Happy Mother's Day!

‘Yes, he is, and he is also,’ Francesco discovered, angling a critical look at the toddler’s face, ‘extremely dirty. I’m taking him back to his mother.’

‘You know, I think I’ve had enough of this, and you,’ he added, glancing at her face, ‘have definitely had enough.’

‘What are you doing, Francesco?’ she asked as he began to bang his hand on the table.

‘I’m getting rid of this lot.’

‘You can’t do that!’ she protested. ‘It would be incredibly rude.’

Actually Francesco was rude and charming in equal parts as he basically told his family they had outstayed their welcome and fortunately nobody seemed particularly offended.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

BY THE time the last of their party-throwers had taken their leave Erin couldn’t help but be glad that Francesco had taken direct action.

She still couldn’t believe that—after all her fears that she would struggle to adapt to a world so far removed from the one she knew, and that his family would think he had married beneath him—in the end they had gathered her to their collective bosom unreservedly. The thing she would always remember about today would be the incredible warmth of her welcome.

Her head was filled with faces and buzzing with names. It was small wonder that she had the beginnings of a headache.

Francesco had not been exaggerating when he’d said he had a large family.

During the party Erin’s thoughts had repeatedly returned to the moments in the garden before they had walked into their surprise party. She had kept thinking about the things he had said and the expression in his eyes. It had made it hard for her to concentrate on what people had been saying to her and being forced to wait to hear what else he had to say had been incredibly frustrating.

So many questions still remained unanswered. She had felt so optimistic, so confident when they had walked through the door. But things had been left hanging in the air and during the frustrating delay doubts had crept in.

Maybe he didn’t even realise yet, but one thing was perfectly plain to Erin; Francesco hadn’t been in love with her when he’d married her. In lust, yes, but not in love.

She had been a diversion. If he had been kissing her he hadn’t been thinking about his brother. Was it possible that he had really fallen in love with her since they had married? Or was she succumbing to that most common of human failings and seeing only what she wanted to? Wasn’t it more likely that his new warmth and tenderness had more to do with the fact she was the mother of his unborn child and he wanted their marriage to work?

A moment later Francesco walked into the room massaging the back of his neck. ‘I’ve pulled up the drawbridge.’

And by the expression in her eyes as she looked at him it looked as if Erin had, too. He silently cursed his family’s timing. Things had been going in exactly the right direction until they had been ambushed.

‘And this is the family you thought you were not sophisticated enough to be part of,’ he said, removing a paper streamer from around his neck. ‘They like you.’

‘And I like them.’

‘The question is do you like me, Erin?’

‘You know I do, despite the fact you give orders and you issue decrees, you ride roughshod over people’s feelings and you think you’re always right!’

‘Is there more? Because I warn you my ego is feeling pretty fragile right now.’

A flicker of a smile crossed her face. ‘You’ve got an ego the size of Manchester.’

‘You think I will ever find a woman willing to overlook my failings?’

Only several m

illion.

‘Are you worried you won’t?’

‘I wasn’t,’ he admitted. ‘In fact, I thought I already had. But suddenly I don’t sound like the template for anyone’s perfect man.’

Her eyes dropped from his. ‘That kind of depends on the woman,’ she mumbled, thinking that for her he would always represent the perfect man.

‘Erin!’