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Gino's Arranged Bride
Lucy Gordon
Dear Reader,
In Gino’s Arranged Bride we once more meet Gino Farnese, the laughing charmer of Rinaldo’s Inherited Bride. But now everything in his world is different.
The lighthearted boy has gone. In his place is a bitter, despairing man, banished from his home by his unrequited love for his brother’s wife, and certain that he will never love or be happy again.
Drifting from country to country, haunted by Alex, he comes to England, where he meets Laura and her little girl, Nikki, and his generous heart is drawn to them by their need.
Nikki, who has a mild facial disfigurement, sees in him a father to replace the one who rejected her. Laura, her mother, is struggling to scrape a living and keep her daughter’s spirits up.
In devoting himself to their service, Gino finds a new reason for living. He even accepts Laura’s suggestion of marriage, for Nikki’s sake. It’s a far cry from his violent passion for Alex, but it’s contentment of a kind, and he reckons it will have to do.
But Laura won’t settle for second best. She knows that only in Tuscany will Gino find the answers he is still seeking. Yet returning to Tuscany means meeting Alex, the woman who still reigns in his heart. Laura fears Alex most of all, but until she faces her—and Gino faces her—she knows that he will never be truly hers.
Best wishes,
Gino’s Arranged Bride
Lucy Gordon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER ONE
ONE of the most beautiful men Nature ever made, Laura thought appreciatively. And I don’t just mean good-looking. Beautiful!
The young man leaning back on the park bench would have caught anyone’s attention. His shaggy dark hair was just beginning to curl. His features were lean and fine, except for his mouth which was wide and generous, sensually curved even when he was asleep.
There wasn’t a spare ounce on his tall body with its long legs, stretched out gracefully. An old jacket, worn jeans, and a day’s growth on his chin, made him look like a hobo, but a stylish hobo.
With his eyes closed, his face raised to the sun, he might have stood for a pagan symbol of physical perfection.
He’s probably got nothing between his ears, she thought, amused, but with looks like that, he doesn’t need it.
But then she thought again. There was something in his face that told another story. Heavy shadows beneath his eyes, and a fine-drawn tension about his mouth suggested a man who lived on his nerves, and who hadn’t slept properly for months.
‘Mummy.’
Laura turned to where her eight-year-old daughter was standing beside her, clutching a football, eagerly waiting for the fun to begin.
‘Sorry, darling,’ she said, turning away from the man on the bench.
‘Please let’s play a game, Mummy.’
On the first real day of spring Nikki had wanted to get out of the house and celebrate in the park. Laura had protested at first.
‘It’s not really warm enough yet.’
‘It is, it is,’ Nikki had insisted indignantly.
And it was. The weather was lovely. But Laura had another reason for being reluctant to face the world, one that she couldn’t put into words for the little girl, although Nikki understood without words.
Before leaving the house she had run a brush through her fair, generous curls that rioted in disorder no matter how she tried to control them. Her appearance told two different stories. Her hair seemed to belong to a cheerful, careless teenager, and at thirty-two she still had the slim figure of those years.
But her face had been shaped by sadness and weary patience. It was too soon for lines, but a shadow had come into her blue eyes years too soon.
What devastated her was that the same shadow was beginning to appear in her daughter’s eyes. At eight, Nikki was already losing her childish light-heartedness, for a terrible reason. And there was nothing her frantic mother could do about it.
The park was already filling up. Children were kicking balls about, adults were leaning back in the sun.
Laura recognised some of the other mothers and waved to them. They waved back, but then turned away quickly. She glanced quickly at Nikki to see if she had noticed the rejection, and found her daughter regarding her with an understanding smile.
‘It’s all right,’ she said in a confiding voice. ‘We’ll play together.’
At such moments Laura wanted to scream to the world, ‘How dare you reject my daughter? So what if her face is a little different? What harm does it do you?’
But Nikki was already darting away, deftly dribbling the ball between her feet. She seemed to have put the incident behind her.
If only I could do that, Laura thought. If only I could still believe the world will turn out to be a good place in the end, as she does.
She took a last glimpse at the glorious young man, still sitting motionless, bathed in the sun.
Not that Laura set much store by looks. Jack, too, had been handsome, with a broad, good-natured smile and an air of loving the world—until the day he walked out on his wife and daughter without a backward glance.
Nikki was still playing with her junior football, which she bounced hopefully, looking around her.
‘I don’t see anyone that we know, darling,’ Laura said. ‘Let’s just play together.’
‘You mean they wouldn’t want to play with me?’ Nikki asked.
Laura’s heart lurched, and her eyes reacted before she could stop herself. Nikki watched and understood.
‘It’s all right, Mummy.’ The little girl rubbed her face. ‘People don’t understand about this.’
‘No, they don’t understand,’ Laura said gently.
‘Was that why you didn’t want us to come here?’
Dear God! Laura thought. She’s only eight years old. She knows far too much.
She nodded. ‘Yes, because of people who don’t understand, being unkind to you.’
‘They’re not unkind exactly,’ Nikki said, speaking like a wise little old woman, ‘it’s just that they don’t like to look at me. Never mind.’
She ran a little distance ahead and began dribbling the ball, while Laura stood still for a moment, suppressing the instinct to commit murder.
But murder who? The malign fate that had caused her child to be different to others? The stupid world that made everything worse for her with its cruel, imbecilic ignorance? The unthinking idiots who couldn’t see past that damaged face to the sweet loving soul beneath.
‘Come on, Mummy,’ Nikki called.
They kicked the football around for a while, until Nikki gave an unexpectedly powerful lunge and the ball went sailing high in the air.
For a moment it seemed to hover before plunging like a stone to land right on the stomach of the young man on the bench. He awoke with a yell, clutching his middle.
Nikki had run forward until she pulled up short in front of him and stood looking at him steadily.
He looked back at her. He was holding the ball.
‘This is yours?’ he asked. He had a foreign accent.
‘Yes. Sorry.’ Nikki moved closer, positioning herself just in front of him, so that he couldn’t help but see her clearly. Her eyes were fixed on his face, watching, waiting for the moment when his glance faltered.
Where does she get the courage to do that? Laura wondered.
‘I hope you really are sorry,’ he said, regarding her steadily and speaking in a tone of grievance. ‘I was enjoying a beautiful dream when Poof! There is a dead weight on my stomach.’
He hadn’t reacted to her face. Nikki moved again, placing herself squarely before him, grimly determined, daring her good luck not to last.
‘I didn’t mean to,’ she said.
‘Of course not.’
‘I do apologise,’ Laura said, catching up with them. ‘I hope you’re not hurt.’
He gave them both a brilliant grin that seemed to light up the whole world. Laura had never seen a grin like it. It was life enhancing.
‘I guess I’ll survive,’ he said.
‘And it’s left a dirty patch in your shirt.’
He studied the shirt which was already the worse for wear. ‘How can you tell?’ he asked plaintively.
Nikki giggled. He directed his grin at her.
Laura watched him carefully, wondering if this was really happening. Other people flinched at the sight of Nikki, or became elaborately kind, which was almost worse. This man seemed not to have noticed anything different about her.
‘I’m Laura Gray,’ she said, ‘and this is my daughter, Nikki.’
‘I’m Gino Farnese.’ He engulfed her hand in his. It was a big hand with a powerful, muscular look that suggested some kind of hard manual work. Even through the gentle handshake she could feel the strength.
Then he grasped Nikki’s hand, giving her the same courtesy as her mother, and saying solemnly, ‘Buon giorno, signorina. Sono Gino.’
‘What does that mean?’ the child asked.
‘It means, “Hello, young lady. I am Gino.”’
Nikki frowned. ‘You’re foreign,’ she declared bluntly. ‘You talk funny.’
‘Nikki!’ Laura exclaimed. ‘Manners!’
‘It’s true. I’m Italian,’ he said, not seeming to be offended.
‘Are you any good kicking a football?’ Nikki demanded, keeping him to important matters.
‘Nikki!’
‘I reckon I’m pretty useful,’ he said, adding warily, ‘as long as my opponent doesn’t get too rough.’
She bounded away, calling to him, ‘Come on, come on!’
‘I apologise,’ Laura said helplessly.
He gave his life-enhancing grin again. ‘Don’t worry. I’m on my guard against further assaults from your ferocious offspring.’
‘That wasn’t what I—’
But he was gone, dancing around the ball. He really was skilled, Laura thought. Not every man could have kicked it here and there, never too hard, just far enough to make her work for it. And it all looked natural.
Smiling, Laura took his place on the bench, almost tripping over a suitcase that stood beside it.
It was shabby, like the rest of him. His clothes looked as though he’d spent several nights sleeping in them, and the suitcase had a hole in the corner.
