The Unclaimed Baby (12 page)

Bronte continued to look at him with wide uncertain eyes. ‘You didn't think you could tell me at the time?' she asked.

He gave his head a little shake. ‘I told no one, not even my family.'

She drew in an uneven breath. ‘I don't understand, Luca. Why did you push me away? You were so callous about it. You hurt me more than anyone, more than I thought it was possible to be hurt by another person.'

His expression became shadowed with regret. ‘I realise that. I wish I could change what happened but I can't. I did what I thought was best under the circumstances.'

Bronte turned away, her arms still wrapped around her middle as if to hold her hurt and anger close. She wasn't quite ready to let it go. ‘Are you going to tell me what you were doing in the US?'

It was a full thirty seconds before he answered. ‘I had an operation.'

She turned back to face him. ‘What sort of operation?'

Again he hesitated before he spoke. ‘I had an ablation done for nocturnal epilepsy.'

Bronte's forehead wrinkled. ‘You had…
epilepsy
?'

‘Not the usual type, but yes,' he said, looking grim.

She continued to look at him in stupefaction. ‘You had it the whole time we were together and said
nothing
?'

‘What could I say?' he asked bitterly. ‘Watch out in case I have a fit while I'm asleep, lose control, and knock out some of your teeth or break your nose with one of my flailing, jerking limbs? For God's sake, Bronte, I was trying to protect you. Do you know how many times I woke up to find the bedside lamp shattered or the alarm clock on the floor in pieces? I was living a nightmare each night of my life since I was twenty-seven, when I suffered what I thought was a minor head injury. I came off my mountain bike. I didn't even go to the hospital. It was a week or so later that I had my first fit. It happened in the middle of the night. I woke up…' He stopped and clawed a hand through his hair as if the memory of it was torturing him. ‘I woke up and my life as I had known it had suddenly changed. I won't embarrass you with the sordid details. From that moment on, I couldn't spend the night with anyone. I daren't fall asleep until I was alone. I couldn't trust my body.'

Bronte let out a shocked breath. ‘I don't understand why you didn't tell me. You could have saved us both all of this hurt and heartbreak if you had shared this with me.'

His brows narrowed the distance between his eyes. ‘I did it for you, Bronte, can't you see that? I couldn't live with myself if I hurt you physically. You don't know what it was like. I lost who I was. I sometimes became irritable and bad-tempered before a fit came on. Sometimes I didn't get any notice at all. It would just happen. I felt like half a man. I was terrified the press would find out. Can you imagine what they would have done with that?'

‘Luca—' Bronte moistened her lips ‘—I understand how awful it must have been, but you made it a thousand
times worse by not telling me. If you had just explained why you were the way you were I would have loved you anyway.'

His eyes took on a hollow look. ‘You don't understand what I was facing, Bronte. You can never understand. I knew the operation was an option I could take. The chance came for me to go to the States to have it done. I only had a week or so to prepare. There were risks involved, as there are with any surgery. You have to remember I watched my father become an invalid after his accident. He was completely helpless. He had to wear nappies, for God's sake. I had to spare you that. I couldn't have you tied to me in case something went wrong.'

‘But it didn't,' Bronte said, still unable to let go of her hurt at being shut out at such a crucial time in his life. ‘You ruined both of our lives by being so one-sided. You were only thinking about yourself, not me.'

‘Damn it, I was thinking about you,' he said. ‘I thought about you all the time. How I missed you. How I wanted you back, but I couldn't do it until I knew for sure I was cured.'

‘You know, Luca, it's not really about what you had done in the States,' she said tightly. ‘The issue is, you didn't trust me enough with what was going on in your life. I was your part-time plaything. The only intimacy we shared was physical. You weren't available emotionally then and you're not available now.'

His mouth flattened as his hand raked through his hair again. ‘I couldn't offer you a future I didn't even know for sure I had.'

Bronte sent her eyes heavenwards. ‘Oh, please. Give me a break, Luca. You know nothing of how rela
tionships work, of how real love works. You wanted everything on your terms and you got it. It's your fault you missed out on Ella's first year of life, not mine.'

The sound of Ella waking in the curtained section next door brought an end to the conversation. Luca muttered something about it being his turn to see to her and strode out, brushing past Bronte's shoulder as he went.

She let out a sigh as she sat back down on the crumpled bed. She looked at the depression where Luca's head had been lying on the pillow. She picked up the pillow and hugged it to her chest, breathing in his inimitable scent that lingered on the fine Egyptian cotton

B
RONTE
barely had time to shower and dress before it was announced they were beginning their descent in to the airport at Milan. Once Ella was safely strapped in her seat and sucking on a bottle of juice to protect her ears from the pressure in the cabin, Bronte had little time to speak to Luca. He was sitting in a brooding silence, his documents open again on his lap, his eyes scanning them with deep concentration.

He too had showered and changed and was now dressed in chinos and a blue open neck shirt, the light colour highlighting his tanned skin. He looked tense, however, and Bronte didn't know if it was because he was introducing his wife-to-be and his daughter to his family or because of the words they had exchanged earlier. She had thought about the operation he had said he'd had. His thick hair covered the scars but the mental scars were something she wasn't sure would ever go away. The more she thought about what he had gone through, the more she regretted how she had handled his revelation. He was a proud and very private man. No wonder he hadn't been featured in the press for the last two years. He would have done anything to keep such a personal thing away from the gossip pages.

The wall was back up between them and Bronte felt bad she might have been the one to put it there this time. She had allowed her anger and hurt to ruin everything. Maybe her touchiness was one of the reasons he hadn't told her in the first place. She had pushed and pushed him two years ago, wanting more and more from him, and he had kept closing off. It all made perfect sense now. Why he would suddenly cancel dates at the last moment, or why he would turn up on edge and tetchy, his tongue sharper than normal. A couple of days later he would be back and she had been so desperate she had capitulated as if nothing had changed. If only she had delved a little deeper. If only she had thought of reasons other than another woman, maybe none of this heartache would have happened.

She shifted in her seat and delicately cleared her throat. ‘Luca?'

He kept his place on the document with his hand and looked across at her. ‘Don't worry about meeting my family,' he said. ‘They will accept you without question.'

She bit down on her lip. ‘Actually, I wasn't worried about that… Well, maybe a little…' She took a little breath and continued, ‘Are you all right… I mean…now?'

He frowned for a long moment without answering.

Bronte ran her tongue over her lips. ‘The operation? The ablation? Was it a success?'

Nothing moved on his face, not a muscle, apart from those he needed to speak. ‘Yes.' He paused for a nanosecond. ‘Yes, it was.'

Bronte looked down at her hands. ‘I wish you had
told me…' she said softly. ‘At the time, I mean…but I understand why you didn't.'

It seemed a long time before he answered. ‘I wish I had too,
cara
.'

 

Luca's older brother was at the airport gate to meet them. Bronte could see the family likeness straight away. They were both tall and dark-haired with strong uncompromising jaws and a prominent nose and deep brown intelligent eyes.

After brief introductions were made, Giorgio took her hand and leaned forward to kiss her on both cheeks. ‘Welcome to the family,' he said in a beautifully cultured voice, not unlike Luca's.

‘Thank you,' Bronte said and watched as Giorgio's gaze went to Ella, who was kicking her legs in the push-chair and chortling.

He bent down and smiled a white-toothed smile that made his eyes crinkle up at the corners. There was a shadow of sadness there, Bronte thought, as he took one of Ella's tiny hands in his. ‘This must be my little niece Ella,' he said.

Ella smiled widely and held her arms up high. ‘Up, up.'

‘May I?' Giorgio addressed Bronte.

‘Of course,' she said, quickly unclipping Ella's push-chair straps. ‘She hates being confined in there now that she's walking.'

‘Ah, a little independent miss, eh, Ella?' Giorgio said as he gathered the child in his arms.

Luca smiled cautiously as he laid a hand on his older brother's shoulder. ‘How are you?'

Giorgio gave a could-mean-anything shrug. ‘I am
fine. Why would I not be? She left me, not me her. It's apparently what she wants. I can stall and I am doing so, but only for so long. I am fed up with it, frankly.'

Luca's smile fell away, along with his hand. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘Don't be.' Giorgio's tone was curt. ‘It's for the best.'

Bronte exchanged a short look with Luca. She saw the concern in his expression and grimaced in empathy. He came over and slipped an arm around her waist. She didn't move away but instead found herself nestling against his warm strength as they made their way out to where his brother had parked the car.

The drive to Luca's villa was interspersed with Giorgio pointing out various landmarks and points of interest. ‘Have you been to Milano before, Bronte?' he asked.

‘Just the once,' she said, chancing a quick glance at Luca, sitting silently beside his brother in the passenger seat. ‘It was just a quick stopover really. I didn't do any sightseeing. There wasn't time.'

‘You will have to get Luca to show you around,' Giorgio said, quickly and expertly checking the traffic before he merged into the next lane. ‘Our mother will look after Ella for you. She is bursting with excitement about finding out she finally has a granddaughter. She has bought so many toys her villa looks like Hamleys in London.'

Within a few minutes Giorgio pulled into Luca's villa grounds. On the outside it was much the same as it had been two years ago, but Bronte hadn't seen inside on her one and only visit in the past. Built on four levels, it had multiple bedrooms and formal and informal rooms
for entertaining. It was breathtakingly decorated inside; no expense had been spared to turn it into a villa of distinction. Priceless works of art hung from the walls, marble statues and brass and bronze figures and busts were showcased here and there. The marbled foyer and winding staircase would have been intimidating, except Luca's housekeeper—Bronte assumed it was his housekeeper—had placed various vases of late summer roses all throughout, their delicate fragrance giving the villa a welcoming atmosphere.

Bronte turned a full circle in wonder. ‘It's beautiful…'

Giorgio tickled Ella under the chin before he turned to look at Bronte with a quizzical look on his face. ‘Hasn't Luca brought you here before?' he asked. ‘When you said you'd been to Milano, I assumed you meant for a night or two here with him.'

Bronte didn't look in Luca's direction but she could feel the weight of his gaze. ‘No,' she said, keeping all trace of emotion out of her voice. ‘He didn't get around to it.'

Giorgio handed a wriggling Ella back to Bronte. ‘I had better leave you two to settle in before our mother and grandfather arrive,' he said.

‘Aren't you joining us for dinner?' Luca asked.

Giorgio shook his head. ‘No, I have a prior engagement.'

Luca's brows snapped together. ‘You're seeing someone?'

Giorgio's expression hardened. ‘Maya is divorcing me, Luca. It wasn't my idea. It's time to move on. It's over.'

‘But surely it's too early to be seen out with someone—'

Giorgio exchanged a few rapid fire sentences in
Italian. Luca's response was clipped and the air almost crackled with tension for a few tense seconds.

Bronte was glad when Ella started to grizzle. After a tersely delivered goodbye sent in Bronte's direction Giorgio left with a closing of the front door that could almost be described as a slam.

Luca's expression was thunderous as he came over to pick up their cases.

‘Is everything all right?' she asked tentatively.

He threw her a disgusted look. ‘My brother is a stubborn fool.'

‘I am sure it's not wise to get involved in someone else's relationship,' she said. ‘They have to work it out themselves.'

He looked at her for a long moment. ‘Maybe you're right,' he said on a heavy sigh.

Bronte looked around. ‘Don't you have any household staff any more?'

‘I wasn't expected back until the week after next,' he said. ‘My mother has loaned me her housekeeper until mine gets back from leave.'

She frowned as she tucked Ella closer on her left hip. ‘Is it the same one who turned me away at the door when I came to tell you about Ella?'

He gave her an unreadable look. ‘No,' he said and turned and led the way upstairs.

 

Ella was in the wrong time zone for sleep so Bronte decided to keep her up until Luca's mother and grandfather arrived. Apart from showing her around the villa earlier, she hadn't seen much of Luca. She assumed he was answering emails or returning phone calls from his large study on the second floor.

He had shown her to the master bedroom suite and Bronte was in there, thinking about unpacking with Ella sitting on the floor at her feet, when there was a soft knock at the door. A woman in her late fifties or early sixties introduced herself as Rosa, the Sabbatini housekeeper. She gushed over Ella, telling Bronte in reasonably good English about her own soon-to-arrive grandchild. Bronte liked Rosa right from the start. There was nothing haughty or judgemental about her.

‘You are a very lucky woman,' Rosa said as she expertly unpacked the first of the suitcases while Bronte chose something to wear for the evening's dinner. ‘Luca is a good man,
sì
?'

Bronte stretched her lips into a smile as she handed Ella another toy. ‘Yes, yes, he is.'

‘He loves his little
bambino
,' Rosa continued, looking down at Ella with a smile. ‘He has always loved children. Giorgio is the same.' She tut-tutted as she placed a shirt on the to-be-ironed pile. ‘Me, I don't believe in divorce, not unless one party has been unfaithful or violent or has an addiction problem. Marriage has to be worked at.'

‘Maybe they fell out of love,' Bronte offered.

Rosa gave her a frowning look from beneath her brows. ‘Love is like a garden. It needs nurturing even when it changes with the seasons. Luca won't let you go so easily. He is stubborn at times but not as bull-headed as his older brother. And then there's Nic.' She smiled indulgently as she folded another top. ‘He's a wild one, that one. It will take a very special woman to tame him.'

Bronte thought about how different Luca's life was from hers. He had a loving family, money to burn and
staff waiting on his every need. She, on the other hand, had grown up feeling the pressure of being an only child to a single mother who hadn't yet learned to untie the apron strings.

‘Would you like me to press that for you?' Rosa asked, pointing at the black dress Bronte had clutched to her chest.

‘Oh… No, I can do it.'

Rosa plucked it out of Bronte's grasp. ‘I am here to help you, Signorina Bennett. I will take Ella with me so you can shower and dress in peace. Luca told me the nanny won't be starting work until Monday.'

Bronte blinked. ‘The nanny?'

Rosa scooped up Ella off the floor and planted her firmly on one generous hip. ‘He did not tell you?'

‘No, he did not.'

‘Ah, here he is now,' Rosa said and, smiling at Luca, left the room with Ella giggling as she tried to pull at Rosa's earring.

Bronte faced him squarely. ‘What is this about a nanny?'

He closed the door of the bedroom, his expression shuttered as usual. ‘You have some objection to having help with Ella?' he asked.

‘Of course I do,' she said, glaring at him. ‘My main one being I haven't been consulted. You keep doing everything over my head.'

‘Francesca comes with very good recommendations,' he said. ‘She has a lot of experience. I am sure you will get along just fine.'

‘That's not the point,' Bronte said. ‘Why didn't you discuss it with me?'

‘What is there to discuss?' he said. ‘You had your
mother on call in Australia. I thought you would need similar backup here. You are intending to teach, remember? How do you expect to do that with Ella in tow?'

Bronte crossed her arms and paced the room. ‘I hate leaving Ella with anyone,' she said. ‘I love teaching, don't get me wrong, it's just that I never imagined I would have to sacrifice so much of my time—the time I would rather spend with Ella.' She turned and looked at him. ‘I know you feel cheated out of the first year and a bit of Ella's life but I've been cheated too. I wasn't there the day she took her first step. My mother was. I will always feel guilty about that.'

Luca came over and unpeeled her arms, sliding his hands down them so he could encircle her wrists with his fingers. ‘We have both missed out due to circumstances out of our control,' he said. ‘But we have the future to put what we can right.'

She looked up at him with uncertainty in her slate-blue eyes. ‘It would be different if we were in love.'

Luca felt his heart flinch as if someone had struck it. He schooled his features into impassivity and dropped his hands from hers. ‘I am sure we will muddle along quite nicely,' he said. ‘Thankfully, love isn't a requirement for good sex.'

‘Sex is hardly a good basis for marriage,' she said with heightened colour. ‘What happens when the lust dies down? Will you find someone else to keep your needs met?'

‘That will depend entirely on you,' he said. ‘I am not a great believer in extramarital affairs. Someone always wants more than can be given. People get hurt, and not just the adults. But if you no longer want to continue a
physical relationship with me then I will have to consider my options.'

She gave her head a little toss but he saw the flash of fire in her gaze as she turned away. Jealousy was always a good sign. It might not mean she loved him the way she used to do, but it meant she wasn't prepared to share him, which was a very good start.