The Italian's Doorstep Surprise

Be nice.

He rarely spoke those words to her, but they always made her shrink back in shame. Had she been unkind? Rude? Selfish? Had she acted in a way that meant she didn’t deserve to be loved—didn’t even deserve a home? Be nice made her try harder to be good, to be helpful, to be no trouble to anyone.

But this time, the unfairness of it made her catch her breath.

Turning in amazement, she glanced pointedly at the old hunting rifle. Patrick had the grace to blush.

“That’s different,” he said with dignity. “I was just doing a grandfather’s duty.”

“You’re right. We do have a great deal to discuss.” Nico gave her a calm smile. “It’s late. I’ll take you back to the city first thing in the morning.”

“Honora?” Benny demanded.

“Go. I’ll be fine.” Her eyes narrowed. But she wouldn’t say as much for Nico.

Nico gave the rifle back to Patrick, who pointed the muzzle at the ground, looking a little embarrassed.

“Oh, Benny.” She suddenly remembered. “Your car broke down a few miles up the road.”

“Then how did you get here?”

She shrugged beneath the rain. “I ran.” She felt, rather than saw, all three men look at her belly, as if judging her ability to run by her condition, and felt irritated. “It was fine. I’m fine.”

“You need to be careful,” her grandfather began.

“I’m so sorry,” Benny said at the same time. “I thought the engine was okay. I’ll have it towed tomorrow.”

“My men will handle it,” Nico said coolly. “I’ll have it repaired and brought to you. No charge of course.” He glanced at Honora. “Not when your car brought me such happy news.”

Benny ground his teeth into a smile at his boss. Then he turned and said reluctantly, “All right, Mr. Burke. I’ll take you home.”

“Great.” Her grandfather turned and leaped back to the Bentley like a teenager running a hundred-meter dash. Honora’s throat caught. So much for him being exhausted. She’d spent her whole life trying to be helpful and sweet and no trouble at all, either to her parents or, later, to her grandfather. Was she really such a burden that Granddad seemed so eager to be free of her?

“And this time, take the interstate,” the old man called to Benny. “I have no idea where you thought you were going, driving in loops all over Long Island. I’d expect a chauffeur to have a better sense of direction.”

Honora watched as the Bentley pulled away into the stormy night. Then she exhaled and turned to her grandfather’s boss.

“You have some nerve.”

“Say it inside.”

Taking her hand, Nico pulled her toward the house, out of the rain. She felt the warmth and strength of his palm against hers, and even hating him as she did, she shivered a little.

Once inside the grand foyer, as the front door closed behind them with a bang, she felt how much warmer it was, and realized that she was soaked to the bone.

“You need to warm up.” He glanced at his butler. “Where’s her cocoa?”

She had her anger to keep her warm. “I don’t need cocoa.”

“Cook had to send out for chocolate, sir. She’s warming the milk—”

“Tell her to hurry,” Nico said. “But first take Miss Callahan upstairs to the rose room. She’ll be staying the night.”

Was no one listening to her? Honora lifted her chin. “I have not agreed to—”

“Make sure she has everything she might require for her stay,” Nico said, ignoring her as he seemed to ignore anything contrary to his will.

“Of course,” the butler intoned. “Miss Callahan, if you’ll just come this way...”