Other passengers jostled her as they made their way past, either desperate to get to their destination or meet family and friends. Imogen just stood, aware she was in the way, aware she must look as if she’d lost her mind, but she couldn’t move.
Marco was here.
He’d arrived in England before her? Did that mean he wanted her? She dared to hope and as if in slow motion she watched him walk towards her. Her heart thumped as he came closer, enabling her to see his eyes more clearly, see the emotion in them. His expression was his usual cool-and-in-control businessman, but in his eyes she could see trepidation. Doubt. Even fear. And something else.
Her heart lurched as hope flooded through her, washing away the tiredness as he moved towards her before stopping again.
‘Imogen,’ he finally said and stopped a few paces away from her. Was that to force her to come to him or fear of what she might say? She couldn’t move towards him and, even though he was so close, that distance seemed impossible.
‘What are you doing here, Marco?’ Her voice was so quiet, barely above a whisper, and she glanced away from Marco, noticing that the people immediately around them had stopped what they were doing, that they were watching this exchange between her and Marco.
‘You left something behind,’ he said as he moved a few steps closer. He wasn’t close enough to touch, but if she closed her eyes she was sure she’d be able to feel him near.
She thought of the engagement ring she’d replaced in its box before leaving, placing it on the glass table in the middle of his living area. She’d stood there and looked at it, knowing that, as beautiful as it was, it didn’t stand for what she wanted. It meant possession for Marco. Possession of a son, not the declaration of love she wanted it to represent. It meant nothing to her and her daughter.
‘I didn’t leave anything, Marco,’ she said, her breath catching as he took the final steps towards her and put out his hand, opening it to reveal the engagement ring.
The gathering crowd gasped as he stood there, hand outstretched, with the large gemstone sparkling beneath the bright lights of the airport.
‘You left this.’
Emotions threatened to overwhelm her. He was here. All this way and he was here to meet her off the plane, but she didn’t want the ring. She just wanted to hear him say those three precious words. The same words she wanted to say to him, but fear of his rejection kept them locked inside.
She shook her head, refusing to reach out for the ring, refusing to do anything other than look at it. She couldn’t even look into the face of the man she loved.
‘You also left me,’ he said softly.
She finally looked up and a sparkle of humour had slipped into his eyes, playing havoc with her emotions. If only he’d say it. If only he’d forget the past and allow love into his life. If he said it, told her he loved her, even once, she’d be his for evermore.
* * *
Marco wanted to shout it out that he loved this woman, but still his past clung to him. He could see the confusion mixed with hope in her eyes. If he didn’t say it now, if he didn’t finally put the past behind him, he would lose Imogen for ever. It didn’t matter that they were in the middle of the airport, or that a crowd was watching with interest, some even filming it on their phones—he had to tell her. He had to tell her now. No matter who was watching, no matter who was listening to his every word.
‘Imogen.’ He took her left hand, buoyed by the fact that she didn’t pull away, that she didn’t resist. Her eyes filled with tears as he placed the ring back on her finger. He swallowed, took a deep breath. ‘Imogen Fraser, I love you and I want to marry you.’
The crowd became hushed with expectation as she looked at him, her eyes so blue and filled with emotion. Her silence nearly killed him. He willed her to say something, willed her to accept his love.
There was nothing for it. Marco threw caution to the wind and smashed down the final remnants of the barriers he’d built round his heart and got down on one knee. He looked up at Imogen, still holding her hand, as the gathered crowd oohed and aahed.
‘Imogen Fraser, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ she whispered.
‘Say yes,’ one of the people in the crowd shouted, but his eyes never left hers and the tension was almost too much.
‘I’m sorry. For everything, and if you don’t say yes I don’t know what I am going to do because I’m madly in love with you, Imogen.’
‘What about the baby?’ He saw her swallow after the words and knew this was as hard for her as it was for him.
‘I already love my little girl—because she is part of you.’
‘But she isn’t the son you want, the son you need.’ Her voice was strained with tears as her eyes begged him, pleaded with him to understand.
‘That doesn’t matter to me, Imogen. You told me this is the twenty-first century and I will change that—our daughter will have as much right to inherit as any other child we have.’
A lady in the gathered crowd cooed over his declaration, but nothing could stop him from declaring his love for Imogen now. He didn’t care how many people witnessed it.
‘Are you sure?’ she asked, her face full of disbelief.
‘I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life, Imogen. When you left it was as if someone had turned the lights of New York out; even though every building glowed and sparkled, the whole city was dark to me. You brought light and love into my life, Imogen, and if you don’t want me then my world will be dark for evermore.’
She drew in a deep, shuddering breath and he held his, waiting for what she’d say. Instead she pulled her hands free of his and he waited, still on one knee. Time hung tensely around them and the sounds of the busy airport filtered in.
She reached out, took his hand and pulled gently. He stood up and looked down at her, waiting, hoping. Then she smiled and flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tight against her.
The crowd cheered, and he closed his eyes in relief, holding her tighter than he’d ever held her before, but when she pulled back he was forced to slacken his hold. He looked into her eyes, saw the happiness there, but more than that he saw what he’d missed all along: her love.
‘Don’t ever leave me again, Imogen.’ His husky words were silenced by her kiss and he gave himself up to it, feeling the rising heat of desire. The crowd clapped and cheered harder and Imogen pulled away, suddenly shy and coy as she looked around at them, then back to him.
She looked up at him from lowered lashes, a soft flush on her cheeks. ‘I love you, Marco Silviano, and the answer is yes.’
‘Answer?’ he teased, elation taking over the tension which had kept him rooted to the spot as she’d walked through Arrivals.
‘To your question?’ She was laughing at him now, as were the still gathered crowd of people.
‘Oh, that question,’ he said as he laughed with her. ‘Then I had better ask it again, whilst we have all these witnesses to your answer. Imogen Fraser, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
‘Absolutely I will.’ She laughed softly.
He silenced her laughter with a kiss, one so demanding, so full of passion and love that someone told him to get a room. Imogen laughed against his lips and he reluctantly pulled back to look at her.
‘Should we?’ she asked provocatively. ‘Get a room?’
He put on an expression of shock. ‘Not when I promised your father I would bring you home.’
‘I don’t care where I go, just as long as you come too.’ She snuggled against him and he held her close, watching as the crowd drifted away, losing interest now he’d been put out of his misery.
He kissed the top of her head, smelt the unique scent of the woman he loved and sent a silent message to his father for pushing him to do this with his somewhat h
arsh comment and he knew he’d finally done the right thing, finally earned his approval.
EPILOGUE
MARCO WAS WAITING for Imogen on the beach, dressed in a tuxedo and holding champagne and glasses. He smiled and as usual her heart filled with happiness. They’d been married for one year and had a beautiful daughter, Sofia, whom Marco idolised. Now he’d whisked her away to his island retreat, telling her he wanted her all to himself on their first anniversary.
Imogen kissed him lightly on the lips as she took her champagne from him, anticipation warming her as she thought of spending another night alone on the beach with Marco.
‘Happy anniversary,’ he said and chinked his glass against hers, his eyes dark with desire.
‘Happy anniversary,’ she said softly, smiling up at him. ‘I hope you haven’t got a crowd ready assembled again. I couldn’t bear to have any more videos of us going viral.’
She couldn’t help but tease, as she often did about his declaration of love at the airport. He always claimed he paid all those people to gather round, and cheer him on, but she knew better than that. The video someone had posted had soon been everywhere, even in Marco’s business fields. Not that she minded one bit.
‘Not a crowd exactly.’ Mischief lingered in his voice and she looked suspiciously at him.
‘What have you done this time, Marco?’ She knew instantly he was up to something and she challenged him with mock disapproval.
‘I might have invited a few friends and family members out here to help us celebrate.’
‘A few?’ she questioned, teasing him ever more.
‘A bit more than a few,’ he confessed. ‘There is nobody else on the island but our family and friends and they are waiting for us where we first met.’
‘All of them?’ Imogen thought of the little girl she’d reluctantly left in the care of her mother. It was the first time she’d left her for more than just a night and it had pulled at her heartstrings, even though she really wanted some quality time alone with Marco.
‘All of them, including little Sofia.’
‘I love you, Marco,’ she said as she kissed him gently on the lips and then smiled up at him. ‘That’s such a romantic and thoughtful gesture.’ She kissed him once more, almost spilling her champagne as passion took over and she forgot herself.
* * *
Marco held Imogen’s hand as they arrived at the restaurant where he’d arranged for everyone to be as part of the surprise, but when Imogen saw Sofia in her grandmother’s arms she let his hand go and rushed to her daughter. He knew being apart from their daughter for any length of time was hard for her.
‘She’s certainly got her mother’s sweet nature.’ His father came to stand by him, passing him a glass of champagne. ‘I just hope when you have a little boy he won’t be as stubborn or difficult as you once were.’
Marco laughed, knowing full well his father was teasing him, and happy he’d made a full recovery from the complications after his heart surgery. ‘All Silviano males are stubborn, Father, regardless of age.’
‘True.’ His father nodded over to where Imogen was laughing with Julie and her new fiancé. They were all making a fuss of Sofia in her gorgeous little party dress. ‘Your wife is a wonderful woman, Marco.’
He and his father had got on much better since he’d come to his senses and opened his heart to Imogen and love, but he’d never yet had the chance to ask the reason for the secrecy behind who his natural father was. He’d never had that opening, one that wouldn’t catapult them back to troubled waters.
‘Is that what you thought of Mother when you asked her to marry you?’
His father looked at him, then his gaze drifted around their guests, finally settling on his wife. ‘I have loved your mother since the day we first met, and I still loved her after the affair, even though the child she carried may not have been mine. I still loved her, still wanted to marry her. Our marriage may have been a difficult one in those early days, but my love for her has always been stronger than my pride.’
Marco emptied his glass and put it down, turning to his father, finally able to put to rest the last bit of his past.
‘What about me?’
‘You?’ His father smiled. ‘You were a bonus, a very trying one at times, but a bonus none the less. You were the son I always wanted. I just didn’t realise that as I pushed you harder to succeed it was driving us further apart. It was all done out of love for you, my son.’
Imogen joined them at that moment and little Sofia reached for her much adored nonno. Marco watched as he took the little girl in his arms, saw the smile and the love and knew that nothing from the past mattered any more. He had the love of the woman he was hopelessly in love with and a beautiful daughter. He’d mended bridges with his family. He couldn’t want for more.
He took Imogen’s hand and led her away, pausing briefly to talk to her parents, who were totally smitten by the island. As soon as they were alone he kissed her. A deep and lingering kiss, one filled with the love that was in his heart.
‘Happy?’ he asked her as she snuggled against him.
‘Yes. Having friends and family here is such a lovely surprise, thank you. Although...’ Her voice trailed off and he tilted her chin up, forcing her to look into his eyes. The temptation to kiss her was great, but he also wanted to hear why she wasn’t completely thrilled about their guests.
‘Although what?’
‘I had been kind of hoping we could have a night alone on the beach again. See if we can create a little brother for Sofia.’
Marco raised his brows. ‘You are very bad, Imogen Silviano, tempting a man away from his guests like that.’
Imogen smiled coyly at him. ‘Just one night. You, me, the moon and the stars and the sound of the ocean.’
He pulled her into his arms, his heart swelling with love for her. ‘How can I resist such an offer?’ He kissed her lips, grazing his over hers, teasing the desire from her. ‘I love you, Imogen. So very much.’
* * * * *
If you enjoyed A Ring to Claim His Legacy, you’re sure to enjoy these other stories by Rachael Thomas!
Di Marcello’s Secret Son
Valdez’s Bartered Bride
Martinez’s Pregnant Wife
Hired to Wear the Sheikh’s Ring
Available now!
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The Italian’s Christmas Housekeeper
by Sharon Kendrick
CHAPTER ONE
SALVIO DE GENNARO stared at the lights as he rounded the headland. Flickering lights from the tall candles which gleamed in the window of the big old house. They made him think of Christmas and he didn’t want to think about it—not with still six weeks left to go. Yet here in England the shops were already full with trees and tinsel and the kind of gifts surely no sane person would want for themselves.
His mouth hardened as the dark waters of the Atlantic crashed dangerously on the rocks beneath him.
Christmas. The least wonderful time of the year in his opinion. No contest.
He slowed his pace to a steady jog as dusk fell around him like a misty grey curtain. The rain was heavier now and large drops of water had started to lash against his body but he was oblivious to them, even though his bare legs were spattered with mud and his muscles were hot with the strain of exertion. He ran because he had to. Because he’d been taught to. Tough, physical exercise woven into the fabric of his day, no matter where in the world he was. A discipline which was as much a part of him as breathing and which made him hard and strong. He barely noticed that his wet singlet was now clinging to his torso or that his shorts were plastered to his rocky thighs.
He thought about the evening ahead and, not for the first time, wondered why he had bothered coming. He was here because he wanted to buy a prime piece of land from his aristocratic host and was convinced the deal could be concluded more quickly in an informal setting. The man he was dealing with was notoriously difficult to pin down—a fact which Salvio’s assistant had remarked on, when she’d enquired whether she should accept the surprise invitation for dinner and an overnight stay.
Salvio gave a grim smile. Perhaps he should have been grateful to have been granted access to Lord Avery’s magnificent Cornish house, which stood overlooking the fierce midwinter lash of the ocean. But gratitude was a quality which didn’t come easily to him, despite his huge wealth and all the luxury it afforded him. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to dinner tonight. Not with a hostess who’d been eying him up from the moment he’d arrived—her eyes lit with a predatory hunger which was by no means unusual, although it was an attitude he inevitably found tedious. Married women intent on seduction could be curiously unattractive, he thought disdainfully.
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