but it’s very distracting and right now I don’t want any form of distraction.’
She nodded, staring very hard at the needlepoint bedspread before lifting her eyes to his. ‘Do you want to talk about what happened?’
Dante considered her question and thought that of all the women he’d ever known, no one else would have asked it in quite that way. It was curious, yes—but it wasn’t intrusive. She was making it plain that she could take it or leave it—it was entirely up to him what he chose to tell her. She didn’t want to give him a hard time, he realised. And wasn’t her kindness one of the things which kept drawing him back to her, time after time?
He sighed and the sound seemed to come from somewhere very deep in his lungs. It hadn’t been an easy meeting with his twin, but it had been necessary. And cathartic. The pain of his remorse had hurt, but not nearly as badly as the realisation of how badly he had hurt his brother. And now that it was over he was aware of feeling lighter as a result.
‘Not really. I’m done with talking about it,’ he said, taking her hand within the palm of his own and wrapping his fingers around it. ‘Would it be enough to tell you that Dario and I are no longer estranged?’
Willow nodded. ‘Of course it’s enough.’ Her fingertips strayed to his shadowed jaw, where she felt the rasp of new growth against her skin.
‘Willow, I need to talk to you.’
‘I thought you just said you were done with talking.’
‘That was about family rifts. This is something else.’
She bit her lip because now he sounded like she’d never heard him sound before. All serious and...different. Did he want to end it now? Already? ‘What is it?’ she questioned nervously.
Almost reflectively he began to trace a little circle over her palm before lifting his gaze to hers. And Willow didn’t know if it was the fact that the sun was higher in the sky, but suddenly his eyes seemed clearer and bluer than she’d ever seen them before, and that was saying something.
‘I’m in love with you,’ he said.
Willow froze.
‘With me?’ she whispered, her voice choking a little.
He reached out his other hand—the one which wasn’t holding hers—and touched her hair, as if he was testing how slowly he could slide his fingers over it.
‘Yes, with you,’ he said. ‘The woman who has me twisted up in knots. Who made me do what I told myself I didn’t want to do. Who gave herself to me—the sweetest gift I’ve ever had, as well as the best sex of my life. Who taught me how to forgive myself and to seek forgiveness in others, because that has helped me repair the bitter rift with my brother. You are the strongest and bravest woman I’ve ever met.’
‘Dante...’
‘Shh. Who has withstood more than the average person will ever know,’ he continued. ‘And then just shrugged it off, like the average person would shrug off rain from a shower. But you are not an average person, Willow. You’re the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met—and I want to marry you and have babies with you.’
Her voice was more urgent now. ‘Dante...’
‘No. Just let me finish, because I need to say this,’ he said, his fingers moving from their slow exploration of her hair to alight on her lips, to silence her. And when he next spoke, his words seemed to have taken on a deeper significance and his face had grown thoughtful—as if he’d just discovered something which had taken him by surprise. ‘I never thought I wanted marriage or a family because I didn’t know what a happy family was, and I wasn’t sure I could ever create one of my own. The only thing I did know was that I never wanted to exist in an unhappy family. Not ever again.’ His mouth twisted. ‘But somehow I believe I can do it with you, because I believe—with you—that anything is possible. And I want you by my side for the rest of my life, Miss Willow Anoushka Hamilton.’
Willow blinked her eyes, trying furiously to hold back the spring of tears as she tried to take in words she’d never expected to hear him say. Beautiful, heartfelt words which made her heart want to melt. Wasn’t it funny how you could long for something—even though you tried to tell yourself that it was the wrong thing to long for—and then when it happened, it didn’t feel quite real.
It seemed inconceivable that Dante Di Sione should be sitting there holding her hand, with all the restraint and decorum of an old-fashioned suitor and telling her he’d fallen in love with her and wanted her to have his babies. She should have been jumping up and down with excitement, like a child on Christmas morning. She should have been flinging her arms around his neck and whooping with joy, because wasn’t this the culmination of all the hopes and dreams which had been building inside her, despite all her efforts to keep them under control?
So why was she sitting there, her heart sinking with dismay as she looked into his beautiful eyes and a feeling of dread making her skin grow cold and clammy?
Because she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t. She could never be the woman he wanted.
She thought about something else his grandfather had said to her last night and the wistful expression on his face as he’d said them. Regret is one of the hardest things to live with. Don’t ever risk regret, Willow.
He was right. She couldn’t risk regret—not for her sake, but for Dante’s. Because if he married her, he would have a lifetime of regret.
Yet how could she possibly convey that? She didn’t want to disclose her own dark secret and have him kiss away her fears and tell her it didn’t matter. Because it did. Maybe not now, when they were in the first flush of this powerful feeling which seemed to have crept up on them both—but later, almost certainly it would matter. When the gloss and the lust had worn off and they were faced with the reality of looking at the future. Would Dante still want her then? Wouldn’t he long for his heart’s desire, knowing she could never give it to him?
She couldn’t give him the choice and have him decide to do something out of some misplaced sense of selflessness, or kindness. She had to make the choice for him, because it was easier this way. She drew in a deep breath and knew she had to dig deep into the past, to remember how best to do this. To recall the way she’d managed to convince her weeping parents that no, of course the treatment didn’t hurt. She’d worked hard on her acting ability when she’d been sick and realised it was the people around her who needed comfort more than she did. Because in a funny way, what she had been going through had been all-consuming. It was the people who had to stand and watch helplessly from the sidelines who suffered the most.
So use some of that acting talent now. Play the biggest part of your life by convincing Dante Di Sione that you don’t want to marry him.
‘I can’t marry you, Dante,’ she said, aware that his blue eyes had narrowed. Was that in surprise, or disbelief? Both, probably. He may have just made the most romantic declaration in the world but that hadn’t eradicated the natural arrogance which was so much a part of him.
He nodded, but not before she had seen that look of darkness cross over his face, and Willow had to concentrate very hard to tell herself it was better this way. That it might hurt him a bit now—and it would certainly wound his ego—but in the long run it would be better. Much better.
She knew he was waiting for an explanation and she knew she owed him one, but
