Concerned, Ellie closed the distance and pressed a hand to his forehead, but he caught it and squeezed her fingers in his. “You love strawberry ice cream,” he said thickly. “You think it is a food group, all on its own.”
She stared at him and then, as the significance of what he was saying came back to her, tears cloyed at her throat. She lifted a hand to her mouth and nodded. “Yes.”
“I went to see Les Miserables, and you were wearing your hair in a bun and I fell in love with you as soon as you looked at me. I called you Ellie and you slept with your head on my chest and when I left the hotel that day, Ellie, it was to fly to my parents and tell them about Arabella so that I could propose to you. Because I met the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with and nothing on earth could keep me from her…”
Ellie fell into the bed beside him, holding him tight, kissing him, whispering to him in Spanish, the phrases he’d taught her to express her love in his native tongue, and he kissed her back as the very last piece of their puzzle slid firmly into place.
“I remember you,” he groaned into her mouth. “All of you.”
She sobbed, because it was too utterly perfect.
Four months later, just after Joshua’s Christmas concert at school, the family of three was heading to their favourite Italian restaurant for dinner when Ellie’s waters broke and an intense contraction set upon her.
Already driving with his trademark confidence, Xavier sped up, cutting through the streets of London and finding his way to the hospital in record time.
“Have you called Arabella?” Ellie asked, as she gripped her stomach.
Xavier supported her with one arm and his other hand clutched Joshua’s.
“I texted when your waters broke. She’s on her way.”
Arabella, far from being a figure Ellie envied, had become one of her closest friends. It was hard to hate a woman who’d long ago stopped loving your husband, but who’d cared for him enough to marry him, just to stop him from hurting. And Arabella adored Joshua, and had taken on the post of honorary Aunt to him.
They arrived at the hospital in record time – heaven help anyone that got in their way! Xavier found a wheelchair and seated Ellie in it, despite her insistence that she was fine to walk. But as the elevator took her upwards, she had to admit she was grateful for the support. She’d heard that second babies could be born much faster than firsts and it felt like this one was rushing out of her.
“We need a doctor!” She called.
“Ellie! Xave!” Arabella was already in the maternity ward, and at the sight of them, she ran quickly through the hallway. “Are you okay?” She directed the question at Ellie but it was Joshua who answered.
“I’m great. I was a Wise Man.”
Arabella giggled. “I know. I’m sorry I missed it.”
“We’re fine. We just need to find a doctor,” Ellie said.
“This way!” Arabella gestured towards a central nursing station. And as they approached it, Ellie did a double take. The nurse’s hair was pink now, but it was unmistakably, unforgettably, the same nurse who’d helped her all those years ago, when Xavier had been injured.
“It’s you!” The nurse exclaimed. “And you!” Her eyes lifted to Xavier and then slid to Arabella and she blushed. “It’s the whole gang.”
Neither Arabella nor Xavier remembered the nurse and just then Ellie had a severe contraction that meant a walk down memory lane had to wait.
“This way,” the nurse said, her smile wide as she guided the trio of adults down the corridor, Joshua following obliviously in their wake. An enormous birthing suite awaited them, and a doctor was quickly called.
“I’ll take Josh home,” Arabella said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Ellie’s forehead. “Good luck, mama. Call me as soon as you can.” She winked at Xavier then scooped Josh up. “Well, little man? Ice cream time?”
“No, Bella,” Xavier and Ellie called in unison but Bella pretended not to hear, winking exaggeratedly at her young friend instead.
And Ellie had bigger fish to fry.
The delivery was, indeed, fast, with their daughter arriving into the world in record time – before a doctor had even had a chance to arrive. Their nurse and a midwife oversaw everything.
“I expected a boy,” Ellie said with a smile, staring at their perfect child. “I had only boy names picked.”
“I have the perfect name for a daughter,” he said softly, stroking the little one’s thick black hair.
“Yes?”
“Elita,” he said, smiling at Ellie. “It means Chosen One. And she is - chosen by fate and destiny to join our little family.”
Ellie sighed. “It’s perfect.”
And then, the nurse returned, bringing with her a tray of food and a pot of tea. “Would you like me to take a photo?” The nurse offered, gesturing towards the three of them.
Ellie nodded, and held Xavier’s hand as the nurse snapped their first photo with their little girl. And then, tears in her eyes, she reached for the nurse’s hand. “Now one with you.”
The nurse grinned and nodded, calling for another staff member to take the picture.
“Thank you,” Ellie said earnestly.
“I’m just glad to see how well things worked out for you,” the nurse said.
“You and me both!” And when they were alone, Ellie explained, finally, the story to Xavier. He listened, enthralled, for he hadn’t known until that moment all the details of that day. His wife’s pain and perseverance, the love that had brought her to him. But then, another fragment of memories unlocked in his mind.
“I dreamed of your voice,” he said. “When I woke, I was sure that a mermaid had come from the sea to tell me to get well. I presumed it was an hallucination but now I know: it was you.”
Ellie sighed, her soul bursting with pleasure.
Three days later, they took their baby home, and three became four. Two years later, four became six, with the addition of twin girls, and finally, the Salbatore family was complete, and so bursting with love that no house on earth could easily contain them. Just as well then that they had several, and travelled between them as the fancy took them – living, loving and reveling in the life they’d made together.
And, like all star-destined beings, they lived exquisitely, deliriously happily ever after…
The End
I hope you loved CLAIMING HIS SECRET BABY, the third book in
THE EVERMORE SERIES.
If you have a spare moment, I’d be so grateful if you’d click through and leave an honest review/star rating of this book, to help other readers of romance find CLAIMING HIS SECRET BABY. Thank you so very much!
So, what next in the series? Well, I hope you thought Arabella had an interesting story to tell because Bella’s book will be coming later in the year … and it will be a Christmas book. Hurrah! Sign up to my newsletter for the pre-release bulletin.
All the characters in this book are fictitious and have no existence outside the author’s very-vivid, non-stop imagination. They have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names and are pure invention (mwah-ha-ha).
All rights reserved. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reprinted by any means without permission of the Author.
The illustration on the cover of this book features smokin’ hot model/s and, as gorgeous as they are, bears no relation to the characters described within.
First published 2018
(c) Clare Connelly
Cover Credit: adobestock
Contact Clare:
http://www.clareconnelly.com
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1
DESPITE THE TWILIGHT SUN on her back, Addie was shivering. She referred to the crumpled piece
of paper once more, her eyes skimming the address that Guy probably didn’t even remember mentioning in passing.
Hell, he might not even remember her.
Addie’s eyes swept closed at even the idea that the six months since he’d ended their relationship might have shut the door on all his thoughts of her. That would have been such a cruel irony when he’d been on her mind every day and night since.
A fine bead of sweat broke out on her upper lip and she wiped at it impatiently, taking one final step closer to the door and lifting her hand.
Her stomach swooped correspondingly, nerves at what she was about to do making her fingertips quiver as they hovered over the doorbell. She dropped her hand and stepped back, dropping her head forward so that her dark hair likewise fell, as a curtain, over her pale face.
I can’t do it.
She bit down on her full lower lip, her teeth moving over the pillow of flesh anxiously, as she thought over her situation. Was there any other avenue of help? She’d never get a loan from a bank – not with her credit rating. And she absolutely couldn’t let the place in the rehab centre go – which it would, without a deposit. No way would she sell the house. Not unless she absolutely had no other option. Not when it was all she had left to remind her of happier times.
Addie had one of those smiles that could stop the world from spinning. Bright and contagious, it lit her whole face up, digging dimples into both cheeks and generally eliciting an answering smile from whomever she was passing.
She wasn’t smiling now. Her lips were pulled downwards and there was wariness in every line of her body.
Her caramel eyes narrowed as she regarded the front door of this inner-city mansion – more like a palace. She’d known Guy to be incredibly wealthy, but the more she’d found out about him, after he’d left her, the more she’d realized how seriously out-of-her-league she’d been.
His family was one of the most prominent in Spain, tracing their lineage back for thousands of years. They were rumoured to own a third of the city’s buildings. Including this house he’d mentioned often, just in passing, but with enough specificity for Addie to be able to find it with a bit of hard work and diligence.
Knowing that it would leave her pride in tatters, she nonetheless lifted her finger to the doorbell and pressed it before she had another moment for doubt.
Her throat was parched, and her heart beat heavily in her chest, banging painfully against her ribs from the inside out.
She moved slightly to the left, so that she could check her reflection in the darkly tinted windows that ran on either side of the door. It was a warm, summer’s evening, and she’d been travelling all day. Her dress was crinkled, her ebony hair flat. She grimaced, wishing she’d made more effort, given that they were seeing one another for the first time in six months.
Six months? Had it only been that? Surely it had been an eternity.
Footsteps, unmistakably, approached the door and she waited, with a growing sense of panic and disbelief at what she was about to do.
You are nothing but a liar. I cannot believe I was so stupid to fall for your game of make-believe. You are the worst kind of woman, simply looking for what she can get. You disgust me.
He’d hated her, in the end. The fact she’d lied to him about everything: her name, her occupation, the fact she had implied she moved in his world when she could barely scrape together enough money to buy the essentials each week! He’d been furious. Livid.
And the worst part was, she couldn’t even defend herself! She had looked at him, and weathered his invectives, she’d worn them like bullet holes against the skin of her self-regard, and she’d said nothing.
Nothing of why she’d lied.
Memories are frail, like eggs’ shells. If too many people hold them, there’s no knowing they won’t crack, and for Addie, her memories were too precious and irreplaceable to risk. Memories of the family she’d lost – two members to death, and one to addiction. She’d been keeping her memories close to her heart for so long that it had become a habit. A habit to keep that part of her locked tightly away. A habit to protect her mother from gossip and embarrassment. A habit to cover her mother’s gambling at any cost. A habit not to let anyone know how poor their financial situation was – how terrifying the reality of her life.
Addie had held her secrets, and her memories, for so long, that when Guy had caught her in a lie, she still hadn’t found her way to the truth.
And so she’d let him throw his accusations at her, and when he was done, she’d simply told him that she loved him. That she’d lied to him, but it didn’t change a thing about how she felt. About what they were. She’d hoped it would be enough – that he might see through the dishonesty and trust her heart’s truth.
He’d laughed in her face, unleashed a harsh string of Spanish words and stalked away from her. Apparently, with every intention of never seeing her again.
Addie squeezed her eyes shut and drew in a breath that was supposed to be fortifying, but it snagged in her throat and she coughed, lifting a hand to her mouth as the door opened and Guy stood, like a vision from one of her dreams, but so, so much better.
His expression flashed, for the briefest moment, with a hint of the anger he’d expressed at their last meeting, and then he drew a mask around his features, a look of mocking boredom, if such a thing were even possible.
But God, how had Addie forgotten the degree of his physical beauty? Though she’d dreamed of him by night and lusted for him by day, it had ceased to be about his looks for her. It was the sound of his voice. The feel of his lips on hers. The way his eyes had looked at her with the kind of burning passion that had made her feel safe and wanted and protected for the first time in a very long time.
After six months apart, she stared at him and couldn’t help but receive a crash course in all of the perfections that made up his appearance. His beautiful face, swarthy and shaped by the corsair heritage he carried in his blood, it was a face that was hard and implacable. Eyes that were the darkest brown with flecks of gold in their rims, a nose that was straight and unyielding, lips that were wide and generous and a chin with a cleft in its heart that she had dipped her tongue into when they’d been making love.
Her stomach churned at memories that were assaulting her from all sides and her body responded predictably. Heat ran through her and her breasts began to tingle, begging, silently imploring, him to touch her. To run his fingers over her and make her cry out as he once had.
She dropped her eyes lower to his body, a body that was as spectacular naked as was hinted at beneath his suit – a navy blue with a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the throat. Had he just returned from work? Or was he going out?
He always wore an expensive gold wristwatch and, as if to emphasise his boredom now, he lifted it higher to inspect the time.
“Ava?” He used the name she’d given him the night they’d met, the night she’d been playing a silly, innocent game with her cousin.
The night she’d met Guy. And she’d lied to him, just like she’d lied to everyone that night. Being ‘someone else’ had been the point, and she’d done it well.
Only she’d had no idea then that Guy would be a man she’d fall head over heels in love with. That her lie would become a trap, wrapping around her tighter and tighter – every time they spoke, laughed, kissed, loved. That the more she fell for him, the more she was with him, the more she would yearn to tell him the truth, and simply have no idea where to begin.
“It’s Addie,” she corrected, her voice croaky, the word soft.
His eyes narrowed. “Oh, yes. Your ‘real’ name,” his words were tinged with both derision and the Spanish accent that had always reminded her of citrus and spice, sunshine and warmth. Her gut rolled.
“How are you, Guy?” She pronounced his name as he’d taught her, the first night they’d met: a soft, sensual word that had flipped her inside out the first time she’d heard it from his lips, like a portent of what was to come.
Addie’s cheeks flushed pink. Dressed like what? Her startled gaze flew back to the reflection, and she saw the dress as he must. The way it dipped low over her cleavage, revealing a hint of her curved breasts, the way it clung to her like a second skin. The way her nipples could now clearly be seen, pushing against the soft cotton of the dress.
Shame sparkled along the periphery of her mind.
“Well?” He prompted, crossing his arms over his chest, standing in the doorway and effectively blocking her from so much as seeing into his home. Let alone the invitation she’d been hoping he’d extend.
Addie’s throat was thick. Speech was suddenly difficult. This was a stupid idea.
She’d sell the house. She’d have to. She couldn’t ask this man for help. She’d gambled on the fact he would still feel something for her, something of the love that had set them both on fire during their impetuous affair. She’d gambled on a lingering sense of affection, a lessening of his anger in the intervening months.
There was nothing here now.
She shouldn’t have come.
“It… it doesn’t matter.” She shook her head, as if to mentally clear the ludicrous hopes she’d cherished that he might be able to help her. The wasteful, stupid hopes that had seen her use money she couldn’t afford to waste on a last-minute fare to Spain, on taxi fares through Madrid.
His eyes narrowed and now he moved closer, his expression one she’d never seen on his face – even when he’d been at his angriest with her, it had never been so chilling as this. Oh, but up close, she could smell his citrusy, alpine cologne, and every cell in her body surged with the instant rush of memories that were slamming into her.
“You’re pregnant?” The question was iced with disgust and outrage.
Claiming his Secret Baby & Blackmailed by The Spaniard Page 20