The Italian's Christmas Secret

‘You really think that my lawyer wants to hear that I love you?’ he demanded, his breath a low hiss.

Her lips opened and he thought she might be about to gasp, before she closed them again firmly, like an oyster shell clamping tightly shut.

‘And that I miss you more than I ever thought possible?’ he continued heatedly. ‘Or that my life feels empty without you?’

‘Don’t waste my time with your lies, Matteo.’

‘They aren’t lies,’ he said unevenly. ‘They’re the truth.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘I didn’t think you would.’ He sucked in a deep breath. ‘Which is why I wrote you the letters.’

‘The letters,’ she repeated blankly.

‘I know you got them, because I asked Claudia. What did you do with them, Keira—did you throw them away? Set light to them and watch them go up in flames?’

She shook her head. ‘No. I didn’t do that. I have them all.’

‘Then, I wonder, could you possibly fetch them?’

Was it the word ‘fetch’ which brought Charlie bounding into the room, his tail wagging furiously and his once sad eyes bright and curious as he looked up at the strange man? Keira glared as she saw Matteo crouch down and offer his hand to the little dog, furious yet somehow unsurprised when the terrier edged cautiously towards him. The shock of seeing Matteo again had shaken her and weakened her defences, making her realise that she was still fundamentally shaky around him—and so she nodded her agreement to his bizarre request. At least leaving the room and his disturbing presence would give her the chance to compose herself and to quieten the fierce hammering of her heart.

Slowly she walked into the hallway to retrieve the pile of envelopes from the drawer and went back into the sitting room, holding them gingerly between her fingers, like an unexploded bomb. By now Charlie’s tail was thrashing wildly, and as Matteo straightened up from stroking him the puppy gave a little whine of protest and she wondered how he had so quickly managed to charm the shy little dog. But the terrier had been discovered wriggling in a sack by the side of the road, she remembered, the only survivor among all his dead brothers and sisters. Charlie had also grown up without a mother, she thought—and a lump lodged in her throat.

‘Here,’ she croaked, holding the letters towards him.

‘Don’t you want to open them?’ he said.

She shook her head. ‘Not really.’

‘Then maybe I’d better tell you what’s in them,’ he said, his eyes not leaving her face as he took them from her. ‘They are all love letters. With the exception of one.’

He saw her eyes widen before dark lashes came shuttering down to cloak their sapphire hue with suspicion.

‘What’s that? A hate letter?’ she quipped.

‘I’m serious, Keira.’

‘And so am I. Anyone can write down words on a piece of paper and not mean them.’

‘Then how about I summarise them for you out loud?’

‘No.’

But that one word was so whispered that he barely heard it and Matteo had no intention of heeding it anyway. ‘Four words, actually,’ he husked. ‘I love you, Keira. So how about I say it again, just so there can be no misunderstanding? I love you, Keira, and I’ve been a fool. Uno scemo! I should have been honest with you from the start, but...’ He inhaled deeply through his nostrils and then expelled the air on a shuddered breath. ‘Keeping things locked away inside was the way I operated. The only way I knew. But believe me when I tell you that by the time I asked you to marry me, I wasn’t thinking about the house any more. My mind was full of you. It still is. I can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t want to. So I’m asking you to give me another chance, Keira. To give us another chance. You, me and Santino. That’s all.’

She didn’t say anything for a moment and when she spoke she started shaking her head, as if what he was demanding of her was impossible.

‘That’s all?’ she breathed. ‘After everything that’s happened? You don’t know what you’re asking, Matteo.’

‘Oh, but I do,’ he demurred. ‘I’m asking you to be my wife for real. With nothing but total honesty between us from now on, because I want that. I want that more than anything.’ His voice lowered. ‘But I realise it can only work if you love me too. Once, in a shadowed hallway after we had taken our wedding vows, you whispered to me that you did, but you may not have meant it.’

Keira clamped her lips together to try to contain the stupid tremble of emotion. Of course she had meant it. Every single word. The question was whether he did, too. Was it possible that he really loved her, or was this simply a means to an end—the manipulative declaration of a man determined to get his rightful heir back into his life? Or maybe just pride refusing to let a woman walk away from him.

Yet something was stubbornly refusing to allow her to accept the bleaker version of his reasons for coming here today. Was it the anguish she could see in his black eyes—so profound that even she, in her insecurity, didn’t believe she was imagining it? She flicked the tip of her tongue over her mouth, wondering if it was too late for them, until she realised what the reality of that would mean. Matteo gone from her life and free to make another with someone else, while she would never be able to forget him.

And she wasn’t going to allow that to happen. Because how could she ignore the burning inside her heart and the bright spark of hope which was beginning to flood through her veins?