Gianni's Pride (21 page)

‘No!’

She blinked. ‘You’re being very masterful!’

‘I hope that was not a criticism, although you have to agree, I think,
cara
, that I have no problem with role reversal if the occasion requires it,’ he teased with a slow sardonic smile. ‘
Dio
, but I love it when you blush!’ he breathed. ‘I am tired of spending our nights in someone else’s bed. Tonight we will go back to London. Liam is staying with his grandmother for the weekend. We will have the place to ourselves. Then tomorrow …’ his smoky stare slid to her lips ‘… or maybe the next day we will go looking for a house in which we can put our bed.’

Miranda was fascinated by the plan. ‘Just like that.’

‘Certainly just like that. Your problem, Miranda, is you make problems where there are none.’

‘But I’m house sitting. I’m meant to be here tomorrow. People expect—’

‘Details. I will sort everything out—leave it to me. You don’t think I am able?’ he challenged.

‘I know you’re able,’ she admitted, discovering she was extremely tempted by the idea of offloading her responsibilities on to his shoulders—they were very broad shoulders.

He lifted a sardonic brow. ‘And I have a very nice bed … most capacious …’

With a smile Miranda took a step towards the door before she looked back over her shoulder. ‘What are you waiting for?’

He was at her side in an instant. She took him by the lapels and stretched up to press a long, lingering kiss on his lips. ‘Gianni, I don’t care if I spend the night on bare boards so long as I spend it with you! I can’t wait to start living the rest of my life with you.’

His eyes glowed with fierce love and possessive pride as
he looked down into the beautiful face of the woman he was going to spend his life waking up next to. ‘As my wife.’

‘As your wife.’

‘How does next week sound?’

M
IRANDA
had assumed Gianni was joking, but he hadn’t been. They had reached a compromise. It was four weeks later that they stood in the small village church where her parents had been married and exchanged their vows.

Miranda had walked the short distance to the church with her father. She made the return journey beside Gianni in the classic convertible he had arrived in with his best man, who ran behind them all the way back with Liam dressed in a pirate costume—his choice—on his shoulders.

They did not need the roof. The late September sun had shone benignly down on them. In fact the day had been perfect in every detail, the relaxed country wedding that Miranda had secretly always dreamed of having.

From the flower-filled courtyard by the stables, dressed for the occasion with zinc tubs crammed with sweet-smelling late summer roses, where their guests had drunk champagne, they had all moved to the marquee that had been erected in the orchard, led by sword-waving Liam in his pirate costume throwing handfuls of rose petals at the feet of his dad and new mum.

Miranda’s mother had taken personal charge of the décor, keeping everything simple and rustic, laying the long tables with white cloths embellished with arrangements of flowers from her garden and long strands of ivy.

The day had passed in a happy blur for Miranda, who wore a vintage dress that had belonged to her great-grandmother and a veil that Gianni’s mother had been married in. Her sister, glowing in a blue silk dress she said made her look like a barrage balloon, had stood as her maid of honour and spent the entire day smiling except for the one moment, rather to Miranda’s mystification, when she had turned to Gianni and wagged her finger, saying sternly, ‘I meant it, big boy!’

‘What did she mean?’ Miranda had asked.

Gianni had promised to tell her later but he hadn’t. There had been too many people who wanted to speak to them both, too many people who wanted to wish them well. Lucy, who had arrived looking incredibly beautiful and happy—the tall, handsome Spaniard she had in tow might, Miranda suspected, have something to do with that—had given her an especially warm hug.

As the day lengthened and the sun vanished the scene took on a fairy-tale atmosphere illuminated by strings of white light and lanterns hung from the trees. The braziers had been lit and the guests danced long into the night, long after the bride and groom had vanished.

They spent the first two weeks of their honeymoon alone in a gorgeous sugar-pink villa with breathtaking views on the Amalfi coast, before Liam arrived with both Gianni’s and Miranda’s parents and they all spent the following two weeks there.

‘So back to the real world,’ Gianni observed, sending a sideways glance towards his wife as they drove from the airport. ‘A grindstone with my name on it awaits.’

Miranda nodded. In her view any world with her gorgeous husband in it was pretty special.

‘We’re going the wrong way,’ she realised, catching sight of a sign on the small road they had turned onto.

‘I wondered when you’d realise. That house we never got to find—I thought we should start looking again.’

‘Now?’ said Miranda, glancing at Liam dozing in the back seat. They had taken every precaution possible to prevent his travel sickness, but a car journey straight on top of the flight seemed to be pushing their luck to her.

Clearly Gianni thought differently.

‘Seemed as good a time as any, but don’t worry, we’re here,’ he announced, turning into a gated driveway.

‘I hate to break it to you, Gianni, but this is the one we saw that first day—the one that was too big and falling down.’ A total wreck, had been his verdict.

‘You sure?’

‘Positive. They’ve done some work on the entrance and the drive, but it’s definitely the same place.’

‘Would that be the one that had ten bedrooms? Half a roof and a meadow where the lawn once was? The place with all the original features you were so enthused about and the grave dedicated to a long-dead family pet under a fig tree in the walled garden, which for some inexplicable reason made you weep.’

‘There’s no need to be nasty just because you made a mistake … and there was not half a roof. There were a few holes, admittedly, but—oh, my giddy aunt.’ She gasped as they rounded the bend in the drive and the house came into view.

‘Welcome to your new home, Mrs Fitzgerald,’ he said, bringing the car to a halt on the gravelled forecourt that had not previously been there.

She looked at him with big eyes, then back at the pristine and perfect façade, not a broken pane or patch of peeling paint in sight. ‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously,’ he said, watching her face with a smile.

‘But how—how on earth did you do all this? It was …’
She shook her head, lost for adequate words to describe the transformation.

‘I put in an offer the day we saw it,’ he revealed, enjoying the look of astonishment on her face. ‘Actually the basic structure was sound and you can achieve a lot in eight weeks.’ Especially when you had teams working round the clock.

‘It’s a miracle!’ she cried, throwing herself at him.

‘You’re the miracle, Miranda,’ Gianni said, returning her kiss with equal enthusiasm.

‘I would live in a tent with you, Gianni,’ she told him fiercely.

‘Not practical, but I’m touched.’

‘It’s such a big house, Gianni, though …’ She sucked in a happy little breath and shot him an almost shy look through her lashes. ‘Maybe a tent wouldn’t be practical. I was planning on telling you tonight, but, well … we might need another of those rooms.’

He realised what she was saying right away; his face lit up with delight. His eyes went to her stomach.

‘A spring baby,’ she said in answer to his silent question. ‘March, if my dates are right.’

‘I want a brother.’

They both turned, laughing, in the direction of the voice that came from the back seat.

‘Well, champ, you have to pretty much take what you’re given, but my motto is if at first you don’t succeed, try try again … Does that work for you,
cara mia
?’

‘Oh, Gianni,’ she said mistily. ‘I love you so much I can’t believe I can be this happy.’

‘I want to call him Spot!’

They exchanged glances. ‘Interesting choice, Liam,’ his father said, murmuring under his breath to Miranda, ‘You going to break it to him or shall I?’

‘Hush,’ she hissed back as she opened the car door. ‘He’ll
change his mind. Come on, Liam, let’s go pick out your new room.’

‘Can I pick out Spot’s room too?’

‘Yes, you can pick out Spot’s room, darling,’ Miranda promised as the little boy skipped up to his new home between his parents. At the door he turned around.

‘Will you two stop kissing?’

‘No,’ said his father, not prepared to humour his son on this point. ‘Not in this lifetime anyway,’ he added, scooping his wife up into his arms. ‘It is tradition.’

She gave a contented sigh and whispered in his ear, ‘Not in any lifetime, my love.’

Miranda had found her soul mate and she was not letting go—ever!