Page 25 of Bound by Their Christmas Baby

Abby’s eyes swept shut. She had been told often enough that she was gifted, and by a variety of people, to know that it was true. That had only added to the outrage at her decision to walk away from the stage.

‘Thank you.’ It was a curt dismissal.

He blinked, as though clearing his mind of the vision of her dancing. ‘I am going into Fiamatina. Do you need anything?’

‘The village?’ she asked, a natural curiosity twisting inside her.

‘Sì.’

Abigail eyed him warily. ‘I’d like to go with you.’ It would mean a car trip with Gabe, but the chance to explore was something she didn’t want to resist. The lure of a snow-topped Italian village did something strange to her tummy.

‘Fine. If you wish,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders in the same indolent manner he’d employed the night before. ‘But I’m leaving soon. Get ready.’

Abby shot daggers at his retreating back; his high-handed manner did funny things to her tummy and knees, making her ache to run up to him and turn him around and demand that he not be so cold to her when she knew a flame was going to combust between them.

* * *

‘Get ready,’ she mimicked under her breath, rolling her big green eyes as she moved through the castle, noting details she hadn’t seen earlier. Ancient bricks that formed a vaulted ceiling in the corridors, walls that had been rendered at some point, that were now a charming mix of stone and concrete, walls that told stories. Windows framed views of the alps, snow-covered and magical, each vista like a postcard. She drifted towards one, staring out for a moment, mesmerised by the view.

Was this little slice of heaven on earth really to be her home?

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to remember the bedroom in her father’s house, the cafés she’d go to for brunch at the weekend, the sound of New York traffic and commuters, the smell of diesel and bitumen heavy in the air; it all seemed so far away.

There wasn’t time for reflection; she kept going, taking one wrong turn in the enormous castle before finding her way to the corridor that led to their bedrooms. She paused at Raf’s door, listening for noises, and smiled when she heard voices.

She pushed in without knocking and found one of Monique’s staff changing Raf’s nappy, smiling down at him with all the adoration a mother could wish from someone who was entrusted with their child’s care.

‘Good morning,’ she said, smiling. Raf turned his head. He was only young but already

strong and alert, and a big toothless smile appeared on his face, digging dimples into his cheeks.

‘Buongiorno,’ the young girl said. ‘I’m Rosa.’

She was obviously a native Italian, her accent heavy even on the single word ‘I’m’.

‘Abby.’ Abigail stroked Raf’s head, smiling back at him, before placing a kiss on his brow. ‘How did he sleep?’

‘He slept well,’ Rosa answered, lifting Raf off the changing table, cradling him to her hip. ‘And now he is going to eat. Would you like to give him his bottle?’

Guilt sliced through Abby and for a moment she wondered if she was doing the wrong thing to abandon her son, even if for only a couple of hours. Yet he seemed so happy, and she wouldn’t be long. Besides, if this was to be their home, the sooner she got to grips with their locale, the better she’d be able to make them truly comfortable here.

‘I’m on my way to Fiamatina,’ she said, shaking her head regretfully. Mother guilt, she’d felt it often, always agonising over whether she was making the right decisions for her child. ‘You’ll call me if there are any problems?’

‘Of course! Raf is a very contented baby, though. We’ll be fine.’

Abby nodded, but she was thinking of how difficult he had been in New York, how he had seemed far from content on many occasions. Before she escaped to her own room to ready herself for the trip, she reached for Raf and snuggled him close to her chest, wrapping her arms around him, pressing a kiss to his forehead and breathing him in.

This was all for him. Being here with Gabe, living in the lion’s den, that was because she knew Raf deserved what Gabe could provide.

She had to make this work.

‘I’ll be back in a few hours.’ She returned Raf to Rosa and prepared to face the morning.

There was a petulant child inside Abby who wanted to dally over getting ready but, alas, she’d never been someone who took time over her appearance. Besides, there was an excitement coiling inside her, as if she was about to set off on an adventure, to discover the village at the foot of the castle. She showered, marvelling at the heat, not only of the water but of the bathroom, as well. Underfloor warmth greeted her bare feet when she stepped out of the shower—it must have been triggered by the lights, she supposed. She dressed in a pair of jeans and a shirt, pulling on a big grey sweater and a bright pink scarf before reaching for the only jacket she’d brought, a black knee-length coat that buttoned up to her neck.

Gabe was waiting at the bottom of the enormous staircase, the elegant seating area to his left glowing with the milky sunshine from outside. As with before, in the morning light she was able to observe much more of the castle’s details than she’d been capable of doing after the strange discombobulation of the day before. The stairs were slightly uneven, worn through the middle by centuries of use. The railing was softened by touch as well, so that she slid her hands over hundreds of years of other peoples’ lives, and a shiver ran through her.

But when she reached the bottom and her eyes met Gabe’s, all thoughts of the castle and its provenance skittered from her brain. There was only him and her. Even the air seemed somewhat thin, making breathing difficult.

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