way she would steal it from him again.
He rubbed his eyes, the sound of Lily’s cries ripping into his heart.
‘Don’t think it’s escaped my attention that you haven’t held her yet. Not once.’
She was right.
The way he was acting around his own flesh and blood, anyone would think he was scared of her.
How could a baby be construed as even vaguely frightening? Especially when that baby was his child.
He left his room and moved stealthily down the dark corridor to the nursery.
Grace’s eyes widened when he walked through the door. ‘What’s the matter?’ she whispered, pacing the room, rocking Lily on her shoulder.
The breath caught in his throat.
His wife and daughter. Together. Illuminated by the moonlight seeping through a crack in the heavy curtains, Grace wearing her tatty dressing gown, Lily bundled up in blankets, her whimpers lessening.
It was a sight he knew he would never tire of gazing at.
He cleared his throat, taking in the dark rings circling his wife’s eyes. ‘When did you last have a proper night’s sleep?’
Her brow 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
