Kate Walker - The Sicilian's Wife

“Why didn’t you ask them?” she managed, knowing that it was what he wanted her to say. Cesare’s smile was slow, almost benign, but there was something in his eyes that stopped it from being the tender response it appeared.

“They didn’t offer me what I wanted,” he said with a deliberate softness.

“And that was…?” she whispered, and watched his smile grow into a wicked grin.

“This…”

She barely had time to catch her breath before his mouth came down on hers, but it was with an unexpected gentleness that seemed to draw out her soul, take it away from her and hold it captive. And in that moment she knew that she was lost. Knew that no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, there was no way in the world that she was over Cesare Santorino.

Mama Mia!

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The Italian’s Demand

by

Sara Wood

On sale in October, #2354

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Cover

Title Page The Sicilian’s Wife Kate Walker www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Copyright

TONIGHT he was going to ask her.

The words were clear and definite inside Cesare’s head, voicing the resolve he had held to for years now.

He had been waiting for this day for ever it seemed. Six long years. Too long. It had been a wait that had tried all his patience, straining it to breaking point at times. But tonight the waiting had come to an end. Tonight Megan was going to be his.

The sound of the doorbell ringing through the house jolted him slightly, making him grimace wryly as he snatched his finger off hastily. He was risking sounding more like the police arriving with a warrant for someone’s arrest rather than a would-be lover who had waited longer then he could bear for the woman he wanted more than any other.

‘Mr Santorino!’

The housekeeper sounded flustered and confused as well she might, Cesare reflected ruefully. Normally his visits were well prepared for, notice given of his arrival long in advance. He was an honoured guest in this house, welcomed as a friend as well as a business colleague, so his arrival like this was not only out of the blue, it was also totally out of character.

‘We weren’t expecting you. Mr Ellis didn’t say…’

‘No…’

One lean brown hand came up to cut off her words, brushing aside her nervously apologetic explanation.

‘He would not have said, because he didn’t know. I didn’t tell him I was coming to England, or that I was likely to call.’

‘But…’

Mrs Moore took a small step backwards, obviously feeling that she should invite him in, then hesitated again.

‘I’m afraid Mr Ellis isn’t here. He’s visiting relatives in Scotland. There’s only Miss Megan…’

‘Ah, so Megan is home, is she?’

He was pleased with the tone he managed to use; glad to hear that he sounded both disinterested and faintly surprised. Hearing him, no one would have thought that his visit here tonight had been calculated for just this effect. That he had come to England knowing that Tom was away, and that his only daughter was in the house on her own.

‘I take it she’s back from university now then is she?’

‘That’s right. Finished her degree and everything. She got back at the weekend—on her own, surprisingly.’

‘On her own?’

No. That question had been too sharp, betraying too much of an interest and a degree of shock than was wise.

‘Yes, I thought she’d bring the boyfriend with her.’

Belatedly, the housekeeper realised that keeping her employer’s friend standing on the doorstep was not the most polite approach. Mrs Moore moved further back into the wide, tiled hallway.

‘Won’t you come inside, sir? I’m sure Miss Megan would be delighted to see you.’

Privately, Cesare took the liberty of doubting that she would be any such thing. The way he and Megan had parted the last time he had seen her, at a New Year party given by her father, he had little hope that ‘delighted’ would describe her reaction to him now. When he had resolved on this visit, he had had every confidence that he could soon overcome any initial resistance, but the mention of a boyfriend was an unexpected complication, one he should have forseen but, foolishly, had not.

‘I’ll tell her you’re here…’

‘No!’

Idiota! He reproved himself inwardly at the realisation that once again he had almost given himself away. That ‘No’ had been too quick, the lapse into his native Italian giving too much away.

Hastily he switched on a covering smile, fixing his deep brown eyes on the housekeeper’s face. It was a calculated move, one that had melted far harder hearts than hers in the past, and it had exactly the effect he wanted now.

‘Don’t announce me. I’d like to do it myself—give her a surprise.’

‘Of course. She’s in the library.’

Mrs Moore waved a hand in the direction of a door at the far end of the hall.

‘I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you. If you want my opinion she’s a little run down at the moment—far too pale and thin for my liking. She’s probably been burning the candle at both ends and not eating properly.’

‘Probably.’

It was a struggle to contain his impatience. Would the woman never go?

At last she seemed to realise that he was anxious to move and turned in the direction of the kitchen. But then just as Cesare felt some of the tension that held his muscles taut start to ease she hesitated and turned back again.

‘Should I bring in some coffee? A cold drink?’

‘I’ll ring if we need anything.’

It was the tone he adopted with difficult employees. One that demanded instant, unquestioning obedience—and always got it. It worked this time too. The housekeeper nodded, made a small, awkward movement, almost as if she was coming close to bobbing a respectful curtsey, then turned and trotted away, her heels clicking in the silent hall.