Run Wild (Escape with a Scoundrel) - By Shelly Thacker Page 0,131
room, he’ll wolf it all down before anyone else can get a crumb.”
“He’s still a growing lad,” Sam admonished, laughing. The relationship between Nicholas and Joseph had been cool at first. It had taken months before they even called one another by their first names. But as they had come to know one another, a mutual respect had grown between them, which had gradually warmed to genuine friendship.
“Did you bring me some gnocchi?” Nicholas asked, toying with the lace-edged sleeve of her gown.
“And fried moeche crab from Antonio’s stall in the marketplace.” Sam nodded. “And I stopped at Signora Cascarelli’s bakery for focaccia bread. She sent along some sweets, to thank me for my work on her daughter’s wedding veil. I have those S-shaped shortbread biscuits you love, and two of her crumbly fregolotta almond cakes.”
He responded with a hungry groan that made Sam giggle. She had discovered that her husband had a weakness for sweets, and she enjoyed surprising him with different varieties every Friday.
She loved taking care of him, in ways large and small, showing him every day how much he meant to her.
Other than their frequent food splurges, the two of them were careful with their money. Sam earned a modest income working for Signora Marchetti, one of the most renowned lacemakers in Venice, and Nicholas, Masud, and Joseph split the profits from the chandlery three ways, so all of them lived simply. Masud and Joseph rented rooms upstairs, while Sam and Nicholas lived nearby.
They had a charming flat that faced the Grand Canal, on the top floor of one of the saffron-colored buildings. Sam’s favorite spot was the small terrace where they shared breakfast al fresco every morning and enjoyed the moon and stars at night. They couldn’t afford a villa on the Adriatic just yet... but someday. Nicholas had his eye on some land overlooking the sea where they might build their home—near the chapel where they had been married, at sunset on a beautiful autumn day.
“Signora Cascarelli at the bakery suggested some names for our bambino,” Sam said lightly. “She likes Domenico for a boy, or Giovanna for a girl.”
Nicholas chuckled. “Are we telling everyone now?”
Sam smiled down at her pale pink silk dress, ran her hand over the gentle swell below her waist. “I don’t think we can keep this particular secret any longer.”
Certain other secrets were theirs to keep forever... such as the wedding present Nicholas had given her. She wore it pinned to the inside of her bodice, over her heart, since it would be rather hard to explain to anyone who saw it.
Fashioned by a talented Venetian goldsmith, it was a special piece of jewelry: a tiny pair of shackles, embedded with sparkling rubies.
Nicholas had instructed the jeweler to make it using the best cuts from the gem, before selling what was left to raise cash for his new business.
Glancing up at her husband, Sam realized his face had taken on a serious expression. “What?” she asked, concerned. He so rarely looked serious these days. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” he whispered, gazing down at her with eyes full of wonder. “Everything’s fine. It just... still astonishes me sometimes.”
“Why?” She reached up to stroke his bearded cheek.
“Because I once thought that you...” He closed his eyes. “I thought you were some kind of punishment, sent to make me pay for my sins. But that’s not the truth at all. You’re a gift,” he whispered, opening his eyes. “Despite all I did in the past, God loved me enough to bring you into my life. You and...” He lightly covered her hand with his, caressing her abdomen. “Our child.”
He couldn’t say any more, he was so overcome. Sam rose into his embrace, holding him tight. “And you’re a gift to me. I love you, Nicholas.”
He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. “I promise,” he choked out. “God above, I promise I’ll treasure these gifts all the rest of my days.”
Sam felt her heart swell with emotion so strong it spilled over as tears. They kissed, a long, slow kiss, and then he swept her up into his arms.
“Nicholas,” she protested breathlessly.
“Yes, wife?” he asked, heading for the back door.
“Where are we going?”
“Home.”
“But what about your lunch?”
He grinned wickedly. “I’ve something even better to nibble on.”
Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his neck as he stepped out into the warm, golden sunlight. “I do believe I’ve married an incorrigible rogue, Mr. James.”