“We may have to pretend for everyone else’s sake that we are madly in love, but at least we can be honest with each other.”
“I thought we were being honest.” Marcus’s voice was hard and cutting.
Gemma took a deep breath and launched in before she could change her mind. “So I really think the decent thing would be for us to sleep in separate rooms.”
There was a moment’s silence.
“You don’t mean that?”
The arrogance of that remark made her angle her head up defiantly. “Yes, I do.”
“We have an arrangement, Gemma. You are my wife and tonight we will consummate the marriage.”
Your dream ticket to the
vacation of a lifetime!
Why not relax and allow Harlequin Presents® to whisk you away to stunning international locations with our new miniseries…
Where irresistible men
and sophisticated women surrender to seduction under a golden sun.
The Italian Marriage
Kathryn Ross
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER ONE
‘DADDY is getting married.’
The words fell in the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon like an incendiary device.
‘Sorry?’ Gemma had been pouring a glass of lemonade for her son and it spilt on the picnic rug, flowing over the hem of her floral sundress. ‘What did you say, Liam?’
‘You’ve spilt lemonade,’ the four-year-old pointed out, reaching to get a chocolate bar from the picnic basket.
‘Yes, I know.’ Ordinarily, Gemma would have told her son not to eat the chocolate until he’d finished his sandwiches but her mind was in total disarray. ‘What did you say about Daddy?’ she asked again, trying hard not to sound flustered.
‘He’s going to get married.’ Liam munched on the chocolate and regarded her steadily from dark eyes that were unnervingly like his father’s. ‘Does that mean I will have two mummys like Annie does?’
‘Well…I suppose it does…’
Gemma was at a loss to know what to say. She was still reeling with shock.
It was strange how one moment the world could seem settled and then the next a gaping great hole could open up under your feet. She didn’t know why she felt so shocked…or surprised. Marcus Rossini was thirty-eight, spectacularly handsome, and wealthy. He’d had his pick of women for years. With forty looming on the horizon, maybe he thought it was finally time to put his philandering days behind him and settle down.
So who was the woman? she wondered. She’d put bets on it being his childhood sweetheart, Sophia Albani. Women had come and gone over the years but she seemed to have remained in the background—despite the miles that sometimes separated them, despite the fact that Marcus had fathered a child. Sophia had taken it all in her stride and their relationship seemed to have survived, against all odds. Maybe that was the test of true love? For some reason the pain of that thought seared straight through to Gemma’s heart.
‘Are you sure about this, Liam?’ she asked her son gently. ‘How do you know Daddy is getting married? Did he tell you himself?’
Liam shook his head and reached into the basket to get a biscuit. ‘I was supposed to be in bed but I got up because I had tummy ache and I heard him talking…’
‘Was this last night?’
Liam nodded.
Curiosity ate into Gemma. ‘Who was he talking to?’
Liam shrugged.
‘Do you think it was Sophia? Was she at Daddy’s house yesterday?’
‘He was talking on the phone.’ Liam grasped a packet of crisps and Gemma broke from the trance that had possessed her. Interrogating a four-year-old was not the done thing and Marcus’s personal life was nothing to do with her.
‘Liam, no more junk food. Eat a sandwich, please.’
Liam wrinkled his nose. ‘I don’t like them. I don’t like that green squishy stuff.’
‘It’s not squishy, it’s cucumber and you love it.’
Liam shook his head mutinously. ‘I hate it.’
‘Just have one to please me.’
‘Daddy doesn’t make me eat horrid things.’
Gemma felt a flash of irritation. It was always the same. Liam idolized his dad; she felt that she heard a sentence similar to this half a million times during the day. ‘Daddy doesn’t make me go to bed this early…Daddy lets me watch this programme on TV…Daddy reads to me when I wake up at night…’
Gemma tried to let it all go over her head without resorting to any sarcastic replies, but sometimes when she was tired or harassed it was more than flesh and blood could stand and she really wanted to say something derogatory—something that would tell Liam that his wonderful daddy wasn’t a man you could trust.
But of course she would never, never stoop that low. Because the truth of the matter was that, no matter how much Marcus Rossini had hurt her in the past, or how much she wanted to forget his very existence, he was a damned good dad to Liam and that was all that really counted in the end.
‘Please don’t argue with me, Liam. Just eat the sandwich. Otherwise I just might have to tell Daddy that you’ve been naughty when he comes to pick you up tonight.’
She watched as the child hesitated and then dutifully did as he was asked. It always worked, Gemma thought, as she dabbed at the hem of her dress with a tissue to mop up the lemonade. And the irony was that her conversations with his father were as brief as Gemma could possibly make them. She never
