He carried her through the garden and round the side of the villa to the courtyard out front. A large black vehicle was waiting, a man dressed in black standing beside it. He opened the rear passenger door and Nico slid her into the back seat, closed the door, and a few seconds later climbed in beside her from the opposite side. He rapped on the dark glass partition that separated them from the driver and the vehicle started to move.
Nico reached across her—to strap the seatbelt over her, she assumed. But he hauled her into his lap.
‘Nico—’
He kissed her, and shamefully, wantonly, she made no effort to resist. Instead she surrendered, snaking her arms around his neck and kissing him back.
It was a hot, hungry meeting of lips, and when they finally broke apart he was breathing hard. His large hands cradled her face, his blue eyes heated and glittering. ‘Mon Dieu, I missed you.’
Marietta trembled. ‘Nico,’ she pleaded. ‘Tell me what’s going on.’
He pressed his forehead to hers, the gesture so sweet that her chest flooded with tenderness and something else. Something she was too afraid to acknowledge.
‘I don’t know where to start,’ he said.
‘Start at the beginning,’ she said softly.
He nodded, and took a deep breath. ‘The morning after the storm, when I got back to the house and found the shattered window and you nowhere in sight, it was like Julia all over again—arriving home, finding her gone... I couldn’t breathe...couldn’t think...’
Marietta’s throat ached. She laid her hand along the side of his face. ‘I’m so sorry for putting you through that,’ she whispered.
He placed his hand over hers, turned his head and kissed her palm, then tucked her hand against his chest and held it there.
‘Losing her inflicted wounds I thought would never heal, and I was determined to never feel that pain again. To never feel that sense of loss and devastation.’
He fell silent. Marietta waited.
‘You were right, chérie. I was afraid. Afraid to care for someone. Afraid to love again. But then...’ He gave her a crooked smile. ‘You came along.’
A jolt of warmth, of hope, went through her.
‘And you were right about something else,’ he said. ‘I needed to deal with my guilt—confront the past.’ He paused. ‘I went to see Jack.’
Her eyes widened. ‘And...?’
He grimaced. ‘It wasn’t easy, but we talked. Laid some demons to rest.’
‘Oh, Nico... I’m so proud of you.’
‘Don’t be.’ His mouth flattened. ‘I pushed you away, and that’s nothing to be proud of. I told myself it was the logical thing to do but it was logic driven by fear—a weak man’s excuse.’
She frowned. ‘You’re not weak,’ she declared. ‘And you’re not the only one who’s been driven by fear.’
Nico shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t have said—’
She pressed her fingers to his lips. ‘But you were right. I isolated myself, just like you did—but in a different way and for different reasons. I was afraid, too. Afraid of wanting what I couldn’t have.’
Nico took hold of her slender fingers and kissed their tips one by one. He loved this woman. When he’d walked down that garden path and caught his first glimpse of her—beautiful in a simple white top and long skirt, her glorious hair flowing loose over her shoulders—he’d thought his chest might implode.
‘And what do you want, ma belle?’
‘You,’ she said, a fierce light shining in her eyes.
He cupped her face in his hands. ‘Marietta Vincenti, will you do me the honour of letting me love you?’
Tears welled in her eyes. She placed her hands over his. ‘If you’ll do me the honour of letting me love you.’
The car stopped and he kissed her, briefly, but with enough intensity to let her know there’d be more to come.