Harlequin Romance February 2016 Box Set

by Barbara Wallace

  Tears shone brightly in her eyes and his hand rose to capture her face. His thumb slowly stroked her skin. She was about to say something, but he spoke first.

  ‘That first time I opened my door to you the night of the storm—when you fell into my arms and soaked me through—I looked into those startled brown eyes and deep inside myself I recognised you. Recognised that you are the one. But I was too wrapped up in feelings of guilt and fear to see it. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you, so I kept telling myself not to fall for you. I hadn’t reckoned on how you would worm your way into my heart. How my resilience would waver each time you smiled and laughed. I hadn’t reckoned on the joy and fun you brought into my life. Just how mind-blowingly and crazily I would be physically attracted to you. How I’d lose my mind and my heart to you when we made love.’

  His hand dropped from her cheek to hold hers. Blood pounded in his ears.

  ‘I love you, Aideen. I don’t know how, but in a matter of weeks you’ve turned my life upside down. I can’t even pinpoint when I fell in love with you. Perhaps it was at every moment that you challenged me, whether it was on the tennis court or in how I chose to spend my life. Of course I didn’t want to listen to you, but you loosened yet another chink in the armour I had wrapped around myself for years. Or maybe it was after I saw your delight went we ate at my club next to the Eiffel Tower. Until the day I die I will remember just how stunningly beautiful you looked that night.’

  He watched her shocked expression, saw her hand pressed to her mouth. His stomach clenched.

  He leant towards her and said in a low voice, ‘Since Paris, all I can think of is our lovemaking...your soft whispers. I’m in love with you, Aideen Ryan.’

  She said nothing, just shook her head, her hand still over her mouth. Didn’t she believe him? Panic gripped him. Should he just stop? No. He had to tell her how much he loved her. How much he needed her in his life.

  ‘I’m in love with your chocolate eyes, your smiling mouth, your messy chatterbox ways. There’s so much I want to know about you. How you like to celebrate Halloween, Christmas, birthdays. What’s your favourite flavour of ice cream? There’s so much I want to experience with you. So much more I want to learn about you and fall in love with. To go along with how much I love your lips. The never-ending length of your eyelashes. Your constant daydreaming. The five tiny piercings in your right ear.’

  That, at least, elicited a smile.

  ‘In Paris I was convinced I couldn’t give you the love you deserve. You had been hurt enough in the past without me adding to it. For so long I allowed my fear of losing those close to me to push people away. I was certain I wasn’t capable of being in an effective relationship. I was terrified of taking that blind leap of faith—of telling someone you love them and all the vulnerabilities and uncertainties that go with that.’

  He looked into her eyes, his heart thumping wildly.

  ‘You helped bring Orla and her baby girl back into my life. My life was pretty empty until you arrived into it. My heart had shut down. I was tired of losing people I loved. But you kick-started it with a bang within hours of turning up in my life. That night of the storm I tried to shut you out, but you kept worming your way in with your warmth and humour.’

  He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair.

  ‘At first I thought helping you would be a good distraction from everything that was happening with Orla. But, in truth, now I realise that I wanted to make up for failing Orla so badly by helping you instead. I hadn’t anticipated that it would actually be more about you helping me. As each day passed you became a bigger and bigger part of my life...until now I can’t imagine a life with you. So much so that in the past week I couldn’t settle to anything. I grew increasingly restless, and the only way I could think of distracting myself was by taking to the road again, by selling Ashbrooke. But the truth is I can’t live without you. You have made me want to live life again—fully. You are the most beautiful, courageous, kind, funny, and tender woman I have ever met and I want you in my life...for ever.’

  * * *

  Her head swam with all his words. It would be so easy to give in to her heart, give in to the chemistry and attraction that drew her like a magnet to him. She wanted nothing more than to spend every second of the rest of her life with him, to know every single inch of him.

  But they were from different worlds, and no amount of love would change that.

  ‘I don’t know what to say. Oh, Patrick... You know how I feel for you, but this is never going to work. We’re too different. We’re not equals. I don’t want to be in an unbalanced relationship.’

  The pull of his hand on hers forced her to look back up at him. Gentle eyes held her gaze.

  ‘What are you afraid of?’

  Her pulse pounded at his question and her throat dried. ‘That you will have power over me. That I will spend my life feeling inadequate, unequal, that I didn’t contribute my fair share.’

  He pulled her closer until there was only an inch separating them. His beautiful gaze held hers with such compassion and warmth tears trickled down her cheeks in response.

  ‘Have I ever done any of those things to you? Made you feel like you aren’t my equal?’

  ‘No...’

  ‘Do you trust me?’

  Her heart burst forth with the truth and she answered resoundingly. ‘Yes, I trust you.’

  ‘Will you trust me when I say that we are equals? That we are both bringing different but equally important things to this relationship? You are bringing empathy, joy, creativity...and you brought my family back together. What could be more important than that? You have a love for me that no one else can ever give me. How can any of those things be of less importance than wealth?’ Before she could answer he said quickly, ‘You do love me, don’t you?’

  She struggled to speak against the wave of emotions that churned in her body. She squeezed his hands, needing to clutch on to his strength in order to carry on. ‘I love you with all my heart. You are kind and generous. More handsome than any man deserves to be. You make me feel like the most special person in the world. When we made love I felt an intimacy, a love for you, that was so intense, so real...it was almost frightening. I love you so much... But you have so much wealth, and I have practically nothing... It doesn’t seem right. And I’m so confused.’

  For a while he simply looked at her, deep in thought. His eyes grew sombre and determined. ‘Are you saying that if I lost all my money in the morning you wouldn’t love me?’

  ‘No! Of course not!’

  And then she stopped as a satisfied smile broke on his lips.

  ‘So what are you saying?’

  For the longest while she just stared at him, unsure. She trusted him. He had never tried to control or dominate her with his wealth and power. And if he was penniless it wouldn’t change her love for him.

  ‘I suppose I’m saying that I’m a little scared and daunted by all this.’

  His head tilted to the side and he said gently, ‘Being in love is a little scary...but I promise I will never hurt you.’

  ‘Are you scared?’

  ‘Of course! I’m scared of being hurt, too—of you not loving me as much as I love you.’

  ‘But that would be impossible.’

  ‘Would it? Are you willing to take the risk and be with me? I love you. I want you by my side always. I want to wake to your smile, sleep with you in my arms. I want to care for you, protect you, argue with you, grow old with you. I want to share everything I have with you. Because in giving, in sharing everything I have with you, I hope you’ll see it as an indication of how much I love you. And in accepting me, and all that I have, you can show me how much you love and trust me. That you are willing to share my life.’

  He dropped to his knees on the path before her and she could do nothing but gape at him, open-mouthed.

  ‘Before this year is out I want to stand before our families and friends and ask you. Aideen Ryan, for richer o
r poorer, will you marry me?’

  Dizzy, she closed her eyes for a moment. The sun warmed her face as she turned it upwards and her hand swept away the tears on her cheeks. A fiery intensity beat in her heart.

  The sun danced beneath her eyelids and when she dropped her head she opened her eyes to the pale blue Irish sky. The same glorious colour as his eyes, which she then turned to. Eyes filled with love...and a little apprehension.

  She could barely speak, her pulse was pounding so hard. ‘I never thought I could ever love someone as much as I love you. With you I feel complete... I feel secure. I can be the best that I am with you. The world is more beautiful, more exciting, more intense with you in it. So, yes, I would be honoured to be your wife, to spend the rest of my life with you.’

  His hands wrapped about her face and he gently drew her to him. Her breath caught at the power of the joy and love shining in his eyes.

  He spoke in a low whisper. ‘It has taken me so long to find you...to allow love into my life. I’m never letting you out of my sight again. Promise me that we will never sleep a night apart. That you will come with me wherever I go.’

  Her thumb traced the lines of his lips and she spoke with light, teasing laughter. ‘I promise... I will follow you to the ends of this world. But I’m warning you: I want lots of children, so you’ll have a lot of uncomfortable nights in hospital chairs.’

  At that he stood, and looked down at her with stunned joy. Then he pulled her up and, holding her by the waist, swung her around and around.

  When he stopped they were both breathless with laughter. And then his gaze darkened. ‘How about we start trying straight away?’

  She inched forward and brushed her lips against his. ‘Good idea.’

  And then she was lost to his strength, his warmth. His love.

  EPILOGUE

  Eight months later

  AS SHE STOOD outside the double doors to the entrance of Ashbrooke’s ballroom Aideen’s fingers trembled where she held on to her dad’s arm.

  Behind her, her cousin and bridesmaid Kate fussed with the train of her dress.

  To one side of the hallway a huge fir tree from the estate was bedecked in twinkling white Christmas lights. Through the windows beyond, fat flakes of snow fluttered down to join the heavy carpet of snow that already covered the estate.

  Tomorrow—Christmas Day—she would wake up beside her husband. Giddy excitement raced through her at the thought, and she smiled quietly to herself.

  She ran a hand over the delicate lace of her dress, her trained eye once again inspecting it. But there was no need. It was perfect.

  She had spent weeks deciding on the design, and it had been handcrafted by a group of lacemakers who lived locally. It was a traditional Bandon Lace design, but with personal touches added—the shields that represented valour and honour on the Fitzsimon family crest, the three griffins of the Ryan crest representing courage and bravery. A seashell to represent Ashbrooke House. The sailing boat from the Parisian coat of arms. Symbols from all the places where she had fallen deeper and deeper in love with Patrick.

  And on her feet were the ivory ankle-strap sandals Mustard and Mayo had bought her all those months ago.

  With a nod, she signalled to her dad that she was ready.

  The doors opened and once again she was dazzled by the ornate heavy gilt mirrored walls, the cherub-filled frescoed ceiling of the ballroom, and her heart leapt at its spectacular beauty.

  Her family and friends beamed back at her and her already bursting heart exploded with joy. Her mum openly cried, while her two brothers tried to pretend they weren’t.

  Orla, holding baby Evie in her arms, looked from Aideen to Patrick with love and pride.

  Patrick’s best man, Frédéric Forbin, whispered something to him and he nodded in response.

  When was he going to turn to her?

  The dogs sat patiently at his feet, both wearing pale pink bows to match the bridal party. Behind him stood his large group of friends, including Lord Balfe, all of whom had travelled from around the world to be here. Friends who were once again part of his life.

  And then he turned to her.

  She wanted to run to him but forced herself to take the slow bridal steps. His hair was shorn once again, highlighting the sharp masculine lines of his face, the brilliant blue of his eyes.

  Step by step she moved closer to her best friend. To the man who made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

  With him, she was complete.

  Before him, she’d felt as though she was a feather—floating through the air, happy, but never quite belonging, never quite understanding.

  And now, because of him, she understood. That this life was about love. Giving love. But also receiving it. That was all that really mattered.

  And tonight, at the stroke of midnight, she would give him his Christmas present: the news that she was six weeks pregnant.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from SAVED BY THE CEO by Barbara Wallace.

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  Saved by the CEO

  by Barbara Wallace

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I THINK I’M in love.”

  Louisa Harrison bit off a piece of cornetto, moaning as the sweet cake-like pastry melted like butter on her tongue. Crumbs dotted her chin. She caught them with her finger, not wanting to waste a drop. “Seriously, Dani, how do you not weigh a thousand pounds living with this man?” If she were married to a chef as wonderful as Rafe Mancini, she’d be the size of her palazzo, the grounds and the vineyards combined.

  Her best friend laughed. “Trust me, it’s not easy. Fortunately, running around the restaurant all day keeps me in shape. Especially now. Ever since the royal wedding, we’ve been slammed with requests for reservations. Everyone wants to eat at the restaurant that fed Prince Antonio and his bride.”

  “As well they should.” Danielle’s husband, Rafe, entered the restaurant dining room brandishing a coffeepot. “You make it sound as though Mancini’s is some ordinary royal wedding caterer.”

  “I’m not sure there is such a thing as an ordinary royal wedding caterer,” Dani replied, kissing him on the cheek, “but you’re right, Mancini’s is anything but ordinary. Once people taste Rafe’s food, they are desperate to come back.”

  “Only they can’t for at least eight weeks. My beautiful bride is right—we are booked solid through the harvest festival.”

  “That’s fantastic,” Louisa replied helping herself to a cup of coffee. Rafe Mancini not only created wonderful food, he made the best American coffee in Tuscany. That was Dani’s doing. She’d insisted Rafe add a few New World touches to his traditionally Italian menu to placate US tourists. One of many small changes she’d implemented over the past few months. It hadn’t taken long for her friend to establish herself as an equal partner both in the relationship and the business. But then, Louisa had heard there were men in this world who actually liked when their wives had minds of their own. Not to mention lives.

  She just hadn’t married one.

  “Mancini’s isn’t the only place that’s doing well,” Dani continued. “Business has been up all around the village. Donatella told me sales at the boutique are up over 40 percent from last year.”

  Louisa wasn’t surprised. Over the past nine months, Monte Calanetti had gone from sleepy Tusca
n village to must-see tourist destination. Not only had they been selected to host Halencia’s royal wedding—considered the wedding of the year in most circles—but art experts had recently discovered an unknown fresco masterpiece hidden in the local chapel. Now it felt as if every person in Italy, tourist or resident, made a point of driving through the town. That they arrived to discover a picture-perfect village and an Italian Good Food rated restaurant owned by one of Europe’s premier chefs only enhanced the town’s allure.

  “Quite a change from when you and I arrived here, huh?” she noted. It’d been an early spring day when the two of them had met on the bus from Florence. Two expatriates, each on her own quest to the Tuscan Valley. For Dani, the tiny village represented a last adventure before deciding on her future. Louisa, on the other hand, had taken one look at the terracotta roofs rising from the valley and decided luck had granted her the perfect place to escape her past. A place where she could heal.

  “I knew as soon as I stepped off the bus that Monte Calanetti was special,” Dani said. “There’s something magical about this town. You can feel it.”

  More like her friend felt the attraction between her and the man she eventually married; there’d been sparks from the second Dani and Rafe had laid eyes on each other. Louisa kept the thought to herself. “The royal wedding planner certainly thought so,” she said instead.

  “Unfortunately, we can’t ride the wedding momentum forever. Once harvest season ends, people will be more interested in the ski resorts.” Rafe said.

  “People will still seek out Mancini’s,” Louisa said.

  “Some, yes, but certainly not the numbers we’ve been enjoying. And they certainly won’t spend time visiting other businesses.”

  True. So much of Monte Calanetti’s appeal revolved around being able to stroll its cobblestone streets during the warm weather. It would be hard to make a wish in the plaza fountain if the water was frozen. There was a part of Louisa that wouldn’t mind the crowds thinning. She missed the early days when she could walk the streets without worrying that some American tourist would recognize her. Another part, however—the practical part—knew the village needed more than a seasonal income. Prior to the wedding, several of the smaller businesses had been on shaky ground.