The Italian's Love-Child. Emma Darcy

      ‘Roberto died of extensive injuries from a car accident,’ Luc said, grimacing as he softly added, ‘He did regret what he’d done, Skye.’

      ‘Not while he had his life to live,’ she pointed out, her eyes sadly mocking Luc’s view of the situation. ‘I don’t think your father is ever going to accept me.’

      ‘I’d like to give him the time to take that option.’

      ‘Time won’t make any difference. I’m sure you challenged him over this Easter Sunday, asking if Matt and I would be welcome. He wouldn’t come at it, would he?’

      ‘I don’t expect a quick turnaround. But the point was made, Skye.’

      ‘And he made his. You’re welcome. I’m not.’

      Ruthless steel answered her. ‘It will be his loss if he doesn’t change his attitude.’

      Your loss, too, Skye thought, and spelled out the most testing scenario of all. ‘What if he threatens to cut you off?’

      ‘So be it.’

      Not the slightest dent in the steel. But Skye felt it was pride talking. In his heart of hearts, Luc didn’t believe it would happen. To him, the family link was too strong. Blood would tell in the end. It was the argument he’d used to her for his parents’ eventual acceptance of Matt as their grandchild. What he didn’t take into consideration was how much they felt Matt’s blood was tainted by hers.

      A wave of sheer misery washed through her. Here she was sitting opposite a man she’d loved—a man she still couldn’t help loving—the father of her child, wanting to marry her—and a decision about their future should be simple and straightforward, not hemmed around with the dark threat of endless pain.

      ‘Skye…’

      She had nothing left to say. The grief his family had already given her was swimming through her mind, carrying her towards rocks that would smash any happiness she might achieve with Luc. It startled her when his chair scraped back. Her heart leapt erratically as he rose to his feet, his eyes blazing with savage emotion.

      ‘You come first with me!’ he hurled at her, using his voice like a hammer, forcefully intent on breaking through anything that held him out of the centre of her existence.

      The words rang in Skye’s ears, drowning out the voices of doom that kept tugging her away from him…first with me… first with me. Not his son. Not his family. She came first.

      In a few quick strides he was around the table, pulling her up from her chair, wrapping her in a fierce embrace, pouring out passionate pleas.

      ‘Don’t reject me, Skye…’

      She didn’t want to. Her whole body was flooding with the need to be held by him, loved by him, surrendering so utterly to his embrace, her head nestled onto his shoulder and her eyes closed to shut out the rest of the world.

      ‘You know it’s good between us. We connect on levels that no one else even touches.’

      It felt good just feeling his chest rising and falling with each breath he took.

      ‘I made myself forget that, told myself I’d only imagined it to satisfy some need in me.’ Harsh mockery in his voice, then powerful conviction. ‘But I only had to meet you again to know we should never have been parted.’

      Never echoed in Skye’s mind, knocking out all the reasons why they should be parted.

      ‘I’ve been like a hollow man all these years without you.’

      The emptiness left after your heart has been torn out, she thought, and hers had only been punched back into chaotic life when Luc had re-appeared and the fear of being hurt like that again…and she might be…but right now, the need to have him was so paramount, it pushed the fear away to be dealt with some other time. Not now. The emptiness cried out to be filled, filled to overflowing.

      ‘I want to make love to you, Skye.’

      Yes…

      Her whole body sighed in relief as the constraints she had willed on it were lifted.

      Luc’s imprisoning embrace eased a little, one arm still possessively pinning her to him while the other hand wove through the long fall of her hair, finding enough purchase to gently tug her head back, tilting it up to his.

      ‘Look at me…’

      She opened her eyes to see dark torment in his.

      ‘It’s not just sex, Skye. I can get that anywhere. You can, too. Don’t belittle what we have together. I want you to remember how it was…how it can still be…’

      He carried those last throbbing words to her mouth, making her feel them…how it still was…Luc kissing her, the wild surge of response shooting through her, wanting him so much, wanting all he’d ever given her before, everything so beautifully right between them.

      They weren’t forceful kisses, no taking in them at all, more a searching for the sense of mutual loving, the desire to establish it was so, overriding any urge to dominate. He was sexually aroused. She was, too. But it didn’t matter, just a natural part of what was happening, the yearning of their bodies expressing the need for each other.

      ‘Come to bed with me, Skye.’

      It wasn’t a command. Nor a plea. It was a softly murmured request for them to move to a private place where nothing else could intrude on the intimacy of being together.

      ‘Yes,’ she whispered, rebelling against the inhibitions that warned of consequences she would never be able to control.

      The inhibitions sprang from Luc’s world, but Luc was here with her, and if she truly came first with him, couldn’t she let him come first with her?

      He eased back and took her hand in his, leading her off the balcony, leading…not picking her up and carrying her off, letting her feet speak their consent to this move and they did, willingly walking through the apartment to his bedroom, though they faltered when she saw the bed, one high-risk consequence insisting on being acknowledged.

      ‘I’m not protected, Luc.’

      ‘I’ll take care of it.’

      The smooth reply was meant to soothe away the fear, but it was a sharp reminder that he hadn’t cared last time, had actually hoped she’d fallen pregnant. She turned to face him, her eyes searching for truth. ‘Will you?’ she asked, needing to know there was no manipulation of her vulnerability intended—no thought of future entrapment. The gift of love should be a free gift, if this was what it was.

      He lifted a hand and gently stroked the anxiety from her facial muscles, his eyes promising safety with him as he answered, ‘If we make another child, it will only be when we both want to. A planned baby, Skye, not conceived by accident nor a lack of forethought.’

      ‘You came prepared for…for…’

      ‘I hoped.’

      ‘You aimed for it,’ she wryly corrected him, running her fingers down the bared strip of chest his unbuttoned shirt had left open for her touch—a temptation beyond bearing any longer.

      ‘Why wouldn’t I? You’re the woman I want above all others.’

      The man she wanted above all others.

      He dropped his hand to her shoulder, fingertips drawing the strap of her sundress over to her arm. ‘Do you want to stop me, Skye?’

      ‘No.’ She sucked in a deep breath, relaxing as it shuddered out again. ‘No one can take this away.’

      Maybe they could create a small world together—a place of survival for the love they could share, sheltered from the storms that might rage around them, trying to break in and tear them apart.

      She wanted it to be possible.

      The