The Italian's Pregnancy Proposal

‘Why would I lie about it? Come, Renny. I will look after you now.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t just hand the child over to you just like that.’ Affecting her best ‘head girl’ voice, Bliss ignored the outstretched arms of the dark-haired pin-up in front of her and dared to meet his disbelieving glare with a decidedly cool and firm one of her own. ‘We’ll go back to Casualty Reception and I’ll ask them to verify that you are who you say you are.’

‘Your diligence is commendable, Miss Maguire, but how do you think I came to find you if my credentials have not already been verified by the proper authorities? Did you speak to my sister before she passed out? If you did, you must know from her accent that she is Italian, like me. My name and cell phone number were in her purse; that is how I come to be here now.’

All that might be so, Bliss thought defiantly. But she still wasn’t taking any chances. She was more unwilling than she could have believed to release the little girl into anyone’s arms but her mother’s. She’d never forgive herself if anything untoward happened while this precious child was in her care.

‘I did speak to the lady before she fainted, and it’s because of that that I am going to double-check you are who you say you are.’

‘What did my sister say to you?’ Clearly struggling with his temper, Dante di Andrea narrowed his sizzling verdant gaze on Bliss like a sniper about to take a pot shot at a target he detested, and scowled.

‘She told me to take care of her baby and that’s exactly what I’m doing.’ Rising to her feet with ‘Renny’ now snuggled up tiredly against her chest, Bliss tried not to be intimidated by the fact that the man hovering over the pair of them like some royal bodyguard was at least a good six inches taller than she was. In fact he made her average height seem positively short.

‘So…we will return to Reception and we will speak to someone in authority who will assure you that I am Dante di Andrea, the brother of Tatiana Ward, and then you will hand over my niece to my care. Sì?’

Feeling her face flame red as his furious glance swept almost dismissively across her features, Bliss bit back an equally provoked retort and decided to say nothing. The last thing anyone needed was a row under the circumstances. All she wanted to do was make sure that Renata would be released into safe hands. Holding the child tight, she strode into the long corridor outside the canteen ahead of him, secretly wishing that the man had not been quite so speedy in his arrival at the hospital as he had. Renata smelt so sweet, was so snuggly, warm and delicious in her arms, that all Bliss’s usually determinedly buried maternal instincts were given full and free rein to an almost alarming degree.

‘I can definitely assure you, Miss Maguire, that Mr di Andrea is indeed the brother of Mrs Ward who is at present undergoing observation by the head doctor on duty. The little girl is his niece, Renata Ward.’ The very efficient-looking middle-aged receptionist with her steel-framed spectacles and ash-blond hair smiled patiently at Bliss as though she were addressing a confused child.

‘Oh.’ Bliss’s violet eyes blinked twice in succession, as though she’d just been rudely woken from a peaceful slumber. She heard the harshly relieved breath that Dante di Andrea released beside her before holding out his arms once again for the little girl. The provocatively sensual scent of sandalwood floated up to her nostrils as he did so and something in her deepest feminine core reacted as violently as though he’d kissed her. ‘Your uncle will take you now, sweetie. Be a good girl, won’t you? You’ll see Mummy soon.’

It was the oddest thing, but Bliss suddenly felt as if she might burst into tears. What stopped her was the fact that Renata had started to cling to her in alarm when Dante had reached out, making little sounds of protest against Bliss’s white silk shirt that tore at her heart as powerfully as any heartbreak could.

‘All right, honey…all right. There’s nothing to be frightened of, I promise.’ Except that when Bliss’s accusing stare met Dante’s across the little girl’s dark head, the sheer frustration and rage in his eyes made her doubt that promise greatly. Something told her in that short, unsettling exchange that this was a man unused to being defied in any way, and so far Bliss had not capitulated to his authority one iota. Her wild imagination suggested he looked about ready to tear her limb from limb.

‘Give me my niece, Miss Maguire. I thank you for taking care of her in her mother’s time of need, but now I want to go and see my sister and I would like to take her daughter with me.’

‘She’s acting like she doesn’t know you.’ It was hard to believe the strength with which Renata was holding onto Bliss’s shirt, her little chubby fists clinging on as though her life depended on it. Did her uncle have to look quite so fierce? That scowl would put the fear of God into a wild cougar! Maybe his anxiety for his sister was putting him under a strain, but he could soften a little for the child’s sake, couldn’t he? ‘How am I supposed to hand her over to you when she clearly doesn’t want to go?’

He cursed beneath his breath in a barrage of fluent Italian. Even the outwardly unruffled receptionist looked alarmed. But Bliss was adamant that, however effusively Dante di Andrea gave way to temper, all it would achieve would be to make her more determined not to hand Renata over until he had calmed down.

‘The baby is very shy and not used to me.’ Shaking his head, he seemed to suddenly struggle with finding the right words, as if he wasn’t used to having to explain or justify his emotions. Against her will, Bliss couldn’t deny the spurt of sympathy that bloomed inside her. ‘She has recently lost her father. That is why Tatiana—her mother—is ill.’

Bliss went very still. Sensing the change in her posture, Renata glanced up into her eyes, her bottom lip quivering. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that. Look, Mr di Andrea, I’m not trying to make things difficult for you. I just want to make sure that the little girl is all right…for my own satisfaction, you understand?’

For a very surreal moment, Dante was so drawn by those ravishing violet eyes with their curling sable lashes that he forgot he usually concurred with his father’s view that the English were a cold race. The warmth and concern that this unknown Englishwoman was expressing for a total stranger’s child took him aback and made him reassess his former prejudice in a way that was definitely unsettling.

‘Perhaps we should sit down for a moment, sì?’

They moved to a long bench seat a little way off. When Dante sat down beside her, Bliss couldn’t help feeling slightly overshadowed by his awesome male beauty and she withdrew her gaze to the child because focusing on that remarkably handsome visage was making it almost impossible to concentrate.

She’d heard it said that an Italian man’s face told the story of his life. If that was so, Dante di Andrea had a lifetime of experience and confidence and knowing written across his. Along with his smooth bronzed skin and piercing green eyes, he had an allure that could captivate a woman in an instant, and no doubt an inbuilt arrogance that he took as his God-given right. Yes, Bliss had already seen ample signs of that arrogance. She sighed.

Renata was asleep. When Bliss experienced the full weight of that little warm body sagging against her, she capitulated to an instinctive urge to smooth those whisper-soft curls away from her velvet forehead, then planted a tiny kiss on the child’s dampened cheek. If she didn’t hand her back to her intoxicating uncle very soon, Bliss would be in danger of being charged with kidnapping. Why did her maternal instincts have to kick in now with a child who was completely unrelated to her? Why couldn’t they have waited until she was in love and expecting a child of her own? Feeling an almost overwhelming upsurge of emotion inside her, she swallowed to ease the sudden painful cramping in her throat. Where is your head, Bliss Maguire? You know that will never happen!

‘What happened to your sister’s husband…if you don’t mind me asking?’

Dante didn’t want to talk about that now. The pain of Tatiana’s loss was so great that it had affected every one of them like the aftermath of an earthquake. Dante, his brother Stefano, and their parents, Antonio and Isabella—they were all disorientated, like shocked survivors dazedly picking over the remnants of what used to be their homes. One minute Matt Ward had been celebrating a considerable promotion at work, and the next he had been ploughed down by a drunken driver while on his way home to Tatiana and his baby. II mio Dio! His baby sister had been so happy and in love.

Dante had been envious of the joy she had found with the young Englishman, and considered it highly unlikely that he would ever find the same joy with a woman. Not when his considerable fortune and dedication to his work threw up obstacles that seemed insurmountable. Dante wasn’t interested in women who were attracted by his wealth and position as head of the family business. But it seemed gold-diggers were the only type of women who came into his sphere. It had made him wish sometimes that he could have been as carefree as Tatiana, allowed to come to the UK to study and live an ordinary life that didn’t require great responsibility and the level of commitment that Dante had had to contend with. But now he had no cause for envy, only pain and regret that the great happiness Tatiana had enjoyed had been cruelly snatched away and this lovely child would never know her father.

As he momentarily dug his fingers into his brow to try and stifle his distress Dante was startled to feel the consoling press of the Englishwoman’s hand through his suit sleeve. Along with the scent of vanilla and honey, her touch sent ripples of seductive sensations along his already highly sensitised nerve endings.

‘You don’t have to tell me,’ she said softly. ‘You must be anxious to see your sister. Here, take the baby. She’s asleep now.’

Wordlessly Dante took the child, tucking her in close to his broad chest in his exquisitely designed jacket and shirt, feeling his heart swell at the soft, warm body and dreading the anxiety on his sister’s face when he appeared at her bedside. Tatiana had always been so open and so trusting. Now her joy in life was gone. Dante longed for a way to bring it back.

Suddenly distracted by a pair of shimmering eyes the astonishing colour and vivid hue of violets, he willingly focused all his attention on the beautiful girl seated beside him. Her white silk blouse was damp and crumpled at the front where Renata had lain her head against her chest and her rich black hair was slipping strand by silky strand loose from her ponytail. The hotly sensuous charge that surged through his body like a streak of sultry summer lightning as a result of his intense examination was too disturbing for words.

‘Grazie. I was told that you work in the store and that you travelled in the ambulance with my sister. You must allow me to pay for a taxi so you can return.’

‘I can get myself a taxi, but I really don’t want you to pay.’ Bliss got to her feet and, disturbingly, Dante did likewise. As he towered over her once again she couldn’t help feeling consumed by his presence. The man was so attractive and so impossible to be ambivalent towards that it wasn’t funny. To counteract the effect, she deliberately focused all her attention on the sleeping child in his arms, secretly thinking that they made a touching tableau—the handsome, indomitable uncle and his beautiful baby niece. It cut her to the quick to realise she would probably not set eyes on either of them ever again.

‘At least leave me your address, Miss Maguire. My sister will no doubt want to get in touch with you to thank you for all your help.’

Bliss shrugged to hide her sudden awkwardness. ‘She doesn’t have to thank me. It was my pleasure to be able to help. If I want to ring and find out how she’s doing, it’s Mrs Ward, isn’t it?’

‘Tatiana.’

‘What a lovely name.’

‘And Bliss? Where did that come from?’ Raising one dark eyebrow with an almost roguish air, Dante smiled. A wave of heat sailed through Bliss’s body and back again.

‘Maybe it’s what my parents were looking for at the time.’ Her deadpan humour clearly didn’t amuse him. His raised eyebrow was replaced by a distinct frown.

’Felicità.’

‘Pardon?’

‘That is “Bliss” in my language. Felicità. But I think I prefer it in English.’

Oh, my Lord! Do you have to smile at me like that? Bliss felt as if she’d been locked in a pitch-black room only to be let out blinking into the blinding gaze of the sun. What on earth was God thinking of when he made a man as devastatingly irresistible as Dante di Andrea? What he’d said was perfectly innocent, but in that sexy Italian intonation it had sounded to Bliss as if he were making love to her with words. Crossing her arms in front of her shirt, she anxiously strove to conceal the fact that her nipples had shockingly peaked to shameful steel buds inside her bra and the sharp tingling sensation that ensued in them was almost bordering on pain. ‘Well. I wish both you and your sister and little Renny all the best. I’ll be going now.’

‘Your address, Miss Maguire. Please?’ He’d juggled the child against his chest and produced a small notepad and pen from his inside jacket pocket. Wordlessly Bliss took it and scribbled down her address and phone number, though it was only after she handed back the notepad that she wondered why she’d capitulated so easily. She’d told him thanks weren’t necessary and she’d meant it. Now she’d gone back on her word and maybe Dante would think that she expected something because of it? She hoped not. She’d hate him to imagine that she’d helped his sister in the hope of some kind of reward.

‘Well…goodbye.’

With an awkward little smile that a shy teenager would surely have despaired of, Bliss allowed herself one final glance at the stunning Italian and the equally beautiful little girl, then turned and walked quickly away towards the double-doored exit.

CHAPTER TWO

ALTHOUGH Bliss was convinced that the repetitive ringing sound that permeated her subconscious was a referee blowing the half-time whistle on a soccer match, it quickly transformed into the more insistent peal of a ringing telephone, and she rubbed at her eyes and dazedly sat up in bed. Reaching for the cordless receiver on the small oak cabinet beside her, she stifled a yawn before uttering a weary ‘yes’ into the mouthpiece.

‘Bliss Maguire?’

All drowsiness was banished in an instant and her violet eyes pinged wide open. If she wasn’t mistaken, that deeply knee-trembling pronunciation of her name belonged to the Italian hunk she’d met yesterday in the hospital. Dante di Andrea. Pushing her fingers shakily through her hair, Bliss concentrated hard on getting her jaw to work in order to reply. ‘This is she.’

‘It is Dante di Andrea speaking…you remember? From yesterday at the hospital?’