Claiming His Scandalous Love-Child

‘To us,’ he said, and let his gaze rest on her.

The simple toast dared her to refute it—but she did not, and he felt his spirits soar.

Yes—she will say yes to me! I know she will. It is in everything about her—her whole attitude towards me, her eyes upon me, her smiling at me... It can mean only one answer for me. Yes—yes and yes!

He looked at her over his glass, watched her take a sip from hers, let his eyes mingle with hers, let the openness in her gaze let him in, welcome him. Warmth filled him—and a joy he had not felt before in all his life. How perfect everything was—how absolutely perfect!

Eloise—my Eloise!

Then a little voice was piping up indignantly. ‘To me too!’ Johnny said, lifting up his beaker with both hands.

Vito duly tilted his glass to him. ‘Saluti! To you as well, young Gianni! That’s Italian for Johnny.’

‘That’s what Maria calls me!’ Johnny exclaimed, pleased, and drank a hefty slug of juice.

Lunch passed convivially, with Johnny clearly in his element having both of them paying him attention. But for all the child-centred conversation Eloise knew that another conversation was taking place too—between her and Vito. A conversation that was leading towards only one answer. An answer that she would give later, when the time was right. Perfect.

But before that, inevitably, came a session of pool play.

Watching Vito strip down to his swim shorts, exposing his lean, sculpted torso, his long, powerful thighs, brought back that flush of colour, the raw rush of desire, of burning memory, to Eloise. Even as he disported himself with a gleeful Johnny in the water, with huge amounts of splashing and chasing, in a game involving a myriad of inflatable pool toys, Eloise could not take her eyes from him.

She’d used the excuse of being too full and too lazy to do anything but relax in a shady lounger, sipping at the last of her allotted glass of champagne, and it afforded her the wondrous opportunity to feast her eyes on Vito.

Vito, Vito, Vito!

Oh, how the memories rushed back—themselves in Europe, day after day, night after night! Yes, it had been a dream of a romance then—but now... Oh, now it was so, so much more!

Yet again, Laura Carldon’s words sounded in her head.

‘He’s a keeper, honey, so keep him!’

And she would—she would keep him. Keep Vito close by her side, in her heart, all her life...all her life...

Surely what she desired so much would be! Surely all her fears were groundless, baseless! Surely Vito would sweep her into his arms with joy.

Emotion welled up in her, filling her, bringing joy and wonder to her whole being.

‘I’m thirsty!’

Johnny’s piping voice from the pool roused her from her reverie.

Effortlessly hefting the little boy up to the deck, Vito followed suit himself, and both of them came up to her. Eloise handed Johnny a beaker of chilled diluted juice, which he gulped down noisily, while Eloise wrapped him in a towel, sitting him down beside her on the lounger to pat him dry.

He handed back the beaker and gave a huge yawn.

‘Time for your afternoon nap,’ she announced.

It was Vito who carried him up to his nursery in the main house, then settled him on his bed with a light throw over him. As he fell asleep Maria’s head came round the door. She announced that she would sit with him, and ushered Vito and Eloise firmly out of the nursery.

As they headed downstairs Eloise felt Vito’s fingers slide between hers, catching her hand. The gesture felt so right, so natural. Her heart gave that little lift again.

Out by the pool house Maria had cleared away the remains of lunch, replacing them with a tray of freshly made fragrant coffee, and Eloise poured them both a cup. Vito sat himself down not on a lounger but on the padded swing seat, patting the place beside him. She took it without hesitation—but with a quickening of her pulse. Her eyes fluttered to his, then back to her coffee cup, and studiedly she sipped at the contents, burningly conscious of Vito at her side. So close—so close now...

As she bent her head slightly to drink she felt the soft brush of his hand down her back, smoothing the long fall of her hair. It sent a million shimmers through her.

She set down the coffee on the low table beside the seat, aware that Vito was doing the same on his side.

‘Eloise...’ The husk in his voice was audible in the sensual murmur of her name.