The Sicilian's Stolen Son

‘Why did Gigi never wear this ring?’ she asked baldly.

‘It wasn’t flashy enough for her. She only wore diamonds.’

It was the first time he had voluntarily mentioned his first wife. Jemima supposed that in time she would learn more but she could tell by his tension that, although he was trying hard to be more open with her, it was a tender subject and he was struggling. So much had already changed between them but the biggest alteration in Luciano’s attitude had occurred as soon as he’d realised that she wasn’t her twin sister, Julie. The awareness that he had fought any attraction to her before he’d known her true identity soothed Jemima’s concerns. Luciano was willing to overlook her lies because he respected her attachment to Nicky and her principles. In other words, what was important to her was equally important to him.

‘So, when will we be getting married?’ she asked as Luciano tucked her into the elegant sports car outside.

‘As soon as possible. Draw up a guest list of friends and family.’ Curling black lashes shaded Luciano’s gaze, his wide sensual mouth relaxed. ‘My staff will take care of all the arrangements. We’ll have the wedding here.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Here in Sicily?’

‘I don’t think it would be a good idea to trail Niccolò back to the UK again,’ Luciano commented with a frown. ‘You would have to stay somewhere where my security people could look after you both because when word of our relationship breaks in the media you will both be a paparazzi target. It will be easier if you remain here on the island, where your privacy can be assured.’

Jemima tried to absorb the realities of her new life and slowly shook her head in bemusement because she could not even begin to imagine being a target for the paparazzi. But, more importantly, a further change of climate and yet another selection of strange faces would not benefit Nicky either, she conceded ruefully. If Castello del Drogo was to be the little boy’s permanent home, he should be allowed to settle into his new surroundings without the stress of having to adapt to any additional challenges.

‘I have a tour of Asia scheduled and, as I’ll be away for a couple of weeks, I suggest that you invite your family out to keep you company until the wedding,’ Luciano remarked, disconcerting her.

He was leaving her. Jemima refused to betray any reaction. Obviously he would travel on business and such temporary separations would be part of their lives. She had never been the clingy type. She was independent and self-sufficient, she reminded herself doggedly. Wanting to climb into his suitcase with Nicky was just plain stupid.

‘I’m surprised you’re prepared to leave Nicky so soon,’ she admitted.

‘When the tour of my holdings was organised, actually finding my son still seemed like a fantasy,’ he confided ruefully. ‘Now that I have found him I have no intention of being an absent parent. Once I’m home again I’ll be spending a lot of time with him.’

They returned to the castello. ‘What made you buy this place?’ Jemima asked curiously. ‘Was it purely for the private setting?’

‘I didn’t buy it. I inherited it. It belonged to my mother’s family. She grew up here.’ His lean bronzed face shadowed.

‘Did you stay here when you were a child?’

‘No. My mother never returned after she married my father. He first saw her playing on the beach down there as a teenager,’ Luciano told her, tight-mouthed. ‘When I was older he called it love at first sight. I would call it lust...’

Like what Luciano had felt on first seeing Jemima? Jemima wondered ruefully. An instant attraction, similar to what she herself had felt, so how could she look down on that?

‘How did they get together?’ she prompted.

‘In a decent world they would never have got together. He was a murderer, a thief, a gangster,’ Luciano declared without any expression. ‘She was the adored only child of a titled, educated man. But that man gambled and got into debt and my father bought his debt and soon my father owned him. My father wrote off the debt in return for my mother’s hand in marriage...’

‘My goodness,’ Jemima said sickly. ‘What did she have to say about it?’

‘She loved her father and she did what she had to do to save him from the shame of bankruptcy,’ Luciano revealed. ‘I can’t imagine she was happy about the price she had to pay. She married a brutal man.’

Jemima heard the chill in his dark-timbred voice and decided it was definitely time to change the subject. He didn’t want to talk about his parents’ marriage and in the circumstances that was hardly surprising. As she recalled, his mother had died when he was only three years old and it was unlikely that he remembered much about the beautiful brunette in the portrait on the stairs. It was something they had in common and she commented on the fact.