Maya Blake - Bound By His Vow - His Final Bargain / The Rings That Bind / Marriage Made of Secrets

A place this size would need an army of servants to keep it running smoothly. As they walked to the front door Eliza caught a glimpse of a huge swimming pool surrounded by lush gardens out the back. Scarlet bougainvillea clung to the stone wall that created a secluded corner from the sea breeze and the scent of lemon blossom and sun-warmed rosemary was sharp in the air. Tubs of colourful flowers dotted the cobblestone courtyard and a wrought iron trellis of wisteria created a scented canopy that led to a massive marble fountain.

A housekeeper opened the front door even before they got there and greeted them in Italian. ‘Signor Valente, signorina, benvenuto— ’

‘English please, Marella,’ Leo said. ‘Miss Lincoln doesn’t speak Italian.’

‘Actually, I know a little,’ Eliza said. ‘I had a little boy in my class a couple of years ago who was Italian. I got to know his mother quite well and we gave each other language lessons.’

‘I would prefer you to speak English with my daughter,’ he said. ‘It will help her become more fluent. Marella will show you to your room. I will see you later at dinner.’

Eliza frowned as he strode across the foyer to the grand staircase that swept up in two arms to the floors above. He had dismissed her again as if she was an encumbrance that had been thrust upon him.

‘He is under a lot of strain,’ Marella said, shaking her head in a despairing manner. ‘Working too hard, worrying about the bambina ; he never stops. His wife…’ She threw her hands in the air. ‘Don’t get me started about that one. I should not speak ill of the dead, no?’

‘It must have been a very difficult time,’ Eliza said.

‘That child needs a mother,’ Marella said. ‘But Signor Valente will never marry again, not after the last time.’

‘I’m sure if he finds the right person he would be—’

Marella shook her head again. ‘What is that saying? Once bitten, twice shy? And who would take on his little girl? Too much trouble for most women.’

‘I’m sure Alessandra is a delightful child who just needs some time to adjust to the loss of her mother,’ Eliza said. ‘It’s a huge blow for a young child, but I’m sure with careful handling she’ll come through it.’

‘Poor little bambina .’ Marella’s eyes watered and she lifted a corner of her apron to wipe at them. ‘Come, I will show you to your room. Giuseppe will bring up your bag.’

As Eliza followed the housekeeper upstairs she noticed all the priceless works of art on the walls and in the main gallery on the second level. The amount of wealth it took to have such masters in one’s collection was astonishing. And not just paintings—there were marble statues and other objets d’art placed on each landing of the four-storey villa. Plush Persian rugs lay over the polished marble floors and sunlight streamed in long columns from the windows on every landing. It was a rich man’s paradise and yet it didn’t feel anything like a home.

‘Your suite is this one,’ Marella said. ‘Would you like me to unpack for you?’

‘No, thank you, I’ll be fine.’

‘I’ll leave you to settle in,’ Marella said. ‘Dinner will be at eight-thirty.’

‘Where does Alessandra sleep?’ Eliza asked.

Marella pointed down the corridor. ‘In the nursery; it’s the second door from the bathroom on this level. She will be asleep now, otherwise I would take you to her. The agency girl will be on duty until tomorrow so you can relax until then.’

‘Wouldn’t it be better for me to move into the room closest to the nursery once the agency girl leaves?’ Eliza asked.

‘Signor Valente told me to put you in this room,’ Marella said. ‘But I will go and ask him, sì ?’

‘No, don’t worry about it right now. I’ll talk to him later. I suppose I can’t move in while the other girl is there anyway.’

‘ Sì, signorina .’

Eliza stepped inside the beautifully appointed room once the housekeeper had left, the thick rug almost swallowing her feet as she moved across the floor. Crystal chandeliers dangled from the impossibly high ceiling and there were matching sconces on the walls. The suite was painted in a delicate shade of duck egg blue with a gold trim. The furniture was antique; some pieces looked as if they were older than the villa itself. The huge bed with its rich velvet bedhead was made up in snowy white linen with a collection of blue and gold cushions against the pillows in the same shade as the walls. Dark blue velvet curtains were draped either side of the large windows, which overlooked the gardens and the lemon and olive groves in the distance.

Once Eliza had showered and changed she still had half an hour to spare before dinner. She made her way along the wide corridor to the nursery Marella had pointed out. She thought it was probably polite to at least meet the girl from the agency so she could become familiar with Alessandra’s routine. But when she got to the door of the nursery it was ajar, although she could hear a shower running in the main bathroom on the other side of the corridor. She considered waiting for the girl to return but curiosity got the better of her. She found herself drawn towards the cot that was against the wall in the nursery.

Eliza looked down at the sleeping child, a dark-haired angel with alabaster skin, her tiny starfish hands splayed either side of her head as she slept. Sooty-black eyelashes fanned her little cheeks, her rosebud mouth slightly open as her breath came in and then out. She looked small for her age, petite, almost fragile. Eliza reached over the side of the cot and gently brushed a dark curl back off the tiny forehead, a tight fist of maternal longing clutching at her insides.

This could have been our child .

The thought of never having a child of her own was something that grieved and haunted her. All of her life she had craved a family of her own. Becoming engaged to Ewan when she was only nineteen had been part of her plan to create a solid family base. She hadn’t wanted to wait until she was older. She had planned to get married and have children while she was young, to build the secure base she had missed out on.

But life had a habit of messing with one’s carefully laid out plans.

There was a part cry, part murmur from the cot. ‘ Mamma? ’

Eliza felt a hand grasp at her heart at that plaintive sound. ‘It’s all right, Alessandra,’ she said as she stroked the little girl’s silky head again. ‘Shh, now, go back to sleep.’

The child’s little hand found hers and she curled her fingers around two of hers although she didn’t appear to be fully awake. Her eyes were still closed, those thick lashes resting against her pale cheeks like miniature fans. After a while her breathing evened out and her little body relaxed on a sigh that tugged again at Eliza’s heartstrings.

She looked at the tiny fingers that were clinging to hers. How tragic that one so young had lost her mother. Who would she turn to as she grew through her childhood into her teens and then as a young woman—nannies and carers and a host of lovers that came and went in Leo’s life? What sort of upbringing would that be? Eliza knew what it was like to be handed back and forth like a parcel nobody wanted. All her life she had tried to heal the wound the death of her mother had left. Of feeling that it was her fault her mother had died. Would it be the same for little Alessandra? Feeling guilty that she was somehow the cause of her mother giving up on life? Of constantly seeking to fill the aching void in her soul?

There was a sound from the door and Eliza turned and saw Leo standing there watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. ‘Where’s Laura, the agency girl?’ he asked.