‘A racehorse!’
‘The owner wouldn’t sell it to him, so I bought it instead.’
‘How...?’
‘It is done easily enough, when you know the right people and offer the right amount of money. But first, Halina, tell me you’re all right. The baby...’
‘The baby’s all right.’ She gave him a wan, tremulous smile. ‘I haven’t had any more bleeding and I’ve felt movement—tiny little flutters.’
‘Thank God.’
‘But why are you here, Rico? Why have you done this?’
‘Because I read about your engagement in the newspaper and I didn’t believe for a second that you wanted that. I feared your father had tricked you into coming home.’
‘He did.’ Halina closed her eyes briefly. ‘I should have known better.’
‘Cara, so should I. I will never forgive myself for jeopardising your life, your happiness, in such a way.’
‘Let’s have no more recriminations, please, Rico. There has been far too much regret already.’
‘I need to ask.’ Rico looked at her seriously. ‘Is this what you want? Because your father made it clear that, if you left with me, you would not be welcomed back by your family. It’s a high price to pay, Halina, and one I should have foreseen. Only you can decide if you wish to pay it.’
‘And what is the alternative?’ she asked, staring at him with wide, troubled eyes. ‘To marry a man old enough to be my grandfather, and live in shame and seclusion as his third wife with an illegitimate child that would no doubt be taken away from me? Rico, it’s a hard price to pay, but I pay it willingly. You need not fear that.’
‘Good.’ He took her hands, which felt small and icy, in his. ‘Then it’s time we departed.’
‘Are we going back to Rome?’
‘No,’ Rico said, his heart full of both love and pain. He finally knew what love was, and he understood it was so much more than he’d thought. It wasn’t an ephemeral emotion; it was life itself, duty and sacrifice, joy and feeling. He would do anything for Halina because he loved her. He would even let her go.
‘Rico...? Where are we going?’
He smiled at her, his heart aching with both love and loss. ‘We’re going to Paris.’
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
YET AGAIN, WITHIN the space of a week, Halina found herself on a private jet, crossing the world. She felt such an overwhelming mix of relief and sadness that she could barely begin to process the emotions. To have seen her sisters, her family, again only to say goodbye so soon. It filled her with grief, even as she acknowledged the sweet and overwhelming relief at being rescued from a fate so grim she hated even to imagine it.
But what was going to happen now? She’d asked Rico why they were going to Paris, but he’d refused to be drawn. And, instead of seeming happy to have got her back, he’d withdrawn even more into himself, seeming so quiet and sad that Halina feared the cost her rescue was to him. Were they really better off than they’d been a few days ago before her father had arrived? It felt as if nothing had really changed; Rico was still remote and she still loved him. An impossible situation.
The plane finally touched down in Paris and, as they drove into the city, Halina gazed out of the limo’s window in awe and wonder, her nose nearly pressed to the glass.
‘There’s the Eiffel Tower!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve only seen it in pictures...’
‘You’ll have time to do all the sightseeing you want,’ Rico assured her, and she turned back to him uncertainly. Why did he sound so resigned?
Realisation began to dawn when the limo turned onto a street of eighteenth-century townhouses, tall and elegant. It parked in front of number eighteen, a lovely old building covered in vines, just like in the children’s story Madeline.
‘What...?’ Halina began in a disbelieving whisper. Rico drew a key from his pocket.
‘Come,’ he said, and she followed him out of the limo and up the stairs to the front door painted a shiny red. ‘Sorry, there are quite a few stairs,’ he remarked as he fitted the key in the door. ‘But you did say the top floor.’
‘My dream...’ she whispered, feeling as if she were in one. She followed Rico into an old-fashioned lift with a grille for a door, up to the flat on the top floor. He unlocked the door and ushered her inside.
Halina stepped into the little hallway with its antique flocked wallpaper and colourful prints. She turned the corner and gazed in amazement at the living room—the squashy sofa, the grand piano, the shelves of books. It was as if he’d conjured it straight out of her head.