‘He—he…’
‘She is very protective of our son, Tino,’ Enrico put in gruffly. ‘It would have been better if you had let someone know you were bringing him out here to play football.’
‘But I did,’ said the younger man. ‘I told his nanny.’
Valentino rose to his feet with the same grace as his older brother possessed—in fact, he was the same height as Enrico, Freya noticed hazily. The same strength in his features, the same—
‘I’m s-sorry,’ she whispered.
‘No need.’ The younger man grinned. He even used the same easy care as Enrico would to balance Nicky on his arm. ‘I quite enjoyed being bowled over by my brother’s bride.’
His brother wasn’t so pleased about it. He had Freya clamped against him like a vice.
With a grim nod of his head, Enrico instructed Valentino to make himself scarce.
‘More football,’ Nicky demanded as Valentino carried him away from the bride and groom.
‘Sure, little one,’ his uncle said agreeably. ‘But first we will find a place where your mamma will not see us and want to join in.’
Freya laughed, but it was a very short laugh and actually closer to a sob.
Enrico didn’t laugh. He was frowning at the mass of curious people standing out on the terrace trying to understand what was going on.
‘Shall we go the whole way and I will put you across my knee and beat you?’ he murmured unpleasantly. ‘That way they will believe that we are both insane.’
‘Y-you don’t understand w-what…’
Air hissed from him angrily. Lightning flashes sparked from his eyes because he did understand, and he also knew whose fault it was that the incident had happened.
‘He looked like Luca—’
‘I will insult him with that observation later.’
‘I j-just saw him with Nicky, and after seeing the redhead at the church I…’
‘I have changed my mind about your excellent eyesight,’ Enrico interrupted. ‘You are really quiet stunningly blind!’
‘There’s no need to be nasty because I made a mistake!’ she choked out.
‘Your mistake, cara, is believing that the redhead and Luca are two different people!’ he raked out.
Freya’s chin shot up. Their eyes clashed. It was the first time it had happened since she arrived at the church. Enrico’s insides flipped over then took one of those steep, sinking dives.
‘What did you say?’ she breathed up at him.
‘Nothing,’ he denied tensely.
‘But y-you said—’
‘We are not going to do this here!’ he raked out.
‘We will do it right here!’ Freya insisted.
‘What—fight? Shout at each other? Give everyone up there something to really talk about, when I decide to go to hell with the whole damn thing and roll you back down on the ground for myself?’
Freya took a step back, hair flying away from her face in the light warmth of the summer breeze, arms tense at her sides crushing the fragile antique lace of her gown.
‘Explain what you just said,’ she insisted stubbornly.