The Italian's Wife

protective barrier had said, coolly unimpressed, not even trying to hide

her suspicion that Holly was simply trying to get her accommodation

upgraded. 'If you don't return to the lodgings we arranged for you, you

will be deemed to have made yourself intentionally homeless. I advise

you to think long and hard before you make that mistake, as you have a

young child to consider. I'll inform your social worker that you're

having problems-'

'No...please don't do that,' Holly had begged, in terror of what such an

interview might mean where Timmie was concerned. Her baby might be taken

away from her and put into care. The last social worker she had spoken

to had started out sympathetic but had lost patience when Holly refused

to name the father of her child. But Jeff had said that if she dared to

tell anyone that he was Timmie's dad he would make her sorry that she

had ever been born...

Well, she was sorry enough herself about that fact, Holly conceded

miserably. She had devastated the parents who loved her by giving birth

to a baby outside marriage. When she had finally admitted that she was

pregnant her father had cried. As long as Holly lived she knew she would

never, ever forget the sight of her father crying...or her own sick

sense of guilt and bitter shame.

Her eyes swimming with tears at that painful recollection, and lost as

she was in her own thoughts, Holly did not even notice that she was

approaching a junction. Staring blankly ahead of her, accustomed to the

noisy flow of traffic down the main road as a background, she was

equally unaware of the lights of a car coming from her right.

The sudden steep drop of the pavement down onto the

road took her by surprise and sent the overladen buggy lurching

off-balance. As she made a frantic effort to right it, the scream of car

tyres striving to brake to a halt alerted her to the danger that she and

Timmie were in. In the split-second at her disposal Holly thrust

Timmie's buggy away from her with all her might in the desperate hope

that it would carry him out of the car's path to safety. But her own

shaken attempt to make it back up onto the pavement was doomed as her

heels hit the kerb and she lost her footing. Falling backwards, she felt

a sickening explosion of pain at the base of her skull and then

blackness folded in and she knew no more.

Rio Lombardi leapt out of the limousine. 'Did we hit her?' he demanded.

'No!' Ezio, who could move at the speed of light when required, was

already retrieving the buggy and drawing it back from the other side of

the road to a safer resting place.

'I didn't hit her... saw her; I was already slowing down. But she walked

out into the road without looking and just fell over!' Rio's chauffeur

exclaimed over the top of the driver's door, his attention lodged in

horror on the still figure lying in the path of the headlights.

'Call an ambulance...a private one from the foundation hospital; it'll

be faster,' Rio instructed harshly, his tone of command pronounced to

steady his companions.

He crouched down on the road and lifted a limp wrist to feel for a

pulse, drawing in a slow deep breath of relief when he found what he

sought. Although her skin felt frighteningly cold to his touch, she was

alive. 'She's not dead...' Springing upright again, he peeled off his

suit jacket and bent down to carefully drape it over her, surveying the

face of the unconscious victim for the first time. 'Dio mio...she's

little more than a child!'

A very pretty child too, Rio found himself conceding,

14

scanning that delicate bone-structure and the mass of bronze-coloured

ringlets rioting round her small head, their vibrant colour only serving

to accentuate her pallor. 'What is she doing out with a baby at this

hour? Did you see what she did for the baby? She was ready to sacrifice

her own life to give it a chance-'

'She's probably its mother, boss,' Ezio suggested, lowering his mobile

phone, having made the requested call for immediate medical attendance

at the scene. It's depressing, but kids are giving birth to kids all the

time these days.'

Rio found himself strangely reluctant to accept that opinion. After a

second, lengthier appraisal, he was prepared to concede that the girl

could possibly be seventeen or eighteen years old. But she looked so

innocent and untouched, and he had already noticed that she wore no

rings. Ezio stooped to retrieve his employer's jacket.

'What are you doing?' Rio demanded.

'I got your overcoat from the car, boss. It'll keep her warmer. There's

no point you catching pneumonia.' Ezio had to pitch his voice higher to

be heard above the noisy sobs now emanating from the depths of the

covers heaped on the buggy.

'I'm OK. I wish we could risk moving her into the limo.

Giovanni...you're a family man; comfort the child,' Rio urged his other

bodyguard as he accepted the overcoat from Ezio but chose to lay it

gently over the top of his suit jacket to provide an extra layer of

warmth for the girl. 'She's frozen through.'

'Timmie...?' Her head pounding fit to burst, Holly surfaced and with a

heroic effort raised her head, reacting to the sound of her son's cries.

Not a pain cry though, only an anxious cry, she recognised in instant

relief. 'My baby?'

Rio gazed down into huge anxious eyes as disconcertingly blue as a

Tuscan midsummer sky. 'Your baby's fine. Lie still. An ambulance is on

its way-'

'I can't go to hospital...I've got Timmie to take care of!' Initially

bemused by that deep dark drawl with its unexpected liquid foreign

accent larding every syllable, Holly was startled when the man dropped

down on a level with her and pressed on her shoulder to prevent her from

lifting herself higher.

Mouth running dry, she stared up at him just as he turned his arrogant

dark head away, presenting her with his bold profile and the impossibly

smooth, proud lines of a high cheekbone to address someone else out of

her view. 'Have you contacted the police yet?'

'No police...please,' Holly broke in shakily. 'Are you the bloke that

was in the car?'

In silent response, he turned back to nod in confirmation, regarding her

with dramatic dark golden eyes which could have turned a saint into a

sinner overnight.

Shaken by that abstracted thought, Holly said, 'We don't need the police

or an ambulance. I'm all right. I tripped and knocked myself out for a

second...that's all-'

'Have you any family... a boyfriend I can contact on your behalf?' he

prompted, very much as if she hadn't spoken.

Even though it hurt, she turned her head away in self-protection. 'Nobody.'

"There's got to be somebody. A friend, a relative, surely?' he persisted.

'Well, maybe you're coming down with them but I've got nobody,' she

muttered in a voice that wobbled in spite of all her efforts to control it.

Rio studied her in frustration. She wasn't a Londoner. She had a

pronounced country brogue with rounded vowel so

unds but he could not

place it, although he had a vague recollection of once hearing an

exaggerated version of a

16

similar accent in a stage comedy. First things first, he reminded

himself. 'What age are you?'

'Twenty. I don't want the police...do you hear me?' Fear made her

strident and she began to sit up in spite of the sick whirling sensation

that engulfed her the moment she moved. If she went into hospital, the

police would call in the authorities to take charge of Timmie and he

would be put in a foster home.

When she swayed backwards, Rio shot a supportive arm round her narrow

spine. 'You must have medical attention. I promise you that you will not

be parted from your child.'

'How? How can you promise that?' she gasped.