She needed a hug and could only think of one person whose arms would fit round her so perfectly, but Rafe was in Italy.
Guilt ripped through her. She’d been instrumental in exposing Enzo’s step-bother and laying charges against him. All she could assume from that was neither of them had forgiven her for exposing a member of their family as a fraudster and criminal. Would Rafe continue with his takeover bid? How could she expect comfort from him when she’d caused his family so much grief?
The throbbing in her temple increased.
As for her day of pampering at the spa? Oh, goodness she had enjoyed it and felt wonderful for the rest of the day, until, that was, she discovered Rafe had left without a word to her.
Loneliness was a new and unpleasant experience for Samantha, and since learning from the inspector that Rafe had returned to Italy with Enzo the day after they’d all gathered in his office, loneliness had stalked every waking second and intruded into her dreams. She didn’t like it. Not one bit.
She spent Christmas day listening to the carol singing on the radio rather than get involved in the mushy seasonal films on the television, and she’d driven herself mad wandering round the house unable to settle anywhere or concentrate long enough to achieve anything constructive. She simply had to get out of the house. She didn’t care what day it was, escape was essential. The further away the better. Preferably abroad. Since that wasn’t an option she’d plump for the beach.
The beach.
Never mind a December gale was blowing; walking on the beach always comforted her. Without a second thought, energised now, she shot through the house, turning off lights, collecting her bag, coat and car keys and slammed the front door behind her.
Fifty minutes later, with the evening sun glowing golden on the waves roaring up the shore, Samantha bent down, tugged off her shoes and stood upright to see Rafe standing yards away doing the same.
“What—?”
Afraid she was hallucinating, she stretched out her hand. Perhaps there was a Santa Claus after all.
“I saw you leave and followed you. What else could I do?”
He didn’t move, and the glare of the low-slung sun in the sky created deep shadows across his face. She wanted to run into his arms. Her feet refused to move.
“I thought you’d still be in Italy.”
“Why?”
One word, and yet Samantha knew there was much more hanging on it than the simple query.
“Y-your family. It’s Christmas—,” she stammered. “They must be upset with me because I refused to drop the charges against Adrian.”
“You know they were well aware of Adrian’s true character long before you were born. Why would they be upset with you? Did you falsify records, alter a will, embezzle a fortune that belonged to someone else?”
When she shook her head, he moved a step closer his hand-tooled shoes swinging precariously on the end of his fingers.
“All the more reason, I’d have thought. If they already knew what he was like they could’ve taken action against him but never did, so…” She didn’t get the chance to say more. With a roar Rafe strode forward dropped his Italian loafers on the sodden beach and wrapped her in a bear hug.
“You silly, silly girl,” he growled and silenced her with a long, drugging kiss.
She wanted to lean into the hardness of his body, sink into his arms… Instead, incensed, she struggled from his embrace. “I am not silly, or stupid,” she protested, ignoring the starburst within her chest that threatened to thump her heart right past her ribcage.
“You are both, if you do not understand it is my family who feels guilty for what one of their own has done to you. I came straight to your house from the airport, and what did I see?” This time it was Rafe who kept on talking. “I see you jump into your car, drive way beyond the legal speed limit and not slow down until you reached the shoreline. For one terrible moment I thought you were going to drive into the sea.” He clung to her, tightening his grip, and bringing his lips crashing down on hers in a punishing kiss. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“Oh, Rafe.” Along with her outrage at being called “stupid,” one of Adrian’s favourite insults, the sound of the wind and the waves vanished. The cries of the seagulls overhead failed to penetrate Samantha’s euphoria. Rafe was holding her, hugging her, the feel of his arms about her a haven against the storms lashing her life right now.
“It all got too much for me.” Samantha didn’t know whether he would understand. Why should he when sometimes she didn’t understand herself, how the power of nature — when water and land met in an infinite battle — soothed her soul-deep need to walk along the edge of the waves as they rushed up the beach, or in this case, paddle, ankle deep, in the icy water? “I needed to be beside the sea, to walk the beach.”
“Alone?”
“You weren’t there.”
****
“You weren’t there.” Her words pierced him to the core.
In three words she’d revealed her heart to him and didn’t even know it.
His proud independent Samantha, the artist who’d stood up to him, defied him, and had thrown his intimidation right back at him while at the same time she managed to sneak beneath his defences and burrow deep into his heart.
Stupid? Silly? How dare he accuse Samantha, even in jest, of being guilty of either when it had taken him so long to realise what was happening to him. Thankfully, when he’d asked her to move in with him she’d refused. Wise woman. He’d assumed the thought of making love together… No. if you’re going to rehash this, Rafe, he told himself, at least be honest about it.
He’d reacted to her refusal, loading all the blame onto her, failing to realise the true reason why he’d asked Samantha to move in when he’d never asked another woman to share even that small part of his life before.
Living together wouldn’t be enough.
He wanted it all. Picket fences, the dog and the cat, and the bambini.
His arms dropped away from her and, dumbfounded, he stepped back. Children? He wanted children with this woman, with his Samantha?
“What?” Apprehension darkened her eyes and her hands fell to her side. “What’s the matter?”
Shock blocked the words he wanted to say. Only shock could explain the buzzing in his ears, the light-headedness, no, make that giddiness, the urge to share his discovery with the world.
Overcome with love for her he watched Samantha stare at him in silence, her expression changing from puzzlement to despair. Then before he knew what she intended, chucked her shoes up the beach and ran into the freezing water.
“I love you,” he called after her as though he was discussing the weather, but it stopped her headlong flight into the waves which were already dancing round her thighs.
She didn’t turn round; he wanted her to face him. He noted her rigid spine, her hands back at her side, her fists clenched so tight it was a wonder her fingers didn’t snap. Without hesitating he plunged after her.
“Didn’t you hear me?” he shouted, fighting against the waves. Still Samantha remained frozen where she stood, the water swirling and the material of her skirt clinging to her legs like a second skin. “I said I loved you.”
He reached out and swung her round to face him, his words sliding back down his throat when he saw the tears streaming down her face.
He let one hand drop to his side and funnelled the fingers of his other through his hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He loved this woman more than life itself and his declaration had reduced her to tears. Never in his worst nightmare had he imagined he would hurt the woman he loved so badly. “I should have waited, courted you.” Desperation clawed at his gut. He stifled the rising panic and began again. “Will you let me court you?”
He swore, when she shook her head, and his heart broke. The pain, real physical pain almost dropped him to his knees where he stood. He thought he might die from the pain if she didn’t stop sobbing soon
The absurdity of such thoughts never crossed his mind.
The fearsome and feared businessman brought down by a woman whose head barely reached his shoulder. If his heart didn’t hurt so much he might have found it within himself to laugh.
“No.” Samantha dug in the bag still hitched over her shoulder and pulled out a paper hankie. “No,” she said again. She lifted her face and looked into his eyes, “I don’t want you to court me.”
His heart plummeted to his toes. The pain seared through him.
“I want you to marry me.” Her smile, more defiant than compliant, threatened to outshine a midsummer sun. Lifting her hand to his chest she pummelled her fist against his heart. Did she know the power she had to keep it beating or not?
“And,” she continued her smile gone now, “If you won’t, then I think it’s better if we don’t see each other again.”
She wanted to marry him? Rafe sagged with relief, waited for his heart to start beating again and sighed when jubilation replaced the pain. He wanted to laugh and shout and tell the world the woman who’d captured his heart loved him right back. How could she think he didn’t want to marry her? It was the only thing that mattered. That she marry him and share his life. He pulled her into his arms, cupped her face with both hands, and brushed his lips over hers.
“In a heartbeat. Just name the day.” Lifting her into his arms Rafe carried her out of the water and discovered they’d attracted quite an audience.
“Is she okay, mate?” A ruddy-faced man wearing a dark blue fisherman’s jumper and waders stepped forward.
“Yes,” Rafe smiled his appreciation for their concern. “There was never any danger of the lady getting into trouble. She came to the beach for a walk.”
Disbelief, like a Mexican wave, rippled through the crowd. Before he could clarify the situation, Samantha tugged at his arm. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “They were concerned and cared enough to disrupt their Christmas celebrations to act on it.”
Most of them, Rafe thought, looking at the avid expressions of the vast majority of people watching them, were disappointed the anticipated drama had fizzled out. Surely they had more exciting things to do on Christmas day than regret there’d been no major rescue on their local beach?
“If you say so.” Their spokesman nodded, and Rafe watched them leave in small groups.
“Now look what you’ve done,” he said and set her on her feet. “You’ve upset all the locals, who, undoubtedly thought you were about to walk into the water and not come back.” His heart clutched. “You weren’t were you?”
“Of course not. Now who’s being stupid? There you were accusing me of…” she faltered. “You didn’t really think I would do that, did you?”
“No, of course not,” he rallied. “But when you ran away from me, I let my temper get the better of me. I’ve never told a woman I love her before,” he added as though that explained everything.
“Oh Rafe. I didn’t run away from you, I ran from myself.” She took his hand in hers and laid it over her heart. “I don’t expect you to understand. How can you, when I’ve only just got there myself?” She reached down, picked up Rafe’s shoes and handed them to him, before collecting her own. For a moment she stood in front of him, her eyes clear, a half-smile curving her lips and her free hand beckoning him to come to her.
“After Harold, I was too afraid to trust my heart again. But you infuriated me from the beginning and I kept denying it meant anything. That is until Claire asked me why I got so mad at you all the time.” She reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes.
The sun, in a flash of fire, coloured the clouds pink, and purple and orange before it dipped beneath the horizon, leaving the sky to welcome the oncoming night.
“It took me a while to accept that I wouldn’t react to you the way I did if you meant nothing to me. From the beginning, just the sound of your voice raised my hackles.” She laughed, and the seagulls wheeling overhead screeched and flew farther down the beach. “Perhaps you are right, and I was stupid.” This time her smile became rueful. “It took me so long to realise that just sound of your voice that first time was enough to shatter my self-protective barriers. When I finally accepted you meant more to me than a casual relationship I pushed you away because I was afraid.
“I knew, because you made it plain at the time, you weren’t looking for permanence. I could never live with you as your lover or mistress, because one day you might wake up and ask me to leave.” She trailed a fingertip over his lips and he nuzzled it. “I’d always be waiting for the shoe to drop like I did as a child.”
Her shudder clawed at him. In his arrogance he’d done this to Samantha.
His heart settled again when she rested her cheek on his chest. Could she hear how she made his heart race simply by being? She was the “being” that made his world right. He stroked his hand down her back, and brushed his lips over her hair. He tasted the salt that glistened there, and waited for her to carry on.
“Although Adrian always taunted me with the fact that he wasn’t my father, I didn’t want to believe him. Some part of me always hoped he was lying, and even though, deep down, I knew the truth, I never wanted to admit to it. I needed to belong.” She leaned into him and planted a line of kisses up his neck, and down and round his jaw. “After everything that’s happened these past few weeks, what with the police and all, I needed you today and you weren’t there, so I came here to think. It was the long-time betrayal by both of them, but especially Adele’s, if that makes sense, that finally shattered me, had me fleeing for my comforter.” She indicated their surroundings. “I survived Harold’s betrayal, but yours would devastate me. I don’t think I would ever recover if that happened.”
“I give you my word, here and now, I will never betray you. I have discovered,” Rafe said, his voice rough with emotion, “you are the other half of me, and if I want to function properly, as a whole person, you will have to be by my side for the rest of my life. You complete me. I love you, Samantha. I want you to be my wife, my lover and my friend. I accepted your proposal of marriage, now I’m asking you to accept mine.”
He set her on her feet took her hand in his and knelt on the wet sand. “Will you marry me Samantha Brown?”
“I will,” she said with a simplicity that lanced straight to his heart. “In a heartbeat,” she added and dropped to her knees in front of him. Pulling his head down, she wrapped her arms round his neck, then kissed him long and hard. “Just name the day.”
When the encroaching waves and rising wind interrupted their kiss, he reluctantly broke the embrace as he became aware of her shivering. He rose, drawing her up with him but resisted the urge to hug her again.
“Come,” he said, taking her hand and helping her to her feet. Spotting his jacket where he’d dropped it, Rafe clasped Samantha’s hand and walked up the beach to pick it up. “I’ve booked a hotel suite.” He indicated the grand, colonnaded hotel overlooking the sea. “Will you come with me?”
“My car?” She looked from the hotel to her car parked at a crazy angle to the curb.
“Yes.” Rafe smiled at it, indicated his own vehicle parked right behind it. “I think we better move them before they are towed away for causing an obstruction on the highway, don’t you?”
He’d booked a two-bedroom suit in the grandest hotel on the seafront and now in hotel bathrobes they lay together spoon-fashion on the floor in front of the fire, their wet clothes sent down for housekeeping to deal with.
“I don’t trust myself to keep my hands off you, Samantha, so I’ve asked reception to send up a selection of clothes for us to choose from.” His hand followed a path from her shoulder to her hip. He heard her sharp intake of breath and grinned. Chivalry only stretched so far. And he didn’t see why he should suffer this all consuming need on his own. “While we wait for them to arrive, shall we order a meal? Are you hungry?”
His own hunger must be patently obvious to her, and he wasn’t thinking about food. Dropping a kiss on the soft curve of her neck, Rafe eased away and stood. The menus… where had he seen the menus? A cold shower would be better, but he’d had two since their arrival, he didn’t think a third would bring any more relief than the others.
Not a “chintzy” sort of man, Rafe found himself enjoying the femininity of the décor. Although his Samantha could outdo a hedgehog in the prickles department at times, she looked so right when she walked into the suite.
He’d have to find them a new apartment… No, he’d buy her a house. One in England and another in Italy near his parents. She would fill both homes with their children, where they would grow up to know the true meaning of family. His half-formed smile slid off his face. How could he help her to trust in family unless she shared her childhood? Let him in.
And Harold. Had they been lovers?
And why did he care? But he did, and it irked him to discover how jealous he was of an unknown man. Did he have the right to ask?
Spying the menus he snatched them up and carried them back to where Samantha sat. She’d chosen a seat near the window, and he noted, the light from the streetlamps added an extra glow to her cheeks, while she watched the waves pounding against the seawall. It seemed they’d left the beach just in time. No wonder the locals had been so concerned when Samantha walked into the water.
A knock on the door broke into his reverie. He handed the menus to her and crossed to open the door. Two staff members, their arms piled high with boxes entered the room.
“Where would you like us to put them?” the taller of the two asked.
Not having given it a thought Rafe indicated the huge sofa. “That’ll be fine. He handed over a couple of notes, and closed the door after their departure.
He hadn’t heard her move, but now the scent of her shower gel, or perhaps it was her shampoo, wrapped round him. He wanted to grab her in his arms and carry her to his bed. Instead, he pointed to the boxes. “It’s Christmas day. I suggest you dig in and see what Santa has brought you.”
In the act of ripping open the first box, Samantha stopped, “Are these all for me? What about you?”
“They’re for both of us, and I shall enjoy seeing you open mine as much as I will yours.”
He wanted to see her hands on his clothes because that was the nearest they’d come to touching his skin before they married, and he’d already decided they’d marry in Italy. There, his family would embrace her, make her welcome and spread themselves across the pews on both sides of the aisle during the wedding. He’d fly all her friends over to celebrate with her.
Harold. Why was he even thinking of the man? He was Samantha’s past. She’d promised herself to him. And yet, something...
The sound of Samantha’s astonished gasp followed by a full-throated belly-laugh bounced him out of his misgivings. She held up two scraps of black lace. “I’m a white cotton kind of girl. I’d never stop blushing if I wore these.”
His blood rushed south at the image of Samantha in an almost there black lace bra and thong. “You can practice by wearing them for me, and by the time I am tired of seeing them you will not think twice about it,” he promised. She dug into another box and brought out a matching pair in flame red this time.
She peered at the labels and, mouth open, looked at him, “How’d you know my size. I can’t believe you guessed it so accurately.”
“I didn’t.” He hastened to assure her before she drew the wrong conclusions. “I looked at your jacket while you were in the shower.”
“Oh.” Her relief echoed round the room. How could she say so little and convey so much?
“I think you better go and get dressed before I succumb to the temptation of doing it for you myself.”
Pink bloomed in her cheeks and without finesse she clutched as many boxes as possible and headed for her room.
Deciding not to wait, Rafe picked up the phone, rang room service and ordered their meal before picking out some clothes they’d sent up for him.
****
On a freezing cold beach on Christmas day she’d said “yes.” Her heart stuttered for an infinitesimal second and then began racing again.
Love!
She snorted at the memory of her feelings for Harold. How could she have mistaken them for love? She’d been in love with love, desperate to get away, not knowing she’d have been exchanging one cage for another. Even in her ignorance she hadn’t experienced the freedom true love could bring to her heart until Rafe had exploded into her life. Her heart felt as though it wanted to fly, to jump around, to dance and sing.
In Rafe’s arms she felt safe, loved, cherished even. And the look in his eyes when he asked her to marry him? She’d never forget that look until the day she died. She doubted she could capture it on paper however hard she tried.
No wonder that, even after the debacle with Harold, she assumed love made a person weak. With him it would have done.
Rafe only had to look at her for her body to turn into a raging inferno of desire. An unfamiliar yearning clogged her throat. Would he regret his declaration when he discovered she was a virgin? No, he loved her. Hadn’t she just been telling herself she’d seen how deep his love for her was in his eyes?
What was she doing thinking of Harold at a time like this?
She’d said yes! What a combination, her favourite retreat, and her least favourite day of the year, and she’d said yes to the only man who’d ever matter to her.
No, not any more, Christmas day had just shot to the top of her favourite days to celebrate.
The sheer softness of the Shetland wool jumper in sea-green took her breath away. Used to her own company and reluctant to socialise except for business purposes, Samantha admitted she’d neglected her wardrobe. Something she’d better rectify fast if she was marrying Rafe Santini. Not if, she amended, when she married Santini.
Letting the bathrobe fall to the floor, she donned the flame red underwear and slipped the sweater over her head. Would she find a matching skirt or trousers? Opening more boxes she delved through the layers of tissue paper until she found a pair of black knitted silk trousers. The designer jeans and black silk shirt she’d discovered would keep for another day.
Boxes lay scattered over her canopied bed, flowered curtains were drawn against the stormy night sky beyond the wall of full-length windows and patio door out onto a small terrace, and gold coloured shades softened the light from the lamps on either side of the bed.
“Our meal has arrived. Are you ready?” Rafe’s knock on her door jolted her out of her musings.
He’d ordered a meal in. How had he known she wouldn’t want to eat out tonight? When was the last time a man had made her feel cherished? That answer was simple. Never. A kernel of warmth stole into her heart and grew. Even in these wonderful clothes Samantha had dreaded the thought of walking into the hotel dining room, well the one she’d seen anyway. According to their brochure, the hotel had two dining rooms. One all cream and white with gold trimming — and she’d bet her bottom dollar the gold was not paint — that followed on from the vast reception where chairs and small tables were artistically scattered on either side of the entry.
Absolutely beautiful, she admitted, but today, totally overpowering, and truth be told, she wanted Rafe to herself tonight. She hadn’t uncovered any makeup and didn’t bother to search now.
The touch of his fingers on her arm sent shivers up her spine. He led her to a table set with silverware and fine crystal on white linens and blush-pink napkins. Candles flickered in silver candlesticks and Rafe drew out a chair for her.
“I chose the Scottish Salmon Trio for starters. I’m told it’s smoked salmon, gravadlax tartare, seared soy sashimi, and am assured it is delicious.
The atmosphere had changed. Even the air in the room zinged with anticipation. “Thank you, it sounds wonderful.”
And she was sure it was, but over the bouquet of wine and food, Rafe’s cologne teased her senses. It wasn’t sharp or overpowering, but still it tantalized.
Suprême of Chicken with Truffled Mushroom Stuffing and a Creamed Madeira Jus, followed, but the look in Rafe’s eyes stole her taste buds and she couldn’t have described it to anyone if they asked. Thankfully no one would know.
“Would you like anything else?” Rafe leaned forward and traced a finger over the back of her wrist.
Bubbles, pins and needles exploded up her arm. Licking her lips she shook her head.
“Coffee?”
Still unable to find her voice, she shook her head again. When Rafe stood, she followed him to where a settee and two arm chairs clustered round a small central table in the lounge.
He dropped onto the settee pulling her down, spoon-fashion, beside him and wrapped his arms around her.
The uncertainty she’d glimpsed in his eyes surprised her. She shifted putting distance between them, but he pulled her close again.
The warmth of his breath when he spoke tickled her ear. “Do you remember the day after we discovered the forced entry to your studio?”
She nodded. Not in a million years had she expected him to return to that day three weeks ago. The day after they’d uncovered the true extent of Adrian’s betrayal and theft.
“Do you remember that unintentionally Claire revealed some of your past to me?”
Oh, she remembered and had thanked her stars the discussion veered off and he hadn’t pursued it. Now, it seemed, he was going to bring it up again.
“What about it?”
She waited for the familiar humiliation and was shocked when it never materialised. It was over, done with, in the past! She could do this; she could discuss it with Rafe. “What do you want to know?”
“First I want you to know something.” His lips brushed the top of her head and his hand moved up below her breasts, his thumb caressing, hypnotising. “I love you.”
She knew, he’d told her on the beach.
“From the moment I heard your voice the first time…” His voice trailed off and he slid one hand over the curve of her hip. “You got to me. At the time I thought it was because you refused to do the portrait. Now, I know it was something else. You snared my heart and I didn’t even know it.”
Had it been the same with her? Those feeling she hadn’t been able to name and therefore feared. Had she used anger to disguise her true feelings for Rafe?
Before Rafe, she’d been content to live alone. After Rafe; loneliness had taken up residence in her heart when he wasn’t there.
She wanted to turn in his arms, look into his eyes, but waited knowing that her confession could cost her everything.
“Whatever you tell me won’t make any difference to my feeling for you.”
Rafe’s words jolted her out of her growing despondency. If she hadn’t been good enough for Harold, wouldn’t Rafe be repulsed too?
“I just wanted you to know that,” he said, once more brushing his lips over her hair. “Tell me.”
“There’s not much to tell.” Heat scorched her cheeks at the remembered humiliation. “I’d been waiting at the church for half-an-hour and the minister had already threatened to cancel the ceremony ten minutes before Harold turned up.
“He came smack up the isle to me, grabbed me by the arm and marched me outside, and there on the steps of the church he told me he didn’t want a virgin for a bride. He didn’t love me and had someone else. As if that wasn’t bad enough several of the guests had followed us and heard every word. Needless to say the men laughed, whether from embarrassment or understanding, didn’t matter. They laughed at me.” She remembered the number of hands covering mouths, and the sound of sniggers from both the men and some of the women. “A few women were indignant for me.”
“I am sure not all the men laughed.” Rafe trailed a fingertip over the curve or her cheek, let it linger over her lips before slipping lower to caress the edges of the ‘v’ of her sweater.
“It seemed like it at the time, and of course Harold lapped it up until Adrian took him aside and reminded him how much he’d paid the man to marry me. Not only did he demand repayment in full but he sacked Harold from his job with the company before he’d left the church grounds.”
“Harold worked for him?”
“Oh yes! It was the classic case of groom your successor and marry him off to the daughter. Of course now we know it was even more than that. It all revolved around Adrian’s need to hide his embezzlement. No wonder Adrian demanded repayment. I didn’t know at the time but he was Adrian’s choice. The only good thing to come out of it all was Harold had to repay the financial incentive Adrian had given him to marry me.”
“The b—” Snapping his mouth shut Rafe leaned forward. “I’m sorry; you don’t have to say any more.”
She swivelled in his arms until she could look into his eyes. Not the revulsion she expected but wonderment. Her gaze dropped and she easily read his lips. “A virgin bride? You’re still a virgin?”
Thankful he hadn’t uttered the words aloud, she offered a shy smile and nodded. His gentle fingers beneath her chin prevented her from resting her head on his shoulder.
“I can only thank him for being such an idiot. To turn away such a gift Harold was even more stupid than I understood. I can hardly believe my luck. Soon, you will become my woman in every way possible. No one else’s. Never anyone else’s.”
Stunned by his reaction, Samantha gaped at Rafe. “Thank him?”
“My dear, do you know how rare it is in this day and age for a man to find a woman he can truly call his own? You offer a gift beyond price that I will treasure for the rest of my life. The moment I heard your voice I was like a man bewitched, engaged to another woman and wanting you right down to my soul.”
Trust didn’t come easily to her and yet this man had found the key and opened the lock. She’d vowed not to love again and yet, without her knowing how Rafe managed it, he’d had as no other man could or would captured her heart and owned her trust. “After Harold, I never expected to know the love between a man and a woman. You have given me so much.”
“And there is so much more to come. I will take you to the moon and the stars, and we won’t need the Space Shuttle to get there.”
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. “New Year’s Day,” he said when they both came up for air.
“What? What about New Year’s Day?”
Rafe’s smile turned to a grin as he tapped the end of her nose. “You asked me to name our wedding day. I name New Year’s Day.”
“But that’s only a week away. We’ll never manage it…” When her legs turned to rubber she could only be grateful Rafe was there to catch her. As he would be for the rest of their lives, she thought and rested her cheek against his chest.
“Will you come to Italy and marry me in the village church?”
Her confident Italian sounded a little uncertain, and Samantha didn’t like it so leaned back in his arms and looked his straight in the eye. “Anywhere, anytime, as long s we can share the rest of our lives together,” she vowed.
“Leave it to Enzo and my mother. All they are waiting for is for us to name the day.”
The End