The Millionaire Tycoon's English Rose

‘I wish…’ Celia paused. ‘I wish I knew what he was really like.’

‘You can’t tell from being with him?’

‘I know how he is with me, but-in a way, we fell in love too soon. We really knew how we felt the first evening. It took us a week to admit the truth, but it was there from the start. I sometimes wish it had taken longer, so that I could have become acquainted with the man he was before.’

‘Before love changed him?’ Hope said, understanding. ‘I’m not sure that I can be much help. I saw little of him for the past ten years.’

‘And you don’t know what his demons are?’

‘Ah, you’ve discovered those. Do they trouble him at night?’

‘Only recently. He has nightmares, and he won’t tell me.’

‘Nor me,’ Hope said sadly. ‘I know it’s happened since he returned, but as for before that-you probably know better than me.’

‘It never happened in England.’

‘He is a strange man,’ Hope mused. ‘Our family life has been full of upheaval. Justin, my eldest son, was the most affected. After him, I think it troubled Francesco most, but in a way I find hard to understand.’

‘I’ve heard Francesco mention Justin. You only found each other a few years ago, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, he was born when I was only fifteen, and stolen from me. Luke and Primo were part of my marriage, but Francesco-well.’

‘I’m not trying to pry,’ Celia said hurriedly. ‘It’s none of my business.’

‘But I think I would like to tell you. I’ve known you only a short while, yet I feel I can trust you-as I know Francesco trusts you.’

‘You can trust me,’ Celia assured her.

‘When I married my first husband in England, years ago, he already had a son-Primo-by his first wife, Elsa. She’d been a Rinucci-Toni’s sister. She died, I married Primo’s father, and we adopted Luke. It wasn’t a happy marriage, and that was my fault. I married him for safety, but safety wasn’t enough. Then I met Franco Rinucci. He was Elsa’s and Toni’s brother, and he came from Italy to visit Primo. And so we met.’

She paused, and a heavy silence filled the room.

‘And so we met…’ she repeated.

Then there was another silence.

‘And it happened?’ Celia asked softly.

Hope turned to her, smiling through her tears.

‘Yes, it happened. We knew in the first moment. We tried to fight it, for we were both married with children. He stayed with us for a week, and when he left I was pregnant. We knew we couldn’t be together. I would never have asked him to leave his wife and children, and he wouldn’t have done so. We had that one week-the most glorious of my life. But glory doesn’t last. It can’t. It shouldn’t. Nobody could live on that pinnacle for ever. I shall always have that week, and I shall always have the child who took his life from that lovely time.’

‘Francesco?’

‘Yes, Francesco. For a long time my husband thought the baby was his. He even made a favourite of him. But then he discovered the truth and threw us out. I got custody of Luke, but he kept Primo.

‘Soon after that my husband died, and Primo came to Italy to live with the Rinuccis. I came out here to see him, and that was how I met the rest of the family.’

‘Including Toni?’

‘Oh, yes. He was a fine young man in his thirties-very strong, but very gentle.’

‘Did you see Franco on that visit?’ Celia asked.

‘Briefly. His home was in Rome. He and his wife came down for a short while. I think we had five minutes alone. That was all either of us could have endured. The following day I told Toni that I would marry him.’

‘Does he know about you and Franco?’

‘I tried to tell him but he silenced me. He said that our lives would begin from that moment, and that nothing that happened before was any of his business.’

‘So he suspects but doesn’t want to know?’ Celia hazarded.

‘I think so. He has never asked questions. It’s almost deafening, the way he doesn’t ask anything.’

‘Did you marry him for safety?’ Celia asked cautiously.

‘I thought I did,’ Hope said. ‘But then a strange thing happened. I found that I had married a man who was kind and loveable-who gave everything, asked little in return, and always put my happiness before his own. I ask you, what is to be done with such a man?’

‘There is only one thing to do with him,’ Celia replied at once. ‘And that is to love him.’

‘That’s how I feel, too.’

Warmed by Hope’s trust, Celia ventured say, ‘But it’s not the same as being in love, is it?’

Hope didn’t answer for a moment, and when she did her eyes were focused on a distant place and her voice was soft.

‘As I said, I had my pinnacle and it was glorious.’ She was silent a moment. ‘Perhaps there is more to life than being in love.’

Perhaps, Celia thought. But at this moment she couldn’t believe it.

CHAPTER TEN

FRANCESCO got home late that night. Celia was already in her room, and she heard him moving about quietly, so not to wake her. Once he looked in, but she pretended to be asleep. Anything was better than forcing him to talk to her when he clearly didn’t want to.

For the first time she faced the possibility of defeat-something she’d never done in her life before. Right from the start-the child of two blind parents who’d conquered the world, she’d known that failure wasn’t an option. Aided by a sharp brain and a natural talent, she’d mastered everything that came her way. It also helped to have a bolshie nature, she acknowledged.

Whatever she wanted, she went out and fought for-sometimes with blunt weapons. All those months ago, when she’d first met Francesco, if he hadn’t come to her after the first week she would have sought him out and made him understand that they belonged together.

Throwing him out had been an act of recklessness that she’d soon regretted. So she’d made her plans- travelling to a strange country with a smile on her face, challenging all comers. The one she’d challenged the most was Francesco himself. And she’d been winning; her heart and her singing flesh told her that.

Then something had gone wrong, but exactly what it was still mystified her. It had started with his nightmare-No, before that, earlier in the evening, when Minnie had mentioned Aunt Lisa and Uncle Franco, his secret father.

On the pretext of cooking instructions she’d sought help from Francesco’s mother, who hadn’t been fooled for a moment. The two women had understood each other perfectly, and Celia had learned a good deal. But it didn’t explain the dark mood that had suddenly come down over Francesco’s mind.

At breakfast the next day she said, ‘I had a call from the society yesterday. They think they’ll have a dog for me soon. I’ll have to go and live there for a month, so that we can get used to each other, but then I’ll be all right.’

‘Good. You’ll feel happier. Let’s hope he’s as good as Jacko.’

This was how it would be from now on. His manner to her was pleasant and helpful, but no longer charged with something that made the air vibrate.

He performed his guide-dog duties perfectly, but time was moving on. Those duties would soon be over, and their best chance would be lost. She’d thrown the dice and she had failed.

Worst of all was the knowledge that she’d failed in understanding. He wasn’t sufficiently at ease with her to open up. That was the truth of it.

It’s always been about me, she thought, dismayed. I talk about being exactly like everyone else, but I talk