Once a Ferrara Wife...

by Sarah Morgan

  She sat, frozen.

  The least he could do?

  He had no idea.

  And that was her fault, for not telling him how she felt.

  Her hands started to shake and when he came off the phone, it was a struggle to behave normally. ‘Who was that?’

  ‘We need to get back to the house.’

  Laurel was shaking so badly she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her. ‘I thought I was banned from seeing the house.’

  ‘Not any more. I have a surprise for you. A gift.’ As they negotiated the steps in the amphitheatre, he took her hand firmly in his and frowned. ‘Your hands are cold. Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  She wanted to tell him that she didn’t need big presents from him, that gifts weren’t the reason she was with him but all she could think about was the fact that he was going to arrange for her to see a doctor and that was the last thing she wanted.

  Cristiano lengthened his stride. ‘I can’t wait for you to see it.’

  ‘The doctor?’

  His glance was indulgent. ‘I was talking about my gift to you.’

  ‘Oh. I’m sure I’ll love it,’ she croaked, knowing that she had to tell him the truth.

  They arrived back at the house and Cristiano immediately walked towards his study, one of her favourite rooms.

  He paused with his hand on the door and she wondered what on earth this gift was that merited so much drama in the presentation.

  ‘You said I didn’t think about what you really wanted. That the gifts I gave you weren’t personal.’ His voice was husky and he looked at her with expectant eyes. ‘This gift is very personal and I hope it goes some way towards proving how much I love you.’

  She wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter how much he loved her, their relationship had no future if he was still hoping that there would be children, but there was no opportunity to speak because he was already pushing open the door and standing back, waiting for her reaction.

  Laurel stared past him into the room and swallowed in disbelief.

  What had once been a high-tech office—his office—had been transformed into a library. Tall bookshelves hand-carved in a beautiful pale wood lined the walls. Cristiano’s desk had been removed and replaced with two large squashy sofas that just invited the visitor to sit down and relax and read. But what really drew her attention was the fact that the bookshelves were already stacked with books.

  Laurel walked towards them on shaky legs, feeling a lump spring to the back of her throat. Running her eyes along the shelves, she saw old favourites as well as plenty she’d never read.

  It should have been the perfect gift. It would have been the perfect gift had it not been for the knowledge that their love had no future.

  She remembered an occasion as a child when someone had given her a big shiny balloon, only for it to burst moments later.

  Tilting her head back, she looked at the books. Her big shiny balloon. Reaching for one, she removed it from the shelf and glanced at the flyleaf. ‘It’s a first edition.’

  ‘Yes. And before you say anything, I did have help tracking them down because I don’t claim to be an expert on old books. But the idea was mine. And I gave them a list of the books. I made contact with that old English teacher you talked about, the estimable Miss Hayes, and she gave me some idea of what would be in a well stocked British library.’

  The lump in her throat was big and solid and refused to budge. ‘Miss Hayes? How did you find Miss Hayes?’

  ‘I’m a man of influence, remember?’ But his lazy drawl was tinged with something else. An uncertainty that she’d never heard in his tone before. ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ And the fact that he’d done this for her made everything else seem so much worse.

  ‘I have something else for you.’ He picked up a wrapped parcel from the table and handed it to her. ‘I want you to read this book first.’

  Laurel wondered why he’d chosen to wrap this particular book. Removing the paper, she found herself holding a beautifully bound book of fairy tales.

  ‘Oh—’ Her voice cracked and she held it tightly, unable to speak as her emotions surged over her.

  ‘You said you never had one as a child. I thought we should remedy that, but be warned—plenty of bad things happen in fairy tales.’ Removing the book from her hands, he pulled her against him and lowered his mouth to hers. ‘But just because bad things happen doesn’t mean that you can’t have a happy ending. Remember that. The Princess always gets the rich, handsome guy even if there are a few poisoned apples and spinning wheels along the way.’

  Watching her happy ending retreating into the distance, Laurel swallowed.

  He’d remembered her story about the bedroom full of books. About the fairy tales she’d never read.

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’ Her voice cracked and he looked at her in consternation.

  ‘I thought you’d be pleased. Happy.’

  This was the moment she had to tell him she didn’t want to see the doctor he’d found.

  She had to explain.

  ‘I am happy. And incredibly pleased. And so touched that you remembered—’ The tears escaped and spilled over her cheeks and he gave a rough imprecation and crushed her against him.

  ‘I realised that you were right when you said that none of the presents I’d given you were personal. I made assumptions that a large diamond would be well received, never thinking that it wouldn’t be special to you.’

  ‘I feel really ungrateful now,’ she muttered, clutching the book against her and pressing her damp face into his chest. ‘It’s not that I don’t like diamonds. It’s just that I know you’ve given away plenty and that they didn’t signify love. But this—’ she lifted her head and looked at the rows of books ‘—this is so special.’

  ‘I would have built it myself for you but I wanted to spend the time with you and I wanted it to be a surprise. You missed out on a childhood. I wanted to give you an intensive course.’ Carefully, he removed the book from her hands and set it down on the table.

  Feeling utterly miserable, Laurel slid her arms around him. ‘I love you.’

  He gave a groan of relief and kissed her. ‘Could you say that again?’

  ‘I love you.’ It was quite possibly the most honest moment of their marriage, the emotion as powerful an aphrodisiac as the physical attraction that consumed both of them.

  Seconds later they were both naked on the rug, the shelves of books the only witness to their insatiable desire for each other.

  One devastating kiss was all it took to turn her from a rational being to quivering, compliant, mindless, and the kiss didn’t just involve their mouths, but their whole bodies, legs entwined, hands exploring. She dug her nails into his shoulders, feeling hard, sleek muscle and tensile strength. He slid his hand lower, his skilled fingers exploring her with unapologetic intimacy and his touch sent her from hot to scorching, every nerve-ending shimmering because he knew her body so well and he wasn’t afraid to use that knowledge.

  Her need for him was so acute that she moaned his name in a desperate plea and he shifted his position, clearly feeling the same urgency.

  When he drove himself into her she cried out with relief because it felt so good. Her body immediately tightened around his and he swore softly in Italian, the dark glitter in his eyes revealing the effort required to hold back.

  But she didn’t want him to hold back and used everything she had to drive him wild, the gentle lick of her tongue and the sensuous slide of her hands teasing his heated flesh until he lost his grip on that legendary control of his and thrust deep into her body.

  His mouth came down on hers in an intimate kiss and they were still kissing when they hit that inevitable peak. The explosion smashed through both of them, a sizzling, scorching shower of sexual ecstasy that left them both drained and exhausted.

  Later, they swam in the pool, making the most of the shifting position of the setting s
un. Light danced over the surface of the water, tiny flashes that sparkled and dazzled like the wink of a diamond.

  It should have been perfect.

  But Laurel was in agony.

  ‘Cristiano—there’s something I have to say to you—’ The words burst from her and he took her in his arms, water clinging to his thick dark lashes.

  ‘Then say it.’

  ‘Earlier you said that you’d called an expert. I … I didn’t realise that was what you wanted. When you said that being married to me was more important to you than having children, I didn’t realise that you were planning on seeing doctors and doing everything we could to have a baby.’

  ‘I wanted to do that for you.’

  ‘Did you? Or did you want to do it for yourself?’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t want me to do that?’

  She could have lied. She could have let the relationship drift on without telling him the truth but they’d stumbled over enough obstacles in their marriage without her laying new ones.

  ‘No.’ She shook her head slowly, knowing that what she was about to say could kill their future. ‘No, I don’t. There’s something I haven’t told you. Something I haven’t been quite honest about.’

  He was still, his face shadowed by the rapidly diminishing light. ‘Go on.’

  How did she explain? Where did she begin? ‘Losing our baby was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. When I felt those first pains I thought to myself, No, please no, anything but this. I was frantic. There was nothing, nothing, I wanted in the world as much as our child.’ Her eyes filled as she remembered the horror of those few days. ‘And I lost it. And when they told me I couldn’t have more children I didn’t even care because I didn’t want to think about more children. All I cared about was the baby I’d lost. There was no way, no way, I ever would have put myself through that again. Risked that again. Our marriage was wrecked anyway so the issue of not being able to have more children became irrelevant.’

  He inhaled deeply. ‘Do you still feel that way?’

  ‘Yes.’ She wasn’t going to lie to him. ‘Even if it were possible, which it isn’t, I wouldn’t put myself through that again. For me, being pregnant wasn’t about excitement and expectation, it was about fear and terrible loss.’

  ‘Laurel—’ A muscle flickered in his jaw and she saw the guilt in his eyes but she also knew that guilt was misplaced.

  ‘This isn’t about what happened between us, Cristiano. Even if you had been here, it wouldn’t have changed the outcome for that pregnancy. At the time you accused me of overreacting and in a way you were right—’ For the first time ever, she realised that it was true. ‘I was devastated and the way I coped with that was to push you away. If I’d just yelled at you there would have come a point where you wanted me to talk about what happened and I just couldn’t. All I wanted to do was hide.’

  ‘So you left.’

  ‘I was so wrong to do that.’ The tears spilled from her eyes. ‘I was grieving and heartbroken and I took it out on you. I blamed you for everything. And I just couldn’t tell you how I was feeling.’

  ‘But now you have—’ His own voice decidedly unsteady, he pulled her hard against him, crushing her against him. ‘And now I understand what you want, there will be no more talk of experts.’

  Her face was buried in his neck, her tears mingling with the water from the pool. ‘What about what you want?’

  ‘I want you.’ His tone was unmistakably possessive and he eased her away from him so that he could look at her. ‘You. Always. I thought I’d made that clear.’

  ‘If you’d married a different woman you could have had a different life.’

  He leaned his forehead against hers. ‘I wouldn’t want any life that didn’t have you in it.’

  She felt light inside, and strangely relaxed. It was as if sharing the heaviest of her thoughts had somehow reduced their weight. And his unquestioning acceptance of the way things were gave her courage. ‘There’s something else—something I’ve been thinking about for a while but never mentioned to anyone. I don’t know how you’re going to feel about it.’

  ‘Try me and let’s find out.’

  Laurel hesitated because she truly had no idea how he was going to react to what she was going to say. ‘What I’d really love is for us to adopt a child.’ The words rushed out of her. ‘And not just because there’s no chance of having our own. I want us to give a child a home. Not a baby—everyone wants to adopt babies. I mean an older child. A lost, lonely child who has no idea how it feels to be wanted. I want to do up a bedroom and fill it with toys and books but most of all I want to be a loving family to someone who doesn’t have that and has no hope of that.’

  ‘Yes, I want that too.’ It was characteristic of his generosity that he didn’t hesitate. ‘Hearing what you went through horrifies me. And we have so much. I would very much like to give a secure home and family to a child in need of one. I’ve been thinking the same thing myself since you told me about your experience. And you would be an amazing mother.’

  His positive response moved her more than anything else he’d said to her or done for her.

  Her heart opened to him and she slid her arms around him, feeling the hardness of male muscle under her seeking fingers. ‘You’re very special.’

  One eyebrow lifted. ‘I thought I was an arrogant, controlling workaholic?’

  ‘That too.’ But she knew that this needed so much more to make it work than just words and good intentions. ‘Are you sure? I don’t suppose it’s going to be easy.’

  He gave a wicked smile and gently lowered his mouth to hers. ‘You know I love a challenge.’

  They stayed in the castello, time drifting, until their idyll was fractured by a phone call from Santo.

  Cristiano’s heart sank as he listened as his brother outlined the work crisis that couldn’t be solved without his attention.

  His gaze flickered to Laurel, still sleeping in the bed, her naked limbs and the curve of her hip creating a visual feast.

  The temptation to live out the rest of their days in this paradise was powerful. Here, it was impossible for her to hide from him. Cocooned in their own private world, they’d been protected from reality. He wasn’t fool enough to think that this idyll could continue back in the real world. He had a business to run and so did she. The pressures on him were enormous and no matter how much effort he put into juggling his priorities, there were going to be times when they would be parted.

  Reluctant to wake her, he pulled on his clothes and took the phone and his conversation out onto the terrace. He made himself a caffé, the small dense espresso that he favoured at the start of the day, and listened to his brother whilst at the same time thinking about the challenges facing his marriage.

  He knew they’d come a long way in the past few weeks. What he didn’t know was whether it was far enough—whether what they’d created could survive when they returned to the outside world and he was no longer able to devote all his attention to the relationship.

  Their marriage was like a boat, he thought, watching as a yacht skimmed the sparkling water of the Bay of Naxos. He’d shored up the hull and made the necessary repairs. Here in port, what they had looked strong and seaworthy. Whether it was strong enough to survive in open water he didn’t know. And there was only one way to find out.