where to find me on the web, please read on, regards, Alexandra Marell.
Author Bio
I'm a romance author, wife, mother, collector of musical instruments and paranormal investigator whose idea of fun is spending a Saturday night in a creepy mansion or castle, the scarier the better. To date I've written paranormal ghost romance, contemporary and historical romance as Alexandra Marell. I also write adult rated romance as Candy Nicks and C A Nicks.
Find me on the web:
Website www.candyandalexandra.com visit to find out about my free reads (Waiting For Eternity and Saving Susie) and other books by Alexandra Marell.
Facebook page – C A Nicks Alexandra Marell
Twitter name - CandyNAlexandraM
My books are available at all the amazon countries that sell kindle books as well as other outlets.
Other Books by Alexandra Marell
In the Dark With You – Historical Romance
The Heart Wants – Ghost romance set during WW2 and present day with bonus free WW2 romance, Waiting For Eternity.
Something Worth Fighting For – Contemporary romance
The Island of Sorellina Series
Book 1 – The Cursed Princess – June 2012
Billionaire Dario Denaro hasn't come to the Island of Sorellina to fall in love again. He's here to oversee the renovation of Villa Cristina, the most exclusive of the Denaro residences. And Elena Marcante, who's on the island to visit her ailing grandmother, certainly doesn't expect to run into the man who left her twenty years ago without a word of goodbye. But Cristina the cat has other ideas. Once the most noble Princess Cristina Denaro, she was cursed by her jealous lover, Bernardo Marcante, to live as a humble cat until a Denaro and a Marcante declare undying love.
But after five hundred years and with the family feud still running deep, Cristina is desperate, while Bernardo's spirit lurks in the ruins of the old temple wracked with remorse for what he did to her. Dario and Elena are no longer a pair of love-struck teens, but will they remember that magical summer they spent together? With hope of ever breaking the curse fading and with a few family secrets revealed along the way, Cristina is determined the medieval cathedral bells will finally ring out for the union of a Denaro and a Marcante. 53,000 Words. A one chapter preview of The Cursed Princess follows the Siren Sweetly Singing Blurb.
Book 2 – Siren Sweetly Singing – August 2012
Fresh out of rehab and with his singing career in tatt
ers, Stefano Denaro visits Villa Cristina, determined to straighten out his life. While on the island, he meets a mysterious woman who seems determined to make him forget his vows to clean up his act. Alina is a siren, but she has a secret, she can't sing. Having failed to take a single soul with her terrible voice, she's been given an ultimatum. Now human and terrified, she must find and harvest a pure male soul if she ever wants to go back to the sea. And then she hears Stefano Denaro declaring he doesn't drink or smoke, is celibate and loves early nights….
Prologue
The first thing she noticed was the vehicle sheltering under the vine-smothered pergola, its sleek red body an incongruous splash of colour against the faded neglect of the garden.
On quivering legs, Cristina crept forward for a better view. A thread of smoke, caught by the sea-breeze, spiralled from the centre of a neatly-raked heap of garden clippings. A pair of tan boots lay discarded on the marble veranda.
Someone new was living in her house.
The silhouette of a man paced back and forth behind the heavy lace curtains of the stone-mullioned window, a phone clamped to his ear. Cristina didn't miss the unmistakeable note of command in the voice that broke the quiet of the afternoon.
How many months had it been since Nonno Giuseppe died? Three, four? How long since they'd carried him out and closed up the family villa?
Sniffing the air, she caught the spicy scent of the hand-made local sausage so beloved of the tourists who flooded the island in high summer. The smell of freshly-brewed coffee and the good local bread mingled with the faint tang of expensive after-shave and new leather. After years of sadness, life was returning to the old estate.
A tingle of excitement rippled her fur. Dario Denaro visited so rarely, she barely recognised the man he'd become. Only his voice told her the old patriarch's eldest grandson had finally remembered the ancient villa that had formed part of his considerable inheritance. He would be in his late thirties by now, which meant that one woman, or even several may have already ensnared him. Monied men rarely wanted for partners willing to share their fortunes.
Please let him be unattached and in want of love. Or at least in between wives, she prayed. And please let him remember her.
A picture of Elena Marcante bumping up the mountain road in her hired Fiat Cinquecento, windows down, copper curls whipped to a mad tangle by the breeze, popped into her mind.
The timing was perfect, but the practicalities? Cristina refused to waste time worrying about the chasm that still divided Dario and Elena's families. Where love was concerned, nothing was impossible. And, after five hundred years of failed match-making, she had to admit to being more than a little desperate.
Nothing less than the truest of love would lift this curse she'd carried for half a millennium. All that stood in her way was a feud that ran blood-deep. Two families divided by tragedy and hate. And a gaping, open wound that refused to heal.
Okay, so no one said it would be easy.
Her most Royal Highness, the Princess Cristina of the noble house of Denaro straightened her spine and reminded herself that once nothing had been beyond her grasp. She had only to think it and it was hers. Men had killed for a smile from her beautiful lips. Defied their elders, betrayed their families.
One had even captured her heart.
A man whose passion had made her melt with desire. The same man who'd cursed her to live as a humble, domestic cat.
He might at least have turned me into a black cat, she thought licking irritably at a spot on her usually-pristine white paws. How like a man not to appreciate the difficulty of keeping clean when forced to walk about on all fours. How like Bernardo to think with his heart rather than his head.
Her vanity, his pride. A princess and a common soldier. Not exactly a match blessed by the gods. But, after five hundred years, they had both come to realise it was a love worth fighting for.
Cristina's thoughts returned to the present. To Singor Maserati and Singorina Fiat Cinquecento. Mr jet-set lifestyle and miss unconventional.
While the man continued to bark orders into his phone, she broke cover and quickly climbed the steps to the veranda. Time to take a closer look at the man who might hold the key to her prison.
Time to find out just how hard this was going to be.
Chapter 1
He should feel guilty for leaving it so long.
Dario paused to study the fading oil painting, hanging in the formal dining room where it always had. As a child, he'd hated sitting with his back to his unsmiling grandfather. The eyes still seemed to follow him as he took inventory of the old family villa.
The oldest of the family villas, he reminded himself. And one neglected for far too long. How had he missed the potential? The villa sat on the most exclusive enclave of the island, which was itself a bolt-hole for Europe's rich and famous. Unrivalled views, the privacy his clients' sought.
And built on the ruins of a royal palace.
He couldn't help a rueful smile. Gina, his second wife had been a project in herself. The family jewels had never glittered brighter than when laid against her flawless skin, or when adorning her beautifully manicured hands.
Between the business and his movie-star wife, he'd had no time to notice the old family patriarch, quietly fading away in the place he loved most on Earth.
Dario pushed down the rising tide of irritation. When had his grandfather ever lowered that stern mask of his? Showed them a more human face than the ruthless man who'd made a fortune by letting his head always rule his heart?
Dario rubbed absently at the nagging pain in his thigh, remembering the argument he'd had with his mother over his choice of university. The day he'd finally realised the family owned him and any deviation would see him cut off and by himself. Too cowardly to take the old man on, he'd meekly bowed to his wishes. He was the old man's heir and one day everything would be his. Then he would do as he damned well pleased.
Only life wasn't like that. Now fully at the helm of Denaro Enterprises, with all its responsibility and wealth, Dario sometimes felt just as trapped. Just as obligated to do what was best for the business rather than for himself.
The fracture was healing well, but the question of a limp still remained. With his grandfather dead and his latest marriage over, it was time to take stock and see where his thirty-nine years had taken him. Time to see if he couldn't inject a little joy into this life of acquisition and gain, of false smiles and yes-men.
Nonno Giuseppe would be moved to the study. He made a note on his pad. Replace the portrait with one of the Hoppers or a Picasso or two. Selling the world's most exclusive jewellery demanded the venue spoke the language of those too rich to notice the price-tag.
The New York apartment had proved a successful testing ground for the idea of wining and dining a client for the weekend while they perused the jewellery pieces and made their choice. Perfect for the actors and rock stars only too happy to parade their new bling for the tabloids. Similar plans were afoot for the English country estate, where the old money would be more likely to pay with an oil painting than hard cash.
And the island of Sorellina would be perfect for those for whom absolute discretion was their first priority.
Dario lifted the faded lace curtain to study the terrace and the view of the sea and the barely-visible Italian mainland, shimmering in the morning mist. Only a short hop by launch. The private jetty below the villa and the gravelled road connecting it to the former royal palace would need updating. He made more notes.
Former royal palace. That always looked good in a sales pitch. A prince or two to go with that would have been even better, but the family had lost their titles in the seventeenth century in some dodgy deal with the Kingdom of Naples and never regained them. Still, Europe didn't want for minor royals who would be all too pleased to lend their kudos to proceedings, for a fee.
The gardens, still tended by the same ancient gardener, were a jungle, the marble terrace cracked with age. He let the curtain d
rop. Nothing a large amount of money couldn't put right. He winked at his grandfather's disapproving glare.
"Don't worry, Nonno, it will all be done in the best of taste. Not even you would disapprove of what I have planned."
"I would not be so sure of that."
Dario turned to the sound of the voice. "Ahh, Mariella. You don't think it's about time this place saw some life?"
Mariella moved to stand beside him, arms folded. "Signor Giuseppe was from another time. He did not like change."
"You're not kidding."
"Respect, Dario! Your nonno felt closer to his past, here. That's why he left it as it is. Why he chose to die here."
"Yes, I know. But don't judge me too harshly for what I must do. The super-rich don't just stroll into stores for their jewellery and this place is perfect for what I have in mind." Dario sniffed theatrically, deftly changing the subject. "Is that the Sorellina sausage I smell? Goodness, that takes me back to my youth."
"What? You're old now? Dio mio!" Mariella threw up her hands and then glanced at her watch. "I must take my grandson to school so you will have to fend for yourself. Your breakfast is in the kitchen and the coffee made. Just remember your nonno will be watching your every move. And try not to burn the house down while I'm away."
"As if I would." Dario tilted his head, giving her his most winsome smile.
"You know that doesn't work on me," Mariella returned, her wit still razor sharp. She touched him lightly on the arm. "Dario, it is good to see you again. Though he did not show it, your nonno grieved for the chasm that opened between you."
"We were all at fault, Mariella." The truth, so why deny it? "I'm sorry it's too late to make things right."
Setting Him Free Page 10
