‘Please—’ she sucked in a deep breath, her eyes searching his in frantic appeal ‘—will you just listen to me?’
He gritted his teeth, hating the fact there could be any issue about this.
‘Please,’ she begged.
He couldn’t bear watching the damage already wrought by his mother’s insidious visits. Yet to forbid Skye to give voice to it put him in the same frame his father occupied—the all too dominating male, leaning over her, leaning on her. He flung himself onto his back. Lying beside her was less threatening, giving her space to express what he didn’t want to hear. His whole body was still keyed up to attack and forcing restraint was not easy.
‘I’m listening,’ he bit out.
She heaved a deep sigh. He could feel her distress at his abrupt separation from her, but he couldn’t bring himself to soothe it. Skye had to realise a wedge was being driven between them.
‘Did you know your parents’ marriage had been arranged by their families, Luc?’
His hands clenched at this harking back to a past which had nothing to do with them. ‘What they accepted then—’
‘Has a bearing on what was done to us, Luc,’ she rushed out, rolling onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow, reaching out to lay her hand on his chest, softly stroking as though trying to soothe the savage beast in him.
He said nothing.
If she needed him to listen, he’d listen. And he did listen, trying to understand how she could forgive his father enough to even consider the prospect of a meeting with him, let alone tolerate it, especially when there was not one suggestion of an apology coming for what he’d done to her.
Her guilt over separating him from his family was absurd. She had done nothing to deserve their rejection. The fault lay entirely with his parents’ prejudiced attitudes. They had to make the change.
This was Australia, not Italy, and they had made their lives here where the customs were different. If they couldn’t face up to the difference—a difference Luc had grown up with, which was part and parcel of his thinking, then let them cling to their past and lose the future he and Skye could provide!
‘I want you to go to your father, Luc.’
He closed his eyes. This was madness. For her to meet his father at all would be like walking into the lion’s den, asking to be mauled. He couldn’t let her do it. She had more than enough bad memories about his family. Adding freshly to them, connecting him to them…he didn’t want to risk that.
‘I’ve already been to him once,’ he grated out.
‘That was to tell him we were getting married.’
‘And we are,’ he stated determinedly.
She moved, lowering her body onto his, the softness of her breasts pressing into his chest, her arms burrowing under his neck, her warm breath tingling on his grimly tightened mouth. ‘I love you,’ she said with quiet fervour. ‘And I’ll marry you, no matter what.’
He opened his eyes. His hands slid over her back, up into her hair. An anguished wave of possessiveness swept through him. If they could just lose themselves in each other, make all these unnecessary issues go away…
‘I’d just like to feel that everything’s been done to…to mend fences, Luc.’
‘They aren’t our fences to mend, Skye,’ he asserted, wanting her to turn aside from them, stay where she was safe. Where they were both safe.
‘Does it matter if the move comes from you instead of your father?’
Yes, it mattered.
Her eyes probed his with a pleading intensity, wanting to find the giving that she was willing to give, yet everything in Luc resisted it. The giving should come from his father. Any softening from him would be interpreted as weakness, making them both vulnerable to attack.
‘He hurt both of us very badly, Luc, but it was in not understanding the people we are,’ she said softly.
‘I’m his own son,’ he bit out.
‘And he thought you should be like him. You’re not. Show him you’re not by not being as rigid as he is.’
‘He’ll see it as crawling back to him, wanting what he can offer,’ he argued in terse dismissal of the idea.
‘We know it’s not, Luc. It takes more strength to step over a battle-line and hold out a hand in peace than it does to keep fighting. If he doesn’t meet you halfway, then I’ll marry you whenever you want. But if he does…can we wait until after Christmas Day?’
He could see she wasn’t going to let go of this idea. It would remain brooding in her mind if he refused to do what she asked, and perhaps he’d be the lesser man for it in her eyes.
He quelled the fierce rebellion in his heart. It went totally against his grain to go cap in hand for his father’s blessing on a union which that same father had done his utmost to destroy. Even more critically, if a truce did eventuate, it gave his father the opportunity to undermine Skye’s sense of security with him.
Nevertheless, if peace of mind on this issue was needed for them to achieve a happy future together, he had to take at least one step towards a reconciliation.
If his father turned away from it…no more!
He reached up to stroke the anxious line from between her brows. ‘I’ll speak to him about Christmas Day. Okay? If there’s a positive response from him…’
She smiled. It was like sunlight bursting through clouds and his heart turned over. He didn’t know how she could be so forgiving of the past. He knew only how much he loved her.
It was the last board meeting before Christmas. Luc watched his father work it with his usual commanding authority while treating his executives with the respect they deserved. As always it was an impressive performance, not missing a beat anywhere. If he was at all disturbed by personal family issues, it certainly didn’t show.
Refreshments were wheeled in, along with bottles of champagne to toast another successful and highly profitable year for the Peretti Corporation. A festive mood took over, everyone happy to relax and socialise, the big boss playing the genial host to the hilt.
Luc wanted to walk out, turn his back on the whole scene. He’d done his job, given his end of year report, and he fiercely resented his father’s bonhomie which telegraphed perfect peace of mind, while Skye fretted over an estrangement that she thought she’d caused. The irony was sickening.
Only his promise to her kept him there. He waited, circulating with every air of confidence himself, until most of the food had been eaten and the champagne bottles were empty. When he judged his father had done all the usual shoulder-clapping, he moved in with steely resolve.