The Italian's One-Night Love-Child (20 page)

‘You don’t have to say stuff like that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, I know that you don’t want to upset me because I’m pregnant, but that doesn’t mean that you have to…have to…’

Cristiano gave a smile of such immense warmth and tenderness that Bethany drew in her breath unsteadily.

‘You’re beautiful. Have I told you that? You pulled me in hook, line and sinker from the very first minute I laid eyes on you. Even when I stormed over to Ireland to confront you, you were irresistible.’

Bethany didn’t say anything. Actually, she didn’t want to
breathe for fear of disturbing this frank outpouring of emotion. She never wanted this moment to end. She wondered if it would destroy the mood if she told him that he was beautiful too.

‘I should have been gutted when you told me that you were pregnant. I had never anticipated my lifestyle changing. On the few occasions I thought about marriage and children, I foolishly imagined that my life would carry on without major interruptions. A suitably docile wife would hover somewhere in the background, doing whatever needed doing on the home front, leaving me free to remain exactly the way I’d always been.’

Bethany was fascinated by the vulnerability she saw on Cristiano’s face. She reached out to touch him and he clasped her hand tightly in his.

‘When you offered me the uninterrupted choice, however, I found that there was no way I was going to take it. I wanted all of you.’ He looked at her steadily. ‘I didn’t want to be a part-time father and I definitely didn’t want to be a part time fixture in your life. Okay, this is really hard for me to say and I’ve never said it before, but I love you. I think I fell in love with you over those two weeks in Barbados but hell, how was I supposed to know that? I’d never felt that way before and, to tell you the truth, I didn’t figure that love could be wrapped up in such a bloody unpredictable, turbulent package. I called it lust and thought it was a passing affliction. Then I called it duty. I gave it every name under the sun but the right one.’

‘You
love me
?’

‘Don’t sound so shocked,’ Cristiano told her defensively. ‘Everything I’ve done over the past few months has proved it.’

And it had. Bethany threw her arms around him and
would have told him a thousand times over that she loved him too if he hadn’t stopped her, laughing.

‘I am sorry I didn’t explain about Anita,’ he said eventually.

‘You felt cornered,’ Bethany mused slowly. ‘I wasn’t trying to be a horrible, nagging shrew.’

‘You have every right to be a nagging shrew. I’d rather that than thinking that you wouldn’t care if you saw me with another woman because if I ever saw you with another guy I’d grind him to a pulp.’

Still on cloud nine, Bethany learned that Anita, the wearer of the combat trousers who had given rise to such drama and soul-searching, was a coordinator for charity work in Africa.

‘I wanted to surprise you when I told you. I’m now involved in building a community village centre in Central Africa. It’s to be the first of many.’ He grinned at her open-mouthed expression of surprise. ‘Don’t look so stunned,’ he told her, holding her close and depositing a loving kiss on her mouth. ‘Didn’t you tell your parents, after all, that I’m involved in charity work all over the world…? You can help me decide where my next project will be…considering you’re the instigator…And, by the way, you have nothing to fear from Anita. She’s gay.’

Cristiano and Bethany’s baby daughter was born without any drama two weeks later. Cristiano announced, with an earnest sincerity that made Bethany laugh, that he had fallen in love all over again. Helena Grace was plump, with her mother’s copper hair and her father’s lustrous dark eyes and those amazing eyelashes. Grandparents descended and fussed over the first grandchild for both lines, wedding plans were discussed in detail, with Cristiano and Bethany watching on with amusement and contributing as required and neither could wait until they found their bed at night.

With their baby often between them, before she was gently transferred to her Moses basket at the side of the bed, her tiny fists curled tightly as she slept, they softly discussed leaving London for somewhere with commuting distance but less hectic.

‘I never thought,’ Cristiano mused more than once, ‘that I would live to see the day when I would want to escape the frantic pace of working life in London. This is your fault, my darling witch…’

Bethany was all too happy to take the blame.

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

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First published in Great Britain 2009
Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

© Cathy Williams 2009

ISBN: 978-1-4089-1860-9