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

‘Why don’t you speak to him yourself, Mrs Peretti?’

A weary roll of her eyes. ‘He is a man. If anyone can get past his pride, it will be you, the woman he loves, the woman for whom he is turning his back on his family.’

This last statement hit Skye hard.

Luc would undoubtedly call it emotional blackmail, yet there was too much truth in it for her to dismiss it out of hand. In the end, family was family and the blood connection ran deep. It didn’t go away, not even if one turned one’s back on it. The memories were always there.

* * *

As Luc drove his Ferrari into Skye’s street, a black limousine was turning the corner at the other end of the block.

His mother!

This was the third time she’d come without making any contact with him!

He put his foot on the accelerator in a burst of frustration, instinctively responding to the urge to chase her down and demand she stop bothering Skye. Only the sure knowledge that a confrontation between them would not achieve anything made him think better of going in pursuit. He slowed the car and pulled it in beside the kerb, thumping the driving wheel in anger as he switched off the engine.

The agreed wedding day was set for one week away. It was pointless to put it off until after Christmas. His father was never going to come around to accepting their marriage. He had made no attempt to arrange a private meeting with Luc at work. A reconciliation on Christmas day was definitely not on his drawing board.

And here was his mother meddling again!

Sure she probably wanted to see Matt—he was a wonderful grandchild for her—but it was Skye she was getting at, planting whatever seeds of dissension she could. Luc felt the difference each time she’d been; worries, tension, questions when there shouldn’t be any questions.

Today had been Matt’s last day at school for the year. As Luc alighted from his car, that time factor eased some of his own tension. There was no longer any need for Skye and Matt to stay at this house in Brighton-Le-Sands. No excuse not to come and live with him at Bondi. Next year another school could be found for Matt, close to wherever they bought a suitable home—certainly a lot more suitable than this cheap little rental cottage where Skye had insisted on staying all year, clinging to her independence.

Which might well have given his mother hope that Skye wasn’t completely committed to the marriage!

Luc strode across the street, setting his mind on a plan of action. He was not going to lose Skye now. No way. In fact, he’d help her start on packing her belongings tonight, sorting out what she wanted to keep and what could be given away to charity. Best to make the move to his apartment this weekend. That might stop his mother from sneaking visits behind his back.

He used the front door key Skye had given him and had no sooner stepped into the hallway than Matt came flying down it to meet him. ‘Nonna was here again, Daddy. You’ve just missed her,’ he cried, his happy face expecting Luc to feel both pleased and disappointed.

‘Well, she should have timed her visit better,’ he replied lightly, ruffling Matt’s hair to project some fun into the moment. ‘How was your last day at school?’

Skye was in the kitchen, cutting up vegetables for dinner. She smiled at him as he came in with Matt but there was a strained look in her lovely blue eyes and she didn’t stop working to greet him beyond saying, ‘Hi!’ No hug. No kiss. A quick instruction to Matt. ‘Let your father sit down and relax before you talk his head off.’

There was a tight restraint about her that knotted Luc’s gut. He managed to drink the beer Matt brought him but it didn’t relax him, and for once, his son’s bright chatter did not give him joy. It took an act of will to respond to it. His gaze kept turning to Skye who just went ahead, preparing dinner, occasionally joining in the conversation, trying to act naturally as though nothing was wrong.

Luc wasn’t fooled. However, it was impossible to say anything in front of Matt. Their son was a complete innocent in all of this, and should be kept so, unless circumstances forced knowledge on him that had to be dealt with. Luc had the feeling those circumstances were gathering around them very ominously at the moment.

He silently railed against his father’s stubborn refusal to accept the woman he loved. Skye was everything he could possibly want in a wife. She had so many admirable attributes, far beyond her outer beauty. Was his mother seeing that now? Was she plotting to stop the marriage or was she beginning to recognise Skye’s qualities?

Matt was still enthusiastic about his Nonna so there couldn’t have been any unpleasantness between his new grandmother and his mother. Not in front of him. Yet something was seriously disturbing Skye. Luc could sense the anxiety behind her every look at him.

He forced restraint on himself all through dinner and the cleaning up afterwards. As soon as they’d bade Matt goodnight and switched the light off in his bedroom, Luc drew Skye straight into hers, closing the door behind them, wanting to close the door on anything that might separate them. He wrapped her in his arms, kissing her with all the deep passion she evoked in him, relief heightening his need for her as he felt her uninhibited response.

This, at least, was right.

It had always been right.

And she was as eager to strip off his clothes as he was to get rid of hers. He loved her. He took her to bed, determined on showing her how utterly and completely he did. She was so incredibly beautiful; the silky softness of her long glorious hair, the lush curves of her that were all woman, the smooth litheness of her legs, winding so possessively around him as he revelled in the sweet fire of her sexuality, knowing she was craving his.