The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (63 page)
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Authors: Helen Bianchin
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Erotica, #Collections & Anthologies, #Contemporary Women, #General
âAny particular reason?'
His smile assumed musing indulgence. âA wedding. Ours.'
There would come a day when nothing he did or said would surprise herâ¦but she had a way to go before that happened.
âSomething low-key, in deference to your father. Just family, a few close friends. If you have your
heart set on a traditional ceremony, we can reaffirm our vows in a few months.'
âWeeks?' Cassandra reiterated with a sense of stunned amusement. âI'm due in Rome this weekend for Siobhan's weddingâ'
âPerfect. We'll fly in together, spend some time thereâ'
She put up a hand. âWhoa! You're going too fast.'
âAnd arrive back in time to meet our marriage-application requirements,' he concluded.
âThe honeymoon before the wedding?' She tried for humour, and didn't quite make it.
âYou object?'
How could she, when all she wanted to do was be with him? âYou take my breath away,' she admitted shakily in an attempt to get her head around organising a wedding, travel plans for Rome. Then there was workâ¦
He witnessed her emotional struggle, and sought to ease it. âAll it involves is a series of phone calls. Let me take care of it.'
R
OME
was magical, with Siobhan's wedding to her Italian count a glamorous event with much love and rejoicing.
The week that followed became a special time as Diego indulged Cassandra in a tour of the city's galleries, the exclusive jewellery boutiques, with leisurely lunches in one trendy trattoria or another. At night they visited a theatre, or lingered over dinner.
And made love with a passion that was both evocatively sensual and intensely primitive.
They flew in to Sydney three days before their own wedding was scheduled to take place. Days which merged one into the other as Cassandra ran a final check with the dressmaker, the florist, caught up with Cameron, and organised the last remaining items from her apartment to Diego's home.
Sunday dawned bright and clear, and within hours the last-minute touches were being made by various people employed to ensure every detail represented perfection.
Gardeners put finishing touches to the grounds, and florists lined the gazebo with white orchids. An altar was set ready for the marriage celebrant, and the caterers moved into the kitchen.
Cameron arrived ahead of the guests, and Cassandra accepted his careful hug minutes before they were due to emerge onto the red-carpeted aisle that led to the gazebo.
âNervous?'
âJust a little.'
âDon't be,' he reassured, and she offered a shaky smile as the music began.
Diego stood waiting for her at the altar, and Cassandra's heart skipped a beat as he turned to watch her walk towards him.
Everything faded, and there was only the man.
Tall, dark and attractive, resplendent in a superbly tailored suit. But it was his expression that held her entranced. There was warmth, caringâ¦and passion evident. Qualities she knew he'd gift her for the rest of his life.
In an unprecedented gesture he moved forward and took her hand in his, raised it to his lips, then he led her the remaining few yards to the gazebo.
It was a simple ceremony, with a mix of conventional and personal vows. By mutual consent, they'd agreed to choose each other's wedding ring.
Jewellery design was her craft, and Cassandra had selected a wide gold band studded with a spaced line of diamonds. It was masculine, different, and one of her personal designs.
There had been a degree of subterfuge in Diego's choice, for the ring he slipped onto her finger was a feminine match of his.
âFor what we've already shared, what we have now,' Diego said gently, adding a magnificent solitaire diamond ring together with a circle of diamonds representing eternity. âThe future.'
She wanted to cry and smile at the same time, and she did both, one after the other, then gave a choking laugh as Diego angled his mouth over hers in a kiss that held such a degree of sensual promise it was all she could do to hold back the tears.
It was later, much later when they were alone, that she took the time to thank him.
Instead of booking a hotel suite, they'd opted to remain at home. It seemed appropriate, somehow, to spend their wedding night in the bed where they'd first made love.
âYou're welcome,' Diego said gently as she slid her arms high and pulled his head down to hers.
âI love you.' Emotion reduced her voice to a husky sound. âI always will.'
He brushed his lips across her forehead, then trailed a path to the edge of her mouth, angled in and took his time. â
Mi amante, mi mujer,
my life.'
A deliciously wicked smile curved her lips.
âGracias, mi esposo.'
Diego gave a husky laugh, and uttered something incomprehensible to her in Spanish.
âTranslate.'
He offered a devilish grin. âI'll show you.'
And he did.
On the edge of sleep he curled her close and held herâ¦aware one lifetime would not be enough.
Helen Bianchin
‘C
AN WE HAVE
another turn? Please.’
The noise and colour of the carnival was all around them. Loud music, laughter, childish shrieks in wonderment of the merry-go-round, the Ferris wheel … so many sideshows to capture the attention of a young child.
There were striped tents providing exciting adventure for children, booths selling candyfloss, hot dogs, and stands offering a variety of stuffed toys as prizes for knock-em-down revolving ducks.
Beauty in miniature, Nicki’s smile was to die for, her sunny nature a blessing, and Shannay caught her young daughter close in a loving, laughing hug.
Small arms wound round her neck. ‘We’re having fun, aren’t we?’
Shannay felt the familiar pull on her heartstrings for the gift of an unconditional trusting love of a child, in all its innocence.
‘One more time,’ she agreed, and paid for another ride. ‘Then we really need to leave.’
‘I know,’ Nicki capitulated sunnily. ‘You have to go to work.’
‘And you need a good night’s sleep so you can be bright-eyed at kindergarten tomorrow.’
‘So I can grow up and be clever like you.’
The music grew loud, the merry-go-round began to move, and Nicki clutched the reins attached to the brightly painted horse.
OK, so she’d graduated from university with a degree. But not so clever, Shannay mused reflectively, when it came to her personal life.
A broken marriage less than two years after vowing to love and cherish for a lifetime couldn’t exactly be viewed as
a plus,
despite mitigating circumstances.
Water under the bridge and no regrets, she assured herself silently as the merry-go-round slowed and drew to an easy halt.
‘All done.’
Shannay stepped down and lifted her daughter from the colourful horse.
Beautiful dark eyes sparkled with delicious laughter as she giggled and planted a smacking kiss on her mother’s cheek.
Nicki’s father’s eyes, Shannay reflected, and tamped down the slight tension curling her stomach at the thought of the man she’d married in haste five years ago in another country.
Marcello Martinez, born in France to Spanish parents, raised and educated in Paris, and attended university in Madrid.
Multi-lingual, attractive, sensual, charming … he’d swept her off her feet and into a life far different from her own.
She had told herself she would adjust … and she did, successfully. Or so she’d thought. But not according to his family, who had made it plain she didn’t match their élite social status.
An added complication had been the family’s favoured choice of a suitable Martinez bride … Estella de Cordova. The stunning raven-haired, dark-eyed socialite possessed impeccable credentials, stellar lineage and obscene wealth.
Something the Martinez family and Estella never permitted Shannay to forget. Or the fact that Marcello and Estella
had been lovers … a situation which continued soon after their marriage, if persistent rumour could be believed. Rumour actively fostered by some members of the Martinez family in a bid to diminish Shannay’s defences.
Seemingly irrefutable proof of Marcello’s infidelity just twenty months after their marriage was the ultimate betrayal, and following an explosive argument Shannay had moved into a hotel and taken the first available flight back to Australia.
Within a matter of weeks she’d obtained a good job in a local pharmacy in suburban Perth, leased an apartment, purchased a car … and become determinedly resolved to dispense Marcello where he belonged.
In her past.
Difficult, when his image had intruded during her daylight hours and haunted her dreams each night.
Impossible, when a persistent stomach upset had necessitated medical examination resulting in the discovery that she was several weeks pregnant.
It seemed incredibly ironic, given how desperately she’d hoped to gift Marcello a child, that confirmation of conception should occur when the marriage was already shattered, with legal dissolution a distinct probability.
The decision not to inform Marcello about his impending fatherhood continued through pregnancy, initially due to fear of a possible miscarriage, and afterwards Shannay had become so fiercely maternal, enlightening him just hadn’t been a considered option.
As a precaution, she’d covered her tracks successfully, resorting to her late mother’s maiden name and ensuring any mail directed to her arrived via a circuitous route.
Now, almost four years after fleeing Madrid, life was good.
Ordered, she elaborated mentally. She owned an apartment in a modern, upscale building in suburban Applecross, and she worked the five-to-midnight shift as a registered pharmacist not far from her home. Ideal, for it enabled her to spend the days with Nicki, and for her to also pay Anna, a kindly widow in a neighbouring apartment, to sit with Nicki each evening.
‘Can I take some candyfloss home to share with Anna?’
Nicki’s earnest expression was pleadingly angelic.
‘I promise I’ll brush my teeth afterwards.’
Shannay opened her mouth to offer the diced organic cantaloupe melon she’d stored in a small container as a snack in her backpack, only to change her mind. ‘OK.’ And refrained from adding any caution. What was a visit to a carnival without sampling candyfloss?
Nicki’s face lit up with delighted pleasure. ‘Love you, Mummy. You’re the best.’
Shannay hugged her daughter close. ‘Love you, too, imp.’ She laughed and bent low to kiss Nicki’s cheek. ‘Candyfloss it is. Then we hit the road for home.’
She lifted her head … and froze with shock as her gaze locked on two people she’d thought never to see again.
Hoping
no member of the Martinez family would ever cross her path.
What were the chances, when they resided on opposite sides of the world?
And why
here,
at a carnival camped on council park grounds in suburban Perth?
Did a heart stop beating? She was willing to swear hers did before it accelerated again into a maddened tattoo.
Recognition was clearly apparent, and with it the indisputable knowledge there could be no escape.
‘Shannay.’ There was an imperceptible pause as Sandro Martinez marshalled his expression into polite civility.
Her chin lifted as she held Marcello’s younger brother’s intently speculative gaze as it shifted to Nicki and lingered over-long, before returning to fix on her own.
‘Sandro.’ Cool,
polite …
she could do both. ‘Luisa,’ she acknowledged the young woman at his side.
She had to get away.
Now.
‘Mummy?’
No.
From the mouth of an innocent child came the one word which removed any element of doubt as to whom Nicki belonged.
Shannay saw Sandro’s mouth tighten into an uncompromising line. ‘Your daughter?’
Before she could offer a word, Nicki offered a solemnly voiced— ‘My name is Nicki, and I’m three.’
Oh, sweetheart, she almost groaned aloud. Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?
The silent accusation in Sandro’s dark eyes alarmed her, and she had no doubt had she been alone he’d have delivered a blistering no-holds-barred denunciation.
The Martinez familial ties were so strong Shannay knew there wasn’t a snowflake’s chance in hell that Sandro would remain silent.
She barely resisted the urge to gather Nicki into her arms and run, test the speed limit to the place she called home … and pack. Take a flight to the east coast and lose herself in another city.
‘If you’ll excuse me?’ she managed coolly. ‘We’re already late.’
Shannay tightened her hold on Nicki’s hand, then she turned away and forced herself to walk with controlled ease toward the exit, her back straight and her head held high.
Pride. She had it in spades. And she refused to take a backward glance as they were swallowed up by the crowd.
Could a stomach twist into a painful ball? It felt as if hers did, and the blood in her veins turned to ice as she clipped Nicki into her booster seat in the rear of her compact sedan.
‘We forgot the candyfloss.’
Oh, hell. ‘We’ll get some on the way home.’ The supermarket sold it in packets. She fired the engine and put the car in drive.
‘It won’t be the same,’ Nicki offered without rancour.
No, it wouldn’t. Oh, damn.
Dammit,
she cursed beneath her breath. If they hadn’t taken another turn on the merry-go-round …
But they had done. And it was too late for recriminations now.
Shannay headed towards her suburban apartment and went into automatic pilot as she bathed and changed Nicki, readied herself for work, then she handed her daughter into Anna’s care and drove to the pharmacy.
Somehow she managed to get through the evening, dispensing medications and offering advice to customers who sought it.