Her Sicilian Baby Revelation. Michelle Smart

bounded over and loudly insisted on accompanying them.

      Guarded by an army of children barely out of nappies—the bridesmaids tagged along too—Orla took Finn to their suite.

      Leaving Finn’s nurse to keep order over the sugar-loaded kids, she stepped out onto the balcony alone. Familiar scents filled her airwaves and, slowly, the vertigo-like feeling that had cloaked her since she’d heard Tonino’s name that morning lifted.

      She gazed out at the Tyrrhenian Sea darkening under the setting sun. The Sicilian aromas weren’t the only things stabbing at her memories.

      She craned to her left and squinted, trying to spot the run-down beachside hotel she’d stayed in when she’d met Tonino…

      Whether it was seeing Tonino again or being back in Sicily she couldn’t say, but the locked-away memories that had eluded her since she’d woken in hospital were slowly taking substance in her mind, but it was all still a jumble.

      Sophia!

      That was the cat’s-eyed, dangerous-looking woman’s name. Sophia. She’d confronted Orla…but about what?

      Stupid brain, work!

      A squeal of laughter from the suite shook her from the reforming jumble of memories. The evening reception was about to start. She had to be there.

      She got her army of children together and, the nurse carrying Finn’s walker, they trooped out of the suite and down the corridor.

      Into the lift they all piled. Seconds later they reached the ground floor, the doors opened and the excitable kids burst out like a spray of rubber bullets.

      Orla’s brief amusement died when she noticed the imposing figure propped against the wall.

      Tonino pulled himself away from the wall he’d stood against while waiting for Orla to reappear. All the hotel’s stairs and elevators exited at this corridor. She could not escape without him seeing her.

      Or her seeing him.

      When she appeared, the little colour she had on her milky-white complexion drained away.

      Let her feel fearful. Let her take in her surroundings and know there was no escape from him, not here in his own hotel where he had staff posted on every exit into the grounds, ready to notify him should she decide to escape further than her suite.

      He stood right in front of her, but it was not his deceitful ex-lover he addressed.

      Crouching down, he held out a hand to the child he strongly suspected was his own, and not only because of the uncanny resemblance between them.

      Orla had been a virgin. He remembered the flame of colour that had stained her cheeks when she’d told him that and had to fight back the memory snaking through his blood of the first time he’d made love to her.

      ‘Hello, Finn. Are you having a good time?’

      Finn nodded vigorously. He strained forwards but the straps of his wheelchair stopped him leaning too far.

      ‘And do you like your suite?’

      He was rewarded with a blank stare.

      ‘Your room,’ Tonino clarified. ‘Do you like your room?’

      Another vigorous nod.

      ‘You’re sharing it with your mummy?’

      A less vigorous nod.

      ‘What about your daddy? Is he sharing it too?’ Having checked the room and suite allocation, he already knew the answer to this, but he wanted to see Finn’s reaction to the word ‘daddy’. Dante had been uncharacteristically evasive on the subject of Finn’s parentage when he’d tried to quiz him a short while ago. Tonino understood. Orla was Dante’s newfound sister. He had a sister himself. Blood protected blood. It had been Aislin’s reaction to his questions that had been the biggest giveaway. She’d reminded him of a cornered rabbit.

      The blank stare returned.

      A little voice piped up, the Irish brogue strong. ‘Finn doesn’t have a daddy.’

      Tonino raised his head to look at Orla. She was clasping the handles of the wheelchair so tightly her knuckles had whitened.

      The expression on her face along with the child’s unwitting answer was all the confirmation he needed.

      Her green eyes held his, wide and pleading, before she gave a slight shake of her head and mouthed, Later. Please, and expertly pushed the wheelchair around him and aimed it towards the ballroom at a speed that would suggest she was being chased by a pack of rabid dogs.

      Suddenly feeling in need of a large drink, he let her go.

      The ballroom had been transformed into an even glitzier spectacle by the time Orla hurried through its doors. The main lights had dimmed so the only illumination came from the glittering chandeliers. The DJ had started playing music but the dance floor was empty.

      The fear gripping her heart tightened when she saw her sister’s face.

      ‘Tonino Valente was asking questions about Finn’s father,’ Aislin whispered when she reached her.

      Terrified she was going to cry, Orla blinked frantically.

      Sympathy and understanding washed over her sister’s face. ‘It’s him, isn’t it?’

      All she could do was nod.

      ‘He knows?’

      Pulling her lips in tightly, she nodded again. Tonino had taken one look at Finn and recognised him as his own.

      ‘What are you going to do?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ For three years she’d waited for the memories to return, assuming that, once she had them back, she would enlist her sister’s help and set off to find Finn’s father. She would have had time to prepare herself.

      Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined a scenario like this.

      Behind Aislin, Dante approached them.

      His presence brought some much-needed sanity to Orla’s frazzled nerves.

      Whatever happened, she mustn’t lose sight that this was their big day. If Aislin so much as suspected the fear in Orla’s heart then everything would be ruined. She wouldn’t hesitate to cancel the party or the honeymoon.

      Flinging her arms around her, Orla held her sister tightly. ‘I need to settle my nerves but I’m going to be fine. I promise. Now stop worrying about me and enjoy your party.’

      On cue, the DJ called for the bride and groom to take to the dance floor.

      ‘Go,’ Orla urged, kissing Aislin’s cheek. She was rewarded with a kiss in return.

      While Dante led Aislin onto the dance floor, Orla took Finn out of his wheelchair and put him in his walker, a wonderful device Dante had bought for him that kept him secure and allowed him to use his legs to get himself about. She had to be careful with the amount of time he used it as he tired easily, but she knew he would want to get on the dance floor with the other children.

      As soon as he was in it he started bouncing with glee. His ‘girlfriend’ the bridesmaid shot over to admire him in it.

      Orla went with them to the edge of the dance floor with the other guests.

      Tears she’d been holding back filled her eyes again to see the love shining between the two people she loved so much. She didn’t need to pray for their love to be eternal. Aislin and Dante were made for each other.

      As the dance came to an end an arm brushed against hers. Her skin tingled.

      A spicy scent filled her nostrils. Her pulses surged. Her lungs tightened. A memory of pressing her nose into a strong neck