Her heart quivered at the desolation in those words, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Oh, Vincenzo. That’s not true.’
‘I was afraid it was, though, so afraid. I filled my life up with justice, with a crusade, and used it as an escape, a way to hide. So I didn’t have to face the truth that she didn’t love me. She never loved me. And perhaps there was nothing in me to love.’
A tear rolled down her cheek, the cracks in her heart aching. ‘That’s not true,’ she said hoarsely. ‘There so much in you to love.’
‘I didn’t believe you back on Capri. I used so many excuses to run from what you were trying to show me. But...I’m tired of running. I’m tired of not believing, of not trusting. I’m tired of filling my life up with something that changes nothing. I want something else, I want something better.’ He paused, his eyes dark and full of heat. ‘I want you, Lucy Armstrong. You were brave. You facing your fears helped me face mine. And if there’s one person in this world I know I can trust, it’s you.’
Her throat closed up at the certainty in his face and voice; she couldn’t speak.
‘You and your honesty and your strength, my civetta. You helped me find peace, you gave me a taste of happiness, and I...I want that more than I have wanted anything in my entire life.’ The desperate, burning look in his eyes had dissipated, and there was something else there: a steady, bright glow. Calm and sure and certain. ‘I’m afraid of being nothing more than what my mother made me, of being no one, and I thought justice would somehow make that feeling go away. But it didn’t. It was you who made it go away, Lucy. It was you all this time.’ The glow in his eyes became brighter, hotter. ‘I love you, my civetta. I love you so much. And I know it took me a long time to understand and you will never know how sorry I am that I hurt you, but I can’t bear another day of you not being in my life.’ Slowly, he raised his arms and held them out, his soul laid bare in his eyes. ‘Will you come to me, Lucy? I would very much like you to be mine. And I very much want to be yours.’
There was no thought, only certainty. Only the truth of the feeling that had burned in her heart so long it was part of her.
Lucy closed the distance without hesitation, giving him her answer.
And when his mouth found hers, she knew she’d found everything she’d ever wanted, right there in his arms.
The perfect moment to find her for ever.
The for ever they both deserved and the happiness they’d finally found.
Together.
EPILOGUE
THEY HAD SO many plans. Lucy had informed him of her idea to use her financial skills to help institutions combat fraud and other financial crimes, and so he’d helped her set up a consultancy. As for himself, he’d decided to step away from his crusade. He was going to devote more of himself to his family’s auction house and the other various businesses he had. It should keep him busy until they started a family, which they would. After all, someone had to be around to look after the children, and he fully intended to be that someone.
And if he passed on a few titbits that he’d heard through the grapevine to various law enforcement agencies on occasion, then it was only what a fine, upstanding citizen would do.
But the most important plan of all was the wedding Vincenzo had insisted on the moment they returned to Capri.
And that was where he married her, at their villa, the place where they’d both discovered what happiness was. And they discovered it anew as they said their vows to each other in front of the priest.
Lucy wore the most beautiful wedding gown of ivory silk that hugged her curvaceous form, a veil tumbling over her glossy dark curls. They’d been left loose down her spine, but some combs held it back from her lovely face.
No, she was more than lovely. She was beautiful.
She’d given up her glasses today for contact lenses, and not for vanity but because her glasses fogged whenever she cried and she was apparently going to cry a lot—or so she told him.
But she wasn’t crying now as he held her small hand and pushed his ring onto her finger. Only looking at him with so much love he could hardly meet her gaze.
Yet meet it he did as he made her his and he became hers.
And he wasn’t unworthy or undeserving. He wasn’t nothing and he wasn’t no one.
He was her husband and he had a new purpose: to love her for the rest of his life.
So he did.
Coming next month
THE COST OF CLAIMING HIS HEIR
Michelle Smart
‘How was the party?’
Becky had to untie her tongue to speak. ‘Okay. Everyone looked like they were having fun.’
‘But not you?’
‘No.’ She sank down onto the wooden step to take the weight off her weary legs and rested her back against a pillar.
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m a day late.’
She heard him suck an intake of breath. ‘Is that normal for you?’
‘No.’ Panic and excitement swelled sharply in equal measure as they did every time she allowed herself to read the signs that were all there. Tender breasts. Fatigue. The ripple of nausea she’d experienced that morning when she’d passed Paula’s husband outside and caught a whiff of his cigarette smoke. Excitement that she could have a child growing inside her. Panic at what this meant.
Scared she was going to cry, she scrambled back to her feet. ‘Let’s give it another couple of days. If I haven’t come on by then, I’ll take a test.’
She would have gone inside if Emiliano hadn’t leaned forward and gently taken hold of her wrist. ‘Sit with me.’
Opening her mouth to tell him she needed sleep, she stared into his eyes and found herself temporarily mute.
For the first time since they’d conceived—and in her heart she was now certain they had conceived—there was no antipathy in his stare, just a steadfastness that lightened the weight on her shoulders.
Gingerly, she sat beside him but there was no hope of keeping a distance for Emiliano put his beer bottle down and hooked an arm around her waist to draw her to him.
Much as she wanted to resist, she leaned into him and rested her cheek on his chest.
‘Don’t be afraid, bomboncita,’ he murmured into the top of her head. ‘We will get through this together.’
Nothing more was said for the longest time and for that she was grateful. Closing her eyes, she was able to take comfort from the strength of his heartbeat against her ear and his hands stroking her back and hair so tenderly. There was something so very solid and real about him, an energy always zipping beneath his skin even in moments of stillness.
He dragged a thumb over her cheek and then rested it under her chin to tilt her face to his. Then, slowly, his face lowered and his lips caught her in a kiss so tender the little of her not already melting to be held in his arms turned to fondue.
Feeling as if she’d slipped into a dream, Becky’s mouth moved in time with his, a deepening caress that sang to her senses as she inhaled the scent of his breath and the muskiness of his skin. Her fingers tiptoed up his chest, then flattened against his neck. The pulse at the base thumped against the palm of her hand.
But, even as every crevice in her body thrilled, a part of her brain refused to switch off and it was with huge reluctance that she broke the kiss and gently pulled away from him.
‘Not a good idea,’ she said shakily as her body howled in protest.
Emiliano gave a look of such sensuality her pelvis pulsed. ‘Why?’
Fearing he would reach for her again, she shifted to the other side of the swing chair and patted the space beside her for the dogs to jump up and act as a barrier between them. They failed to oblige. ‘Aren’t we in a big enough mess?’
Eyes not leaving her face, he picked up his beer and took a long drink. ‘That depends on how you look at it. To me, the likelihood that you’re pregnant makes things simple. I want you. You want me.
Why fight it any more when we’re going to be bound together?’
Continue reading
THE COST OF CLAIMING HIS HEIR
Michelle Smart
Available next month
Copyright ©2020 by Michelle Smart
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The Italian's Final Redemption (Mills & Boon Modern) Page 17
