A Marriage Made in Italy

by Rebecca Winters

  A certain nuance in his voice made her realize he’d been remembering what had gone on earlier. It wasn’t something you could forget.

  “Did you hear that, Concetta?” She poked the child’s tummy and got a smile out of her. Lifting the hem of the pinafore, she said, “Pink is my favorite color, too. I bet your papà bought this for you because he couldn’t resist seeing you in it.” The gleam in his eyes verified her statement. “Even if you weren’t a real princess, you look like one.”

  For the first time since she’d joined him, his features hardened. “There are no titles under this roof and never will be.”

  Meaning even after his father died? It followed that, being the elder brother, he would be Count Malatesta one day, but he’d just made it clear he wanted no part of it.

  “After what I’ve learned of my mother’s tragic history, I think that’s the wisest decision you could make as her father.”

  He switched Concetta to his other compact shoulder. “Before she and my father arrive, this little one needs her dinner. I’ll take her to the kitchen.”

  “Can I come, too, and help feed her?”

  A quick, white smile transformed him into the kind of man her roommates would say was jaw-dropping gorgeous. He was that, and so much more Belle couldn’t find words. “If you do, you may have to change your outfit.”

  She sent him a reciprocal smile, attempting like mad to pretend she hadn’t experienced rapture. “That’ll be no problem.”

  Together with the dog, they walked through the dayroom and down another hall. Belle glimpsed a library and an elegant dining room on their way to the kitchen. From one of the windows she could see a swimming pool surrounded by ornamental flowering trees. A vision of the two of them in the water after dark wouldn’t leave her alone.

  In the kitchen three women were busily working. Leon introduced her to his housekeeper, Simona, the maid, Carla, and the nanny, Talia, who reached for the baby. If they knew who Belle really was, rather than simply being a guest, they showed no evidence.

  After tying a bib around Concetta’s neck, Talia placed her in the high chair next to the table and drew a chair over to feed her.

  Belle shot Leon an imploring glance. “Could I give her her dinner?”

  He looked surprised. “You really want to? Sometimes she doesn’t cooperate.”

  “That’s all right. I’d love it! I moved out of my adoptive parents’ house at eighteen and haven’t tended a baby since.”

  To her joy, he said something to Talia in Italian. She smiled at Belle, then brought the baby food jars to the table. Belle opened the lid on the meat.

  “Hmm...smells like lamb.” She glanced down at the dog, who sat there begging her with his eyes. “Sorry, this food isn’t for you, Rufo.” The other jar contained squash. “Oh boy, Concetta. This all looks nummy.” Belle took the spoon and dipped it in the vegetable. “Here it comes.”

  Slowly, she lifted it in the air and did a few maneuvers. Those black-brown eyes followed the action faithfully. Belle brought the spoon closer to the baby, who’d already opened her mouth, waiting for her food. Belle saw Leon in the shape of his daughter’s mouth and felt an adrenaline rush that almost caused her to drop the utensil.

  He burst into laughter. “You’re a natural mother.”

  “Not really.” She began feeding Concetta her meat while the women watched. “I fed the babies at the orphanage. This is the only thing I have a natural aptitude for.”

  “The CEO at TCCPI has told me otherwise,” he stated.

  If she wasn’t careful, she might start wanting to hear more of his compliments. And believing them, Belle?

  “When you’re on your own and forced to earn a living, you learn a trade fast.”

  A troubled expression entered his eyes. “Your adoptive father never helped you after you left home?”

  She shook her head, with its dark, shiny mass of flowing hair, and continued to feed the baby. “But I’d be ungrateful if I didn’t acknowledge that he and Nadine fed and clothed me for eight years while I lived under their roof. Some of my friends in the orphanage never got adopted, and lived their whole lives there until they were old enough to leave. I was one of the luckier ones.”

  Concetta hadn’t quite finished her food when she put her hands out as if to say she was full. She was so adorable, Belle could hardly stand it. “I think you’ve had enough.” Without thinking about it, she untied the bib. After wiping Concetta’s mouth with it, she put it on the table and lifted the baby out of the high chair.

  “Uh-oh. I can tell you need to be changed. Where’s your bedroom?”

  Leon had been lounging against the wall, watching them. “Upstairs.”

  Belle darted him a glance. “If you’ll show me, I’ll change her, but only if it’s all right with you.”

  One black brow lifted. “Since you’ve got her literally eating out of the palm of your hand, I have a feeling she’d have a meltdown if anyone else dared to interfere at this point.”

  “Leon...” The man had lethal charm. It had been getting to her from the first day and had worked its way beneath her skin.

  “Follow me.”

  The only thing to do was concentrate on the baby. “You have the most beautiful home, Concetta. I always wanted to live in a house with a staircase like this. I wonder how long it will be before you slide down the banister when your papà isn’t looking.”

  She heard the low chuckles trailing after him, and it was impossible to keep her eyes off his hard-muscled frame. She knew what it was like to be crushed against him, and came close to losing her breath, remembering. In father mode, Leon was completely different from the forbidding male she’d first met. Like this he was irresistible.

  Rufo darted ahead of them. They entered the first room at the top of the stairs. “I might have known you’d live in a nursery like this. Your father has spoiled you silly, you lucky little girl.” Belle felt as if she’d entered fairyland. He’d supplied everything a child could ever want.

  There was a photograph on the dresser of a lovely, dark blonde woman who had to be Leon’s deceased wife. Concetta would always ache for the mother who hadn’t lived through childbirth. The thought made Belle’s heart constrict. She knew what it felt like to want your mother and never know her.

  She carried the baby over to the changing table against the wall and got busy. After powdering, she put a clean diaper on her. Concetta’s cooperation made it an easy operation.

  Leon stood next to Belle. The scent of the soap he used in the shower lingered to torment her.

  “You’ve mesmerized my daughter.”

  “It’s the lime suit.” She picked up the baby. After giving her a kiss on her neck, she placed Concetta in her father’s arms. “I’m wearing a different color than she’s used to seeing.”

  “So that’s your secret weapon?”

  When Belle raised her head in query, the crystal gray eyes she remembered had morphed to a slate color. Just now she’d detected an edge in his tone, and didn’t understand it. If he hadn’t wanted her to feed or change the baby, he should have told her.

  As her spirits plummeted, she heard a male voice, and spun around to discover Leon’s father in the nursery doorway. Rufo had already hurried over to him. She recognized him from the photographs, but since the time those pictures were taken, his dark hair had become streaked with silver.

  His presence meant Belle’s mother was here! Her mouth went dry.

  * * *

  Leon saw the shock on his father’s face. Normally, he headed straight for Concetta, but not this time. The count was staring at Belle. Her beauty stopped men in their tracks, but he’d also seen the resemblance to Luciana and was obviously speechless for a moment.

  His father wasn’t the only one. Leon had felt out of control since their first meeting. Just n
ow her easy interaction with Concetta, and his daughter’s acceptance of Belle, had caught him unaware. It had to be because Belle reminded her of Luciana. To his chagrin he’d experienced a ridiculous moment of jealousy.

  “Papà? May I introduce Belle Peterson. Belle? Meet my father, Sullisto.”

  The older man walked over to Belle with suspiciously bright eyes. “It’s like seeing your beautiful mother when she was in her twenties.” He kissed her on both cheeks and grasped her hands. “My wife’s not going to believe it. I’m not sure I do.”

  “I don’t believe it, either,” Belle answered in an unsteady voice. “It’s like a dream. I’m so happy to meet you.”

  He studied her features for a long moment. “How do you want to do this, my dear?”

  Leon appreciated his father’s sensitivity and stepped in. “Where’s Luciana?”

  “I left her in the living room, playing the piano.”

  “Why don’t you entertain Concetta up here while I take Belle downstairs to meet her?” He kissed the baby and handed her over. “I’ll come back for the two of you in a few minutes and we’ll go down together.”

  His father hugged the baby to him before looking at Belle. “Take all the time you need.”

  “Are you sure this is the right thing to do, signore?” Her question went straight to Leon’s gut.

  “Call me Sullisto. You’re going to make a new person of my wife,” his father reassured her.

  A hand went to her throat. “Thank you for being so kind and accepting.”

  Leon could only wonder at the emotions gripping her. “Let’s go.”

  She followed him out of the room and down the stairs. The sound of the piano grew louder. When they reached the front foyer, he turned to her. “Ready?”

  Belle nodded. “I’ve been waiting for this all my life, but I’d like you to go first.”

  Taking a deep breath, he opened the French doors. “Good evening, Luciana.”

  The playing stopped and she got up from the baby grand piano looking lovely as usual in a draped midriff jersey dress in a blue print. Though her daughter wasn’t wearing Versace, Belle had the same sense of style and good taste as her mother.

  She hurried across the Oriental rug toward him. “Thank you for inviting us, Leon. Where’s your precious baby?”

  He noticed the two women had the same little tremor in their voices when they were nervous. They were both the same height, but Luciana wore her hair short these days in a stylish cut. After giving her a kiss on both cheeks, he said, “Upstairs with Papà. But before he brings her down, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

  “A special woman?”

  He knew what she was thinking. His father had Leon’s love life on his mind and no doubt had been discussing the list of eligible titled women with Luciana. “This one is very special. You’ll have to speak English. Come in,” he called over his shoulder.

  After Belle stepped into the living room, he watched Luciana’s expression turn to incredulity, then shock. She went so pale he put an arm around her shoulders and helped her to the nearest love seat. “Your daughter has come all the way from New York looking for you.”

  A stillness enveloped both women before Luciana cried, “Arabella?”

  Tears splashed down Belle’s cheeks. She, too, had lost color. Fear that she might faint prompted Leon to help her sit next to her mother.

  “That’s my real name?” she asked in wonder. “Arabella?”

  “Yes. Arabella Donatello Sloan. Your father was English. Arabella was his grandmother’s name. She told him it meant beautiful lion. You are so beautiful. I don’t know how you ever found me, but oh, my darling baby girl, I’ve missed and ached for you every moment since I gave you up. You’ve been in my every prayer. Let me hold you.”

  It was like a light had gone on inside, bringing Luciana to life, illuminating her countenance. Like her mother, Belle glowed with a new radiance. They weren’t aware of anyone else.

  The sight of the two women clinging desperately while they communicated and wept and made dozens of comparisons brought a giant-size boulder to Leon’s throat.

  The explanation of Belle’s name reminded Leon of his conversation with her the day before, about his own name meaning lion. Belle remembered, too, because she darted him a quick glance. It was an odd coincidence.

  “I want you to know about your father. I have pictures of him back at the palazzo.”

  Belle flashed Leon a smile. He knew what seeing a picture of him would do for her.

  “Arabella was the grandmother who raised him before she died. We talked about names before you were born. That’s the one we liked the best. You would have loved him, but he was killed before we could be married. I was so terrified he’d been murdered that, when I had you, I made the decision to give you up because the danger you might be killed, too, was too great.”

  Leon moved closer to them. “We now know that no one was murdered, and Robert’s death had to have been an accident.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t know it until a few months ago. When I think about the years we’ve lost...” Her mother broke down sobbing.

  Belle held her for a long time. “What happened to my father?”

  “Robert and I had been in downtown Newburgh and we’d just left each other. He’d started across the intersection when this car crossed over the lines and came at him at full speed. The driver just kept going, leaving Robert lying there lifeless.”

  Belle’s groan filled the room.

  “It was so horrifying I went into labor and was taken to the hospital. You came a month early, Arabella. You were still in the intensive care unit when I had a graveside service for Robert. The police never found the man who killed him.”

  “How terrible for you.” Belle reached out to hug her harder.

  “It was terrible, since I couldn’t tell my father. He didn’t know about Robert. I knew if I took you back to Italy, he wouldn’t let me keep you at the palazzo. Worse, I was afraid you wouldn’t be safe with me anywhere.

  “When I made arrangements for you at the orphanage, you still needed a lot of care. But my father sent for me to come home. He wasn’t feeling well, because of his heart, and hinted that he wanted me to meet Count Malatesta, who’d recently lost his wife to cancer. My father wanted him for a son-in-law.

  “We married on my twentieth birthday. The fact that he still wanted me after I confessed everything to him in private proved to me he was a good man. But while I was still in New York, I couldn’t imagine ever marrying again. It was agony, because I had to rely on the sisters to watch over you. I told them I’d named you Belle. That way no one could ever trace you to Robert or me. I also told them they had to promise that whoever adopted you would take you to church.”

  “Nadine always took me.”

  “Thank heaven for that.”

  In all the years Leon had known Luciana, she’d never made such long speeches. In one breath he’d already learned enough about her past to erase the lies he’d heard whispered by the staff and others who lived on gossip. Those lies about her being shallow and of little substance had colored his thinking for years.

  He left the living room and remained outside the doors for several minutes to get a grip on his emotions, before taking the stairs two at a time. When he entered the nursery, he found his father helping Concetta stack some blocks. Sullisto saw him in the doorway. “Well...I guess I don’t have to ask how it went. Your eyes say it all.”

  Leon nodded. “You were right. This was one reunion that was meant to be. Come downstairs and see for yourself.”

  He plucked his daughter from the floor, still clutching one of her blocks, and they headed out the door with Rufo. When they’d descended the staircase and entered the living room, he discovered the two women still seated on the love seat, deep in conversation pu
nctuated with laughter and tears.

  “Forgive us for barging in on you, but my daughter wants to join in.”

  “Concetta...” Luciana rushed over to take her from Leon’s arms. Belle was right there with her. Both women fussed over his daughter, laughing, and his little girl broke out in smile after smile. She’d never had so much loving attention in her life.

  Leon glanced at his father. They shared a silent message that left no doubt this watershed moment had changed the fabric of life in both Malatesta households.

  “Dinner’s ready. Let’s go in the dining room. Tonight we’ll all eat together.” Leon’s words delighted the women.

  After he brought the high chair in, they both begged him to put Concetta between them at the candlelit table. Happiness reigned for the next hour, with most of the attention focused on the baby.

  Leon looked around, realizing he hadn’t felt this sense of family since before his own mother had died. His father hadn’t seemed this relaxed and happy in years, either. As for Luciana, being united with her daughter had transformed her to the point Leon hardly recognized her. Gone were the shadows and that underlying look of depression.

  But it was the new addition to his table that filled him with emotions foreign to him. Since Benedetta’s death, Concetta had been the only joy in his life. Having lost his wife, he hadn’t been able to think about another woman. As for marriage, he had no plan to marry again. His daughter was all he could handle, all he wanted to handle.

  Before Benedetta had died, she’d been Leon’s comfort. With two losses in his life, plus Dante’s aloofness, it was Concetta who was the beat of his heart now. Though she was loved by his staff, he guarded her possessively, afraid for anything to happen to her.

  He’d been functioning on automatic pilot at work, unenthusiastic about the pleasures he’d once enjoyed. His good friend Vito had phoned, no doubt to make some vacation plans, but Leon hadn’t even called him back yet.

  While he’d been going along in this whitewashed state, Belle Peterson had exploded onto the scene. Her presence reminded him of someone who’d come along his private stretch of beach and purposely destroyed the sand castle he’d made for his daughter with painstaking care.