Her Forgotten Lover's Heir

‘No! Please, don’t go!’

There was a flash of something in those uncanny eyes but this time it looked like sympathy.

‘Perhaps, doctor, you might give us some time alone together? I know there’s paperwork to complete. I’ll see you after Molly and I have spoken.’

‘Of course. Yes, an excellent idea.’ The doctor clearly didn’t mind being dismissed. Which told her he was either glad to hand her over to someone else or that Pietro Agosti was a VIP with considerable influence. The medico nodded to Molly, assured her all would be well and left the room.

Now, alone with the man who said he was her husband, her relief dissipated. But instead of towering over her any longer he reached for a visitor’s chair and sat by the bed.

‘That’s better. Now you don’t have to crane to look up at me.’

His mouth crinkled up at one corner in the smallest of smiles but this time, for reasons she didn’t understand, she felt a tug of response. Her lips twitched and her taut muscles eased a little. It was only now that she realised her shoulders had crept up towards her ears and her hands had curled into taut fists. She looked down and smoothed her hands across the bedspread.

* * *

She looked so damnably pale. Fragile in a way he hadn’t expected, even when he’d heard about her injuries. He’d come immediately, riding a wave of shock and relief at the news that she’d been found.

Something inside Pietro stretched tight and hard, tension twanging like a plucked string. His chest squeezed as he read the pain etched in Molly’s tired eyes.

One of the things that had attracted him to her was her warm, sunny disposition. Her ready smile and the way her eyes danced. Seeing her so frightened made him want to break something. Preferably the motorbike rider who’d knocked her over. Who, it seemed likely, had targeted her for her bag with its wallet and passport.

His staff was liaising with the police. If the person responsible was located, he’d pay dearly for his actions.

Pietro’s jaw tightened at the idea of Molly lying unconscious on the road. Of her waking to the horror of not even knowing her own name.

The doctor had said her memory loss might partly be due to shock. From the fall? Or from what had happened before she’d come to Rome?

Icy fingers of guilt gripped his throat.

Pietro swallowed hard. The accident or assault wasn’t his fault. As for what had happened before...

‘I’m glad you found me.’ Solemn eyes held his. ‘It’s...worrying, not knowing who you are.’

She looked so lost, yet so determined to be brave, downplaying the fear she must feel. A wave of protectiveness washed through him.

Pietro froze. He’d thought himself immune to feminine vulnerability. He’d been inoculated against it by brutal experience. But the circumstances here were different.

He reached out to grasp Molly’s hand and reassure her then stopped himself. Better to keep his distance. She looked so frail, her eyes huge in her pale face, watching him warily.

She noticed the movement but said nothing, though her brow knitted, as if she had catalogued the abortive gesture for future consideration.

It was a reminder that he needed to be careful how he proceeded. He couldn’t afford to make another mistake.

‘I can’t begin to imagine how it feels not to recall anything,’ he admitted. He half-expected her to confess it wasn’t true, that she remembered something, even just the reason she’d left on the spur of the moment for Rome. ‘But you don’t need to worry. I’ll take good care of you.’

‘You will?’

He couldn’t work out if she looked pleased about that or petrified. Did he scare her? He knew his size could be daunting...

‘Of course. You can count on me. Everything will be all right, Molly. Just give it time. You don’t need to worry about a thing. I’m trying to contact your sister in Australia, to bring her over to see you.’

The tightness around the corners of her generous mouth eased and a little colour returned to her wan face, making her look more like the woman he knew.

‘I have a sister?’ She sounded so excited, so wistful.

‘Her name is Jillian.’

‘And my parents?’

Pietro shook his head, wishing he could give her better news. ‘I’m sorry, Molly. There’s just the two of you.’

Her face fell and Pietro felt his chest squeeze. He remembered loss only too well. Molly’s pain reinforced his determination to do everything he could for her.

‘But I’m very lucky to have both a husband and a sister.’ Her gaze dropped from his, as if she were fascinated by the movement of her hand plucking at the bedclothes. ‘I wondered if anyone would ever come along and identify me.’

There was a wealth of repressed fear behind her words and Pietro felt a surge of relief that he’d mobilised a search for her. If he hadn’t, if he’d ignored that belated voice of logic telling him he’d made an appalling mistake, how long would she have been stuck here alone in frightening limbo?

The knowledge strengthened his determination. He’d acted impulsively tonight but he didn’t regret it, or any complications that might arise from it. Molly needed him.

‘You’ll feel better when you’re out of here.’

‘Out of here? You mean out of the hospital?’

He nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘Really?’ Her tentative smile reached her eyes, making them shine more blue than grey. ‘They’ll let me go?’

Again Pietro felt that strange sensation in his chest as he looked into her hopeful eyes. He told himself it was only satisfaction that this would be so straightforward.

‘You’re not a prisoner, Molly.’

* * *

‘I know that. I know they’ve been doing their best for me.’ She looked up into that brown-gold gaze and told herself there was nothing to be frightened of now. Her husband was here. The person she presumably trusted above all others.

Yet still that nervous tingle of energy ran from her nape to her fingertips and down her spine as her gaze collided with his. Each time it felt like a shock, an assault on her senses.

There was definitely a sizzle of awareness as she took in his proud features and the strength of his rangy, powerful form. Yet shouldn’t there be something more? A sense of relief and comfort; of...homecoming...when she looked at him?

It wasn’t relief she felt, at least not solely. There was something else mixed in there too. Something her subconscious tried to tell her, except she wasn’t very good right now at reading subliminal messages.

Who was she kidding? She wasn’t much good at anything. Complex thought made her head spin and any attempt at delving into the past made the grey walls around her close in.

Defeated, she shut her eyes as her struggle to remember failed and pain rose once again.

‘Molly? What is it?’ His tone was sharp. Even with her eyes closed she clearly caught his sense of urgency.

Which was natural for a man seeing his wife in these circumstances. It was absurd for her to think there was something not right here.