Happy Mother's Day! - By Sharon Kendrick Page 0,87
clenched at his sides as he steeled himself to ignore the anguish in her tear-filled blue eyes. ‘What was it like, Erin? Shall I tell you what it was like for me? What it was like to pick up that phone and hear some anonymous voice talk about antenatal appointments?’
‘I know,’ she sighed, ‘and I wouldn’t have had that happen for the world, but it’s just complicated things … I know that sounds pathetic.’
He didn’t disagree, just carried on looking at her with simmering hostility.
‘I knew I had to tell you at some point, but, well … using a child to paper over cracks in a marriage is never a good idea. And I was afraid that you might have a knee-jerk reaction and.suggest that we had to stay together for the sake of the baby.’ Sweeping a tangled skein of bright glossy hair back from her face, she angled a wary gaze at Francesco. He was listening to her and, much to her relief, seemed more in control of his feelings. But the expression in his hooded eyes was frustratingly hard to read.
‘Which is clearly ridiculous?’ Her voice lifted in query as she tried to gauge his reaction. Maybe her fears were misplaced?
It would be ironic considering how much she’d stressed about the possibility if it didn’t even occur to Francesco to suggest they give their marriage another shot for the sake of the baby. After all, he might be a man with some surprisingly oldfashioned ideas about family, but Francesco was also a realist.
‘Ridiculous to want to salvage our marriage to provide a home and stability for our child?’
Their eyes connected and she realised that she had been right to stress—in fact it seemed likely she had not stressed enough. ‘You mean pretend …’
From the way he was looking at her at that moment Erin imagined that Francesco would struggle to maintain a pretence that the sight of her didn’t make him feel physically ill let alone spend their married life acting as though she were the love of his life!
‘That’s hardly realistic, is it, Francesco?’
‘Not as unrealistic as you imagining I will give you a quickie divorce!’ he retorted bluntly.
‘Well, there is no point in hanging around, really, is there? I know some people stay separated for years before they make it official, but—’
‘There will be no separation.’
The interruption made her pause. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Then let me spell it out for you.’ His silky smile was somehow infinitely more alarming than his raging anger had been. Now he was in control. A shiver of apprehension traced its way down Erin’s spine. ‘No separation, no divorce, not now, not ever!’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked in a small voice, even though his statement had been clear enough. This was her worst nightmare coming true.
‘You wish me to spell it out? My child will not be brought up not knowing his father, his family, not speaking his own language.’
Erin rushed to reassure him that this had never been her intention. ‘Look, of course he’ll learn about his heritage—there was never any question of—’
‘You will come back to Italy with me where our child will be born.’
Erin shook her head in a negative gesture at the casually autocratic decree. ‘You’re suggesting that for the sake of the baby.’
‘I’m not suggesting anything,’ he corrected. ‘This is not a discussion. I’m telling you what is going to happen.’
Erin tried to laugh, but all that emerged was a high-pitched squeaky sound. ‘You can’t force me …’ The reminder was as much for her own benefit as his.
‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary—not once you have considered the options.’
‘What options?’
Again he smiled and the hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end. ‘There are none.’
She struggled to inject some sanity into the conversation. ‘You’re not being reasonable, Francesco. Our marriage was a total disaster. We can’t stay married just because of the baby.’
His jaw tightened. ‘Perhaps you need reminding why you married me in the first instance.’
Her head came up with a jerk. As their eyes clashed there was a tension in the air that reminded Erin of the heavy heat that preceded a storm.
‘Come to bed with me.’
The colour flew to her parchment-pale cheeks. ‘You’re so manipulative! You think that you can make me agree to anything if you get me in bed, don’t you?’ Why wouldn’t he? So far it had worked pretty well!
‘Manipulation? You actually imagine that I am capable of such clarity of thought with you in the