The Italian's Love-Child: The Italian's Stolen Bride / The Marchese's Love-Child / The Italian's Marriage Demand

‘What about your mother, then?’ she asked. ‘Must she pay for your father’s decisions? She didn’t know, Luc. She didn’t know until Easter, when you didn’t turn up for Easter Sunday.’

‘But she doesn’t turn up until now, trying to put off our wedding,’ he pointed out, no softening at all in his expression.

It’s gone too far, Skye thought, feeling totally miserable about it. ‘I said she could come again, Luc,’ she confessed on a heavy sigh. ‘Matt was so excited about having a grandmother…’

‘It’s okay. Stop worrying about it, Skye.’

He was on his feet, coming around the table to her. She felt too drained to move, too torn by the conflicts that still raged around them to achieve any peace of mind. Luc stepped behind her chair and his hands slid over her shoulders and started a gentle massage.

‘None of this is your fault,’ he murmured, dropping a kiss on the top of her head, caring for her uppermost in his tone now. ‘Try to relax, Skye. If my mother visits again…just let it be. Matt is her grandson. So long as the connection is good for him, no harm done.’

The tension in her shoulders eased under his expert manipulation. ‘What about you, Luc? You’re her son.’

‘I’ll welcome her if I’m with you and Matt. But don’t be surprised if she never comes again. My father might forbid it. In which case…’

‘Forbid?’ She shook her head over the harsh concept.

‘It’s an old-fashioned Italian marriage,’ Luc said wryly. ‘Love, honour, obey…’

‘Is that how you think, too? That you have the right to forbid me to do something you disapprove of?’

‘No. I don’t own you, Skye. I don’t see marriage as a form of ownership. Nor do I see parenthood that way. There comes a time when you have to let a child choose his own path, even against what you think are his best interests.’

‘What if your father honestly thought how he acted was in your best interests, Luc?’

‘It doesn’t excuse hurting you as he did.’

‘He didn’t know me.’

Caring too much about one person could make you blind to others, Skye thought. And protecting the life you know can make you blind to others’ lives, too. It was what she’d been doing.

Luc’s thumbs pressed harder into her muscles as he said, ‘He didn’t try to know you.’

Anger again.

Anger built on her anger at what had been done to her. Perhaps anger at himself, as well, for believing what he should never have believed, knowing her as intimately as he had. But that was far in the past now, and Skye didn’t want their future built on such a divisive foundation.

‘What if he tries now, Luc?’

The movement of his hands halted. He dragged in a deep breath and exhaled it very slowly. ‘Let’s not talk about my father, Skye. It’s you I need.’

The raw need in his voice compelled her to rise from her chair and give him whatever he wanted of her. He instantly caught her to him, one arm sweeping around her waist, one hand lifting to her face to stroke away any worry lines. His eyes searched hers with a searing intensity.

‘I love you. Don’t let anything come between us.’

The passionate plea carried the scars of their past experience, and Skye knew intuitively they’d been brought to throbbing life again by the intrusion of his family. She curled her arms around his neck and kissed him, not wanting him to feel any uncertainty about her love. That was strong and true, always had been, always would be.

They went to bed and made love long into the night.

Skye did not doubt Luc’s commitment to her for a second.

But not even the secure comfort of being this close to him could banish the sense of wrongs which still had to be righted.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

‘PLEASE… sit with me.’

Flavia Peretti gestured to the two deck chairs on the small back verandah where Matt had led his Nonna to watch him kick the soccer ball around the backyard. Skye had hurried out to check there was no bird’s mess on either of them before Luc’s mother sat down. She had meant to leave her with her grandson, but it seemed too impolite to refuse such a direct request.

She sat, the old deck chair creaking as she did so, making her conscious of the huge difference between her living circumstances and that of the Peretti family. Everything about the cottage was old and shabby—she couldn’t afford better—though she’d brightened it up with colour where she could. Here on the verandah, the petunias she’d potted were in full bloom, looking very pretty. A cheap little garden, Skye thought, but one that gave her pleasure.

Oddly enough, in her three visits to the cottage, Luc’s mother had made no disdainful comment on Skye’s relatively poor circumstances. Nor did she now.

‘Matteo is a credit to you, Skye.’

Spoken with warm approval.

And actually using her first name.

Which made two firsts.

It was Flavia Peretti’s third visit and she was finally thawing from polite formality. Skye smiled. She didn’t mind basking in her son’s reflected glory. It was clearly difficult for Luc’s mother to release the prejudice she had held against her son’s non-Italian girlfriend and see the woman he loved.

‘My husband…’ Flavia gathered herself to look directly at Skye, a sad plea in her eloquent dark eyes. ‘He says my invitation for Christmas Day is enough. If Luciano won’t come, bringing you and our grandson, for my sake…’ She gestured helplessly.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Peretti.’

‘No… no… you have nothing to apologise for. It is we who must make up for what was done. But Maurizio… he has his pride. The father does not go to the son, you understand.’

‘I can’t say I do understand,’ Skye said ruefully.

‘You are not steeped in our traditions.’ A deep sigh was heaved. ‘Our marriage was an arranged one by our two families. That was how it was done. Maurizio came back to Italy for me and I came to Australia with him as his bride. He has been a good husband. And as a good father, he believed he was doing right by Luciano.’

Skye shook her head, seeing nothing right in what had been done to Luc and herself.

Flavia Peretti grimaced apologetically and rushed out an explanation. ‘He did not understand the attachment to you. How could it be so when you were not one of us? To Maurizio it was a bad distraction from what should be Luciano’s duty to the family. He asked Roberto to help and it was done. You were gone.’

‘It was a terrible thing to do, Mrs Peretti,’ Skye put in quietly.

‘You were… a modern Australian girl. And—’ she shrugged ‘—not a virgin.’

A heated protest sprang to Skye’s lips. ‘That doesn’t make me a woman who jumps into any man’s bed. I have only ever been with Luc.’

‘Please…’ Hands were raised in anguished appeal. ‘I did not mean to insult you. I was trying to explain why it did not seem so terrible to Maurizio. When he learned of your pregnancy, he did make generous provision for the child so you would never be in need. In his mind, Luciano should understand all these things.’

The clash of cultures, Skye thought, wondering if there was any real chance of finding any meeting ground.

‘A son should forgive his father a mistake which was made with his good at heart,’ was the next pleading argument. ‘Can you not speak to Luciano about this?’