have to get back to him.’
‘Of course.’
But if she let him walk out of the door, let him walk away, would she ever get the chance to talk to him again? Would she ever even see his face again? And, much, much more important, how could she let him walk away when she knew that, back in the Villa San Felice, his baby son—their baby son—was awake and miserable and in need of comfort?
Not pausing to think, she snatched up the bag that was lying on the bed, stuffed her feet hastily into flat pumps and hurried after him. The speed and length of his strides had taken him out of the door and along the landing already and she had to push herself to follow him. She caught up just as Ricardo was about to let the main door swing to behind him.
‘What the…?’ The question was pushed from him as her hand clashed with his, catching the door before it slammed.
‘I’m coming with you.’
‘No way…’
‘Yes.’ She didn’t know how she managed to get such strength into her voice. Determination perhaps, or just plain desperation.
What she would do if he refused point-blank to let her go with him, she didn’t know. She could stamp her feet and demand that he let her—stand in the middle of the street and threaten to scream until he agreed. The problem was that, knowing Ricardo, he was more than capable of getting into his car and driving away, leaving her behind.
So she tried the opposite approach instead. She had nothing to lose, after all.
‘Please,’ she said. ‘Please, Ricardo, let me come with you.’
And watched his head go back in shock, his eyes narrowing sharply as he studied her face.
Please…
Ricardo felt as if he’d had a knock to his head, jarring his brain so that he couldn’t think straight.
Please. It was the last thing he had expected Lucy to say, at least in these circumstances and in that tone of voice. Correction, Lucy asking to go with him at all was the last thing that he had expected.
And she was asking. Making it sound as if it mattered to her. Making it sound as if she was actually concerned about Marco.
‘Ricardo…’ she said now, bringing his eyes to her face again.
In the light from the open door of the boarding house, she looked pale and drawn, forcing him to remember that she had said she’d been ill. What the hell had been wrong with her?
But he didn’t have time to hang about here any longer. He was needed back at the villa where, if the experience of the past few nights was anything to go by—and the sound of the nanny’s voice on the phone had certainly seemed to indicate that it was—at this moment Marco was wide awake and roaring his head off in protest at the discomfort of having another tooth come through.
Oh, yes, Donna Lucia would just love that…
And that was the thought that made up his mind for him.
‘OK,’ he said abruptly, expecting and seeing the shock and blank confusion that crossed Lucy’s face. ‘You can come. Get in the car.’
A wave of his hand indicated the vehicle parked at the roadside.
‘I…do you mean that?’
‘Lucy—’ his tone made his fierce impatience plain ‘—if you’re coming with me, get in the car or I’ll leave you behind.’
She moved then, hurrying to the car door and sliding into the seat as soon as he opened it for her.
Did she know what was ahead of her? Ricardo wondered. He doubted it. When Marco got into one of his crying jags then he made certain that the whole world knew that he wasn’t happy. And, as far as his father could see, a baby boy in a bad mood didn’t come with a volume control.
One thing was sure, if she hadn’t already had enough of being a mother, as she had declared in the cold-blooded note she had left behind when she’d walked out, then the next couple of hours were going to push her as far as she could go. For even the least reluctant mother, Marco’s screams could be positively the last straw.
And that was why he had finally agreed to let Lucy come back to the house with him.
If she needed any encouragement to persuade her to go, get out of his life and stay out of it for good, then the sight and sound of his baby son in a tantrum was probably the most likely thing to provide it.
Which suited him perfectly, Ricardo told himself, slanting a swift glance at the woman beside him as she fastened her seat belt and sat back. A faint cynical smile curled the corners of his mouth as he started the engine, put the car into gear and set off down the road.
This was going to be interesting.
THE noise hit Lucy’s ears as soon as she stepped through the main door of the villa and into the huge tiled hallway from where the big marble staircase curved upwards towards the first floor. Even in a place the size of the Villa San Felice, the furious, distressed baby yells could be heard right through the house. And, hearing them, Lucy had a terrible fight with herself not to just forget everything that had happened, forget her ambiguous position in this house and run up the stairs as fast as she could, her arms outstretched to take her little son into them.
She had even moved part way to the foot of the staircase when Ricardo came past her, taking the steps two at a time, long legs covering the ground so fast that Lucy had to put on a burst of speed as she reached the wide landing in an attempt to catch up with him.
She only made it just in time as her husband pushed open the door to the nursery and strode inside.
‘Marco…mio figlio…’
The soft words should have been drowned out by Marco’s wails but somehow the quiet tones cut through his distress and had him pausing in the middle of his sobs to look up and see his father.
‘Marco…’ Ricardo said again, crooning the name, and immediately the baby recognised his father. The wailing paused and from his nanny’s arms Marco held out his hands.
Reaching for Ricardo, Lucy suddenly understood, knowing an appalling, terribly cruel sense of loss as she realised that she had been about to step forward. Only to recognise, painfully and belatedly, that she didn’t have the right to hold her son. Not here, not now.
And besides—wasn’t she fooling herself to imagine that there might be any chance that Marco would recognise her? She had been away from him for so long. And he had been just a tiny infant when she had left.
She had to force herself to stand back, putting her hands behind her on the wall as both a source of support and a way of keeping herself from reaching out as she watched Ricardo take on the responsibility of comforting their child.
Her heart was thudding violently, just as it had done from the moment that the call had come through that Marco
