didn’t think you would.’ He sucked in a deep breath. ‘Which is why I wrote you the letters.’
‘The letters,’ she repeated blankly.
‘I know you got them, because I asked Claudia. What did you do with them, Keira—did you throw them away? Set light to them and watch them go up in flames?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I didn’t do that. I have them all.’
‘Then, I wonder, could you possibly fetch them?’
Was it the word ‘fetch’ which brought Charlie bounding into the room, his tail wagging furiously and his once sad eyes bright and curious as he looked up at the strange man? Keira glared as she saw Matteo crouch down and offer his hand to the little dog, furious yet somehow unsurprised when the terrier edged cautiously towards him. The shock of seeing Matteo again had shaken her and weakened her defences, making her realise that she was still fundamentally shaky around him—and so she nodded her agreement to his bizarre request. At least leaving the room and his disturbing presence would give her the chance to compose herself and to quieten the fierce hammering of her heart.
Slowly she walked into the hallway to retrieve the pile of envelopes from the drawer and went back into the sitting room, holding them gingerly between her fingers, like an unexploded bomb. By now Charlie’s tail was thrashing wildly, and as Matteo straightened up from stroking him the puppy gave a little whine of protest and she wondered how he had so quickly managed to charm the shy little dog. But the terrier had been discovered wriggling in a sack by the side of the road, she remembered, the only survivor among all his dead brothers and sisters. Charlie had also grown up without a mother, she thought—and a lump lodged in her throat.
‘Here,’ she croaked, holding the letters towards him.
‘Don’t you want to open them?’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘Not really.’
‘Then maybe I’d better tell you what’s in them,’ he said, his eyes not leaving her face as he took them from her. ‘They are all love letters. With the exception of one.’
He saw her eyes widen before dark lashes came shuttering down to cloak their sapphire hue with suspicion.
‘What’s that? A hate letter?’ she quipped.
‘I’m serious, Keira.’
‘And so am I. Anyone can write down words on a piece of paper and not mean them.’
‘Then how about I summarise them for you out loud?’
‘No.’
But that one word was so whispered that he barely heard it and Matteo had no intention of heeding it anyway. ‘Four words, actually,’ he husked. ‘I love you, Keira. So how about I say it again, just so there can be no misunderstanding? I love you, Keira, and I’ve been a fool. Uno scemo! I should have been honest with you from the start, but...’ He inhaled deeply through his nostrils and then expelled the air on a shuddered breath. ‘Keeping things locked away inside was the way I operated. The only way I knew. But believe me when I tell you that by the time I asked you to marry me, I wasn’t thinking about the house any more. My mind was full of you. It still is. I can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t want to. So I’m asking you to give me another chance, Keira. To give us another chance. You, me and Santino. That’s all.’
She didn’t say anything for a moment and when she spoke she started shaking her head, as if what he was demanding of her was impossible.
‘That’s all?’ she breathed. ‘After everything that’s happened? You don’t know what you’re asking, Matteo.’
‘Oh, but I do,’ he demurred. ‘I’m asking you to be my wife for real. With nothing but total honesty between us from now on, because I want that. I want that more than anything.’ His voice lowered. ‘But I realise it can only work if you love me too. Once, in a shadowed hallway after we had taken our wedding vows, you whispered to me that you did, but you may not have meant it.’
Keira clamped her lips together to try to contain the stupid tremble of emotion. Of course she had meant it. Every single word. The question was whether he did, too. Was it possible that he really loved her, or was this simply a means to an end—the manipulative declaration of a man determined to get his rightful heir back into his life? Or maybe just pride refusing to let a woman walk away from him.
Yet something was stubbornly refusing to allow her to accept the bleaker version of his reasons for coming here today. Was it the anguish she could see in his black eyes—so profound that even she, in her insecurity, didn’t believe she was imagining it? She flicked the tip of her tongue over her mouth, wondering if it was too late for them, until she realised what the reality of that would mean. Matteo gone from her life and free to make another with someone else, while she would never be able to forget him.
And she wasn’t going to allow that to happen. Because how could she ignore the burning inside her heart and the bright spark of hope which was beginning to flood through her veins?
‘I’ve tried not to love you,’ she admitted slowly. ‘But it doesn’t work. I think about you nearly all the time and I miss you. I love you, Matteo, and I will be your wife, but on one condition.’
His body grew very still. ‘Anything,’ he said. ‘Name it.’
She had been about to ask him never knowingly to hurt her, but she realised that was all part of the package. That hurt and pain were the price you paid for love and you just had to pray they didn’t rear their bitter heads too often in a lifetime. She knew also that if they wanted to go forward, then they had to leave the bitterness of the past behind. So instead of demanding the impossible, she touched her fingertips to his face, tracing them slowly down over his cheek until they came to rest on his beautiful lips.
‘That you make love to me,’ she said, her voice softened by tears of joy. ‘And convince me this really is happening.’
His voice was unsteady. ‘You mean, right now?’
She swallowed and nodded, rapidly wiping underneath her eyes with a bent finger. ‘This very second,’ she gulped.
Framing her face within the palms of his hands, he looked at her for one long moment before he spoke. ‘To the woman who has given me everything, because without you I am nothing. Ti amo, mia sposa. My beautiful, beautiful wife,’ he husked, and crushed his lips down hard on hers.
OUTSIDE THE WINDOW big white flakes floated down from the sky, adding to the dazzling carpet which had already covered the vast sweep of lawn. Keira gazed at it and gave a dreamy sigh. It was unusual for snow to settle in this part of Umbria and she thought she’d never seen anything quite so magical, or so beautiful. She smiled. Well, except maybe one other time...
Looking up from where she was crouched beside the Christmas tree where she’d just placed a couple of presents, she saw Matteo walk into the room—with snowflakes melting against his dark hair. He’d been outside, putting the finishing touches to a snowman, which would be the first thing Santino saw when he looked out of his window tomorrow morning. Their son’s first real Christmas, Keira thought, because last year he’d been too young to realise what was going on and she...
Well, if she was being honest, she could hardly remember last Christmas herself. She and Matteo had been busy discovering each other all over again—and finding out that things were different from how they’d been before. They couldn’t have been anything but different once the constraints of the past were lifted and they’d given themselves the freedom to say exactly what was on their minds. Or in their hearts.
Matteo had given her the option of living in London, Rome or Umbria—and she’d opted for the sprawling Umbrian estate which had once belonged to his mother’s family. She figured it was healthier for Santino to grow up in the glorious