The accident had stopped her getting to the man she loved. She’d failed in her mission to tell him of her love then and she’d failed to tell him that she loved him still because she’d been too scared to see the truth. And now it was all too late.
She’d screwed it all up again.
Hold on a minute…!
What had he said about love and trust the last time they were alone together, the night it had all fallen apart? Hadn’t he implied that he loved her?
Could he…?
Tonino had given her every opportunity to see the truth but she’d kept her blinkers on and stayed deliberately blind. In her own blind way she had sabotaged them.
‘Are you going to sit here all day?’
Shaken out of the trance she’d fallen into, she looked up to find Aislin in the doorway, still munching on the now depleted bar of chocolate.
Aislin had been scared to love Dante, she remembered. Her insecurities had been acute too.
Their mother had a lot to answer for.
But their mother could not be blamed for Orla’s failure to embrace the life Tonino had offered her and which she’d been too frightened to accept.
‘Ash?’ she whispered.
‘Yes?’
‘I think I love him.’ Then, raising her voice, she said it with conviction. ‘I love Tonino.’
Her sister’s beautiful face gazed down on her, chewing slowly. Then she swallowed her mouthful and held out a hand to help Orla up. ‘Well, took you long enough.’
‘What? You knew?’
‘Of course I knew, you eejit.’ Aislin put her arm around her and held her close as they walked back into the house. It wouldn’t be long before Aislin’s belly entered the room first. ‘Now all you need to decide is what you’re going to do about it.’
Do?
She thought quickly, the rudiments of a plan forming.
‘Do you think Dante would mind if I borrowed his jet this afternoon?’
‘Fancy a trip to Tuscany, do you?’ Aislin asked with a grin. ‘Are you going to gatecrash the wedding?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Want some help making yourself look beautiful before you leave?’
‘Actually…yes, please.’
Tonino placed a kiss to his exhausted child’s forehead. Finn was already asleep. It had been a long day for him and all the playing and dancing with the other children had worn him out.
Leaving him with the duty nurse, Tonino slipped into the adjoining suite and poured himself a bourbon. He needed something stronger than wine and he needed a few minutes to himself before rejoining his family in the ballroom.
The temptation to stay in his suite and bury his troubles in the bottom of the bottle was strong.
He’d been doing well this past month. He’d kept himself busy. He accepted he’d probably drunk a little more wine than was good for him, but a man needed to sleep.
And then this morning Orla had been the one to hand Finn over to him.
He hadn’t been prepared for seeing her. Normally she hid away and let Aislin take care of the handover, which had suited him perfectly.
In the past month he and Orla had exchanged dozens of polite messages but until that morning they hadn’t seen each other in person or spoken.
Seeing her again had hit him like a punch in the gut.
Had he imagined the misery he’d seen swirling in her green eyes? Had it just been a figment of his imagination, a desperate hope that she might miss him as much as he missed her?
Damn it to hell, he missed her more than he’d believed possible. More than he’d missed her four years ago. And she’d moved to Sicily! That had only made things worse.
She was here in his country but not for him.
He wanted to hate her. If he could turn every ounce of the love he carried in his soul for her into hate, he might feel as if there was a purpose to his life.
Finn was his purpose now. It was everything else that had become meaningless. If not for Finn, he wouldn’t have bothered coming to this wedding. He wouldn’t have had to put up with Sophia, a guest on the bride’s side, glaring at him for the duration.
His father had noticed. He’d leaned into Tonino during the meal and whispered, ‘You dodged a bullet there, my son.’
If he’d had the energy to laugh, he would have done. Raucously. Instead, he’d kissed his father’s cheek and told him he loved him. And then he’d done the same to his mother. The unspoken rift that had dogged his life these past four years was over. Injured pride had seen him twist their own injured pride into more than it was and blinded him. Their son had dumped their closest friends’ daughter without a word of warning and cloistered himself away with a new woman without pausing for breath—of course they’d been embarrassed and angry. That didn’t mean they didn’t support him. He’d only failed to see it for what it was rather than seeing it as proof that their love was conditional because he’d been in agony over losing Orla.
That agony was nothing compared to the agony of losing her a second time.
Orla was too sick with nerves to care a jot about the magnificent converted monastery whose steps she climbed to enter. She bit back her frustration at having to justify her presence—this was a wedding of two rich, powerful families so security was bound to be tight—by showing her passport and explaining she was the mother of Tonino Valente’s child.
The taller of the security guards burst out laughing.
‘It’s not a joke,’ she beseeched, too tired to be affronted. ‘Please, let me in.’
When she’d decided to fly to Tuscany and declare herself to Tonino, she’d imagined she would be there in a couple of hours. She hadn’t bargained on Aislin spending an age doing her hair and make-up and finding the perfect outfit for her to wear. Then she’d had to wait for a flight-slot out of Sicily, then the helicopter that was supposed to fly her to the wedding had suffered a fault and the pilot had refused to take off so she’d had to wait for a taxi. She would have been happy getting into any old banger but the pilot, who’d organised the taxi for her, was insistent that she wait for an official chauffeured car. She’d had no idea where the official car was coming from—Siberia, maybe?—but after an hour of impatient waiting she’d managed to get through the language barrier and order a taxi for herself. Unfortunately, arriving in an ordinary taxi had meant the security guards looked at her and thought she was ordinary too; far too ordinary to be an invited guest to this society wedding. Especially as she didn’t have an invitation.
As her gaze darted around for another way into the hotel, her heart sank to see security guards posted pretty much everywhere.
‘Call him,’ she pleaded when the tall security guard proved immovable. ‘Please, call Mr Valente. He’ll vouch for me.’
She was rewarded with another, even heartier laugh.
Salvation came in the unexpected form of Sophia.
The beautiful Sicilian woman appeared from the sprawling gardens and walked up the ancient steps, cat’s eyes narrowed, smelling of cigarettes. A conversation in Sicilian broke out between Sophia and the security guard that ended with Sophia taking Orla’s arm and dragging her into the hotel, throwing what was obviously a curse over her shoulder at the humiliated security guard.
The only people in the huge hotel reception were teenagers sprawled over the leather sofas escaping their parents to do some serious snogging. One couple broke for air when they walked in but, when they realised it was no one who was going to tell them off, got back to the business at hand.
Sophia dropped her hold on Orla’s arm and stepped back to inspect her critically. ‘You look…bene.’
‘Thank you.’ Orla braced herself for a scratch down the face. ‘And thank you for vouching for me.’
Sophia waved a bored hand. ‘I think is too late to see your son—Tonino has taken him to bed.’<
br />
Orla nodded. She would find someone who could tell her which one his suite was. Or call one of Finn’s nurses. Or she could bite the bullet and actually call Tonino…
‘He is beautiful boy.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Your son.’
‘Oh.’ Orla waited for the sting in the tail to the compliment. ‘Thank you.’
Sophia shifted so she was directly in front of Orla, forcing Orla to brace herself again for attack. The Sicilian woman looked her up and down one last time before her haughty, beautiful face softened. Then she did something that stunned Orla completely. Sophia wrapped her bony arms around her and pulled her into an even bonier embrace.
‘I am sorry,’ Sophia whispered in her ear, even while she actively avoided a single strand of their hair touching. Then she pulled away, squeezed Orla’s hands with a rueful, apologetic smile, turned on her heel and clip-clopped into the ballroom.
Tonino tipped another hefty measure of bourbon down his neck. This one, he was sure, would numb his aching heart. His intention to leave the suite and join the wedding reception for another hour had come to nothing.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he breathed in deeply.
He did not think there was a place he would less like to be than at the reception party celebrating the marriage of another happy couple when he felt so raw inside.
What was Orla doing? Sitting with her sister watching a movie and sharing a large bowl of popcorn? Or had she gone to bed already? Did she have one of those headaches she suffered from? If he drank enough of this bourbon would he have a matching headache, or would it just send him to sleep?
It was while he was debating the merits of drinking until he passed out—Finn was fast asleep and under the nurse’s watchful care—that the knock on his door came.
He rubbed the nape of his neck with a sigh.
Another knock quickly followed.
Figuring it was likely to be his mother hoping for another kiss with her grandson, he got grudgingly to his feet.
When he saw who was there he was so certain it was an alcohol-induced hallucination that he laughed mirthlessly at the fertility of his imagination and shut the door in the mirage’s face.
He took two steps back to the sofa and his bottle of bourbon and froze.
His hands were shaking. His legs were shaking. His heart was pumping harder than he had ever felt it pump before.
He spun back and took the two steps needed to reach the door again and fling it open.
It was no mirage.
The woman standing at the door, ravishing in a green silk halter-neck dress, thick dark hair lightly curled into waves, clearly apprehensive behind the sultry make-up, was Orla.
As if in a dream, Tonino stepped wordlessly aside and admitted her into his suite.
Her divine scent followed her inside, clinging to her like a cloud and diving straight into his bloodstream to make his heart thump even harder.
Orla had never felt such a mixture of terror and excitement as she had when she’d knocked on Tonino’s door. To have it slammed straight back shut again had stunned her and she’d just plucked up the courage to knock again when he opened it a second time looking as if he’d seen a ghost.
And that was when all the terror left her.
The desolation and fighting wonder in Tonino’s eyes crowded out the lingering doubt. He did love her. She felt it as deeply as she felt their son’s love.
‘Orla…?’
She stepped to him and placed a finger gently to his mouth. Their gazes held for a long, lingering moment. Then she took hold of his hand and silently led him into the bedroom.
She waited until he was sitting on the bed before breaking the hold of their hands and stepping back.
He didn’t say a word, just gazed at her, his breaths taut and shallow.
She’d come to his suite without a plan, without any rehearsed speech, her only intent being to find him. Now that she was here she knew what she had to do. What she must do.
Saying a prayer for courage first, she drew the curtains. Then she dimmed the lights so the only illumination was a soft glow. It was enough for him to see.
The dress she wore had one button at the nape of her neck. Standing only a few steps from Tonino, she undid it. The dress held for a moment before falling to her waist. Keeping her eyes fixed on the man she loved, she reached round to her back and pulled the small zip down so the entire dress fell to her feet, leaving her naked except for a pair of black lace knickers and the heeled shoes she now stepped out of.
Then she pulled the knickers down, stepped out of them too and walked to him, certain he must be able to see her heart beating frantically beneath her chest.
There was a boulder-like lump in Tonino’s throat. It was the only thing stopping his heart from flying out of his mouth.
Was he dreaming? He hardly dared move a muscle in case he woke from it.
She stood between his parted thighs and reached for his hand. Her touch felt real. When she placed it on her stomach… That felt real too.
He exhaled everything in his lungs then refilled them. Orla’s scent merged with the air he breathed in.
He closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them, she was still there, a look in her eyes that made his hammering heart swell.
Slowly, he allowed his gaze to drift down her body.
Pregnancy had changed it only a little since he’d last seen her naked. Her breasts were fuller, the nipples darker. Her hips were a little wider, her stomach more rounded. And slashed across that same stomach were two long, vivid scars, one vertical, the other horizontal…and as he looked he found another, smaller horizontal scar across her knicker-line. There were numerous different smaller scars too, marring her chest and the tops of her arms. Scars from where shards of glass had penetrated her skin.
In the blurred recess of his mind came the realisation that the dress she’d just stripped out of had exposed her arms. He’d been too busy staring in wonder at the mirage of her appearance to notice.
She pivoted slowly to show him her back. More scars.
Something hot stabbed the backs of his eyes, something so unexpected and rare that it took a few beats before Tonino recognised it as tears.
Placing his hands on her hips, he pressed his cheek against her back, closed his eyes and breathed her in. He felt her tremble.
Then she turned again and cupped his face with her hands. Bringing her face close to his, she stared deep into his brimming eyes.
‘You make me feel things that terrify me,’ she whispered before brushing her mouth against his and moving her hands from his face to trail down his neck and unbutton his shirt.
Her lips found his neck and bit it gently while her hand found the button of his trousers.
A shudder shot through him.
Between brushes of lips and darts of tongue she continued. ‘My feelings for you scared me so much four years ago that I took the first opportunity to run.’ She pulled the zip of his trousers down and tugged them to his hips. ‘I didn’t trust my feelings for you, and I didn’t trust your feelings for me.’
‘Orla…’
Her name came as a groan from his mouth, but no further words came for she’d covered his mouth with her own again and whispered a soft, ‘Shh.’
Mouths fused, she pushed gently at his chest so he was lying on the bed.
Parting his shirt, she ran her hands over his chest before shifting to straddle him, elbows either side of his face, green eyes boring into his. ‘I cannot express how sorry I am. I was a frightened rabbit. That day…that rejection from my father and then that confrontation with Sophia…’ She kissed the tip of his nose. ‘They were the confirmation I needed that you weren’t to be trusted and that I should run. I didn’t give you a chance to defend yourself and I will regret that for the rest of my life. My
only defence is that I was terrified. Most of the people I love have rejected me. My father didn’t want me. My mother never wanted me… How could you want me?’ She squeezed her eyes shut before reaching down to tug his trousers and underwear lower still, freeing his erection. ‘Do you remember leaving for Tuscany? You kissed me goodbye and said that we needed to talk that night. After what Sophia told me, I thought you were going to tell me it was over. I ran before I could be pushed.’
‘I was going to tell you the truth,’ he said quietly, sincerity and pain ringing in his eyes. ‘And then I was going to ask you to marry me.’
Her chin wobbled. A tear fell from her eye and landed on his cheek. ‘I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for realising my feelings too late. If I hadn’t been such a coward you would have been there for the pregnancy and the birth. Everything would have been different. The accident wouldn’t have happened…’
‘Hey.’ Gripping her wrists, he used his strength to flip Orla onto her back so that he was the one straddling her before she could protest. ‘Don’t you dare blame yourself for that. It was not your fault.’
More tears leaked from her eyes, falling onto the pillow beneath her head. ‘I was coming to you.’
‘What?’
‘That day. The accident. I was going to the airport. I was coming to find you. To tell you about the baby and to tell you…’
‘Tell me what?’ he whispered when her voice became too choked for words to form.
She swallowed but did not move her glistening eyes from his. ‘That the only happiness I have ever truly known has been with you. I love you. I loved you then and I love you now. I do want to marry you, Tonino. Not for Finn’s sake but for mine because living without you is hell. I’m lost. I’ve been lost and searching for you for four years. I love you and if there is any chance you love me and still see a future for us, I will take it and I will fight for it. I will fight for you and I will fight for us. I love you.’
Orla, purged of all the things she had needed to say, felt her chest fill with dread as Tonino remained silent.
And then he smiled and blinked back what looked suspiciously like his own tears. ‘Orla O’Reilly…’ He closed his eyes and kissed her reverently. ‘My love, you cannot know how badly I have wanted to hear those words from you. What happened four years ago… I think we can both share blame for that. I should have told you the truth of who I was, but I was a coward who was scared that you would change and become like all the other women in my world.’ He brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen over her face. ‘I never imagined that someone like you existed and when you disappeared it was like the darkest shadow had settled over me. I never settled down because I couldn’t. You had taken my heart with you.’
Her Sicilian Baby Revelation (Mills & Boon Modern) Page 16