The Sicilian's Mistress

‘I don’t know what I’m doing here,’ Faith whispered truthfully, her vision blurring with sudden tears.

‘I don’t know about the location, but this meeting was definitely a step in the right direction,’ Gianni told her bracingly, checking that Connor was still wholly entranced by the slide before extending a supportive arm around her. ‘Take a deep breath and let it out again…’

‘I might fall over…’ She tried to joke, but her taut voice emerged flat as a pancake. As he eased her into the shelter of his lean body she was alarmingly conscious of his male warmth and his intimate scent. Her tummy flipped, leaving her feeling desperately ill at ease.

‘Not when I’m around.’

‘I really don’t know why I gave you a false name,’ Faith heard herself confide. ‘It seems such a strange thing to have done, and I’ve always thought I was an honest person…I really did think that.’

Gianni tensed and suppressed a groan. The plot thickens, he conceded grimly. Of course she was going to assume that her real name was the false one. What else was she to think while she still fondly imagined that the Jenningses were her parents? But by the end of the day he would have dealt with that problem as well, he reminded himself grimly. Handling one problem at a time had become an impossible challenge.

‘Take me over to Connor,’ he urged.

His lack of comment surprised Faith. But then it had hardly been the right moment for that confession, she decided dully. His sole interest right now was naturally his son.

As she headed for Connor, Gianni let his arm slide from her. It felt oddly like being pushed away. Confusion assailed her. She was uneasily conscious of the change within herself. Since she had had that flashback Gianni no longer felt like a stranger. Now she was hugely aware that she had once loved him. A terrifying, all-or-nothing, no-sacrifice-too-great love, which she had apparently offered freely. But she didn’t think he had ever loved her. She had sensed her own insecurity during that phone call, relived her own determined attempt to conceal that insecurity.

When he saw them coming towards him, Connor perched on the end of the slide, restlessly swinging his legs, only curiosity in his eyes as he studied Gianni. He was a friendly, confident child, who had never been shy.

‘You’re big!’ he said to Gianni, his blond head falling back to take in the height of a male at least six feet three inches tall, big brown eyes wide as the sky above and openly impressed.

Gianni laughed, and immediately hunkered down to his son’s level. ‘I think you’re going to be big too,’ he commented, half to himself.

‘This is…’ Faith had to stop and start again as Connor gazed up at her with innocently enquiring eyes. ‘This is your father, Connor.’

r /> Connor looked blank.

‘Your daddy,’ Faith rephrased in a taut undertone.

He recognised that word. ‘Daddy?’ he repeated, small legs falling still, a puzzled look on his face. Then his dark eyes rounded and he studied Gianni with dawning wonderment. ‘Peter daddy?’

As Gianni tensed, Faith crouched down beside him. ‘Yes, that’s right…like Peter has a daddy. This is your daddy,’ she explained.

‘Who’s Peter?’ Gianni enquired out of the corner of his mouth.

‘His friend at nursery,’ Faith whispered back. ‘He’s been to his house to play.’

‘Play ball?’ Connor demanded, suddenly bouncing upright in excitement. ‘Daddy play ball?’

Gianni released his pent-up breath. ‘Not for a long time, but willing to learn,’ he muttered not quite steadily. ‘Why didn’t I think of bringing something like that?’

Connor danced on the spot. Peter’s daddy was more of a favourite than even Faith had appreciated. ‘Play cars? Phroom-phroom?’ he carolled hopefully, withdrawing a tiny toy car from his pocket.

‘Phroom…phroom,’ Gianni sounded obediently. ‘I love playing cars!’

Connor grinned and raised his arms to be lifted. ‘Phroom…phroom…phroom!’ he said exuberantly.

Gianni reached out and eased his son into his arms and then slowly came upright, a slightly stunned light in his usually keen dark eyes. He held Connor awkwardly, at a slight distance from him, visibly afraid of taking too many liberties too soon and spoiling the moment.

Reacting to the amount of attention he was receiving, Connor spread his arms and proceeded to noisily intimate an aeroplane going into freefall.

‘Connor, behave!’ Faith scolded in dismay, but Gianni saw his mistake and hauled his son closer before he could divebomb out of his arms.

‘Daddy!’ Connor exclaimed, and wound his arms round Gianni’s neck to plant a big kiss on his cheek. ‘My Daddy…mine!’ he stressed, with all the satisfaction of ownership.

Faith’s eyes smarted. Even at this age, her son had clearly felt the difference between himself and his friend Peter. She would never have suspected that. She had thought he was too young to appreciate the absence of a father in his life, had once assumed that the presence of her own father would fill that gap. Unfortunately, Robin Jennings worked long hours, and Connor was invariably in bed when his grandfather was at home. And Edward found the high-octane energy of a toddler difficult to handle, had frankly admitted that he would feel more at home with Connor when he was a little older.

Yet Gianni’s damp eyes shone. Edward had never looked at her son with such pride and emotion and fascination. And why should he have done? Edward was not Connor’s father.