The Italian's Christmas Secret

‘I’ve tried not to love you,’ she admitted slowly. ‘But it doesn’t work. I think about you nearly all the time and I miss you. I love you, Matteo, and I will be your wife, but on one condition.’

His body grew very still. ‘Anything,’ he said. ‘Name it.’

She had been about to ask him never knowingly to hurt her, but she realised that was all part of the package. That hurt and pain were the price you paid for love and you just had to pray they didn’t rear their bitter heads too often in a lifetime. She k

new also that if they wanted to go forward, then they had to leave the bitterness of the past behind. So instead of demanding the impossible, she touched her fingertips to his face, tracing them slowly down over his cheek until they came to rest on his beautiful lips.

‘That you make love to me,’ she said, her voice softened by tears of joy. ‘And convince me this really is happening.’

His voice was unsteady. ‘You mean, right now?’

She swallowed and nodded, rapidly wiping underneath her eyes with a bent finger. ‘This very second,’ she gulped.

Framing her face within the palms of his hands, he looked at her for one long moment before he spoke. ‘To the woman who has given me everything, because without you I am nothing. Ti amo, mia sposa. My beautiful, beautiful wife,’ he husked, and crushed his lips down hard on hers.

EPILOGUE

OUTSIDE THE WINDOW big white flakes floated down from the sky, adding to the dazzling carpet which had already covered the vast sweep of lawn. Keira gazed at it and gave a dreamy sigh. It was unusual for snow to settle in this part of Umbria and she thought she’d never seen anything quite so magical, or so beautiful. She smiled. Well, except maybe one other time...

Looking up from where she was crouched beside the Christmas tree where she’d just placed a couple of presents, she saw Matteo walk into the room—with snowflakes melting against his dark hair. He’d been outside, putting the finishing touches to a snowman, which would be the first thing Santino saw when he looked out of his window tomorrow morning. Their son’s first real Christmas, Keira thought, because last year he’d been too young to realise what was going on and she...

Well, if she was being honest, she could hardly remember last Christmas herself. She and Matteo had been busy discovering each other all over again—and finding out that things were different from how they’d been before. They couldn’t have been anything but different once the constraints of the past were lifted and they’d given themselves the freedom to say exactly what was on their minds. Or in their hearts.

Matteo had given her the option of living in London, Rome or Umbria—and she’d opted for the sprawling Umbrian estate which had once belonged to his mother’s family. She figured it was healthier for Santino to grow up in the glorious Italian countryside, especially now that they had acquired a beautiful black cat named Luca who, against all odds, had become a devoted companion to Charlie the terrier.

But it was more than that. This estate was Matteo’s link with his roots. It represented continuity and stability—something which had been lacking in both their lives until now. One day Santino might listen to the call of his forebears and decide he didn’t want to be a businessman, like his daddy. He might want to grow up and farm the fertile acres of this beautiful place. A place which might so nearly have disappeared from the family.

Because Keira had discovered that the very first letter Matteo had sent during their separation contained estate agent details marketing the property. He’d put it up for sale to demonstrate that the house meant nothing, if he didn’t have her. They had quickly aborted the prospective sale, despite the frantic bidding war which had been taking place at the time. And had decided to make the estate their permanent home.

‘What are you smiling at?’ questioned Matteo softly as he walked over to the Christmas tree and pulled her to her feet.

Her contented expression didn’t change. ‘Do I need a reason?’ She sighed. ‘I’m just so happy, Matteo. Happier than I ever thought possible.’

‘Well, isn’t that a coincidence? Because I feel exactly the same way,’ he said, his fingers beginning to massage her shoulders, their practised caress never failing to arouse her. ‘Have I told you lately that I love you, Mrs Valenti?’

She pretended to frown. ‘I think you might have mentioned it before you went out to build Santino’s snowman. And just for the record, I love you, too. So very much.’

He bent his head and kissed her, deeply and passionately and it was some time before she broke off to graze her lips against the dark stubble of his angled jaw.

‘Did you speak to your father?’ she said.

‘I did. And he’s looking forward to Christmas lunch tomorrow. He says he’ll be here soon after eleven and is bringing his new girlfriend.’ His eyes gleamed down at her. ‘And that we should prepare ourselves for what he calls a significant age gap.’

Keira giggled as she rested her head on Matteo’s shoulder. Massimo had divorced Luciana in the spring and although Keira had tried to feel sad about it, she just couldn’t. Not only had the older woman been a troublemaker—it transpired that she’d been unfaithful to her husband as well. And one night, soon after the decree nisi had come through and Matteo had been away on business, Keira and her father-in-law had dined together in Rome. He’d told her it wasn’t a desire to manipulate which had made him threaten to disinherit Matteo if he didn’t produce an heir—but concern that his son was becoming emotionally remote and would end up a rich and lonely old man.

‘And then you stepped in and saved him and made him happy. Truly happy—and I cannot thank you enough for that, Keira,’ he had whispered, his voice cracking a little. ‘I know I wasn’t a good father when he was growing up.’ He had fallen silent for a moment and his eyes had grown reflective. ‘I missed his mother so much and he...well, he looked so much like her, that sometimes it was painful to be around him.’

‘Have you told him that, Massimo?’ she had said quietly, pressing her hand over his across the table. ‘Because I think you should.’

And he had. Keira closed her eyes, remembering the long overdue heart-to-heart between father and son, and the growing closeness of their relationship which had resulted.

Her mind flicked back to the present as Matteo began to caress her bottom, murmuring his appreciation that these days she almost always wore a dress. She liked wearing dresses, although she could still resurrect her inner tomboy when needed—and she suspected she was going to need to do that a lot if Santino played as much football as Matteo intended he should. ‘Would you like part of your Christmas present tonight?’ she whispered, snuggling up to him.

He pulled away to look at her and raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that an offer I shouldn’t refuse?’

‘Put it this way—I’m wearing it underneath this dress and I need you to unwrap it for me. Matteo!’ She giggled as he began to lead her towards the bedroom. ‘I didn’t mean now—I meant later.’

‘Too bad,’ he murmured, not lessening his pace by a fraction. ‘Because I have something for you which can’t wait.’