furrowed, a flash of pain contorting her features. ‘About eleven months ago.’
When she had left him.
And just like that, he understood what terrible anguish she must have gone through.
Whatever her reasoning had been, and whatever vitriol she might spout now, it hadn’t been any easier for Grace to break their union than it had been for him to accept that she had left of her own accord.
She hadn’t left because she no longer loved him.
She had left despite it.
Dio, but he had no idea how that made him feel.
‘Can I hold her?’ He hadn’t meant to ask. He’d intended to simply take Lily from her. After all, he was the father. It was his right.
She didn’t say anything, her tired eyes simply gazing at him with more than a hint of apprehension. Eventually she inclined her head.
‘Aren’t you going to give me any tips about keeping her head supported, or anything?’ he could not resist asking as he stood before her.
A faint trace of a smile curved her lips, a smile that did something all squidgy to his chest, before it faded away and he detected sadness in its place. ‘You’d never hurt her.’
She delivered it as a whimsical statement of fact. The squidgy feeling became a tight mass.
Between them they transferred Lily into his arms, the tight mass solidifying into a heavy weight, spreading up his throat and down into his guts, enveloping his insides. The softness of Grace pressed against his arm, her clean fragrance filling his senses, all of this merged with the plump delicacy of his daughter and the new baby scent that was all her own.
For a moment he couldn’t breathe, the feelings evoked so powerful they threatened to overwhelm him.
Lily stopped grizzling. She stared up at him, her midnight eyes almost curious, as if she were trying to work out who this stranger was who now held her so protectively.
Grace watched them, the ray of moonlight casting her in an ethereal light, emphasising both her beauty and her tiredness.
‘You need to sleep,’ he said, lowering himself onto the rocking chair next to Lily’s cot. ‘Go to bed. I’ll get her back down.’
She opened her mouth, no doubt to argue with him, but all that came out was an enormous yawn, which she covered with the back of her hand.
‘If I have any problems I’ll wake you.’
Still she hesitated before giving a short nod. ‘Okay. If you’re sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
She closed the space between them and leaned over, placing her lips to their daughter’s cheek, her hair inadvertently tickling his throat. ‘Sleep tight, my angel.’
As she made to straighten up she wobbled slightly and placed a hand on his bare thigh to steady herself.
‘Sorry,’ she murmured, taking a step back.
‘Don’t be.’ His skin heated, and he breathed deeply, willing the completely inappropriate feelings to disperse.
She backed up to the adjoining door. ‘Well, goodnight, then.’
‘Goodnight, bella.’
Alone with his daughter, Luca closed his eyes and breathed in Lily’s sweet scent. The heavy weight inside him had become a pulsating ball of steel and it took long moments before he felt ready to properly look at her.
Carefully he laid her on his lap and stared, taking in the long limbs, the skinny fingers, the plump cheeks, the snub nose, everything. The longer he looked, the harder it became to breathe.
His daughter. His flesh and blood.
WHEN GRACE AWOKE, she checked the time on her bedside clock and almost fell out of bed in shock.
Throwing the covers off, she jumped out and raced into the adjoining nursery, completely skipping the blurry-eyed, lots-of-yawning routine the morning usually brought.
The cot was empty.
Pressing a hand to her racing heart, she gnawed at her bottom lip and forced her frantic brain to calm down and think.
She checked in the small fridge she’d had placed in the corner of the room. Instead of the two made-up bottles of Lily’s milk she’d put in there before going to bed, there was only one.
Still chewing on her lip, she headed off along the corridor. Was it possible Luca had heard Lily call for her breakfast while she had slept through it? Surely not? Her bedroom adjoined the nursery, and her maternal biology was primed to hear her baby’s cries.
The door to the master bedroom was ajar. She tapped on it lightly. Getting no response, she tapped again then pushed it open.
Rooted to the floor, all she could do was stare, wide-eyed.
Luca was asleep on the edge of the ultra-king bed. Lily lay on her back next to him, bang in the middle, wearing a sleep suit Grace was certain she hadn’t been wearing when she’d put her to bed. A pile of pillows had been placed neatly along the other edge, sandwiching Lily between them and Luca. On his bedside table sat an empty baby bottle.
Heart in mouth, she swallowed away the compulsion to climb in with them, stood for an age unable to tear her eyes away.
Her presence must have disturbed him, for Luca raised his head. ‘What time is it?’
She cleared her throat. ‘Nine o’clock.’
As he sat up she noticed how careful he was not to use any sudden movements that could wake Lily. All the same, the baby stirred and kicked her little feet out.
Now fully upright, his black hair mussed, Luca reached for Lily and cuddled her to his bare chest. From Grace’s vantage point she could see the wound on his shoulder—the wound she had inflicted—was healing well, now a dark red scar. It made her stomach roll to know every time he looked in a mirror and saw that scar, he would be reminded of the time she had shot him.
At the same time fresh guilt was kicking in, her mouth ran dry as she experienced a pang of envy, not that Lily had evidently accepted him without question, but envy that he held her so tenderly.
How Grace had loved to nestle into that broad chest...
‘What time did she wake up for her bottle?’ she asked, pushing all thoughts of nibbling at his nipples and running her fingers through his black silky hair from her mind.
‘A couple of hours ago.’ He yawned widely.
‘I never heard her.’
‘She fell asleep not long after you went back to bed, but as soon as I put her down she woke up and
