The Italian's Final Redemption - Jackie Ashenden Page 0,68

her finger. Only looking at him with so much love he could hardly meet her gaze.

Yet meet it he did as he made her his and he became hers.

And he wasn’t unworthy or undeserving. He wasn’t nothing and he wasn’t no one.

He was her husband and he had a new purpose: to love her for the rest of his life.

So he did.

Coming next month

THE COST OF CLAIMING HIS HEIR

Michelle Smart

‘How was the party?’

Becky had to untie her tongue to speak. ‘Okay. Everyone looked like they were having fun.’

‘But not you?’

‘No.’ She sank down onto the wooden step to take the weight off her weary legs and rested her back against a pillar.

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m a day late.’

She heard him suck an intake of breath. ‘Is that normal for you?’

‘No.’ Panic and excitement swelled sharply in equal measure as they did every time she allowed herself to read the signs that were all there. Tender breasts. Fatigue. The ripple of nausea she’d experienced that morning when she’d passed Paula’s husband outside and caught a whiff of his cigarette smoke. Excitement that she could have a child growing inside her. Panic at what this meant.

Scared she was going to cry, she scrambled back to her feet. ‘Let’s give it another couple of days. If I haven’t come on by then, I’ll take a test.’

She would have gone inside if Emiliano hadn’t leaned forward and gently taken hold of her wrist. ‘Sit with me.’

Opening her mouth to tell him she needed sleep, she stared into his eyes and found herself temporarily mute.

For the first time since they’d conceived—and in her heart she was now certain they had conceived—there was no antipathy in his stare, just a steadfastness that lightened the weight on her shoulders.

Gingerly, she sat beside him but there was no hope of keeping a distance for Emiliano put his beer bottle down and hooked an arm around her waist to draw her to him.

Much as she wanted to resist, she leaned into him and rested her cheek on his chest.

‘Don’t be afraid, bomboncita,’ he murmured into the top of her head. ‘We will get through this together.’

Nothing more was said for the longest time and for that she was grateful. Closing her eyes, she was able to take comfort from the strength of his heartbeat against her ear and his hands stroking her back and hair so tenderly. There was something so very solid and real about him, an energy always zipping beneath his skin even in moments of stillness.

He dragged a thumb over her cheek and then rested it under her chin to tilt her face to his. Then, slowly, his face lowered and his lips caught her in a kiss so tender the little of her not already melting to be held in his arms turned to fondue.

Feeling as if she’d slipped into a dream, Becky’s mouth moved in time with his, a deepening caress that sang to her senses as she inhaled the scent of his breath and the muskiness of his skin. Her fingers tiptoed up his chest, then flattened against his neck. The pulse at the base thumped against the palm of her hand.

But, even as every crevice in her body thrilled, a part of her brain refused to switch off and it was with huge reluctance that she broke the kiss and gently pulled away from him.

‘Not a good idea,’ she said shakily as her body howled in protest.

Emiliano gave a look of such sensuality her pelvis pulsed. ‘Why?’

Fearing he would reach for her again, she shifted to the other side of the swing chair and patted the space beside her for the dogs to jump up and act as a barrier between them. They failed to oblige. ‘Aren’t we in a big enough mess?’

Eyes not leaving her face, he picked up his beer and took a long drink. ‘That depends on how you look at it. To me, the likelihood that you’re pregnant makes things simple. I want you. You want me. Why fight it any more when we’re going to be bound together?’

THE COST OF CLAIMING HIS HEIR

Michelle Smart

Available next month

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