‘I promise you I will give him nothing but the praise he so richly deserves. And since it’s helped earn him a distinction and the opportunity to go and study in Paris, then it must be good,’ he told Lily diplomatically.
Lily gave a little sigh of pleasure as she thought about Jonny’s wonderful degree results, wondering if this much happiness could possibly be good for a person. Sometimes she’d wake up and wonder if she might be dreaming—usually when she got out of bed in the morning and wandered out onto the terrace of their Neapolitan home to stare at the matchless view of the bay. But she was just as likely to wake up with disbelieving pleasure in her old home.
Ciro had decided against turning the Grange into a hotel. Instead, they had lovingly restored it into the beautiful home it was meant to be and which they visited whenever possible. She knew that he intended it should go to Jonny and, indeed, there was plenty of room to provide a huge artist’s studio for her talented brother. In fact, there might end up being several studios. Jonny had been speaking to Ciro about the possibility of opening up the house for painters who were financially stretched—as artists so often were. And Ciro had warmly embraced the idea.
She looked up to find his dark eyes smiling at her and she smiled back. ‘I’m just going to freshen up before lunch.’
‘Then I will wait for you here, dolcezza,’ he murmured indulgently.
Finding a restroom and running her wrists under the cold tap, Lily stared at herself in the mirror, thinking how much she had changed. And how women’s lives were often reflected in their hairstyles. For the first few years of their marriage, she’d kept the style really short. Ciro had insisted he liked it—and she believed him. That declaration meant a lot to her, for all kinds of reasons —though she was no longer the insecure woman who believed he only fancied her when she had cascading hair! People often told her that with her elfin look she reminded them of the actress Mitzi Gaynor, who had also worn the distinctive nineteen fifties clothes which Lily favoured.
But lately, she’d made a few sartorial decisions. For a start, she was letting her hair grow—because it required too much in the way of maintenance. And soon, she wasn’t going to have quite so much time for getting her hair cut…
The other thing she’d done was to start buying clothes in more contemporary styles. Money was no longer tight and it was foolish to pretend that it was. She didn’t have to make them herself any more—and there were plenty of designs which suited her, since curves seemed to be back in fashion. And besides, what woman wanted to get stuck in a fashion rut? These days, she experimented with sharp, modern looks—and floaty creations in pure silk for more formal functions.
Her fingers drifted to the row of creamy pearls at her neck. Ciro had managed to buy them back—again. Though he’d told her with mock severity that this was getting to be a habit and that this time they were keeping them. He’d said that maybe one day they’d have a daughter of their own who would wear them. Lily smiled dreamily at her reflection. Maybe they would.
She went back to where Ciro and her brother were waiting for her. Jonny’s hair had grown—it fell almost to his shoulders now and his soulful good looks attracted plenty of attention from the opposite sex. In fact, there was a gorgeous creature hanging onto his arm, wearing a sequinned mini-dress, improbably teamed with a pair of pink wellington boots.
‘I thought I’d walk Fleur to the station before lunch,’ he said. ‘If that’s okay, sis?’
‘That’s absolutely fine,’ said Lily. ‘Ciro and I will wait for you in the restaurant. It was lovely to have met you, Fleur—and hope you have a great summer.’
‘Thanks,’ said Fleur, with a smile. ‘And you.’
Lily looped her hand through Ciro’s arm as they watched the young couple walk away, thinking how curiously grown-up she felt today.
‘You’re very quiet,’ he murmured. ‘Which usually means trouble. Shall we go to the restaurant and I can buy us a very nice bottle of champagne while you bask in the glory of your clever brother and you can tell me what’s on your mind?’
She turned her face up to his, her eyes shining. ‘That sounds perfect. Though I don’t think I’m going to be drinking any champagne.’
‘But we’re supposed to be celebrating.’
‘And we are,’ she whispered. ‘But there’s more than one cause for celebration. I’ve got something to tell you. I was going to wait until tonight, until we got home, but I don’t think I can wait a minute longer.’
He stared at her with an expression she’d never seen on his face before. ‘You’re going to have a baby?’ he questioned unsteadily.
‘Yes.’ She nodded her head, her lips clamping together to try to keep back her tears of joy. ‘Yes!’
For one long moment he did nothing, as if the words were taking time to really sink in. And then Ciro put his arms round her and kissed her. He kissed her so thoroughly that she was giggling as they came up for air. And then he bent his head and kissed her some more.
But fortunately they were in an art gallery, where love was one of the things which kept painters in business. And nobody paid the slightest attention to the man and the woman who stood locked in passionate embrace beneath a brightly coloured canvas.
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II BV/S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
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First published in Great Britain 2012
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited.
Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
© Sharon Kendrick 2012
ISBN: 978-1-408-97432-2
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