The Sicilian's Stolen Son

Jemima went pink. ‘I always assumed that I would only marry for love.’

‘But love doesn’t always last,’ Luciano parried wryly. ‘It can also encourage unrealistic expectations in the relationship. I can’t offer you love but I can offer you respect and consideration and fidelity. I believe there is a very good chance that a marriage created on such practical foundations would succeed.’

She thought he was quite probably the most beautiful man in the world as he leant back against that balustrade, black curls ruffling in the breeze above his darkly handsome features. He was offering her respect, consideration and fidelity. Didn’t he believe in love? Or did he still think he was in love with his first wife? She wanted to ask but it felt like the wrong moment. Luciano had proposed marriage. Wasn’t that supposed to be special? It was obvious he had thought in depth about marrying her.

‘Why me?’ she asked baldly.

‘Primarily you love my son and he loves you. I grew up without a mother and I want more for him.’

‘You could marry anyone,’ she cut in helplessly.

‘But to any other woman Niccolò would always be second best once she had a child of her own. I don’t believe you will react like that but many women would,’ Luciano fielded quietly.

‘Yet you planned his birth knowing you intended to raise your child without a mother,’ she reminded him.

‘That was before I saw the strength of the bond between you and him and the happiness that gave him.’

Having heard enough, Jemima forced a smile and rose from her seat. ‘I’m afraid the man I marry would have to want me for more than my child-rearing abilities,’ she told him stiffly, struggling to keep the little amused smile in place and mask the deep hollow of hurt opening up inside her.

Luciano dealt her a seething look of frustration and strode after her. ‘Jemima!’

Jemima didn’t turn her head, she just kept on walking away fast, unable to face any further dialogue. She was so hurt and she didn’t really understand why. Surely it was always a sort of a compliment if a man asked you to marry him? Even if you didn’t want to say yes. And at that point, she realised what was wrong. She wanted more. She wanted him to want her personally and that was downright silly as well as unlikely. So many more beautiful and sophisticated women would have snatched at Luciano’s offer with two greedy hands. Who did she think she was to be so finicky?

‘Jemima...!’ Luciano exclaimed, closing a powerful hand round her shoulder to spin her round in the picture gallery. ‘You know very well that I want you for more than that!’

Jemima sucked in a gulp of oxygen and almost lost it again as she clashed with blazing dark golden eyes. ‘Do I?’ she slashed back in challenge.

‘You do know,’ Luciano told her, crowding her back against the wall behind her.

‘How would I know?’ Jemima flamed back at him. ‘Nicky loves me and you think I’m good for him. That’s why you’re asking me to marry you.’

His white teeth flashed against his bronzed skin. ‘Last night, we—’

‘No, don’t try to drag last night into it,’ Jemima warned angrily. ‘Your proposal made it clear that providing your son with a mother was your main motivation!’

‘Accidenti... I was taking a conservative approach. I assumed you would prefer that!’

‘Why would a woman want a conservative proposal?’ Jemima countered impatiently.

‘You would’ve preferred me to take you to bed again before I proposed?’

Jemima recognised the difference between her outlook and his and almost screamed in vexation. She thought of love and romance while he thought of sex, and wild, raunchy sex at that. Well, he had been upfront about not being able to offer love, so what more could she reasonably expect from him? And did she really want to say no? No to being Nicky’s mum? No to being Luciano’s wife and the potential mother of his children?

Luciano planted his hands squarely on the wall either side of her head, his lean, powerful body effectively imprisoning hers. Her ice-blue eyes widened as she felt his erection push against her belly, his hard readiness formidable even through the barrier of their clothes. Heat coiled at the heart of her rose up and clear thought process broke down. Hunger settled in a tight, hard knot inside her, constricting her breathing.

‘No. On bended knee and dinner by candlelight would have been more your style,’ Luciano derided.

‘I’m not that old-fashioned,’ she told him in exasperation.

Lowering his head, he brushed his lips almost teasingly against hers and then lingered to capture and suckle her lower lip, one hand sliding down the wall to close on her hip and jerk her into closer contact. His tongue eased between her readily parted lips and delved in an unashamedly sexual sortie. Her breathing fractured as she came off the wall to wrap her arms round his neck, fingertips sliding into his luxuriant hair.