Page 32 of Back to Claim His Italian Heir

‘You were Signora Santini before,’ Nico pointed out.

‘Yes, but no one ever really called me that. I barely saw anyone in the week we were married.’

Nico frowned. ‘I don’t think I quite realised that at the time. I don’t entirely remember...’

‘It’s okay, Nico.’ She leaned over to brush the back of his hand with the tips of her fingers. ‘It wasn’t just about you. It was me, too. I know we were married, wearemarried, but I think part of me was always bracing myself for you to change your mind...which was why I believed Antonio when he said I was already on the way out.’

A blaze of anger fired through him. He would definitely need to have words with his cousin. ‘But why were you? Bracing yourself, I mean?’

She shrugged. ‘Because it happened so fast. Because you’re rich and powerful and attractive as all get-out, and I’m...’ she trailed off with a shrug before finishing with one of her old laughs ‘...not.’

‘Rich and powerful, perhaps not, but attractive as—what did you say? All get-out?’

A playful smile quirked her mouth. ‘Mm-hmm.’

‘You are definitely that.’ He leaned over to tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger on her cheek, her skin soft and cool beneath his touch. Her eyes fluttered closed briefly and Nico ran his thumb along her lips as a shudder escaped her.

‘Nico...’

‘I can’t keep from touching you,’ he admitted as he traced the outline of her lips. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Mind?’ She let out an unsteady laugh, her breath hitching. ‘No.’

‘Good.’ He leaned forward, just as the door to the cabin opened.

‘Signora Santini? Your cheese and crackers.’

Nico smiled wryly even as his heart thudded in response to that simple touch. ‘It seems we are always being interrupted,’ he told Emma sotto voce, and she smiled back, her face flushed, her breathing still unsteady.

‘Thank you, Enrico,’ she said, and the attendant withdrew again, leaving them alone.

‘So,’ Nico said, determined not to be distracted again—although what a lovely distraction it was—‘we were going to get to know one another.’

‘Is that what you were doing?’ she teased, eyebrows raised, as she piled Cheddar on top of a cracker and took a large bite.

‘I suppose there are different ways of accomplishing that goal,’ he agreed wryly. And some were more pleasurable than others. ‘But for now, considering the likelihood of us being interrupted yet again, we’ll keep it to conversation.’

Her eyes danced as she brushed crumbs from her lips. ‘Pity.’

Indeed it was a pity, and he was glad—very glad—she thought so as well. It made his blood sing to think they would remedy that situation one day—or night—soon. Very soon, he hoped. ‘Indeed,’ he managed, shifting in his seat to ease the persistent ache in his groin. ‘But as for now, tell me about yourself. Where did you grow up?’

It seemed an innocuous enough question, but it was as if a veil had dropped down over Emma’s face, behind her eyes. Her expression stilled and she put down the rest of her cracker, brushing her hands before tucking them under her thighs. ‘Mainly in upstate New York,’ she said, her tone as cautious and careful as the expression on her face. ‘But I moved around a bit.’

‘Yes, I think you mentioned as much before.’ But not much else, and he hadn’t asked. He hadn’t wanted to delve into the past, either hers or his, back then. He’d simply wanted to revel in the moment, to blot out anything else.

Now he felt differently. Now he wanted—needed—to know.

‘How come you moved around?’

She shrugged. ‘That’s just the way it was.’

He leaned forward, lowering his voice, trying to keep his tone gentle. ‘You sound as if you don’t want to talk about it.’

She sighed and looked out of the window at the blaze of bright blue sky. ‘I don’t, not particularly, but I suppose you should know at least the basics.’ She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and then turned back to look at him. ‘I was taken away from my mother when I was six months old, due to neglect. She tried to get me back a year later and failed.’ She hesitated and then admitted quietly, ‘That was part of my fear, initially, and why I was reluctant to tell you about the baby. Our baby. Because I was scared you might take him or her away from me.’

‘Away from you?’ Nico sat back, his mouth agape, unable to keep the horror from his face, his voice. ‘Emma, I would never do that.’

‘I think I know that now,’ she admitted a bit shakily, ‘but considering what happened to my own mother... I was scared.’