Page 55 of A Son Hidden from the Sicilian

Now here she was in an ancient church, while Saverina and Accursia and her mother fussed over her. Right before she was to join her father and walk down the aisle, Saverina pulled her aside.

“I was wondering if you would put this on your bouquet.” She held a tiny picture frame on a pin in the palm of her hand. In the frame was the picture of a teenage girl, smiling, looking so much like Lorenzo Brianna immediately knew who it was.

She blinked desperately so as not to cry and ruin her makeup. She gave Saverina a nod and Saverina attached it to the ribbon around her bouquet. They hugged, both doing their best to keep the tears at bay.

Then it was time.

She stood, her mother on one arm and her father on the other, as the doors opened. Gio stood at the end of the aisle next to his father, wearing a matching suit.

“Mama!” he called out, doing an excited little dance that had the entire church laughing, including Brianna. She walked down the aisle, and her father and mother handed her over to Lorenzo. Gio wrapped his arms around her leg before being gently coaxed by Stefano and Valentine to stand next to Lorenzo.

Brianna looked up at Lorenzo with a bright smile. His gaze swept over her, stopping once at the little picture frame in her bouquet. He took a deep, steadying breath, then lifted her hand to his mouth.

He brushed a kiss across her knuckles, reminding her of a night long ago in Florence. That had changed the entire course of her life. And had given her everything she could have ever dreamed of.

So when they said their vows, she had no doubts. Love was not the enemy.

It was the answer. Always.

IfA Son Hidden from the Sicilianswept you off your feet, then why not try these other stories by Lorraine Hall?

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Keep reading for an excerpt fromHer Forbidden Awakening in Greeceby Kim Lawrence.

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Her Forbidden Awakening in Greece

by Kim Lawrence

CHAPTER ONE

THEMOMENTHEstepped out of the soundproofed sanctuary of his office Zac was hit by the nerve-shredding racket; the small window of silence had lulled him into a false sense of security. ‘Theos!’ he gritted under his breath.

It was unrelenting. How could anything so small make this much noise? he wondered as the scene of the recent handover floated through his head. There had been no noise then, the silence broken only by the voice of the woman holding the impossibly small bundle. The woman from child services had offered the child to him and Zac, who relished challenges, had frozen, his arms at his sides—a challenge too far.

The nanny had stepped into the breach, and the moment had passed. He doubted if anyone had noticed, but he had, his first test and he had failed. All he had got was a view of a mop of dark hair against the blanket the baby was bundled up in. Did he resemble his father or mother...? Zac didn’t know. He hadn’t entered the nursery yet...delaying the inevitable, he knew, but his feelings, hisanger, were still raw, and what would his presence achieve?

He was determined the child, Declan, would lack nothing growing up, except of course a mother and father. Before it could settle over him he pushed the bleakness away. His energy was better spent on dealing with the present—which involved inconsolable crying and sleep deprivation. In retrospect the nanny’s advice to dispense with the services of the night nurse after two nights had been proved both optimistic and premature, given the fact the baby had not stopped crying since.

Despite her assurances that the infant was not ill and this situation wasnormal, Zac had opted for a second opinion. The paediatrician of worldwide renown recommended by Zac’s own physician had backed her up after his house call—turned out if there was enough cash involvedeverybodydid house calls.

The medic’s patronising attitude had set Zac’s teeth on edge, but then experts who dumbed down always irritated him. An irritation that faded into insignificance when compared with this constant racket.

If the last few days had taught him anything it was that any effort to tune out the auditory assault of a six-week-old child who, in truth, had every right to sound unhappy, given his start in life, was pointless.

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