Dark Angel

‘Promises…promises—’

Luciano closed both arms round her tight and kissed her breathless.

‘That was…that was definitely perfect,’ Kerry confided with enthusiasm. ‘Do you think you could do it again?’

Luciano laughed and proved that he could. In between bouts of kissing he carried her upstairs into their bedroom, where sheer, bubbling happiness lent an extra dimension to their loving. A long time later they lay in each other’s arms, and that was when she finally told him about what she had learned from Harold Linwood when she had visited his home.

‘So, you’re not a Linwood born and bred, after all.’ His golden eyes connected with hers and he hugged her close in silent acknowledgement of the distress that that revelation about her paternity must have caused her. ‘I’ve got to admit it, though…Even years ago, I wondered if it was possible that you weren’t his daughter. You don’t resemble Harold in any way but it was his vindictiveness that first made me suspicious—’

‘You never said…’

‘I didn’t want to hurt you. Lousy as he was in the parent stakes, you valued the relationship—’

‘Not as much as I once did.’ Kerry pulled a rueful face. ‘After the shock had worn off, I realised that I was grateful that a man who’s never shown me any affection wasn’t my father—’

‘Did Linwood give you any idea who your real father might be?’

‘I don’t think he has a clue.’

‘I could have enquiries made,’ Luciano suggested quietly.

‘I don’t think I want anyone to go digging into Carrie’s past. It’s really not important enough to me now.’ But, touched by his thoughtfulness, Kerry tightened her arms round him in appreciation.

A long time later, Luciano uncorked a dusty bottle of wine with a flourish and poured a single glass of wine. ‘The day that my conviction was squashed in court and I got my freedom back I said I wanted two things…a glass of 1925 Brunello Riserva and a woman. But I knew I wouldn’t drink the wine until I had got justice and my name was cleared.’

‘I’d better be the woman…’ Kerry told him.

‘Who else?’ Lean, darkly handsome face amused, Luciano savoured a mouthful of the brilliant ruby-coloured liquid and stared down at her with teasing appreciation. ‘You’re also a complete philistine, incapable of appreciating a superb vintage wine, but there is one way of ensuring that you share the experience, cara mia…’

‘Is there?’

Kerry’s eyes widened in surprise as he tipped his glass and let a couple of drops of wine spill down onto her breast. But as he laved the precious liquid from her creamy skin with his expert mouth his intentions became very clear, and she lay back with a wondering sigh of encouragement.

‘I’m no good at resisting you,’ he told her huskily.

Kerry wove happily possessive hands into his luxuriant black hair. ‘You’re not supposed to be,’ she told him with gentle oneupmanship.

With Luciano looking on, Kerry put their baby, Pietro, down to sleep.

‘Our son has a look of intelligence,’ her husband commented with quiet satisfaction.

Kerry tried not to smile, for even to her fond eyes their baby looked much the same as usual. Pietro was three months old, a laid-back, cheerful baby who ate whenever he was offered sustenance and slept at the same times every day. He was also very tolerant of a father given to lifting him from his cot at odd hours and equally at ease with foreign travel.

Ten very busy and challenging months had passed since the night she had told Luciano that their first baby was on the way. She had had an easy pregnancy and Luciano had been wonderfully supportive throughout those months. For others, it had been a more testing time. Miles had stood trial twice, first for his drugs offences, the second time for theft and other charges dating back five years. Her stepbrother would be in prison for a long time. Steven Linwood had received a shorter sentence and his family were standing by their son.

The legal system had finally acknowledged that in Luciano’s case a miscarriage of justice had taken place. Luciano had finally had the satisfaction of being publicly acknowledged an innocent man. From that day on, it had been as though a dark shadow had retreated from Luciano, enabling him to leave the unhappy past behind him.

On a lighter and more startling note, the first book in her grandfather’s series had been published to rave reviews and had become a runaway best-seller. All those years while Hunt O’Brien had hidden behind the pretence that he was writing history of the type found in textbooks, he had in fact been engaged in creating a work of fantasy based on Celtic myth and legend. Seven more books were still to be issued and her grandfather’s accountant had confidently forecast that his client would be a millionaire long before he reached his next birthday. Autograph hunters were now occasionally to be found loitering in the grounds but the famous author was rarely to be found at the castle, since he and his wife had rediscovered their love of foreign travel.

Apart from those excitements, however, life at Ballybawn and the Villa Contarini had gone on much as usual, although since the family circle had grown there were many more visitors.

As Luciano and Kerry dimmed the lights and left the nursery, he pulled her close and claimed a long, lingering kiss of undeniable passion that made her quiver. ‘I have a surprise planned,’ he breathed.

‘I’m listening…’ Kerry was also struggling to get her breath back because her gorgeous husband had lost none of his ability to make her go weak at the knees.

‘This week we leave Pietro in the charge of his efficient nanny and head for the island…just you and me…and the sand, bella mia,’ he growled sexily.

Kerry leant into his lithe, muscular frame. ‘I don’t know about the sand…but you and me sounds good!’