The Sicilian's Stolen Son

‘So, is this a yes, piccolo mia?’ Luciano husked sexily against her swollen mouth.

‘Are you always calculating the odds?’ Jemima complained, jerking her head back out of reach.

Luciano gave her a wicked grin that loosed a flock of butterflies in her tummy and left her feeling dizzy. ‘I don’t switch off my brain very often,’ he admitted.

She could have him if she wanted him, Jemima reflected on a heady high. And she wanted him—oh, my goodness, yes, she wanted him. But it would be crazy to make an impulsive decision based on the feelings of the moment. And her feelings just then were overwhelmingly physical and dangerously unreliable. Close to Luciano, her body vibrated like a tuning fork. He made her want to drag him off to the nearest secluded corner. That awareness cooled her heated blood and made her take a mental step back to take stock.

‘I have to think about this,’ Jemima declared, ignoring the frowning slant of his black brows above his stunning eyes. ‘I need to be on my own for a while. I’m going for a walk on the beach.’

Recalling the flight of winding stone steps that led down to the shore from the terrace, she walked back into the sunlight. Round and round and round she went, moving faster and faster in her need to escape until her heels finally sank into the blissfully soft sand at the bottom. With a sigh she slipped off her shoes, closed her fingers through the straps and walked barefoot down to the shore.

The surf dampened her feet as she moved away from the castle. Little white houses straggled up the hillside on the other side of the horseshoe-shaped bay and boats bobbed in the harbour. A church with a bell tower made the village look even more picturesque in the sunshine.

So, how did she really feel about Luciano? Did she want him for the right reasons? Shouldn’t Nicky be her driving motivation? Did it matter that she was thinking less about Nicky and more about becoming Luciano’s wife? Why couldn’t she think about anything but Luciano? Was she infatuated with him? No doubt that would wear off with continued exposure to him and prevent her from behaving like an embarrassing teenager with a crush, she thought with an inner wince. After all, it was obvious that if such a marriage of convenience was to work she would have to be more practical in her outlook.

Could she happily settle for respect and consideration and fidelity? Well, she thought wryly, maybe not happily, but, if the alternative was not to have Luciano at all, her choice was being made for her. If the chance was there, she definitely wanted to take it and give it a go. And what about her family, her friends and the teaching career that she loved? Living abroad in Sicily? Could she adjust to that change? Friends and family would be able to visit as she would be able to visit them, she told herself, and, while she would miss her job, raising Nicky and having more children would certainly fill her time.

Registering that she was walking straight for the natural rock formation that cut off the beach at one point, Jemima changed direction in favour of the path running between the shore and the single-track road. She put her shoes back on, relieved she had worn low heels, and only as she straightened did she appreciate that she was not walking alone. Three of Luciano’s bodyguards hovered several yards away and she made a shooing motion of dismissal with her hands before turning defiantly on her heel and picking up her pace towards the village. Why on earth were they following her? Were such precautions really necessary for her safety?

Tired and hot, she paused at a café above the beach and walked in to sit down. It was busy. A large group of elderly men sat playing a board game in one corner and several other tables were occupied. As soon as Jemima sat down a bodyguard approached her to ask her what she wanted, acting as a liaison between her and the proprietor, who was viewing them nervously. Freshly squeezed orange juice was brought and she sipped, cooling off from the early-morning heat while watching a handful of children play ball on the beach below.

Nicky would have a whole beach to himself at the castle, she thought heavily. Would he even be allowed to play with other children? Had Luciano the smallest idea of what an ordinary childhood was like? What had his own been like? He had shared so little with her. All she knew about his background and his first marriage had been gleaned from the Internet. Luciano was not a male who willingly opened up about his past.

A sports car purred to a halt outside and Luciano sprang out of it. The proprietor bowed almost double and the waiter copied him. The old men stopped their game, suddenly rigid, their chatter silenced. As he strode in Luciano addressed the owner and then settled down lithely opposite her, seemingly impervious to the apprehensive silence that had greeted his arrival and that of his protection team.