The Sicilian's Mistress (22 page)

‘I adore you,' Gianni groaned with a slight shudder. ‘You're gorgeous and smart and sexy and demanding—'

‘Very,'
she asserted.

‘I'll never let anything or anybody hurt you again.' The most soul-destroyingly beautiful smile curved Gianni's mouth as he looked down at her.

Her heart tilted on its axis, but she knew she still had something important to say. ‘But you still have to look after your brother,' she told him gently.

‘Are you out of your mind?' Gianni demanded, staggered by that assertion.

‘He was acting like a guy on the edge of a breakdown today, and deep down inside you know he needs you to sort him out. I know the way he was behaving makes you cringe,' Milly continued, with lashings of soothing understanding in her steady gaze, ‘but you're all he's got, so he's your responsibility.'

‘You couldn't possibly forgive him for what he did!'

‘Three years ago, for the space of a minute, he give me a really bad scare…but afterwards he was much more scared than I was. Really scared people are not naturally noble or strong or honest. Think it over.'

‘How come you're so compassionate about him but so tough on me?'

‘You're like a great big thriving jungle plant and he's
more of a stunted seedling that needs help and encouragement to grow.'

Gianni flung his well-shaped head back on the pillows, dark eyes glinting with appreciation and amusement. ‘You really know how to massage a guy's ego,
cara mia
.'

‘Yours…oh, yes.'

‘Did you realise that I was incredibly hungry the night you dumped that apple thing in Paris?'

‘No, but I'm glad to hear it.'

‘You can make it again for me.'

‘Maybe…' Milly parted her lips with a shiver of delicious expectancy as his sensual mouth drifted downward.

Gianni stilled. ‘I don't think we're likely to have a problem in the communication department again,' he proclaimed with satisfaction.

Tempted to tell him that she'd listened to him rehearsing with their son, Milly reared up, pushed his powerful shoulders back to the pillows and moaned in near desperation. ‘Please shut up and kiss me!'

 

Six days later, on Christmas Eve, Milly watched Gianni finish reading a story about Santa Claus and his reindeer to Connor. He was able to answer all Connor's questions. Not a bad performance for a male who had never known a real Christmas as a child, Milly reflected with shimmering eyes.

After tucking their drowsy son in, Gianni straightened with a wry grin. ‘We'll never get him to bed this early next year. He'll understand much more than he does now.'

They went downstairs together. Milly thought over the past week. It had been very eventful. All the publicity generated by their marriage and her mistaken identification as Faith Jennings had had stunning results as far as the Jennings family were concerned. Their long-lost daughter had written her parents a tentative letter from her home in the north of Scotland.

Divorced, and with three young children, the real Faith had admitted that the longer time went on the more difficult
she had found it to get back in touch. They had since talked on the phone and were planning to meet in the New Year. Robin and Davina were anxious about how that reunion might go, but determined to be accepting of their adult daughter's independence. Milly believed it would be a happy reunion, because Faith had sounded rather lonely in her letter.

Gianni had also gone to see Stefano. They had talked. Gianni had emerged from that discussion feeling rather guilty, never having quite appreciated just how much Stefano relied on his approval, or indeed how devastated Stefano had been when Gianni had stopped treating him like a brother and given him only financial support. It was early days yet, but Milly reckoned that the healing process had started.

Gianni surveyed the drawing room of Heywood House. All the formality and the cool elegance had been banished. In all the rooms Milly used seasonal throws, glittery embellishments, festive padded cushions, unsophisticated homemade log, autumn leaf and berry arrangements and streams of paper chains ruled. Gianni even had to suffer a large fluffy Santa Claus toy on his library desk.

And he just loved it all, he acknowledged with a rueful smile of appreciation. He just loved the rich colour and warmth she brought into her surroundings, her innate ability to transform a house into a real home. He set a small parcel wrapped in beautiful paper down in front of her. ‘You get your real presents tomorrow, but this is just a trifle I picked up ages ago,' he admitted, half under his breath.

Milly ripped off the paper and found herself looking at a delicate golden angel inside a crystal snowstorm on an ornate base. ‘Oh, Gianni…' she sighed extravagantly. ‘This is exquisite! Where did you get it?'

‘New York.'

‘But you haven't been there since—'

‘Last year,' Gianni admitted, bracing himself.

‘But you hadn't even found me then!' Milly gasped, instantly leaping up to envelop him in frantic hugs and kisses.

As desire flashed between them to instantaneous heat, Milly jerked back a step. ‘Sometimes I love you so much it just hurts,
but
we still have a sooty bootprint to make on the hearth, so that Connor can see which chimney Santa Claus used as an entrance,' she explained apologetically.

‘Maybe with the number of chimneys we've got we should put a flag on the roof so that the old guy doesn't get confused,' Gianni suggested deadpan as he curved her smoothly back into the possessive circle of his arms, knowing that bootprints could be faked after midnight as well as before it.

‘Magic, doesn't need flags, Gianni!'

Against the backdrop of the flickering firelight and the glittering tree, Gianni scanned her wide, loving smile with softened dark eyes and pulled her close. ‘You're the magic in my life,
cara mia
. I love you.'