The Sicilian's Marriage Arrangement

“Tell me again why you were with Zia.”

“I wanted you to believe I was having an affair.” He took her hands in his, his grip crushing. “But I swear this is not true. I want no other woman, have not since New Year’s Eve.”

Was he saying he’d been celibate for six months before his pursuit of her? “No other woman…at all…since then?”

“None,” he confirmed.

That meant something, but she wasn’t sure what yet.

“You wanted me to think you and Zia were back together because you wanted to get back at my grandfather and me?”

He shook his head. “I was devastated by the belief you had been part of the blackmail scheme. Hurt. When I hurt, I lash out. I did not think it through, I just did it. By the time I came back from New York, I knew I did not want you to believe I had broken my promise.”

“But you neglected to tell Zia, so when I called and she answered, she played it up,” Hope guessed.

Luciano nodded, his mouth twisting. “Much to my detriment.”

“I want to believe you.” She ached to believe him.

“But,” he prompted.

“You broke your other promise. The one about treasuring my love.” She tried to pull her hands away at the painful memory, but he would not let go.

“No, I did not. In my heart, I always treasured your love and when you stopped saying the words, it hurt more than I wanted to admit. I made love to you frequently to assure myself that if nothing else, the passion between us was real and honest. That you wanted me even if you did not love me.”

The words sounded so like the way she’d been feeling that she choked on her next question. “So, I wasn’t just a convenience you used to assuage your strong sexual appetite?”

Suddenly she found herself on his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his face close to hers. “I never thought of you that way. I was hurting and the only place I could connect with you was in bed.”

“We connected pretty often.”

His sculpted cheekbones turned dusky. “Si.”

“Do you want me to stay only for the baby?”

His face contorted and he buried it in the hollow of her neck. “No. I want you to stay for me. I cannot live without you, cara. Do not go away from me.”

He punctuated the words with tiny kisses that made her shiver.

“But a marriage without love has little hope of surviving.”

His hold was almost bruising now. “I know you have stopped loving me. I deserve it, but I love you, amore mia. You are the air that I breathe. The only music my heart wants to hear. The other half of my soul. I will make you love me again. I can do it. You still want me,” he said as one hand cupped her breast with its already tight peak.

She turned her head and cupped his face between her palms so she could see into his eyes. “You love me?”

“For a long time. Since before New Year’s Eve I think, but to admit it would have been to admit the end of my independence. Fool that I was, I thought that mattered. Without you all the freedom in the world would be a tiny cell in a prison of loneliness.”

Her jaw dropped open. She couldn’t help it. Not only had he said he loved her, but he’d gotten positively poetic about it. “Those are pretty mushy sentiments.”

He shrugged, his Italian nature showing stronger in that moment than she had seen before. Emotion warmed his eyes and his body radiated heat just for her. “I feel mushy about you.” He kissed her softly until her lips clung and then gently pulled away. “Tell me you will stay and let me teach you to love me again.”

“I’ll stay, but I can’t let you make me love you.”

His expression was devastating and much too painful to witness for her to keep up her teasing.

“I already love you. I will always love you and therefore you cannot make me do something I already am…doing that is.”

She wasn’t sure that made sense, but she didn’t care because he looked like dawn was rising in his eyes. “My beautiful Hope! I love you. I adore you.” He went into a litany of Italian phrases as he divested both of them of their clothes.

They made love on their bed, both saying words of love and need they had held back before.

When it was over, she cuddled into his side. “So, I guess this means, you really are fabulously happy about the baby.”

“I am.” His smile would have melted the polar ice caps.

And just to show her how much, he made love to her again, this time touching her stomach with reverence with his hands and mouth and whispering words of love to the bambino growing inside her.

Some time later, she was lying on top of him sweaty and sated. “Luciano.”