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The Italian's Stolen Bride
Mama Mia!
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ITALIAN
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Coming in September 2005:
The Italian’s Marriage Demand
by Diana Hamilton
#2491
The Italian’s Stolen Bride
Emma Darcy
ISBN: 978-1-408-94001-3
THE ITALIAN’S STOLEN BRIDE
© Emma Darcy 2005
First Published in Great Britain in 2005
Harlequin (UK) Limited
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. 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, now known or hereinafter invented, including without limitation xerography, photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
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All characters in this work 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 incidents are pure invention.
This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l.
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Emma Darcy’s life journey has taken as many twists and turns as those of the characters in her stories, whose popularity worldwide has resulted in 60 million books in print.
Born in Australia, and currently living on a beautiful country property in New South Wales, she has moved from country to city to towns and back to country, sporadically indulging her love of tropical islands with numerous vacations.
Initially a teacher of French and English, she changed her career to computer programming before marriage and motherhood settled her into a community life. Her creative urges were channeled into oil painting, pottery, designing and overseeing the construction and decorating of two homes, all in the midst of keeping up with three lively sons and the very busy social life of her businessman husband.
A voracious reader, the step to writing her own books seemed a natural progression and the challenge of creating wonderful stories was soon highly addictive. With her strong interest in people and relationships, Emma found the world of romance fiction a happy one. Currently, she has broadened her horizons and begun to write mainstream women’s fiction.
Her conviction that we must make all we can out of the life we are given keeps her striving to know more, be more, give more, and this is reflected in all her books.
Contents
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
‘REMEMBER Skye…Skye Sumner…’
It was a shock to hear the name, falling from his brother’s lips in a laboured whisper. Luciano Peretti frowned at the dark anguish in Roberto’s eyes. Why speak of her now? Why waste any time at all on her when time was so precious?
In a few minutes Roberto would be wheeled out of this intensive care cubicle for the surgery that might or might not save his life. A fifty-fifty chance, the doctors had told the family. Their parents were out in the waiting room with the priest and Roberto’s wife because of his brother’s request to speak to him alone, and it seemed crazy to bring up Skye Sumner—an old wound between them that Luc had long since set aside for the sake of family harmony.
‘Water under the bridge,’ he muttered, wanting to dismiss whatever lingering guilt Roberto felt over the betrayal involved. ‘Forgiven and forgotten,’ he added for extra assurance.
‘No, Luc.’ It obviously pained him to speak but the determination to get out what he wanted to say demanded respect for the effort. ‘I lied. It wasn’t Skye…in the photos. She was never with me…like that. I set it up…to get her out of your life.’
Not Skye?
Luc’s whole body clenched in denial. It couldn’t be true. It was too…monstrous! Yet why would Roberto make such a statement, a confession of such destructive deceit, unless he wanted—needed—to clear his conscience?
And if what he said was true…Horror swept through Luc’s mind, unlocking a sealed compartment of memories, letting loose the ghosts of intense hurt and fury, images of the damning photos that had driven him to cut Skye Sumner out of his life. Roberto having sex with her, the raspberry birthmark on her thigh, the long blonde hair streaming across the pillow, the distinctive bracelet—three circles of white, rose and yellow-gold—around her wrist.
Her face—the incredibly appealing face with joy always sparkling in vivid blue eyes, the sexy full-lipped mouth that had so many different smiles, the fascinating dimples that came and went—had been hidden by Roberto’s head, bent low as though he was whispering something in her ear, but Luc had not doubted it was Skye. The hair, the long lissome legs, the birthmark, the bracelet…
Apart from which, Roberto had backed up the evidence, admitting to a playboy dalliance with her, belligerently stating he’d seen Skye first, and why shouldn’t he have her when she was willing?
Willing to laugh with Roberto, flirt with him…Luc had dismissed it as just light-hearted fun between them, glad that Skye had felt comfortable with at least one member of his family. He’d actually felt grateful to his brother…until the photos had blasted him into a different reality.
Blinded by the unbearable images, he’d seen no reason to suspect a set-up, no reason to accept Skye’s wild denials, no reason to believe her explanation that she’d mislaid the bracelet, then miraculously found it, no reason to think anything but she was a two-timing slut who’d enjoyed having both brothers.
‘Why?’ The word croaked from his throat—a throat that had tightened from a wild melee of surging emotions. ‘I loved her, Roberto.’
He rose to his feet, hands clenched, barely able to contain the violence erupting in him. If his brother wasn’t half-dead already, lying in front of him as white as the sheet covering his broken body…
‘Why?’ he cried again, struggling to understand such—such malignance. From his own brother whom he’d trusted…trusted ahead of Skye…because he was family and family honour meant his word was his bond. ‘What satisfaction could it have given you? Destroying my love for her…’
Stabbing me so deeply in the heart, I’ve never let any other woman into it.
‘Dad wanted her out.’
A judgement Luc had flouted.
‘Not suitable.’
A ruling made.
A sad irony glittered through the pain in Roberto’s eyes as he struggled to spell out the rest. ‘He had Gaia…picked out for you.’
Gaia Luzzani, who had never sparked one bit of sexual interest in Luc. Gaia, whom Roberto had married, earning their father’s approval and placing himself to eventually take over the Luzzani multi-million dollar construction business—a business that complemented the Peretti property development company. The irony was that the grandchildren so eagerly anticipated by both Italian families had not been born. Gaia had suffered two miscarriages so far, and if Roberto died…
‘I was…jealous of you, Luc. The oldest son. The favoured son. I wanted Dad…to turn to me…have confidence in me…’
Luc shook his head, not knowing what to answer. His mind was spinning, trying to put the pieces together. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he growled, dropping back onto the chair under the weight of crushing despair.
Life had moved on. Six years had passed and there’d be no getting back with Skye. She wouldn’t have a bar of him after the way he’d brutally dismissed everything she’d said, rejecting everything she was.
And facing him was his brother who might die in the next few hours. What good would it do to rail against him when his thinking had been dominated by their father…their conniving, determined to get his own way father!
Luc brought his own will to bear on what had to be done now—let his brother be at peace with himself before the operation. He took a deep breath and spoke soothing words. ‘I’m sorry if I made life difficult for you, Roberto…being the first son.’
‘Not your fault.’
The struggle for more breath was dreadful to watch. Smashed ribs, so much internal damage from the car accident…it was a wonder Roberto was still alive. And conscious.
‘Got to tell you—’
‘You’ve said enough,’ Luc cut in tersely, wanting to block out thoughts of Skye and determined to save his brother any more extreme distress. ‘It’s okay. I’ll deal with it.’
‘Listen…’ His eyes begged patience.
Luc waited, hating having to watch Roberto dragging up the effort to say more.
‘Skye…was pregnant…’
‘What?’ Luc’s mind reeled again. His memory of her denied any sign of pregnancy and she certainly hadn’t told him there was any chance of one. She’d been on the pill. Yet the certainty in his brother’s eyes made Luc question, ‘How do you know?’
‘Her stepfather came to Dad…with proof.’
‘Why not to me?’
‘He was…after money.’
‘Did he get it?’
‘Yes. I don’t know if Skye…had the child…but you might have one…somewhere, Luc.’ Tears filmed the pain and his eyelids closed over them as he heaved for more breath and choked out, ‘I leave none.’
‘Don’t give up, Roberto!’ Luc commanded. ‘Don’t you dare give up! You’re my brother, dammit, and I don’t care what you’ve done or not done!’
A faint smile tilted his mouth. ‘I liked it…when we were kids…and you were the leader, Luc.’
‘We had a lot of fun,’ he gruffly agreed.
‘Sorry…the fun…got lost.’
‘We can have more together, Roberto,’ Luc promised, fighting the finality he felt coming from his younger brother. He reached out and grasped his hand, willing his own strong life-force into the broken body on the bed. ‘You’ll make it through the operation. I won’t let you die on me.’
The faint smile lingered.
The hospital orderlies came to take Roberto to the operating theatre. Luc had to let go, get out of the way. He found himself hopelessly tongue-tied, wanting to say more, yet floundering in the face of imminent separation…possibly final separation. It was Roberto who spoke the last words between them.
‘Find…Skye.’
CHAPTER TWO
SKYE enjoyed walking her five-year-old son home from school. Matt was always bubbling over with news of what he’d done: the activities in the classroom, praise he’d received from the teacher, games he’d played with his new friends. Today he was bursting with pride at having shown off his reading skills, having been asked to read a story to the whole kindergarten class.
‘What was the story about?’ she inquired.
‘A rabbit. His name was Jack and…’
Skye smiled as he recounted every detail of the story for her. Matt was so bright, so advanced for his age. She had worried about him fitting in with other five-year-olds who had yet to learn what he had somehow absorbed just through her reading bed-time stories to him every night. But he was still very much a little boy at heart and loved having play-mates.
It was now a month since he’d started school—no tears from him at having to leave his mother for most of the day. Excitement had sparkled from his lively blue eyes as he’d waved her goodbye, more than ready to charge straight into the new adventure of a bigger world for him. So far it was proving a very happy one.
Much to her relief.
It wasn’t easy being a single mother with no-one close to advise her or simply listen to her concerns. Matt seemed well adjusted to their situation. In fact, he’d coped extremely well with it, rarely pestering her when she was working with clients. Though now he was at school with children from normal families…what was she going to say when he asked about his father? As he inevitably would.
For so long there had just been the two of them. Matt didn’t remember his grandmother, who’d died only eighteen months after he’d been born. And Skye herself had been the only child of an only child—no aunts or uncles or cousins. Her pregnancy, having the baby, caring for her mother through the bouts of chemotherapy that had proved useless in the end…the friendships she’d made at university had just dwindled away. Then setting up her massage business…no time for making social contacts.
If she’d gone out to work…but she hadn’t wanted to leave Matt to a baby-sitter or put him in day-care. He was her child. Best to work at home, she’d thought. However, it had been a very closeted life these past few years. A lonely life.
Now that it was opening up for Matt, she should start re-thinking her own situation, look at other options for her future, maybe complete the physiotherapy course she’d had to drop, put herself in the way of meeting a possible husband, a father for Matt.
They turned the corner into the street where they lived and Matt instantly broke off his school chatter, pointing excitedly as he cried, ‘Wow! Look at that red car, Mummy!’
Her gaze had already jerked to it. A red Ferrari—instantly recognisable to her, having been driven around in one by Luc Peretti. It was like a stab to her heart seeing it here, opening up painful memories, especially as she’d just been thinking about a father for Matt.
‘Could we get a car like that?’ he asked, clearly awe-struck by its brilliant colour and racy style, as she’d once been.
‘We don’t need a car, Matt.’
Nor could she afford one. Paying the rental on their small, two-bedroom cottage, plus living expenses, ate up most of her income. What she saved was emergency money. In fact, given that this neighbourhood was very modest real estate, and relatively cheap because of being under the flight-path to Mascot Airport, she wondered why such a classy and extravagant car was parked in their street.
‘Other Mummies pick up their kids from school in cars,’ Matt argued.
Skye grimaced at the all-too-true comment. The comparisons were starting. She tried emphasising the positive side of their own situation. ‘I guess those kids don’t live so close to school, Matt. We’re lucky, being able to walk and enjoy the sunshine.’
‘It’s not so good when it rains,’ he pointed out.
‘I thought you liked wearing your yellow rain boots.’
‘Yes, I do.’
She smiled at him. ‘And splashing in puddles.’
‘Mmm…’ His gaze darted across the street to the red Ferrari. ‘But I like that car, too.’
Skye rolled her eyes to the seductive object of little boys’ dreams and shock ripped through her, thumping into her heart, halting her feet, making her stomach contract with tension. The driver’s door was open and the man emerging from the car…it couldn’t be, her mind reasoned frantically.
Then he turned his head, looking directly at her, and it was. It was Luc Peretti! No mistaking those distinctively carved features, the hard handsome maleness of that face, the riveting, heavily lashed, dark eyes, the thick black hair dipping with a wave at his right temple, just as Matt’s did.
Matt!
A wave of panic churned through the shock. Had Luc somehow found out she’d kept her baby—the money given to her not used for an abortion? But why look for a child who—in Luc’s mind, she thought savagely—might not even be his? Not Roberto’s, either, given he believed she was a bed-hopping slut.
He half-turned to close and lock the car door. Maybe she was panicking for nothing. One look…She and Matt were the only people walking nearby. He could have been checking them out before leaving his high-class car—harmless people, just a young mother escorting her son home from school.
She didn’t look eye-catching with all her hair drawn into a single plait down her back, no make-up apart from a touch of pink lipstick, unremarkable clothes—just white cotton slacks and T-shirt, which she wore to work in. He might not have recognised her at all, might have parked in this street for some other reason entirely, not because she lived here.
‘Mummy?’
She tore her gaze from Luc Peretti to look down at her son. ‘Yes?’
‘Why are we stopped?’
Because I’m frozen with fright.
Skye quickly drew in a quick breath and came up with, ‘I’ve just remembered I’ve forgotten something.’
‘What?’
‘Something…I meant to do for a client. I’ll do it tomorrow,’ she said, desperately temporising as she frantically willed Luc Peretti to be walking away from them, setting her free from this dreadful inner angst.
‘Better put it on your list,’ Matt advised, grinning at her habit of making careful lists for everything. ‘Then you won’t forget.’
‘I’ll do that as soon as we get home.’
‘Well, come on.’ He grabbed her hand to urge her forward again.
Skye forced her feet to move. She had to look, to see where Luc Peretti was now. The jolt to her heart was worse this time. He was crossing the road to their sidewalk, watching them, his face set in grimly determined purpose. If Matt hadn’t been tugging on her hand, Skye might have stopped dead again. As it was, she felt weirdly disembodied from her legs which kept pumping forward, matching her son’s steps.
There was no avoiding a confrontation now, she told herself. Luc Peretti was clearly intent on one. Having reached the sidewalk, he moved straight to the front gate of their house and stood there waiting for them, his gaze trained on Matt as they walked towards them.
Looking for some likeness to himself, Skye thought, the panic rising again, making her dizzy with turbulent fears. The Peretti family was so wealthy. If Luc decided to make a claim on Matt…and God knew she’d had experience of them playing dirty, getting some woman to look like her in the photos, stealing her bracelet and returning it so she’d be wearing it when Luc came to accuse her…accuse her and dump her for an infidelity she’d never committed.
Ruthless people.
Cruel people.
Callous people, uncaring of the lives of others.
She fiercely told herself Luc couldn’t be sure Matt was his child. Yes, he had olive skin, very dark hair and long thick eyelashes, but he also had her blue eyes, her mouth, and certainly her more sunny personality. Luc would have to get a DNA test to be sure. Could she refuse it, fight it?
‘Do you know that man at our gate, Mummy?’
No point in denying it. Luc was bound to address her by name. ‘Yes. Yes, I do, Matt.’
‘Can I ask him for a ride in his red car?’
‘No!’ The word exploded from the volcano of fear inside her. She instantly halted and dropped into a crouch, turning Matt for an urgent face-to-face talk. ‘You must never get in his car. Never go with him anywhere. Do you hear me, Matt?’
Her vehemence frightened him. She could see him trying to understand and her heart ached for the simplicity of their life which was being so terribly threatened.
‘Is he a bad man?’ His voice quavered, reflecting her alarm.
Was Luc bad? She had loved him once, loved him with an all-consuming intensity that had made his disbelief in her integrity totally devastating. Even now she couldn’t bring herself to say he was bad, though he’d let himself be deceived by his family, making himself one of them, against her.
‘You just mustn’t go with anyone unless I say it’s all right. No matter how much you want to, Matt.’ Her hands squeezed his anxiously. ‘Promise me?’
‘Promise,’ he repeated, troubled by her intensity.
‘I’m going to give you the door-key now. When we get to the front gate, you go straight inside and wait for me. Have your milk and cookies. Okay?’
‘Are you going to talk to the man?’
‘Yes. I’ll have to. He won’t go away until I do.’
Matt shot a frowning look at Luc. ‘He’s big. I can call the ’mergency number for help, Mummy.’
She’d taught him that—a necessary precaution since she was the only adult in the house and if something happened to her…Skye tried to calm herself, realising Matt was picking up on her fear, wanting to fix what he sensed was a bad situation.
‘No, there’s no need for that,’ she assured him. ‘I’ll only be a few minutes.’ She took the door-keys out of her pants pocket and pressed them into his hand. ‘Just do as I say, Matt. Okay?’
He nodded gravely.
She straightened up and they resumed their walk, hands tightly linked, mother and son solidly together. And let no one try to separate them, Skye thought on a savage wave of determination.
Luc had shifted his gaze to her, a dark burning gaze that made her pulse race and her inner muscles quiver. She lifted her chin high in a proud defiance of his power to affect her in any way whatsoever. The time had long gone when she had giddily welcomed him into her life, when she had so completely succumbed to his many seductive attractions.
He was big in Matt’s eyes but in Skye’s, that translated to powerful…tall, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, a strong muscular physique with not an ounce of flab anywhere. He had the kind of perfect masculinity that automatically drew a woman’s attention, looking strikingly sexy in any clothes, especially none at all.
He was wearing black jeans, no doubt with a designer label. A black sports shirt showed off the impressive width of his chest and the bared strength of his forearms. One hand was gripping the top of her gate, as though ready to block any escape from him.
He had no right to. No rights at all where she was concerned. And he still had to prove he had any paternal right to Matt. She glared furious independence at him, shifted her gaze pointedly to the trespassing hand, then back to him with a belligerent challenge. He dropped his hold on her property, moving the offending hand into a gesture of appeal.
‘Could I have a word with you, Skye?’
The deep timbre of his voice struck more painful memories, how he’d used it to make her believe he loved her, intimate murmurs in bed, reinforced by how he’d touched her, kissed her. A flood of heat raced up her neck and scorched her cheeks—shame at having let him remind her of how it had once been between them.
She kept a safe distance, halting a metre away from him, a blazing demand in her eyes. ‘Please move aside from the gate. I’ll stay and have a word with you but my son needs to go inside.’
He opened it before stepping back, giving Matt free passage. ‘I’d like you to introduce us,’ he said, smiling down at the boy that might be his, pouring out all his Italian charm in case it was.
