The Sicilian's Wife. Kate Walker
“If that was all I ever wanted I could have asked a dozen women—more—to marry me over the years, but I did not.”
“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
The Sicilian’s Wife
Kate Walker
MILLS & BOON
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Contents
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