Not Just a Convenient Marriage

by Lucy Gordon - Not Just a Convenient Marriage

  Was there no way to ease his pain? she wondered. But then something came back to her. Incredibly, she knew something that might help him. After a moment’s hesitation she came to a sudden fierce decision.

  ‘Yes, everything is different,’ she said. ‘In one way—’ she paused, taking a deep breath to summon up her courage ‘—in one way, things are better.’

  He stared.

  ‘Better? What can you mean?’

  ‘You told me once that you felt to blame for her death, that you gave her the child whose birth killed her. But you didn’t.’

  ‘I—’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault, Damiano, you must understand that. You said the feeling of guilt haunted you, but you have nothing to feel guilty about. You didn’t kill her. It wasn’t your fault.’

  Still he stared, thunderstruck.

  ‘It’ll take time for you to get your head around it,’ she said, ‘but you’ll find that the darkness soon starts to lift.’

  He took her face between his hands.

  ‘You say the darkness will lift, but I know now that that began to happen the day you came into my life. I discovered something else tonight, listening to you. You fought that man, to let me keep my dreams of Gina, although she must have always been a trouble to you.’

  ‘I’d have done anything to stop that man hurting you.’

  ‘Even if it meant you paid a price?’

  ‘Even then. Because I love you with all my heart. I hoped you’d come to understand that without my saying it.’

  ‘I’ve been so blind. I never realised—to think the truth about you—about us—has always been there, facing me. To have your love—’ He was suddenly tense. ‘I do have it, don’t I? You did say that?’

  ‘You have my love now and you always will have.’

  ‘And you will always have mine. It’s as though my heart and mind have suddenly become clear, seeing and understanding everything about you, and me—and Gina. This must have been what she wanted to tell me on her death bed. I vowed to protect our son, but she was going to tell me he wasn’t mine.’

  ‘No,’ Sally said quickly. ‘She would never have been so cruel. She was going to tell you that she loved you. You saved her from disaster and made her last months happier than she could have dreamed. In the last moments of her life her heart was yours.’

  He stared. ‘You can’t be sure of that.’

  ‘I can because I can’t imagine knowing you and not loving you. She loved you, my darling. And she wanted you to know that, so that if this day ever arrived you would still have her love to rely on.’

  ‘But now I have yours. You might have seized the chance to kick her out of my life and own me completely. Instead—’

  ‘I don’t want to own you. I want you to give me your love freely, or not at all.’

  ‘Has there ever been another woman as generous as you?’ he breathed.

  ‘It happens when a woman truly loves a man.’

  But Damiano didn’t believe her. In his eyes and his newly awakened heart the generosity she showered on him was hers alone, and he would cling to her for his survival. There could be no life without her. But with her a glorious future was opening before him.

  ‘What about Pietro?’ she asked. ‘Will this affect your love for him?’

  ‘No, because I’ve always had this slight suspicion that he wasn’t mine. I couldn’t be sure but I came to feel a bond between us that didn’t depend on my being his father in every sense. That bond has grown over the years, and it won’t die now.’

  ‘Will you tell him?’

  ‘One day I may have to. If that man comes back I don’t want Pietro taken by surprise. But not yet. Let’s go and say goodnight to him.’

  But as they passed Pietro’s room they stopped, appalled by the sound of violent sobbing coming from inside. Damiano threw open the door and they saw the child lying on the bed, his face buried in the pillow.

  ‘Pietro,’ his father cried, dropping down beside him and trying to take him in his arms.

  ‘Go away,’ Pietro cried. ‘You’re not my father.’

  ‘Of course I am. Come here.’

  But Pietro fought him off.

  ‘You’re not!’ he screamed. ‘I was outside, I heard what they said. You’re not my father, you don’t love me. You don’t, you don’t, you don’t.’

  Damiano looked up at Sally, his face full of desperation. She took a deep breath. Their whole future depended on this moment. Sitting down on Pietro’s other side, she took him in her arms. He made no attempt to fight her as he’d fought Damiano.

  ‘You’re wrong, my darling. Papa does love you, and that’s what makes him your father. The rest—whether he fathered you at birth—simply doesn’t matter. After all, I didn’t give birth to you, but you call me Mamma because you know I love you as a mother, and you’ve accepted me as your mother, which means all the world to me.

  ‘Your father here has loved you all your life, because you’re a wonderful son. That’s what makes him your father—your father of the heart.’

  Pietro looked up at her, clearly taking in what she was saying, and mulling it over seriously.

  ‘What happens now is up to you,’ she told him. ‘Do you accept him as your father, or will you refuse and break his heart?’

  Pietro looked back and forth between them. Damiano was watching Sally as though she held all his life in her hands.

  Which in a way she did, she thought. She gave him a significant glance, nodding in Pietro’s direction, hoping he would understand.

  He did. He took the child’s hand and said gently, ‘Will you accept me as your father, if I beg you to?’

  Slowly Pietro nodded. The next moment he was enfolded in Damiano’s arms.

  ‘Thank you,’ she told the child. ‘That means everything to Papa, because he loves you more than anyone in the world, and he always will.’

  ‘But not more than you,’ Pietro said innocently from within the shelter of Damiano’s embrace.

  ‘Much more than me.’ She met Damiano’s eyes and mouthed, ‘Tell him.’

  He tensed, sensing how much this mattered but unwilling to say the words. He knew now that he could never love anyone more than her, even if he’d only just realised how deeply.

  ‘Say it,’ she urged silently again.

  ‘It’s true,’ he told Pietro. ‘You come first with me, and—and you always will.’

  Sally was smiling with approval and the sensation made him dizzy with relief and happiness. He was a man who’d always insisted on being in control, but now even that side of him was glad to yield to her. He was in her power, and for the first time in his life he didn’t mind the subjugation.

  She was stronger than he was. She would keep him safe. He was content.

  The three of them remained together for an hour. It was only when Pietro had gone to sleep that they could say things that needed to be said.

  ‘Do you like the mask I’m wearing now?’ she whispered.

  But he shook his head.

  ‘To me you have never worn a mask,’ he said. ‘I looked at you and saw the woman I was fated to love for the rest of my life. That is no mask, and it never will be.’

  He drew her closer into his arms.

  ‘Te vojo ben,’ he said, uttering the Venetian words of love that she had longed to hear. ‘Te vojo ben.’

  *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A GROOM WORTH WAITING FOR by Sophie Pembroke.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN, he’s coming here?’ Thea Morrison clasped her arms around her body, as if the action could somehow hide the fact that she was wearing a ridiculously expensive, pearl-encrusted, embroidered ivory wedding dress, complete with six-foot train. ‘He can’t!’

  Her sister rolled her big blue eyes. ‘Oh, calm down. He just told me to tell you that you’re late to meet with the wedding planner and if you aren’t there in five minutes he’ll come and get you,’ Helena said.

  ‘Well, stop him!’

  No, that wouldn’t work. Nothing stopped Flynn Ashton when he really wanted something. He was always polite, but utterly tenacious. That was why his father had appointed him his right-hand man at Morrison-Ashton media. And why she was marrying him in the first place.

  ‘Get me out of this dress before he gets here!’

  ‘I don’t know why you care so much,’ Helena said, fumbling with the zip at the back of the dress. ‘It’s not like this is a real wedding anyway.’

  ‘In two days there’ll be a priest, a cake, some flowers, and a legally binding pre-nup saying otherwise.’ Thea wriggled to try and get the strapless dress down over her hips. ‘And everyone knows it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in the wedding dress before the big day.’

  It was more than a superstition, it was a rule. Standard Operating Procedure for weddings. Flynn was not seeing this dress a single moment before she walked down the aisle of the tiny Tuscan church at the bottom of the hill from the villa. Not one second.

  ‘Which is why he sent me instead.’

  Thea froze, her blood suddenly solid in her veins. She knew that voice. It might have been eight years since she’d heard it, but she hadn’t forgotten. Any of it.

  The owner of that voice really shouldn’t be seeing her in nothing but her wedding lingerie. Especially since she was marrying his brother in two days.

  Yanking the dress back up over her ivory corset, Thea held it tight against her chest and stared at him. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’ But there he was. Large as life and twice as… Hell, she couldn’t even lie in her brain and finish that with ugly. He looked…grown up. Not twenty-one and angry at everything any more. More relaxed, more in control.

  And every inch as gorgeous as he’d always been. Curse him.

  Helena laughed. ‘Eight years and that’s all you have to say to him?’ Skipping across the room, blonde hair bouncing, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss against his cheek. ‘It’s good to see you, Zeke.’

  ‘Little Helena, all grown up.’ Zeke returned the hug, but his gaze never left Thea’s. ‘It’s good to see you too. And rather more of your sister than I’d bargained on.’

  There was a mocking edge in his voice. As if she’d planned for him to walk in on her in her underwear. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the country! Flynn had told her he wouldn’t come and she’d been flooded with relief—even if she could never explain why to her husband-to-be. But now here Zeke was, staring at her, and Thea had never felt so exposed.

  She clutched the dress tighter—a barrier between them. ‘Well, I was expecting your brother.’

  ‘Your fiancé,’ Zeke said. ‘Of course. Sorry. Seems he thought I should get started with my best man duties a few days early.’

  Thea blinked. ‘You’re Flynn’s best man?’

  ‘Who else would he choose?’ He said it as if he hadn’t been gone for eight years. As if he’d never taunted Flynn about not being a real Ashton, only an adopted one, a fall-back plan. As if he hadn’t sworn that he was never coming back.

  ‘Anyone in the world.’ Quite literally. Flynn could have appointed the Russian Prime Minister as his best man and Thea would have been less surprised.

  ‘He chose his brother,’ Helena said, giving Thea her usual are you crazy? look. She’d perfected it at fifteen and had been employing it with alarming regularity ever since. ‘What’s so weird about that?’

  Helena hadn’t been there. She’d been—what? Sixteen? Too young or too self-absorbed to get involved in the situation, or to realise what was going on. Thea had wanted to keep it from her—from everybody—even then. Of course with hindsight even at sixteen Helena had probably had a better idea about men than Thea had at eighteen. Or now, at twenty-six. But Helena had been dealing with her own issues then.

  ‘So, you’re here for the wedding?’ Thea said.

  Zeke raised his eyebrows. ‘What else could I possibly be here for?’

  She knew what he wanted her to say, or at least to think. That he’d come back for her. To tell her she’d made the wrong decision eight years ago and she was making a worse one now. To stop her making the biggest mistake of her life.

  Except Thea knew full well she’d already made that. And it had nothing to do with Zeke Ashton.

  No, she had her suspicions about Zeke’s return, but she didn’t think he was there for her. If he’d come back to the family fold there had to be something much bigger at stake than a teenage rebellion of a relationship that had been dead for almost a decade.

  ‘I need to get changed.’

  Keeping the dress clasped tight to her body, Thea stepped off the platform and slipped behind the screen to change back into her sundress from earlier. She could hear Helena and Zeke chatting lightly outside, making out his amused tone more than the words he spoke. That was one thing that hadn’t changed. The world was still a joke to him—her family most of all.

  Hanging the beautiful wedding dress up carefully on its padded hanger, Thea stepped back and stared at it. Her fairytale dress, all sparkle and shine. The moment she put it on she became a different person. A wife, perhaps. That dress, whatever it had cost, was worth every penny if it made her into that person, made her fit.

  This time, this dress, this wedding…it had to be the one that stuck. That bought her the place in the world she needed. Nothing else she’d tried had worked.

  Shaking her head, Thea tugged the straps of her sundress up over her shoulders, thankful for a moment or two to regroup. To remind herself that this didn’t change anything. So Zeke was there, lurking around their Tuscan villa. So what? He wasn’t there for her. She was still marrying Flynn. She belonged with Flynn. She had the dress; she had the plan. She had Helena at her side to make sure she said, wore and did the right thing at the right time. This was it. This villa, this wedding. This was where she was supposed to be. Everything was in its right place—apart from Zeke Ashton.

  Well, he could just stay out of her perfect picture, thank you very much. Besides, the villa was big enough she probably wouldn’t even notice he was in residence most of the time. Not a problem.

  Sandals on, Thea smoothed down her hair and stepped back out. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with the wedding planner to attend.’

  ‘Of course,’ Zeke said, with that infuriating mocking smile still in place. ‘We wouldn’t dream of delaying the blushing bride.’

  Thea nodded sharply. She was not blushing.

  She’d made a promise to herself eight years ago. A decision. And part of that decision meant that Zeke Ashton would never be able to make her blush again.

  That part of her life was dead and buried.

  Just two days until the wedding. Two more days—that was all. Two days until Thea Morrison got her happily-ever-after.

  ‘In fact,’ Zeke said, ‘why don’t I walk you there? We can catch up.’

  Thea’s jaw clenched. ‘That would be lovely,’ she lied.

  Two days and this miserable week would be over. Thea couldn’t wait.

  *

  She barely looked like Thea. With her dark hair straightened and pinned back, her slender arms and legs bronzed to the perfect shade of tan…she looked like someone else. Zeke studied her as she walked ahead of him, long strides clearly designed to get her away from his company as soon as physically possible
.

  Did she even remember the time when that had been the last thing she’d wanted? When she’d smile and perform her hostess duties at her father’s dinner parties and company barbecues, then sneak off to hide out somewhere private, often dark and cosy, with him…? Whoever she’d pretended to be for their parents—the good girl, the dutiful daughter—when they were alone Zeke had seen the real Thea. Seen glimpses of the woman he’d always believed she’d become.

  Zeke shook his head. Apparently he’d been wrong. Those times were gone. And as he watched Thea—all high-heeled sandals, sundress and God only knew what underneath, rather than jeans, sneakers and hot pink knickers—he knew the girl he’d loved was gone, too. The Thea he’d fallen in love with would never have agreed to marry his brother, whatever their respective fathers’ arguments for why it was a good idea. She’d wanted love—true love. And for a few brief months he’d thought she’d found it.

  He’d been wrong again, though.

  Lengthening his own stride, he caught up to her easily. She might have long legs, but his were longer. ‘So,’ he asked casually, ‘how many people are coming to this shindig, anyway?’

  ‘Shindig?’ Thea stopped walking. ‘Did you just call my wedding a shindig?’

  Zeke shrugged. Nice to know he could still get under her skin so easily. It might make the next couple of days a little more fun. Something had to. ‘Sorry. I meant to say your fairytale-worthy perfect day, when thou shalt join your body in heavenly communion with the deepest love of your heart and soul. How many people are coming to that?’

  Colour rose in her cheeks, filling him with a strange sense of satisfaction. It was childish, maybe. But he wasn’t going to let her get away with pretending that this was a real, true love-match. It was business, just like everything else the Morrisons and the Ashtons held dear.

  Including him, these days. Even if his business wasn’t the family one any more.

  ‘Two hundred and sixty-eight,’ Thea said, her tone crisp. ‘At the last count.’

  ‘Small and intimate, then?’ Zeke said. ‘Just how my father likes things. Where are you putting them all up? I mean, I get that this place is enormous, but still…I can’t imagine your guests doubling up on camp beds on the veranda.’