Page 52 of Bound by Their Christmas Baby

He smiled, but inside he felt as if she’d hit him hard. No, not her, it was life. He didn’t want his wife to be miserable; he didn’t want her to be mourning a mother she’d so obviously loved. He couldn’t fix that, though. Death was life’s most final act—what could be done to remedy it?

‘Do you…?’ Abby swallowed. ‘You must miss your mother.’

Gabe shrugged a single shoulder. ‘I miss the role she might have played in my life.’

‘It must have been so hard for you.’ Abby lifted a hand and traced an invisible circle on his shoulder, almost against her will. ‘To have seen your mother so miserable, to have known your father to be the cause…’

‘She was the cause,’ he said softly. ‘She should have seen what he was doing to her and fled. She should have taken whatever money he’d given her and left him, and started a new life.’

‘Starting a new life isn’t easy. And it sounds like your father led her on, like he led her to believe he might love her too.’

‘Yes.’ Gabe’s eyes sparkled with renewed determination. He was nothing like his own father—he had never led Abby on. In this way, they were vitally different.

‘Go to sleep, tempesta. And try to make your dreams sweet.’

And though she had a habit of creeping to her own bed in the middle of the night, he slid his arm beneath her, rolling her onto his chest so he could feel her breathing and hold her tight. He couldn’t bring her mother back to life but, with any luck, he could forestall the nightmares.

That, at least, was within his power.

* * *

Gabe stared out of his study window without seeing the vista. He was used to it and, despite the fact he had, once upon a time, thought this to be the most beautiful place on earth, he had grown accustomed to its charms now. Did that diminish it, somehow?

He had also grown accustomed to having Abby in his bed. He was used to all of her belonging to him, utterly and completely, though it had only been days since his return from Rome.

She didn’t hide how much she wanted him, and he was glad for that.

He had worried she would mistake their chemistry and marriage for love, but she seemed to understand that theirs was a transaction and only certain parts of him were on the table.

But at night, oh, how he craved her.

He doubted that need would ever fade, his appreciation for her curves and undulations unlikely to diminish with exposure.

In fact, the opposite was true. The more that he was with her, the more he wanted her. He woke up aching to pull her close, but with the sun’s rise came the reality of their situation and everything shifted between them. She pulled away from him, presenting him with a cool smile and a terse nod, showering in her own en suite bathroom, away from him, away from his touch and kiss and eyes that were hungry for more glimpses of her beautiful body.

She spent much of her time with Raf, even just reading in his room. He knew because Monique had become worried for Abby.

‘She seems distracted and tired. She doesn’t need to exhaust herself with the baby—she must have more important things to do! Weddings don’t plan themselves.’

But Abby had no interest in planning a wedding.

She had told him outright that she was happy to organise things, but that her preference was for as small a ceremony as possible, just the two of them and Raf, with a couple of domestics as witnesses. No guests, no dinner. When he’d suggested a honeymoon she’d blanched and pointed out in a brittle voice that they were already living as a married couple. Besides, she’d added with a poor attempt at a smile, where in the world could they go more idyllic than the castle?

He’d analysed the feeling low in his abdomen for days, wondering at its root cause, but now he had to admit it. He was ill at ease.

He’d brought Abigail to Italy with the belief that it would be best for her, and him, as well as Raf, and she seemed to be fading away before his eyes. She’d thrown herself into the Christmas spirit, adding little touches throughout the house, like green garlands along the staircase, the Christmas tree she’d decorated with the lone bauble, food that she baked that had an unmistakably Christmas aroma. That had been the only sign she was settling into life in Italy. That she was making her peace with being here, with him.

What had she said the day they’d argued about Hughie? He’s nice to me…

Something uncomfortable shifted inside Gabe. Nice? He wasn’t sure he knew how to be nice. He wasn’t sure he knew how to be anything Abby needed.

A knock at his door roused him from his thoughts. He turned around, expecting to see one of his staff. Only it was Abby and, as always, his body responded instantly to her appearance. His blood began to rush through him, tightening him, making him throb and ache for her anew, and his eyes ran over her hungrily, needily, desperately.

She blushed beneath his inspection.

‘Am I interrupting?’

‘Not at all.’ He indicated the seat opposite him, but she shook her head.

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