The raw need in his voice compelled her to rise from her chair and give him whatever he wanted of her. He instantly caught her to him, one arm sweeping around her waist, one hand lifting to her face to stroke away any worry lines. His eyes searched hers with a searing intensity.
‘I love you. Don’t let anything come between us.’
The passionate plea carried the scars of their past experience, and Skye knew intuitively they’d been brought to throbbing life again by the intrusion of his family. She curled her arms around his neck and kissed him, not wanting him to feel any uncertainty about her love. That was strong and true, always had been, always would be.
They went to bed and made love long into the night.
Skye did not doubt Luc’s commitment to her for a second.
But not even the secure comfort of being this close to him could banish the sense of wrongs which still had to be righted.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘PLEASE…sit with me.’
Flavia Peretti gestured to the two deck chairs on the small back verandah where Matt had led his Nonna to watch him kick the soccer ball around the backyard. Skye had hurried out to check there was no bird’s mess on either of them before Luc’s mother sat down. She had meant to leave her with her grandson, but it seemed too impolite to refuse such a direct request.
She sat, the old deck chair creaking as she did so, making her conscious of the huge difference between her living circumstances and that of the Peretti family. Everything about the cottage was old and shabby—she couldn’t afford better—though she’d brightened it up with colour where she could. Here on the verandah, the petunias she’d potted were in full bloom, looking very pretty. A cheap little garden, Skye thought, but one that gave her pleasure.
Oddly enough, in her three visits to the cottage, Luc’s mother had made no disdainful comment on Skye’s relatively poor circumstances. Nor did she now.
‘Matteo is a credit to you, Skye.’
Spoken with warm approval.
And actually using her first name.
Which made two firsts.
It was Flavia Peretti’s third visit and she was finally thawing from polite formality. Skye smiled. She didn’t mind basking in her son’s reflected glory. It was clearly difficult for Luc’s mother to release the prejudice she had held against her son’s non-Italian girlfriend and see the woman he loved.
‘My husband…’ Flavia gathered herself to look directly at Skye, a sad plea in her eloquent dark eyes. ‘He says my invitation for Christmas Day is enough. If Luciano won’t come, bringing you and our grandson, for my sake…’ She gestured helplessly.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Peretti.’
‘No…no…you have nothing to apologise for. It is we who must make up for what was done. But Maurizio…he has his pride. The father does not go to the son, you understand.’
‘I can’t say I do understand,’ Skye said ruefully.
‘You are not steeped in our traditions.’ A deep sigh was heaved. ‘Our marriage was an arranged one by our two families. That was how it was done. Maurizio came back to Italy for me and I came to Australia with him as his bride. He has been a good husband. And as a good father, he believed he was doing right by Luciano.’
Skye shook her head, seeing nothing right in what had been done to Luc and herself.
Flavia Peretti grimaced apologetically and rushed out an explanation. ‘He did not understand the attachment to you. How could it be so when you were not one of us? To Maurizio it was a bad distraction from what should be Luciano’s duty to the family. He asked Roberto to help and it was done. You were gone.’
‘It was a terrible thing to do, Mrs Peretti,’ Skye put in quietly.
‘You were…a modern Australian girl. And—’ she shrugged ‘—not a virgin.’
A heated protest sprang to Skye’s lips. ‘That doesn’t make me a woman who jumps into any man’s bed. I have only ever been with Luc.’
‘Please…’ Hands were raised in anguished appeal. ‘I did not mean to insult you. I was trying to explain why it did not seem so terrible to Maurizio. When he learned of your pregnancy, he did make generous provision for the child so you would never be in need. In his mind, Luciano should understand all these things.’
The clash of cultures, Skye thought, wondering if there was any real chance of finding any meeting ground.
‘A son should forgive his father a mistake which was made with his good at heart,’ was the next pleading argument. ‘Can you not speak to Luciano about this?’
‘Why don’t you speak to him yourself, Mrs Peretti?’
A weary roll of her eyes. ‘He is a man. If anyone can get past his pride, it will be you, the woman he loves, the woman for whom he is turning his back on his family.’
This last statement hit Skye hard.
Luc would undoubtedly call it emotional blackmail, yet there was too much truth in it for her to dismiss it out of hand. In the end, family was family and the blood connection ran deep. It didn’t go away, not even if one turned one’s back on it. The memories were always there.
As Luc drove his Ferrari into Skye’s street, a black limousine was turning the corner at the other end of the block.
His mother!
This was the third time she’d come without making any contact with him!
He put his foot on the accelerator in a burst of frustration, instinctively responding to the urge to chase her down and demand she stop bothering Skye. Only the sure knowledge that a confrontation between them would not achieve anything made him think better of going in pursuit. He slowed the car and pulled it in beside the kerb, thumping the driving wheel in anger as he switched off the engine.
The agreed wedding day was set for one week away. It was pointless to put it off until after Christmas. His father was never going to come around to accepting their marriage. He had made no attempt to arrange a private meeting with Luc at work. A reconciliation on Christmas day was definitely not on his drawing board.
And here was his mother meddling again!
Sure she probably wanted to see Matt—he was a wonderful grandchild for her—but it was Skye she was getting at, planting whatever seeds of dissension she could. Luc felt the difference each time she’d been; worries, tension, questions when there shouldn’t be any questions.
Today had been Matt’s last day at school for the year. As Luc alighted from his car, that time factor eased some of his own tension. There was no longer any need for Skye and Matt to stay at this house in Brighton-Le-Sands. No excuse not to come and live with him at Bondi. Next year another school could be found for Matt, close to wherever they bought a suitable home—certainly a lot more suitable than this cheap little rental cottage where Skye had insisted on staying all year, clinging to her independence.