Page 62 of Forgotten Mistress, Secret Love-Child
‘You blame yourself?’ He tilted his head.
‘Don’t you?’ She remembered the steady rain that day—that was why she’d accepted a man’s offer of a lift rather than waiting for a bus. That and the fact that the evening before she’d seen Alessandro with Carlotta. He’d spent the night in town rather than return home, and Carys had finally grown tired of waiting meekly for him to appear. No wonder she’d been distracted enough to fall into Stefano’s clutches.
If only she hadn’t been so gullible, so ready to believe Livia’s plausible lies.
‘Of course I don’t. Don’t be absurd.’ Alessandro’s eyes flashed dark fire. ‘How could you be to blame? I was the one speeding, and the driver that forced me off the road was on the wrong side. It had nothing to do with you.’ His gaze held hers so long Carys felt his certainty pulse through her.
‘Don’t take that upon your conscience, tesoro,’ he said more gently and cupped her chin in one warm palm. Her heart squeezed tight at such tenderness. It reminded her of how he’d looked, and sounded, so long ago.
‘Carys.’ He bent his head and touched his lips to hers. Instantly she melted into him, her body alive with the tingle of magic only Alessandro could create. ‘Sweet Carys.’
Kisses, soft yet fervent, covered her cheeks, brow, even her nose. Large hands cupped her head, holding her still. Her heart rose in her mouth. These weren’t the caresses of a man desperate to bed her. They weren’t about sex. They were about emotion. The sort of emotion she’d nurtured so long.
‘Forgive me, Carys?’
The kisses stopped, though he didn’t release her. Dazedly Carys opened her eyes. The look on her husband’s face stole her breath right away. It would have claimed her heart too, if she hadn’t already given that to him.
She blinked. ‘What are you talking about?’
He didn’t speak immediately and she had the bizarre feeling he was gathering his courage. He, the man who felt no qualms about anything, not billion-dollar deals or handling a hungry media scrum.
He breathed deep, his chest expanding so mightily it brushed hers, sparking inevitable flickers of awareness in every erogenous zone.
‘These past years have been hard for you,’ he murmured, his voice a suede caress that unravelled the ribbon of tension in her stomach. ‘I sent you away, and because of that you were alone through your pregnancy and Leo’s birth. Alone bringing up our son and making a home for him.’ He paused and squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain.
Carys reached out, sliding her trembling fingers over his shoulders, feeling the tension vibrate within him.
‘We survived.’
‘I deprived myself of you and Leo.’ Alessandro’s mouth twisted up in a mirthless smile, and when he opened his eyes they were darker than she’d ever seen them. So dark it felt as if she looked right into his soul.
‘I should never have let you go. Never have doubted.’
‘Sorry?’ His admission struck Carys dumb. She read the remorse in his face, felt the powerful energy hum through his body as if he kept a lid on a force too great to be released. But still she couldn’t believe.
Long fingers slid round to cradle her face. His gentle touch set a thousand butterflies dancing inside her. A sense of something precious, something miraculous, filled her.
‘I’m to blame, Carys. It’s my fault. I should never have accused you of betraying me.’
She looked into his eyes and read emotion there, bare and powerful. Remorse. Guilt. Pain. And hope.
The shock of it, of having him reveal such depth of feelings rocked her on her heels. She clung to his shoulders, trying to marshal stunned thoughts.
‘You weren’t to know,’ she found herself saying tentatively, not even questioning her need to ease his pain. ‘After all, I believed Livia when she told me you were getting married.’
He shook his head abruptly. ‘You weren’t to know Livia had her own agenda. Whereas I…I have no one but myself to blame for leaping to conclusions.’
Carys’ heart accelerated. ‘Rosina told you on the boat? Told you there was nothing between me and Stefano Manzoni?’
Once more Alessandro shook his head. ‘No.’
‘But then…?’
‘How do I know?’ Again that raw, self-deprecating smile.
He reached up and took her hand, slid it from his shoulder, past the spot where his heart thundered, then pressed it down against his abdomen. ‘I feel it here. Gut instinct, if you like.’ He shrugged, still holding her palm against his belly. ‘My sixth sense has been telling me all along that you weren’t the woman I thought, but I ignored it.’
