At Her Latin Lover's Command: The Italian Count's Command / The French Count's Mistress / At the Spanish Duke's Command. Susan Stephens

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      It was an unnerving prospect. Nothing she had done so far—concealing her misery at her father’s death, shouldering her sister’s upbringing and suppressing her longing for fun and freedom—had been as hard as this.

      But she loved Carlo and she loved Dante with all her heart. Misguided though it might be, she harboured a fancy in the back of her mind that if she persevered they could be a real family again. It was worth the try, worth the risk of being hurt.

      Nervous but resolved, she checked her watch and saw to her surprise that it was time to collect Carlo.

      At first, she and Dante were a little strained and false when they met him at the nursery. Their chatter was ridiculously bright and bordering on the inane. But soon she was caught up in her love for her child and the fun of seeing the world through his eyes.

      ‘Dat’s Mummy,’ he said proudly, presenting her with a painting consisting entirely of muddied splodges. ‘Mummy on de floor.’

      ‘It’s lovely!’ she enthused, spotting a small smear of blue—presumably her—in the middle of the brown swirls. ‘What am I doing on the floor?’

      ‘Larfing,’ Carlo said with a giggle and she swept him into her arms. ‘Mummy larfs lots,’ he told his father. ‘Mummy loves me lots. I love Mummy.’

      And she was subjected to an affectionate stranglehold. The ice had been broken and Carlo had confirmed the fact that she adored him.

      From that moment on, gradually Dante and she grew more natural and spontaneous in their reactions and the atmosphere between them eased.

      And their togetherness had a sweet poignancy that was not lost on her. Dante—at the moment—was playing at happy families. She was doing it for real.

      By the evening, her emotions were in a tangle. She had loved every minute of her time with Dante and her beloved son. And wished it could be like this all the time because in this make-believe world there were no nightmares, no accusations of infidelity and no lack of love.

      Instead, there was fun, laughter and affection. And lovely silly games, she thought in amusement as Dante plotted to ‘chase Mummy’ with Carlo, and began to stalk towards her menacingly.

      ‘No, help! Help!’ she squealed.

      She had let her hair down, literally, and her white-blonde mane streamed out behind her as she dashed barefooted through the hall with Dante and a delighted Carlo in hot pursuit.

      Pretending to trip over her flowing silk skirt, she allowed herself to be caught and they all collapsed in a laughing heap on the soft Persian rug.

      Carlo flung his arms around her neck in his trademark stranglehold. ‘I ’ove you, Mummy.’

      ‘I love you too, sweetheart,’ she said tenderly, giving him a kiss.

      ‘Mummy’s pretty,’ he said proudly, pulling experimentally at her soft coral top and accidentally revealing the lace of her strapless bra. He looked to his father for confirmation.

      ‘Yes,’ he agreed in a low tone, though she didn’t dare look at him. His voice was seductive enough. ‘Very pretty.’

      ‘Kiss Daddy!’ Carlo demanded.

      She hesitated, her eyes flicking to Dante’s where he lay winded beside her. This was a bridge too far. Hastily she busied herself with sliding her narrow shoulder straps into place and wriggling the top back down to cover the soft skin of her exposed midriff.

      ‘Kiss Daddy!’ Carlo repeated, his face puckering anxiously.

      She managed to smile in reassurance. Dante was beautifully smooth-shaven, she thought, her heart jerking with love. And devastatingly handsome, particularly now that his bow-tie had come undone in the mêlée and his top button was undone. That, the glimpse of tanned throat and his dishevelled hair just made him more irresistible.

      Leaning forward, she kissed him briefly on the cheek and quickly withdrew, too wary of betraying her longing for more. Old habits died hard, she thought, wishing she’d hugged Dante as she’d wanted.

      ‘No!’ Carlo crossly turned her head back. ‘Like Paolo’s mummy and daddy do!’

      ‘Silly Mummy,’ Dante murmured and kissed Miranda full on the lips.

      She imagined that his mouth lingered a little on hers but then it was gone, leaving her feeling very shaky. She rose with a rustle of silk and hauled Carlo into her arms.

      ‘I think,’ she declared breathily, in case her son came up with any more intimate gestures that Paolo’s parents might have indulged in, ‘it’s time for your bath and bedtime story.’

      ‘No—!’

      ‘Yes!’ they chorused, and exchanged the conspiratorial smiles of parents the world over.

      The instinctive communication between them made her feel good. It seemed that Dante’s hostility had melted away after an afternoon and evening of sheer fun.

      A child, she thought, can reach parts that nothing else can. And her hopes lifted several notches.

      ‘I can get to the top of the stairs before you do,’ announced Dante slyly.

      ‘Can’t!’ yelled Carlo, and set off at a great pace, his face sweetly earnest in his determination, his little legs comically twinkling over the marble floor as they pretended to hurry after him.

      It was as if a band of iron was squeezing her heart as she watched him and Dante together. The two males in her life. The two people she loved above everyone else. And she wanted their love more than anything else in the entire world.

      She had to really work hard to overcome her reticence if she was to win Dante’s heart. Biting her lip, she started up after them. So many obstacles, she thought soberly, lifting her skirts and taking two stairs at a time. A mountain to climb.

      ‘I won! I won!’

      Carlo’s ecstatic face swam into her vision. A huge kiss was deposited clumsily on her knee and then a small, trusting hand slid into hers.

      ‘You were very quick,’ she praised, her voice shaky with the depths that her love could reach.

      ‘Boats,’ he declared simply, drawing her into the bathroom, where Dante, with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, was checking the temperature of the water gushing from the tap.

      ‘Yes, we’ll get the boats in a minute,’ she answered.

      She knelt, like Dante, and made to help her son undress but was firmly pushed away.

      ‘I do it. I do it!’ he insisted.

      I love you so much, she thought, watching in fond amusement as he struggled with his clothes. She glanced at Dante and her heart stopped for a moment. There was such adoration in his eyes for Carlo that it brought her near to tears.

      Lightly she touched Dante’s arm to show that she felt the same. When he looked at her it seemed that his eyes softened and warmed like dark, swirling chocolate. Her heart raced. He wanted to love her, СКАЧАТЬ