What a Sicilian Husband Wants by Michelle Smart

Author:Michelle Smart
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

WHEN GRACE AWOKE, she checked the time on her bedside clock and almost fell out of bed in shock.

Throwing the covers off, she jumped out and raced into the adjoining nursery, completely skipping the blurry-eyed, lots-of-yawning routine the morning usually brought.

The cot was empty.

Pressing a hand to her racing heart, she gnawed at her bottom lip and forced her frantic brain to calm down and think.

She checked in the small fridge she’d had placed in the corner of the room. Instead of the two made-up bottles of Lily’s milk she’d put in there before going to bed, there was only one.

Still chewing on her lip, she headed off along the corridor. Was it possible Luca had heard Lily call for her breakfast while she had slept through it? Surely not? Her bedroom adjoined the nursery, and her maternal biology was primed to hear her baby’s cries.

The door to the master bedroom was ajar. She tapped on it lightly. Getting no response, she tapped again then pushed it open.

Rooted to the floor, all she could do was stare, wide-eyed.

Luca was asleep on the edge of the ultra-king bed. Lily lay on her back next to him, bang in the middle, wearing a sleep suit Grace was certain she hadn’t been wearing when she’d put her to bed. A pile of pillows had been placed neatly along the other edge, sandwiching Lily between them and Luca. On his bedside table sat an empty baby bottle.

Heart in mouth, she swallowed away the compulsion to climb in with them, stood for an age unable to tear her eyes away.

Her presence must have disturbed him, for Luca raised his head. ‘What time is it?’

She cleared her throat. ‘Nine o’clock.’

As he sat up she noticed how careful he was not to use any sudden movements that could wake Lily. All the same, the baby stirred and kicked her little feet out.

Now fully upright, his black hair mussed, Luca reached for Lily and cuddled her to his bare chest. From Grace’s vantage point she could see the wound on his shoulder—the wound she had inflicted—was healing well, now a dark red scar. It made her stomach roll to know every time he looked in a mirror and saw that scar, he would be reminded of the time she had shot him.

At the same time fresh guilt was kicking in, her mouth ran dry as she experienced a pang of envy, not that Lily had evidently accepted him without question, but envy that he held her so tenderly.

How Grace had loved to nestle into that broad chest...

‘What time did she wake up for her bottle?’ she asked, pushing all thoughts of nibbling at his nipples and running her fingers through his black silky hair from her mind.

‘A couple of hours ago.’ He yawned widely.

‘I never heard her.’

‘She fell asleep not long after you went back to bed, but as soon as I put her down she woke up and started crying. I didn’t want her

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