She took a deep breath, then looked up. He leaned across the wide aisle between them.
“Truly.” He placed her hands together, enfolding them in his larger ones. “You are—” he kissed the knuckle of her right hand “—truly beautiful—” he opened her trembling left hand and slowly kissed her tender palm “—and I want the whole world to know. Lucia.”
“Yes?” she whispered, her dark eyelashes fluttering against her cheek.
“Try the clothes. For me. Won’t you?”
“Yes.” She rose to her feet so quickly that she took one stumble forward, nearly losing her balance as she held Chloe under one arm. Still looking dazed, she picked up the purple silk.
And Maximo realized he’d made a mistake.
The purple dress would have looked perfect on Esmé or Arabella or any of the other women he’d taken to his bed. But it was all wrong for her.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he said.
“But I—”
“No,” he said abruptly. “That dress is not for you. We will delay our arrival at Lake Como to go shopping in Milan.” He looked at the squirming baby in her arms. She was still wearing old pajamas. “For both of you.”
A smile lit up Lucy’s face.
“Oh, Maximo, really?” she exclaimed. “Chloe has outgrown nearly everything she has. I would love new clothes for her. But are you—are you sure you don’t mind? About the money, I mean?”
He nearly laughed aloud. Just seeing the joy on his bride’s face made her so impossibly beautiful that he wondered why he hadn’t thought of taking her shopping before.
“Buy everything you want,” he vowed. “If Milan runs out of clothes, we will go to Rome.”
“Oh!” she cried, beaming at him. But her face suddenly fell. “But it’s New Year’s Day. The shops will be closed.”
Now he really did laugh. “They will open for me.”
“They will?”
“Lucia. Half of them are mine
. The other half wish they were.”
A shadow suddenly passed over her face. “Like your women,” she whispered.
He reached for her hand, pulling her to sit next to him on the white leather sofa. “I have only one wife.”
He felt her tremble, and he was tempted to kiss her. Then Chloe, sitting on her mother’s lap, cooed happily at him, holding out her arms. Surprised, he picked her up.
The baby dropped her tattered purple hippo and started stretching wildly toward the white carpet. He got the toy for her, then paused, looking down at it. The hippo was a ragged little thing, with one eye missing and its plush fur a muddied brownish-violet. But Chloe was instantly happy when he handed it to her. She waved it around furiously with one hand, laughing with abandon.
And against his will, Maximo remembered the last time he’d held a baby. The smoke. The crackle of the fire. The wail, and then the explosion…
“What’s wrong?” Lucy asked suddenly.
He shook his head, scattering the haunting image from his mind. “Nothing.”
But his unwilling memory proved the situation was more risky than he’d thought. Somehow Lucia and her baby had broken through his defenses, forcing him to remember everything he was determined to forget.
Seducing Lucia would be dangerous.
But that was all the more reason to do it, he thought. His enjoyment of her company only made it clear that his life of so-called pleasure had been a life without spark.
He wanted her fire. Needed it. Needed her.