Not since we met at the wedding and the missing memories came back. I’ve been upfront about Finn—’
‘I’m not talking about Finn. I’m talking about you.’ He brushed a finger down her face and tilted her chin up so she was forced to meet his stare. ‘Getting information about the long-term effects the accident had on you has been like drawing blood from a stone. You seem to operate on a need-to-know basis, and I think I know why—you’re afraid that I will use your injuries as a weapon against you to gain custody of Finn.’
Tonino’s instincts were terrifying in their accuracy.
‘I know you suffered much more than a head injury,’ he continued, his thumb still resting gently under her chin. ‘You were partially paralysed and needed three major operations to help you walk and regain your motor functions. You spent six months in hospital and a further year in a rehabilitation centre. Your muscles are still weak and prone to spasm. You regularly sleep ten hours a night because your brain has to work twice as hard as everyone else’s to perform simple tasks so you lose your energy quickly. You suffer from debilitating headaches. One of the reasons you both waited six months after your father died before Aislin came to Sicily to fight for your share of his estate was because you were too weak to be left in sole charge of Finn. Have I missed anything?’
Tonino deliberately kept his voice light as he relayed the list of damage inflicted on Orla’s beautiful body. He could have continued, could have mentioned the broken ribs and broken arm, but the solitary tear that trickled down her cheek as she shook her head in answer let him know he’d said enough.
He’d called Dante because it had become blindingly obvious that Orla was masking the severity of her own condition. It had been a gradual reckoning until it had reached the point where he noticed it in her every action. Just the way she concentrated when carrying a cup was a big giveaway. He’d had to convince Dante that his intentions in seeking this information were honourable before he’d been put through to Aislin, who’d relayed all the details to him in what had made painful listening.
Orla put a brave face on but she still suffered the effects from it. She might always suffer them.
‘You need to learn to trust me.’ Tonino bent his head and brushed a soft kiss to her trembling lips. ‘I will never take Finn from you. You do not have to hide things from me. I want to help you.’
She blinked rapidly and swallowed before whispering, ‘I find it hard to trust people.’
He shifted his legs forward and lay down, taking Orla with him, then rolled over so he lay on top of her.
Placing his elbows either side of her head, he stared into her eyes. ‘You need to try. I am not your enemy. I am not going to take our son from you because your injuries mean you can be clumsy and that you need more sleep than me. And I’m not going to stop wanting you because of some scars.’
Her throat moved as she bit into her bottom lip.
Placing a hand on her thigh, he parted her legs and rested his hips between them. ‘Do you feel that?’ he murmured.
Her eyes widened as his arousal pressed against her and she gave a short, breathless nod.
‘No one turns me on the way you do. No one.’ Bending his head, he kissed her plump mouth while running a hand down the side of her body then back up to cover her breast. He could feel its softness more easily through the shirt than he could through the thicker material of her dress and bra but he wanted to feel it bare against his hand and feel the nipple pucker in his mouth.
‘I will never force you to do anything you don’t want,’ he whispered as he drove his arousal inside her, savouring the way her neck arched and the softest moan flew from her mouth. He pulled back to the tip then thrust in harder. ‘All I want is to give you pleasure.’
Maybe if he showed her all the pleasure they were capable of creating together, the Orla who had given herself to him without reservation four years ago would come back to him.
When Orla opened her eyes the room was bright with daylight. The space beside her on Tonino’s bed was empty.
She sat upright, looking for something to tell the time with.
Padding out of the bedroom, she went to Finn’s room and found it empty. The nurse’s room was empty too.
In her own room she donned some underwear, shrugged her robe on and set off looking for everyone.
She ignored the chiding voice in her head that told her she was being sentimental keeping Tonino’s shirt on.
After a search that took far longer than expected, she found her son and his father in Tonino’s office. Tonino was reading something on his desktop, Finn sat on the floor building something only he could recognise with his blocks.
They both turned to her when she walked in.
‘Mummy!’
She sank to her knees and scooped her son into her arms, then waited a moment for her heart rate to lower to something resembling normality before turning her gaze to Tonino.
Her heart rate accelerated. Images of everything they’d shared the night before flashed in vivid colour before her eyes.
From the knowing smile playing on Tonino’s firm mouth, he was having the exact same recollection.
‘What time is it?’ she asked.
He looked at his watch. ‘Eleven.’
She raised her brow in dismay. ‘That late? You should have woken me.’
‘You needed the sleep, dolcezza.’ And then he winked, making her cheeks turn into a furnace all over again. ‘If you go and get ready, I’ve promised Finn a swim in the pool.’
The next day, after a couple of hours spent building sandcastles on Tonino’s private stretch of beach and eating the picnic lunch made for them by his chef, Finn fell asleep. Removing the sandwich half hanging from his mouth and making sure the parasol shaded his delicate skin, Orla covered him from shoulder to toe with a thin sheet for good measure, then stretched her legs out and lifted her face to the sun’s rays.
‘You look happy,’ Tonino observed, cold bottle of beer in hand.
She nodded, glad she had her shades on so he couldn’t see what lay behind them. Sometimes it felt as if he only had to look into her eyes, and he could read everything in her head.
This was the second day in a row she’d woken in Tonino’s bed, replete by a night of lovemaking. Her promises to self that she would sleep in her own bed had been broken pretty much the moment she’d made them.
Deny herself the opportunity of making love to Tonino again? She was no masochist.
Or was she?
Was the heady pleasure she found in his bed worth the inevitable heartache heading her way?
‘Finn’s happy here too,’ he added into the silence before
