to tell. Anthony and Olivia needed to work it out first.
“I do love this baby,” she told him, looking back up into his blue eyes. “And I love you.”
Bronson didn’t stiffen as she thought he would at her declaration. Instead a flash of pain shot through his eyes a second before he closed them, as if to keep the hurt away.
Mia cupped his cheek, softly kissing his lips. “I don’t say that to cause you more confusion or pain. I say it because I want to be open about my feelings for you. I don’t expect you to say anything. My love is a gift, free for you to take.”
He reached up, holding on to her hand. “I care about you and this baby—more than I wanted to. But that’s all I can give, Mia. All I have in me.”
The war he waged within himself spoke volumes about his love for her. If he didn’t love her, he wouldn’t be so torn and apologetic, so caring and nurturing.
He gently kissed her lips, then eased back. “I have some very nice surprises for you today.”
“I hope one involves clothes, since you told me not to pack any.”
Desire filled those eyes as his gaze darted down to her bare chest. “Pity, but yes, clothes are involved.”
Mia smacked his arm. “Tell me, you know I hate waiting.”
“There’s a suitcase for you in the first bedroom we were in last night. You’ll find Victoria Dane original maternity clothes.”
“What?” Mia nearly jumped out of bed, dragging the sheet with her. “Your sister made me maternity clothes? But she only does evening gowns and wedding gowns.”
Bronson, in all his fabulous naked glory, stretched out on the bed with a smile. “I happen to know the designer personally, and she did it as a favor. There are only a few pieces because she didn’t have time for much and because she will make more as the pregnancy goes along.”
Mia laughed. “That was a very nice way around telling me I’m going to be a whale, but I’m so overwhelmed with gratitude and surprise, I don’t care.”
“Do you want to go get the clothes or do you want to hear what else I have in store?”
Decisions, decisions. “I’m greedy. Tell me what else.”
He rolled to his side, propping his head up on his hand. “I’ve arranged cooking lessons from Italy’s top chef, Chef Ambrogio Ricci. He’ll be here around noon.”
His words sank in and Mia raced back to the bed, hopping up on her knees. “You’re kidding! Oh, my God, Bronson. This is amazing. I can’t believe you did all this for me.”
One tanned finger trailed down her bare arm. “It’s only nine. I think we have plenty of time for you to show your thanks before our guest arrives.”
Mia moved the silky sheet aside. “I don’t know,” she said, shoving him down to straddle him. “I’m pretty thankful.”
A wicked smile donned his face as she set out to show just how grateful she was.
All doubts about his love were cast aside. He may not be able to say the words, but his actions were telling.
And speaking of action …
Bronson put the finishing touches on one of the bedrooms they hadn’t made use of … yet. He’d greeted Chef Ricci and introduced him to Mia, then he’d given the two of them some privacy in the gourmet kitchen.
While they’d been preparing something that had sent a tantalizing aroma through much of the first floor of the castle, Bronson set up an intimate table on the balcony of one of the bedrooms on the top floor.
The elation in Mia’s eyes when he’d told her about the cooking lessons had taken his breath away, much like the moment when she’d felt the baby move. Their baby.
Bronson laid an exotic purple lily he was lucky enough to find in one of the lush gardens across Mia’s plate and swallowed the lump in his throat. He could do this. He wanted to do this. He wanted to be the father of her baby, he wanted to get to that place in his life where he was comfortable enough with her to express his feelings.
Of course, for that to happen, he had to address those feelings within himself. Love was too strong for him to admit right now, but he’d never felt this way about another woman. Never truly cared and put her needs first. But over the past twenty-four hours, he’d really come to see Mia for the honest, loyal woman he’d hoped she was.
Once Bronson set out one last surprise on the table, he went to see how the lessons were going.
He’d made several phone calls and actually got a little work done while Mia was learning how to make authentic red sauce, homemade noodles and tiramisu from the top chef.
The lesson should be drawing to a close, and Bronson was more than eager to have Mia all to himself again. He was ready to tell her that he believed her about the baby.
Bronson may not trust Anthony, but he did trust Mia, and he knew in his heart that Mia wouldn’t have slept with a married man. Even though she still kept in contact with Anthony, Bronson’s gut told him the two were merely friends. She truly was one of the most honest people he knew. Why hadn’t he seen how genuine she was before? She wore that loving heart of hers on her sleeve.
He only hoped he didn’t break it. His track record with love wasn’t all that great. In fact, it sucked. And right now, this journey he and Mia were on scared him to death, but he’d never backed away from a challenge, or fear. Or love.
And if he was scared, he could only imagine how Mia felt. She literally had no one else. He had a family who loved him, and he knew he could turn to them at any time—something he’d always taken for granted until he saw a glimpse into Mia’s life.
Just as Bronson reached the first floor, he saw Mia closing the front door, a huge smile spread across her beautiful face.
“I take it from your smile and the aroma that your lessons went well.”
Mia turned to him, still beaming. “Oh, Bronson, that was one of the best experiences of my life.” She closed the space between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ll remember this forever. Thank you.”
Bronson’s cheek rested against her silky hair, and he couldn’t help but smile, too. “You are more than welcome, but I did this for selfish reasons.”
Pulling back, Mia quirked a brow. “Oh, really?”
“I wanted authentic Italian food and I didn’t want to have to leave the castle to get it.”
Mia playfully slapped at his chest and turned back toward the kitchen. And, as always, Bronson followed those swaying hips.
“Grab a plate and see if my lessons paid off,” she told him, removing the lid from the pot of sauce.
“I have a better plan.”
Bronson pulled out some bowls and poured sauce into one and the pasta into another. He grabbed the bread and laid everything on a serving tray. “Get your dessert and follow me.”
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Trust me.”
Two words that had really come to mean so much in their relationship.
Relationship? He guessed that’s exactly what they had, and he was becoming more and more comfortable with that notion. Actually, the idea had him smiling even more as he led the way to the third-floor bedroom where he’d set up the romantic table on the balcony.
“Bronson,” Mia gasped as she stepped through the doorway. “This is beautiful.”
He set the tray down on the dresser just inside the bedroom. “I thought you might like the view from up here. Besides, we haven’t used this room, yet.”
Mia set her tiramisu on the dinner table