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‘And then my father died. He was a prize fighter, and one night he sustained a head injury. A bleed on the brain.’
‘How old were you?’ she asked, shocked.
‘I was five and Sol was two.’
Her brain began to turn. ‘Is that why your brother chose neurosurgery?’
‘Maybe.’ He lifted his shoulders again. ‘Anyway, the same night my mother began her descent into drugs. It was slow at first, but it gathered momentum quickly. By the time I was eight I was caring for her and for my brother full-time.’
‘You were a young carer?’ she realised, wondering why she hadn’t seen it before. How had she been so blind? ‘That’s why you set up Care to Play?’
And it was why he was insisting on taking responsibility for her and for their baby. It was in Malachi’s make-up. It was who he was. The fact that it was her carrying his baby had no bearing on it whatsoever. She was nothing special to him. She never would be. She was just the woman who had fallen pregnant with his baby.
It was all finally beginning to make sense.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THEY WERE MARRIED a few days later, in the quaint chapel in the grounds of the castello. Saskia wore a luxurious cashmere dress of whisper-grey, her hair coiled artfully on her head and a handpicked bouquet of calla lilies in her hands, and her heart beat a tattoo on the inside of her chest.
She recited her vows in front of him, trying not to think too much about the words themselves, or how they related to her. And certainly trying not to listen too closely to the promises Malachi was making, in a voice so deep and clear that it had every hair on her body standing to attention.
What would it feel like to have this man standing in front of her and saying those words because he truly loved her and wanted to be with her? And not just because she was the mother of his unborn child?
She could imagine that if she listened, if she’d imagined those words truly were for her, then she would be swept up in the magic of it. She already very nearly had been.
Malachi had a way of looking at her that made her feel cherished. Wanted. Loved. She had to keep reminding herself that it was the baby he felt all those emotions for. Not her.
It wasn’t real.
But she wanted it to be. Far more than she had any right to do.
When it was time to kiss the bride she expected some brief peck on the cheek, in line with the way he’d kept away from her these last few weeks. So when he gathered her to him, his hand gently smoothing a stray lock of hair from her face, then pressed his lips to hers in a way which held such unspoken emotion and promise, she was sure she’d crack apart right then and there.
She wanted him with an intensity that threatened to overwhelm her.
She loved him.
There was no other word for it. And it hurt beyond reason that he didn’t feel the same way. That he would never feel that way.
No wonder she’d been setting herself impossible standards—it had protected her heart. Andy’s betrayal hadn’t even come close to causing her the pain she felt knowing that she loved the one man who could never love her back.
And after they’d returned to the castello, and the meal that Imelda had prepared for them with such love, she was ready when Malachi withdrew some time later, closeting himself in his study to throw himself into work—and keep away from her.
* * *
Saskia was sitting in front of the fire in her favourite room in the castello. The library. She’d read so many books over the past few weeks and tried out every chair, every window seat, every couch in the room. Suddenly, Malachi strode through the doors, seeming to fill the room with white heat in an instant.
She lowered the book onto her lap carefully and folded her hands, trying not to let them shake with the delicious surprise of it. He had been avoiding her for the last fortnight, holed up in his office, furiously working on some new business deal or other. She was certain that, had it not been for the snowstorms which had battered the region, he would have gone weeks ago, leaving her alone in the castello but for the kind and bustling Imelda.
‘The doctor has told me that you’re doing much better,’ he announced, without preamble.
Saskia looked up at him. She’d been begging him for a month now to leave the castello, but he’d refused to provide a vehicle and told her the roads were too treacherous for her to go alone. He’d made his concern for her health and that of their baby clear.
Which only made her wonder all the more about what Malachi wanted now.
Was he suggesting that she would be able to return home to the UK? Back to London? Possibly even back to work at the hospital? They would surely welcome her. In all likelihood they’d be short of staff.
‘Much better. It seems this rest has been just what I needed. The baby is fine and developing well.’
