‘Grace?’

Her husband’s deep voice had disturbed her reverie and Grace stared up into his beloved face.‘Neh, zoi mou?’

‘Why don’t you want any champagne?’

‘Am I such a lush that you need to ask?’ she joked.

‘No.’ He traced a thoughtful finger around the edge of her lips. ‘But a glass or two on Saturday night is something we usually both enjoy.’

She had been savouring the moment since she’d found out that afternoon, hugging it to herself like the most delicious secret, trying to work out the perfect time to break the news. But he had guessed. She could tell from the light shining from his sapphire eyes. The smile of pure delight on his lips. He knows me so well, she thought contentedly.

‘For the avoidance of doubt, yes, I’m pregnant,’ she whispered.

He didn’t speak for a moment and when he did, his words were tinged with pride and something else.‘Kardia mou,’he said huskily. ‘My heart. My one true love.’

And then effortlessly he picked her up—just as he had done one cold February night in Venice, when her eyes had glittered at him through a jewelled mask and melted the ice around his heart.