His breath hissed out from between clenched teeth. ‘If it’s making you feel like this, we shouldn’t be doing it.’
She moved her hand to the tight muscles in his jaw, resting it there lovingly as she spoke a truth they had not discussed for a long time. ‘When you saw the photographs of Roberto and the woman pretending to be me, you believed them, Luc. You believed what your father thought of me.’
‘Skye…’ It was a groan of pain, tortured regret in his eyes.
‘Maybe part of it was my going to bed with you too easily, giving in to the desire we felt. And maybe part of it was the kind of clothes I wore, the wrong image for—’ she grimaced at the term as she delivered it ‘—for a good girl.’
‘Skye, I have wished a thousand times that I had believed you and not Roberto. I can’t undo that…’
‘It doesn’t matter any more, Luc. It stopped mattering when you convinced me you really did love me this time around. And I’ll never bring it up again.’
His arms swept around her, drawing her into a possessive embrace as his eyes begged her belief. ‘You mean more to me than anything else.’
‘I know. I know,’ she repeated to assure him there were no doubts about his love in her mind. ‘You walked away from your family, for my sake. I’ll never forget you did that. But if I let this rift go on, you’ll all be suffering a far greater loss than I did. A much longer loss. And that’s not fair, Luc. Mistakes were made on both sides and I want to correct mine.’
He shook his head, still pained by her insecurities. ‘You were just you, Skye.’
‘I didn’t know any better then.’ She gave him an ironic smile, trying to lessen his concern for her. ‘I’m older and wiser now and it doesn’t hurt me to dress as appropriately as I can to please your parents on such an occasion as this. I’d like them to look at me and think…well, I won’t completely shame them as their daughter-in-law.’
‘They should be proud to own you as one of the family,’ he asserted earnestly.
‘I think that will take time. I’m not expecting much today. You shouldn’t, either. I think we should both be very diplomatic.’
He grimaced, but the tense expression left his eyes, giving way to a wry admiration. ‘You are an incredibly giving woman, Skye Sumner. And you do…beautifully. No one could possibly object to your appearance today. Not by any standard,’ he fervently assured her.
She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and smiled her sunniest smile. ‘Then I’m ready to go. Is Matt okay?’
‘Happily sorting out the edges and corners for the Harry Potter jigsaw we’re going to do together. I guess we’d better go and collect him.’
Twenty minutes later, Luc turned the red Alfa through a huge iron gateway and headed up a semicircular drive, past perfectly manicured lawns and gardens to an incredibly large and imposing sandstone mansion.
‘It’s as big as a castle, Daddy,’ Matt remarked in awe.
Was Maurizio Peretti going to be a gracious king, or a giant ogre, Skye wondered, trying desperately not to feel intimidated. Matt felt no fear at all. Once out of the car, he bounded up the front steps, eager to explore his Nonna’s home, and when a formally dressed butler opened the door, Matt looked him up and down and promptly asked, ‘Are you my grandfather?’
‘No, Matt. This is Kirkwood, who’s in charge of the house,’ Luc quickly introduced.
‘It’s a very big house, Kirkwood,’ Matt said, showing his awe.
The butler unbent enough to smile. ‘Indeed, it is, young sir.’
Skye instantly started worrying about Matt’s clothes. She’d dressed young sir in dark blue shorts and a turquoise shirt printed with white sailing boats, navy sandals on his feet. He looked gorgeous—a perfect little boy outfit, she’d thought when she’d bought it for him—but perhaps she should have chosen something more formal, more in keeping with being the grandson of Maurizio Peretti.
They were ushered into a large drawing room furnished with elegant antiques and currently dominated by the most magnificent Christmas tree Skye had ever seen—a silvery-blue tree which matched the furnishings, well over two metres high, and covered with exquisite ornaments.
Maurizio Peretti was standing in front of a marble fireplace, imposingly attired in a dark grey suit, a red silk tie possibly adding a festive touch. Flavia Peretti rose from a nearby sofa, and amazingly she wasn’t wearing black today. Her dark red dress made her look younger, as did the smile she bestowed on Matt as he rushed forward to greet her.
‘Nonna! Your Christmas tree is beautiful!’
He put so much expression into beautiful, she actually laughed. ‘I’m glad you like it, Matteo.’
‘I brought this for you,’ he proudly handed her his gift which Skye had wrapped up for him in gold paper and tied with red ribbon. ‘Happy Christmas, Nonna! It’s a picture I drew of the beach where Daddy lives.’
No holding back by Matt! He hadn’t yet learnt how to contain himself.
‘Thank you, Matteo. Now come and meet your grandfather.’ She took his hand to lead him over to her husband whose gaze had been exclusively trained on the little boy, not lifting to acknowledge Luc and Skye. ‘You call him Nonno,’ Flavia instructed.
Skye couldn’t help tensing and Luc’s hand squeezed hers so hard she knew if his father did not respond reasonably to their son, Christmas Day at Bellevue Hill would be over before it had barely begun.
Matt looked up at his formidable grandfather and without so much as a pause, brightly said, ‘Hello, Nonno. I brought you a gift, too. Happy Christmas!’
He held out his offering and Maurizio Peretti’s hand slowly reached out and took it. ‘Thank you.’ It was a gravelled rumble from his throat, which he then cleared. ‘Is it another picture you drew?’
Matt nodded. ‘It’s me playing soccer.’
‘Ah! Your father told me you’d kicked more goals than anyone else in your team.’
‘Thirty-two,’ Matt told him proudly. ‘And I got a trophy for it, Nonno.’
‘Well done!’—said with hearty approval. He opened the gift, unrolled the drawing and a smile gradually softened his hard face as Matt explained all the action in it to him. ‘I shall have this framed and put on my desk at work, Matteo. Everyone who comes in will see what a clever grandson I have.’