Page 31 of Bound by Their Christmas Baby

She arched a brow. ‘Gosh, seeing as you asked so nicely.’ The words were uttered facetiously. Still, she didn’t do as he said. Not to be ornery, but because she was truly miffed by the point he was making.

‘Not for nothing, I don’t think children get teased for having unmarried parents in the twenty-first century.’

‘We won’t know for sure, will we, because Raf will have two parents who love him, and are apparently happy together.’

Abby looked down at the ring, her own green eyes reflected in the colour of the central gemstone. Her heart stuttered with the brief consideration that perhaps he’d chosen it for that reason. But it was absurd. He’d probably just picked the first ring he’d seen when he’d walked into the shop. That it happened to be this one was a coincidence.

‘Are you having second thoughts about our arrangement?’ he asked silkily. Her heart began to race. Internally, she rejected that very idea. She knew already that living here with Gabe was the right decision—the advantages to Raf were abundantly clear.

‘No,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘But I think we should talk about what kind of marriage we’re going to have.’

He looked as if he was about to say something—to argue with her—but then he angled his head. Was it a nod? An agreement?

‘It makes sense,’ she said firmly. And, knowing what would motivate Gabe, she pulled out the big guns. ‘It’s best for Raf.’

‘Fine,’ he said, retrieving a bag from the trunk and then closing it. ‘Let’s talk.’ He spoke the word with obvious reluctance, as though it were the very last thing he wanted to do, yet at least he had conceded something.

He began to walk away from her and she followed with a frown, ring in one hand, shopping bag in the other. ‘Gabe? Where are you going?’

He stopped walking, his expression frustrated. ‘You wanted to talk?’

When she was close enough, he reached for her hand and unfurled her fingers, then slid the ring into place. His nod of approval showed that he, at least, was happy with the way it looked, even though it felt curiously heavy to Abby.

‘There is a caffè around the corner.’

‘Oh.’ She nodded, for some reason having thought they would simply speak in the car on the return trip.

‘I’m hungry,’ he said, as if that explained his choice.

He held the door to the caffè open for her, and it took Abby a moment to see past her distracted thoughts and appreciate the beauty of the place. It was charming, only ten or so seats at a few tables, with bay windows that looked out onto the ancient street. Festivity was in abundance here. A tree was set up at one end of the room and it had been decorated with burgundy ribbons and gold tinsel. A small train ran in circles around its base. Carols played overhead, Italian words set to familiar tunes, so that Abby’s mind hummed along even when her heart was cold.

‘Have a seat,’ he prompted, pointing to a table in the corner.

Abby shot him a look that straddled amusement and irritation. ‘Would it kill you to not boss me around?’

He lifted a single dark brow. ‘Probably.’

She fought the temptation to poke her tongue out and made her way to the table, sitting down at it heavily. Even the beautiful decorations she held couldn’t cheer her up. She resisted an impulse to pull them from their packaging and look at them. That would be her special reward when she got back to the castle.

She turned towards Gabe unwillingly, noting the deference with which he was treated by the couple behind the counter. They seemed completely inspired by him, nodding as he gestured to various foods, speaking in rapid-fire Italian.

He was such a native of these parts, and yet she knew he’d spent a large part of his life in Australia. He spoke English like it wasn’t his first language, still shying away from easy contractions and idioms.

He turned towards Abby unexpectedly. Their eyes locked and her pulse began to hammer hard inside her veins. She looked away, focusing her attention on a little scratch in the table top as though it were the most fascinating detail she’d ever observed.

‘You wanted to talk,’ he said, taking the seat opposite her. ‘So?’

‘Well…’ She bit down on her lip, forcing her thoughts into order. ‘Our marriage… I mean, you want people to think it’s a real marriage, but…’

‘Yes?’ he prompted, his expression droll.

‘It won’t be.’

‘No.’

She should have felt relieved by his rapid agreement, but she didn’t. Something strange twisted inside her. ‘So you don’t…expect us to…’

‘Sleep together?’ he mocked, putting her out of her misery.

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