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His certainty was contagious, and it fired in her blood. “Thank you.”
He kissed the tip of her nose.
“Write down what you want me to agree to, and I will sign it.”
She arched a brow with disbelief. “What if it’s manifestly unreasonable?”
“For example?”
“Well, for example,” she pondered thoughtfully, “If I ask you never to come to Scotland again, if I decide to leave you?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “You won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you are marrying me for the sake of our baby – and I know you don’t think keeping me out of our child’s life is a good idea.”
She swallowed, because he was right, and she wasn’t sure she liked that.
“Agape, either you think I am not a man of my word, or you believe I will not keep you happy and satisfied.” His expression one of fierce determination. “Neither is true. I am promising you now, Bella, that I will not walk away from you or our baby. And I will give you a thousand reasons to stay…”
*
Water glistened in the late afternoon sunshine, as sparkly and green as the eye could see, in all directions. Bella stared out at it, her mind exhausted by the whirlwind that had been the last twelve hours.
Marriage.
Again.
But so different to her first wedding.
Instead of all the fanfare, it had just been her and Vitalo, his personal assistant and a driver to witness the ceremony. The formalities themselves had been short and to the point – just the legal necessities, the recitation of vows she knew to be meaningless. This wasn’t about having and holding, loving and cherishing.
Theirs was a marriage based on mutual desire, and out of a need to do what would best serve their child.
Child!
Her hand curved over her stomach and a smile spread across her face. This was happening. And even though it had been unplanned, even though she’d thought she’d be single forever after her first failed marriage, she was instead looking down the barrel of married life – family life!
“The island was my father’s wedding gift to my mother,” he’d said, as his helicopter had flown in over the northern tip, showing pristine shoreline with white sand, turquoise water and verdant green vegetation scrambling up a sheer white cliff face.
As the chopper had continued its journey, she’d seen a golf course to one side – expansive and immaculately tended, several groves of fruit and what she thought might have been grape vines, a row of small houses and then, on the southern side, a sprawling mansion, terracotta in colour with rendered walls. Bright pink bougainvillea sprawled up one sun-drenched side, and a white gravel path crunched underfoot when she’d stepped out of the helicopter.
She’d worn a simple dress for the wedding – long sleeves in deference to the frigid weather in Edinburgh, but now, despite the lateness of the season, there was warmth in the Mediterranean air. Not enough to want to dip into that sublime ocean, but certainly enough to join the whisper of sunlight over her skin.
She sighed softly, spinning around and surveying the room she was in – a large sitting area with black leather armchairs that looked to be Scandinavian in design, timber floors and a huge brightly-coloured rug in the middle. Books lined one wall, but they were all in either French or Greek. She skimmed her eyes over them, regretting t
he fact she’d let her French skills go.
Spanish she could speak fluently, though.
She thought of Xavier and Ellie with something like guilt – guilt for not having told them she was pregnant, nor that she was getting married. Sophia would be even harder to explain things to.
Bella could just imagine what her younger sister would say: “You swore you’d never get married again, Bell!”
She had.
She’d sworn it until she was blue in the face, and yet… here she was. She glanced down at her wedding ring – a simple white gold band – and frowned.
