The Italian's Christmas Secret

Still high from the impact of their conversation, Keira refused the glass of vintage champagne which was offered and accepted a glass of some bittersweet orange drink instead.

But unusually, Santino grizzled in her arms and she wondered if it was the excitement of the day which was making him so fractious. Discreetly, she slipped away to the nursery to feed and change him before rocking him until he was sound asleep and carefully putting him in his crib.

She picked up the empty bottle and was just on her way out when she was startled by the sight of Luciana, who suddenly appeared at the nursery door in a waft of expensive scent. Keira wondered if she’d wandered into the wrong room or if she’d been hoping for a cuddle with Santino. But there was an odd smile on her new stepmother’s face and, for some reason, whispers of trepidation began to slide over Keira’s spine.

‘Is everything okay, Luciana?’ she questioned, hoping she sounded suitably deferential towards the older woman.

Luciana shrugged. ‘That depends what you mean by okay. I was a little disappointed that my son and his family were not invited to the ceremony today.’

‘Oh, well—you can see how it is.’ Keira gave a nervous smile, because Matteo had hinted that there was no love lost between him and his stepbrother, Emilio. ‘We just wanted a very small wedding.’

‘Sì.’ Luciana picked up a silver-framed photo of Santino and began to study it. ‘And naturally, it would have been very difficult for Emilio.’

‘Difficult?’

Luciana put the photograph down. ‘In the circumstances.’

Keira blinked. ‘What circumstances?’

Elegantly plucked eyebrows were raised. ‘Because of the clause in my husband’s will, of course.’

Keira’s heart began to pound as some nameless dread crept over her. ‘What clause?’

‘Surely Matteo has told you?’ Luciana looked surprised. ‘Though perhaps not. He has always been a man who gives very little away.’ Her expression became sly. ‘You are aware that this house belonged to Massimo’s first wife?’

‘To Matteo’s mother?’ questioned Keira stiffly. ‘Yes, I knew that. It’s where she was born and where she grew up. It’s one of the reasons he loves it so much.’

Luciana shrugged. ‘Ever since Matteo reached the age of eighteen, Massimo has generously allowed his son to use the estate as his own. To all intents and purposes, this was Matteo’s home.’ She paused. ‘But a strange thing happens to men as they grow older. They want to leave something of themselves behind.’ Her surgically enhanced eyes gleamed. ‘I’m talking, of course, about continuing the Valenti name. I am already a grandmother. I understand these desires.’

Keira’s head was spinning. ‘I honestly don’t understand what you’re getting at, Luciana.’

‘Ah, I can see you know nothing of this.’ Luciana gave a hard smile. ‘It’s very simple. He loves this house for obvious reasons, but he does not own it. And Massimo told him he intended bequeathing the entire estate to his stepson, unless Matteo produced an heir of his own with the Valenti name.’ She shrugged her bony shoulders. ‘I wondered if he would be prepared to sacrifice his freedom for an heir, not least because he has always shown a certain...disdain for women. And yet here you are—a pretty little English girl who arrived with a baby in her arms and got a wedding ring for her troubles. The perfect solution to all Matteo’s problems!’

‘You’re saying that...that Matteo would have lost this house unless he produced an heir?’

‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. His gain, my son’s loss.’ Luciana shrugged. ‘C’est la vie.’

Keira felt so shocked that for a moment her limbs felt as if they were completely weightless. With a shaking hand, she put the empty bottle down on a shelf and swallowed, trying to compose herself—and knowing that she had to get away from Luciana’s toxic company before she did or said something she regretted. ‘Please excuse me,’ she said. ‘But I must get back to the wedding party.’

Did she imagine the look of disappointment which flickered across Luciana’s face, or did she just imagine it? It didn’t matter. She was going to get through this day with her dignity intact. Matteo had married her to get his hands on this property, so let him enjoy his brief victory. What good would come of making a scene on her wedding day?

Somehow she got through the rest of the afternoon, meeting Matteo’s questioning stare with a brittle smile across the dining table, while everyone except her tucked into the lavish wedding breakfast. Did he sense that all was not well, and was that the reason why his black gaze seemed fixed on her face?

She was relieved when finally Massimo and Luciana left—though her father-in-law gave her the most enormous hug, which brought an unexpected lump to her throat. Leaving Matteo to dismiss Paola and the rest of the staff, Keira hurried to tend to Santino, spending far longer than neces

sary as she settled her baby son for the night.

At last she left the nursery and went into the bedroom but her hands were clammy as she pulled off her wedding outfit and flung it over a chair. Spurred on by Leola, she had been planning on surprising Matteo with the shortest dress she’d ever worn. A bottom-skimming dress for his eyes and no one else’s. She’d wanted to wear it in anticipation of the appreciative look on his face when he saw it and to hint at a final farewell to her residual tomboy. But now she tugged on a functional pair of jeans and a sweater because she couldn’t bear the thought of dressing up—not when Matteo’s motives for marrying her were making her feel so ugly inside.

Although she would have liked nothing better than to creep into bed on her own and pull the duvet over her head to blot out the world, she knew that wasn’t an option. There was only one acceptable course of action which lay open to her, but she couldn’t deny her feeling of dread as she walked into the room which overlooked the garden at the back of the house, where Matteo stood beside the fire, looking impossibly handsome in his charcoal wedding suit. Don’t touch me, she prayed silently, even though her body desperately wanted him to do just that—and maybe something had alerted him to her conflicted mood because his eyes narrowed and he made no attempt to approach her.

His face was sombre as he regarded her. ‘Something is wrong.’

It was a statement, not a question, but Keira didn’t answer straight away. She allowed herself a few more seconds before everything changed for ever. A final few seconds where she could pretend they were newly-weds about to embark on a shared life together. ‘You could say that. I had a very interesting conversation with Luciana earlier.’ She inhaled deeply and then suddenly the words came spilling out, like corrosive acid leaking from a car battery. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were only marrying me to get your hands on an inheritance?’ she demanded. ‘And that this house would only become yours if you produced a legitimate child? I would have understood, if only you’d had the guts to tell me.’

He didn’t flinch. His gaze was hard and steady. ‘Because the inheritance became irrelevant. I married you because I care for you and my son and because I want us to make a future together.’

Keira wanted to believe him. The child-woman who had yearned for a long white dress and big bouquet of flowers longed for it to be the truth. But she couldn’t believe him—it was a stretch too far. Once she’d thought he sounded like someone reading from a script when he’d been addressing a subject which would make most people emotional—and he was doing it again now.