Keira picked up her clutch bag and went downstairs, her heart pounding with an anxiety which seemed to be increasing by the second. Was that because she’d seen Luciana’s unmistakable look of disbelief when they’d been introduced? Was she wondering how this little Englishwoman from nowhere had wrested a proposal of marriage from the Italian tycoon?
But the expression on Matteo’s face made Keira’s stomach melt as she walked into the hallway, where everyone was waiting. She saw his eyes darken and the edges of his lips curve into an unmistakable smile of appreciation as he took her cold hand in his and kissed it.
‘Sei bella, mia cara,’ he had murmured softly. ‘Molta bella.’
Keira told herself he was only saying it because such praise was expected of the prospective groom, but she couldn’t deny the feeling of satisfaction which rippled down her spine in response. Because she wanted him to look at her and find her beautiful, of course she did. She wasn’t stupid and knew she couldn’t take his desire for granted. Someone like her was always going to have to work to maintain it. Leola the stylist had been dispatched from Rome with a selection of wedding outfits and Keira had chosen the one she felt was the most flattering but also the most appropriate. Steadfastly pushing away the more floaty white concoctions, she had opted for functional rather than fairy tale. The silvery-grey material of the dress and jacket reminded her of a frosty winter morning but there was no doubt that it suited her dark hair and colouring. Only the turquoise shoes and matching clutch bag provided a splash of colour—because she had refused all Leola’s inducements to carry flowers.
At least Massimo Valenti seemed enchanted by his grandson. Keira travelled in one of the cars with him to the nearly town and watched as he spent the entire journey cooing at the baby in delight. It made her wonder why he hadn’t been close to his own son—but there was no time for questions because they were drawing up outside the town hall where Matteo was waiting to introduce her to the interpreter, which Italian law demanded.
Twenty minutes later she emerged from the building as a married woman and Matteo was pulling her into his arms, his hands resting on either side of her waist—but even that light touch was enough to make her want to dissolve with lust and longing.
‘So. How does it feel to be Signora Valenti?’ he questioned silkily.
Her heart was pounding as she stared up into the molten darkness of his eyes. ‘Ask me again next week,’ she said breathlessly. ‘It feels a little unreal right now.’
‘Maybe this will help you accept the reality,’ he sai
d, ‘mia sposa.’
And there, beneath the fluttering Italian flag of the town hall, his lips came down to claim hers with a kiss which left her in no doubt that he would rather they were somewhere private, preferably naked and horizontal. It set off an answering hunger and reminded Keira of the slightly incredible fact that he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Didn’t he demonstrate that every night when he covered her trembling body with his own? And wasn’t that enough? she wondered as they drove back to the farmhouse together, her golden ring glinting as she fussed around with Santino’s delicate shawl. Was it just her inherently cautious nature which made her wonder if her relationship with Matteo was as superficial as the icing sugar sprinkled over the top of the chocolate wedding cake which Paola had baked?
Yet when he carried her over the threshold, it felt real. And when she returned from putting Santino down for a nap, having removed the silvery-grey jacket to reveal the filmy chiffon dress beneath, Matteo had been waiting in the shadowed hallway for her.
Pulling her into a quiet alcove, he placed his palm over her hammering heart and she licked her lips as her nipple automatically hardened beneath his touch.
‘Ever wish you could just wave a magic wand and make everyone disappear?’ he drawled.
She shivered as the light stroking of her nipple increased. ‘Isn’t that a little...anti-social?’
‘I’m feeling anti-social,’ he grumbled, his lips brushing over the curve of her jaw before moving upwards to tease her now trembling lips. ‘I want to be alone with my new wife.’
Keira kissed him back as his words set off another whisper of hope inside her and she wondered if it was wrong to allow herself to hope, on this, her wedding day.
‘You were the man who once told me about the benefits of waiting,’ she teased him. ‘Won’t this allow you to test out your theory?’
Matteo laughed as she pulled away from him, the prim twitch of her lips contradicting the hunger in her eyes, and he shook his head slightly, wondering what kind of spell she had cast over him. He was used to the wiles of women yet Keira used none of them. She wasn’t deliberately provocative around him and didn’t possess that air of vanity of someone who revelled in her sexual power over a man. On the contrary, in public she was almost demure—while in private she was red-hot. And that pleased him, too. She pleased him and unsettled him in equal measure. She left him wanting more—but more of what, he didn’t know. She was like a drink you took when your throat was dry yet when you’d finished it, you found that your thirst was just as intense.
He stroked his fingers down over her belly, his gaze steady as they stood hidden by the shadows of the staircase. Hard to believe that a child had grown beneath its almost-flat curve. ‘I want you to know you are an amazing mother,’ he said suddenly. ‘And that Santino is blessed indeed.’
He saw the surprise behind the sudden brightness in her eyes, her mouth working as she struggled to contain herself.
‘Don’t make me get all emotional, Matteo,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve got to go in there and make conversation with your father and stepmother and I’m not going to make a very good impression if I’ve been blubbing.’
But he disregarded her soft plea, knowing he needed to express something which had slowly become a certainty. He owed her that, at least. ‘I shouldn’t have taken you to Rome when I did and made you leave the baby behind,’ he admitted slowly. ‘No matter how good the childcare we had in place. I can see now that it was a big ask for a relatively new mother in a strange country.’
He saw her teeth working into her bottom lip and he thought she might be about to cry, when suddenly she smiled and it was like the bright summer sun blazing all over him with warmth and light, even though outside it was cold and wintry.
‘Thank you,’ she said, a little shakily. ‘I love you for saying that.’
He stilled. ‘Really?’
A look of horror crossed her face as she realised what she’d said. ‘I didn’t mean—’
‘Didn’t you?’ he murmured. ‘How very disappointing.’
Keira told herself he was only teasing as he led her into the salon, but she felt as if she were floating on air as she took a grizzling Santino from Massimo’s bear-like arms and rocked him dreamily against her chest. Had Matteo really just admitted he’d been in the wrong by taking her to Rome and told her she was a good mother? It wasn’t so much the admission itself, more the fact he was beginning to accept that each and every one of them got it wrong sometimes—and that felt like a major breakthrough.
And had she really just let her guard down enough to tell him she loved him? It hadn’t been in a dramatic way or because she’d expected an instant reciprocal response. She’d said it affectionately and Matteo needed that, she reckoned. How many times had he been told he’d been loved when he was growing up? Too few, she suspected.