Читать книгу Modern Romance June 2015 Books 1-8 - Эбби Грин, Natalie Anderson - Страница 19

EPILOGUE

FOR TWO AND a half years Darcy and Max lived an idyllic existence, locked happily in a bubble of love and sensuality. She continued to work for him—but only when he travelled abroad and they didn’t want to be separated.

Meanwhile, Darcy set up a business as a freelance business interpreter and frequently travelled all over Europe for different assignments—which Max invariably grumbled about. Darcy ignored him. He liked to use them as an excuse to surprise her, anyway—like the time he’d appeared in Paris when she’d walked out of a meeting and whisked her off on his private jet to the romantic and windswept west coast of Ireland. They’d ended up staying in Dromoland Castle for a week...

They bought a house in Rome’s leafy exclusive Monteverde district and together made it a true home, keeping on her place in London as a pied-à-terre. Max still hadn’t taken the plunge and bought a football club, but he spent lots of time at matches, investigating various teams.

One of the things Darcy was happiest about, though, was the rebuilding of Max’s relationship with his brother Luca. It had been slow at first, but with the help of Luca’s wife Serena, whom Darcy now counted as a firm friend, the two men were now in regular contact and needed no encouragement to spend time together. Which suited Darcy and Serena fine, especially when they wanted to catch up, without their husbands doing that annoying attention-seeking thing they did.

Max’s relationship with his mother stayed strained, but he’d finally come to terms with the way she was and, together with Darcy, had managed to learn how to support her without taking on her addictions as his responsibility.

As for Darcy with her parents, she had learnt to tolerate their various love catastrophes with much more humour and less of a feeling of impending doom.

And then, two and a half years into their marriage, Darcy had walked white-faced into their bedroom one morning, holding a small plastic stick.

Max had looked at her and immediately frowned, concerned. ‘Ché cosa?’

She’d felt a very ominous tightening of her chest at the thought of his reaction and what it might to do them. This was the one thing they’d never really talked about, and when Serena had fallen pregnant Darcy had seen how Max had reacted in private—by shutting it out. So she knew this was a potential minefield for him—for the young boy who had been so hurt by his own parents.

Silently she’d handed him the plastic and watched as comprehension dawned.

He’d gone a little green and looked at her. ‘But...how?’

She’d shrugged, feeling slightly sick herself at his reaction. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never missed a pill... But I had that flu a while back...’

They’d never spoken about Darcy coming off the pill. She’d hoped with time that they would discuss it...but now it was beyond discussion. She was pregnant.

She’d watched Max absorb the news, much in the same way she was, but whereas she felt a tiny burgeoning excitement starting to grow, she feared Max might feel the opposite.

After a long moment he’d looked at her resolutely and had come to sit on the end of the bed, the sheets tangled around his naked body. He’d reached for her and pulled her down onto his lap.

Her heart had clenched to see the clear battle going on in the golden depths of those amazing eyes but she’d waited for him to speak, and eventually he’d said gruffly, ‘You know that this was never going to be easy for me...but I love you...and I can’t imagine not loving any baby of ours even if I am scared to death of hurting it as Luca and I were hurt...’

Overcome with emotion at the extent of his willingness not to run scared from this, which he might have done before, Darcy had felt tears prickle behind her eyes as she’d cupped Max’s jaw and pressed her mouth to his, kissing him gently.

‘I trust in you, Max. You who overcame adversity time and again and who survived your own parents’ woeful lack of care. You aren’t capable of giving anything less than one hundred per cent commitment and love to any baby of ours. They’ll be the luckiest child in the world to have you as a father.’

He’d looked at her, his eyes suspiciously bright. ‘And you as their mother. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.’

And now, eight months later the reality that they’d come to terms with was manifest times two!

Darcy opened tired but happy eyes to take in the scene in the corner of her private hospital room.

And she would have laughed if she hadn’t been afraid of bursting her Caesarean stitches.

Max was sprawled in a chair, shirt open at the neck haphazardly, jeans low on his hips. His hair was even more mussed than usual, his jaw stubbled. If it hadn’t been for the two small bundles carefully balanced, one in the crook of each arm, he might have looked like the reprobate playboy he’d used to be, coming home after a debauched night out.

But he was no playboy. He was a lover and a husband. And now a father. Of twins.

They’d realised that Darcy must have had twins somewhere in her family line too when they’d been informed of the news by their consultant early on in the pregnancy. Much to their stunned shock.

Max was looking at his son and daughter as if they were the most prized jewels in the world. Awed. Domino and Daisy—named after Max’s Italian grandfather and Darcy’s English grandmother. They’d asked the Montgomerys—who had become good friends—to be godparents to a baby each, and already the older couple had proved to be far more dedicated than real grandparents.

Max said now to his son, whose eyes were shut tight, ‘Dom, just because you came first it doesn’t mean anything. In fact...’ He looked at his daughter, whose eyes were open wide, and said, sotto voce, ‘We’ll pretend you came first, Daisy, hmm? That way he won’t be able to get too big for his boots...and your mamma has had a lot of drugs, so maybe we can convince her of this too...?’

He looked up at Darcy then, and smiled goofily at being caught out. Love made her chest swell so much she had to take a breath. She smiled back and love stretched between them, binding them all together for ever.

* * * * *

Read on for an extract from SHEIKH’S FORBIDDEN CONQUEST by Chantelle Shaw.