I’d better tell you what’s in them,’ he said, his eyes not leaving her face as he took them from her. ‘They are all love letters. With the exception of one.’
He saw her eyes widen before dark lashes came shuttering down to cloak their sapphire hue with suspicion.
‘What’s that? A hate letter?’ she quipped.
‘I’m serious, Keira.’
‘And so am I. Anyone can write down words on a piece of paper and not mean them.’
‘Then how about I summarise them for you out loud?’
‘No.’
But that one word was so whispered that he barely heard it and Matteo had no intention of heeding it anyway. ‘Four words, actually,’ he husked. ‘I love you, Keira. So how about I say it again, just so there can be no misunderstanding? I love you, Keira, and I’ve been a fool. Uno scemo! I should have been honest with you from the start, but...’ He inhaled deeply through his nostrils and then expelled the air on a shuddered breath. ‘Keeping things locked away inside was the way I operated. The only way I knew. But believe me when I tell you that by the time I asked you to marry me, I wasn’t thinking about the house any more. My mind was full of you. It still is. I can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t want to. So I’m asking you to give me another chance, Keira. To give us another chance. You, me and Santino. That’s all.’
She didn’t say anything for a moment and when she spoke she started shaking her head, as if what he was demanding of her was impossible.
‘That’s all?’ she breathed. ‘After everything that’s happened? You don’t know what you’re asking, Matteo.’
‘Oh, but I do,’ he demurred. ‘I’m asking you to be my wife for real. With nothing but total honesty between us from now on, because I want that. I want that more than anything.’ His voice lowered. ‘But I realise it can only work if you love me too. Once, in a shadowed hallway after we had taken our wedding vows, you whispered to me that you did, but you may not have meant it.’
Keira clamped her lips together to try to contain the stupid tremble of emotion. Of course she had meant it. Every single word. The question was whether he did, too. Was it possible that he really loved her, or was this simply a means to an end—the manipulative declaration of a man determined to get his rightful heir back into his life? Or maybe just pride refusing to let a woman walk away from him.
Yet something was stubbornly refusing to allow her to accept the bleaker version of his reasons for coming here today. Was it the anguish she could see in his black eyes—so profound that even she, in her insecurity, didn’t believe she was imagining it? She flicked the tip of her tongue over her mouth, wondering if it was too late for them, until she realised what the reality of that would mean. Matteo gone from her life and free to make another with someone else, while she would never be able to forget him.
And she wasn’t going to allow that to happen. Because how could she ignore the burning inside her heart and the bright spark of hope which was beginning to flood through her veins?
‘I’ve tried not to love you,’ she admitted slowly. ‘But it doesn’t work. I think about you nearly all the time and I miss you. I love you, Matteo, and I will be your wife, but on one condition.’
His body grew very still. ‘Anything,’ he said. ‘Name it.’
She had been about to ask him never knowingly to hurt her, but she realised that was all part of the package. That hurt and pain were the price you paid for love and you just had to pray they didn’t rear their bitter heads too often in a lifetime. She knew also that if they wanted to go forward, then they had to leave the bitterness of the past behind. So instead of demanding the impossible, she touched her fingertips to his face, tracing them slowly down over his cheek until they came to rest on his beautiful lips.
‘That you make love to me,’ she said, her voice softened by tears of joy. ‘And convince me this really is happening.’
His voice was unsteady. ‘You mean, right now?’
She swallowed and nodded, rapidly wiping underneath her eyes with a bent finger. ‘This very second,’ she gulped.
Framing her face within the palms of his hands, he looked at her for one long moment before he spoke. ‘To the woman who has given me everything, because without you I am nothing. Ti amo, mia sposa. My beautiful, beautiful wife,’ he husked, and crushed his lips down hard on hers.
OUTSIDE THE WINDOW big white flakes floated down from the sky, adding to the dazzling carpet which had already covered the vast sweep of lawn. Keira gazed at it and gave a dreamy sigh. It was unusual for snow to settle in this part of Umbria and she thought she’d never seen anything quite so magical, or so beautiful. She smiled. Well, except maybe one other time...
Looking up from where she was crouched beside the Christmas tree where she’d just placed a couple of presents, she saw Matteo walk into the room—with snowflakes melting against his dark hair. He’d been outside, putting the finishing touches to a snowman, which would be the first thing Santino saw when he looked out of his window tomorrow morning. Their son’s first real Christmas, Keira thought, because last year he’d been too young to realise what was going on and she...
Well, if she was being honest, she could hardly remember last Christmas herself. She and Matteo had been busy discovering each other all over again—and finding out that things were different from how they’d been before. They couldn’t have been anything but different once the constraints of the past were lifted and they’d given themselves the freedom to say exactly what was on their minds. Or in their hearts.
Matteo had given her the option of living in London, Rome or Umbria—and she’d opted for the sprawling Umbrian estate which had once belonged to his mother’s family. She figured it was healthier for Santino to grow up in the glorious Italian countryside, especially now that they had acquired a beautiful black cat named Luca who, against all odds, had become a devoted companion to Charlie the terrier.
But it was more than that. This estate was Matteo’s link with his roots. It represented continuity and stability—something which had been lacking in both their lives until now. One day Santino might listen to the call of his forebears and decide he didn’t want to be a businessman, like his daddy. He might want to grow up and farm the fertile acres of this beautiful place. A place which might so nearly have disappeared from the family.
Because Keira had discovered that the very first letter Matteo had sent during their separation contained estate agent details marketing the property. He’d put it up for sale to demonstrate that the house meant nothing, if he didn’t have her. They had quickly aborted the prospective sale, despite the frantic bidding war which had been taking place at the time. And had decided to make the estate their permanent home.
‘What are you smiling at?’ questioned Matteo softly as he walked over to the Christmas tree and pulled her to her feet.
Her contented expression didn’t change. ‘Do I need a reason?’ She sighed. ‘I’m just so happy, Matteo. Happier than I ever thought possible.’
‘Well, isn’t that a coincidence? Because I feel exactly the same way,’ he said, his fingers beginning to massage her shoulders, their practised caress never failing
