His Reluctant Bride: The Marchese's Love-Child / The Count's Blackmail Bargain / In the Millionaire's Possession. Sara Craven

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His Reluctant Bride: The Marchese's Love-Child / The Count's Blackmail Bargain / In the Millionaire's Possession - Sara  Craven

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embarrassment.

      ‘It was all I could afford at the time,’ she said. ‘And it works,’ she added defiantly, thinking of the hours she’d spent painting the walls, and stripping and stencilling the small chest of drawers which held Charlie’s things, and which just fitted into his room. He gave no credit, either, she thought bitterly, for the way she kept the place neat and spotless.

      ‘One word from you,’ he said harshly, ‘one hint that you were incinta, and it would all have changed. My son would have come into the world at Comadora, in the bed where I was born, and my father and grandfather before me.’ He took her by the shoulder, whirling her to face him. His voice was passionate. ‘Dio, Paola, why did you not tell me? How could you let me exist without knowing?’

      ‘Because we were no longer together.’ She freed herself from his grasp. ‘I made a decision that my baby was going to be part of my life only, and that I wanted nothing from you.’ She paused. ‘Didn’t I make that clear enough at the time?’

      ‘More than clear.’ His mouth twisted. ‘What I could not understand was—why.’ He frowned. ‘You could not have truly believed I was Mafioso. That is impossible—assurdo.

      ‘Why not? It was evident there were things you hadn’t told me,’ Polly countered. ‘Things you didn’t want me to know.’ She shrugged. ‘What was I supposed to think?’

      ‘Not, perhaps, to give me the benefit of the doubt?’

      ‘No,’ she said. ‘Any more than you decided to tell me the truth. And I expect we both had our reasons.’

      ‘Sì,’ Sandro said quietly. ‘But I also have regrets, which you do not seem to share.’

      ‘You’re wrong.’ She looked down at the floor. ‘I wish very much that I had never met you.’

      ‘Unfortunately for us both, the situation cannot be changed.’ His voice was a drawl. He picked up her refilled glass from the chest of drawers and handed it to her. ‘Shall we drink to our mistakes?’

      Polly realised she was holding the glass as if it might explode. ‘This isn’t a social occasion,’ she reminded him tautly. ‘You said you came here to talk.’

      ‘And I would do so,’ he said, ‘if I thought you were in any mood to listen.’ He paused. ‘I had better fortune with your parents.’

      Polly stiffened. ‘What have you been saying to them? If you’ve threatened them …’

      He gave her a weary look. ‘With what? A cattle prod, perhaps?’ His mouth curled. ‘Once again, you are allowing your imagination to run away with you, mia cara.

      She flushed. ‘You’re trying to tell me they gave up without a fight. I don’t believe it.’

      ‘Your mother, I think, would have gone to any lengths to thwart me,’ he said. ‘Your father, however, was more reasonable.’

      ‘He thinks I should simply hand Charlie over to you?’ Her voice broke on a little sob. ‘Oh, how could he?’

      ‘No, he knows that even if he made the kind of sacrifices your mother was demanding, he would still not have the financial resources for a lengthy court battle.’ His smile was brief and hard. ‘Especially if it took place in Italy,’ he added softly.

      The colour deepened in her face. ‘You’ll go to any lengths—pull any dirty trick to win, won’t you?’ she accused in a stifled voice.

      Sandro shrugged. ‘I see little point in losing, bella mia,’ he returned. ‘But I am prepared to offer a draw—a negotiated settlement.’

      She stared at him. ‘Would it mean that Charlie stayed with me?’

      ‘That would depend on you,’ he said. ‘Carlino is coming to Italy with me. As my son, he needs to learn about his heritage. I am merely inviting you to accompany him.’

      ‘As what? Some kind of glorified nanny?’ she demanded. She shook her head. ‘I think I’d rather have my day in court.’

      ‘He already has a nanny,’ Sandro told her evenly. ‘And another waiting in Italy to love him. But what he really needs is the stability of both parents in his life. So, Paola mia, I am asking you once again, as I did three years ago, to be my wife.’

      For a long, dazed moment Polly was too shaken to speak.

      At last, she said huskily, ‘Is this some grotesque joke?’

      ‘No,’ he said. ‘We are, if you remember, already engaged to each other,’ he added cynically.

      Her breathing quickened. ‘Was I really supposed to believe that—that nonsense? I—I don’t think so. And whatever happened between us, it was all over a long time ago, and you know it. You can’t simply revive it—on a whim.’

      ‘Very well, then,’ Sandro returned equably. ‘Let us forget it ever took place. Pretend that, for the first time, I am making you an offer of marriage, Paola mia.’

      She shook her head. ‘But you don’t—you can’t want to marry me.’

      ‘I have no particular desire to be married at all,’ he retorted. ‘But there are good reasons why I should sacrifice my freedom.’

      ‘Your freedom?’ Polly almost choked. ‘What about mine?’

      He looked around him. ‘You call this liberty? Working long hours. Living in little more than one room? I don’t think so.’

      ‘I could always sue you for child support.’ She drew a breath. ‘That would improve my circumstances by a hundred per cent.’

      ‘But I am already offering to support our child—as the Marchese Valessi,’ he said silkily. ‘Besides, our marriage would remove any possible objections to Carlino’s right to inherit when the time comes, and it would mean that his well-being and nurture becomes the concern of us both from day to day.’ He paused. ‘I suggest it as a practical alternative to a custody battle.’

      ‘Which I might win,’ she said swiftly.

      ‘You might, but could you fight the appeal which would follow?’ Sandro countered. ‘Or the appeal against the appeal?’ His smile was chilly. ‘The case might last for years.’

      ‘Or until I run out of money, of course,’ she said bitterly. ‘You don’t need a cattle prod, signore.’

      His brows lifted. ‘You regard marriage to me as some kind of torture, signorina?’ he asked softly. ‘Then perhaps I should make something clear to you at once. What I am offering is only a matter of form. A way of legalising the situation between us. But it would not be a love match. Too much has taken place for that. We would share nothing more than a roof, if that is what concerns you.’

      He gave her a level look. ‘I accept now that any feelings we had for each other belong in the past. That we are different people, and we have both moved on.’

      ‘You say that now.’ Her voice was husky. ‘Yet only last night you told me I was still in your blood.’

      ‘But

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