Page 59 of Forgotten Mistress, Secret Love-Child
He’d never expected it would come so easily.
He watched Leo point out the window and babble, talking to both Carys and Bruno, standing protectively beside them. Something warm inside Alessandro’s chest expanded and his lips twitched as he watched his boy’s animated face.
His boy.
The happiness Leo had brought into Alessandro’s life, and the weighty sense of responsibility, were unprecedented.
He wouldn’t change them for anything.
His gaze shifted to Carys and the way her gentle smile lit her face. She did things to him he didn’t understand.
A lifetime’s lessons in the ways of women had taught him he’d be a fool to give any woman his heart on a platter.
And yet, these past weeks he’d grown…comfortable with her. Never comfortable enough to ignore the effervescent bubble of lust that was now a constant in his life. But relaxed as he’d never been with any other woman.
So relaxed he had to force himself to remember that, like the rest of her sex, she wasn’t above cheating on a man.
Yet looking at her now, so thrilled that he’d given in to her request to do something ‘normal’ like spend the afternoon sightseeing around the lake, without a limo or a Lamborghini or any other of his ‘rich man’s toys’, he found it hard to believe she could be selfishly calculating.
He didn’t want to believe it. That was the most astonishing of all.
He found himself trusting her in so many ways. Liking her. Not merely desiring her.
She was different.
Her disinterest in cash was genuine. She really did prefer a picnic by the lake to the ostentation of Milan’s top restaurants. And though she now spent money from her account, it was mainly on toys and books for Leo rather than fashion for herself.
She was completely different to his mother, who’d had barely a maternal bone in her body. Carys was a wonderful mother.
Alessandro realised his insurance policy, the prenup that provided her with a fortune if she stayed with Leo, hadn’t been necessary. Nothing on this earth would drag Carys from her son. Alessandro approved of her for that alone.
And, he realised, for so many other things.
For her indomitable spirit, conquering what he realised were wounds as old and deep as his. Overcoming dyslexia and the ingrained sense of not measuring up, to get on with her life.
Her intelligence. Her quiet dignity.
Carys was the sort of wife a man could be proud of in many ways. With her warmth and generosity of spirit, he saw her taking her place beside him in the public aspects of his life. Livia had fulfilled the public responsibilities of the Contessa Mattani with panache, but with a cool intolerance for what she termed ‘the ordinary people’ that made him grit his teeth.
Across the cabin Carys stretched and her sundress grew taut across her breasts. Predictably his body tightened in a spasm of hunger.
Alessandro thought of their slow, languorous lovemaking this morning, of the wonder in her eyes as he brought her to climax and pumped his life essence inside her.
His gaze dipped to her flat belly and excitement stirred. For all they knew she could even now be carrying another of his children. Raw, primal satisfaction smote him at the idea of watching her grow big with his baby. He’d missed that the first time. But now…they could build a family together and he’d participate in every moment.
‘Signor Conte.’
Alessandro dragged himself from his thoughts to focus on the small, grey-haired woman before him.
Some sixth sense made Carys turn and look for Alessandro. He stood not far away, head tilted down as he listened to the rotund woman before him. The intensity of his expression, the stillness of his rangy frame, sent a skitter of prescience up her spine.
The woman looked vaguely familiar.
At her side Bruno also watched the pair, making no move to intervene. Yet something was wrong. She sensed it.
‘Bruno, would you please take Leo?’ She met the minder’s startled gaze as she thrust Leo towards him. Barely waiting to see her son settled, she turned towards Alessandro. The woman leaned in, gripping his arm.
Begging? No, that wouldn’t leach the colour from Alessandro’s face. The woman tilted her head and finally Carys recognised her: Rosina, who’d been Alessandro’s housekeeper when he’d lived in his home in the hills behind the lake.
Rosina had been so friendly and warm. She’d encouraged
Carys in her tentative attempts to learn Italian. More, she’d provided comfort in the form of a cup of tea or a plate of fruit and admonishment not to starve herself when Carys felt her relationship with Alessandro shatter around her.
Carys squeezed through the seats, eager to greet her, but more than ever concerned by Alessandro’s frozen expression. She regretted now that she’d requested they come by ferry instead of private boat or car.
