sixties and very Italian in her thinking. A man took care of such things. That was what a man was for—to fight for his woman and make the world a better place for her. A woman looked after the household and the children.
Isabella was wishing life could be that simple and people a lot less complicated when Rosita paused in her pummelling of the pastry and looked at her with all too knowing eyes. “There is no stopping Antonio, Isabella. You know there isn’t. What will be will be.”
This fatalistic view did not sit at all well. “He cannot make Hannah choose what he wants,” she fretted. “It’s all too fast. He should have moved her out of their way, taken the time to win her first. It’s the wrong hand to play. He’ll ruin everything.”
“You thought Alessandro had ruined everything with Gina by acting too quickly,” Rosita reminded her.
“Yes, but we knew Gina’s background. We knew he could surmount her fears and objections.”
“We know Hannah O’Neill’s background, too. It is one of strong family. No divorce. That girl does not want a messy life. She ran away from it. Perhaps Antonio is right to make the stand and fight for her.”
“It’s a risk he didn’t need to take.”
“That is the man he is. If it is wrong for her, then he is wrong for her and they will not be happy together.”
It was a line of logic Isabella could not refute.
Antonio was...Antonio. Totally elemental. No subtlety. All the polish she’d tried to give him...no more than a very thin veneer. His genes were probably a direct throwback to the genes from her husband, born and bred in the Outback, one of the Kings of the Kimberley.
Edward...
She remembered he’d taken one look at her—such a look it had made her toes curl—and said, “You are mine, Isabella Valeri.”
And she was.
There had never been another man for her.
But that was sixty years ago and times had changed.
Whether Antonio was right or wrong for Hannah O’Neill...well, that was in the lap of the gods now.
CHAPTER TEN
Tony’s adrenaline was running high as he strode around the jeep to help Hannah out. She was wearing high-heels. Very sexy high-heels. Red, which looked great against her honey-tanned bare skin, with just thin little straps around her ankles and across her toes holding them onto her feet. She definitely needed help getting out and feeling steady in those shoes.
He opened the passenger door. Hannah swung her legs towards him. The filmy fabric of her dress slewed slightly, opening up the thigh-high side slit, semi-disguised by the soft ruffle that ran around the hem of the skirt. Very provocative, that ruffle. There was one around the V-neckline, too, forming filmy little sleeves over her shoulders and accentuating the soft swell of her cleavage. Fabulous dress, with big splashes of pink-red floppy poppies running down in a diagonal against a creamy background that was the exact same colour of some of the strands in her hair.
He loved her hair, rippling way out over her shoulders, a rioting mass of crinkly waves in an incredible array of blonde shades from cream to honey, all intermingled and looking great. It flowed towards him as she bent forward to stretch her legs down to the street. Shiny and soft from being freshly washed, it smelled of lemons, and he instantly thought how much he would enjoy burying his face in it later tonight.
She linked her arm around his, hugging it as she set her feet on the ground and straightened up. “Thanks, Tony.” A slightly rueful smile was flashed at him. “I think I’ll have to hang on to you. I haven’t worn these shoes for a while.”
He laughed, brimming over with pleasure in her as he clamped his other hand over the one resting on his arm. “When a man has a woman as beautiful as you are, hanging on his arm, he’s not about to let her slip away. I want everyone to know you’re mine, Hannah O’Neill.”
Her lovely green eyes danced pleasure right back at him. “Well, I’m
Isabella was wishing life could be that simple and people a lot less complicated when Rosita paused in her pummelling of the pastry and looked at her with all too knowing eyes. “There is no stopping Antonio, Isabella. You know there isn’t. What will be will be.”
This fatalistic view did not sit at all well. “He cannot make Hannah choose what he wants,” she fretted. “It’s all too fast. He should have moved her out of their way, taken the time to win her first. It’s the wrong hand to play. He’ll ruin everything.”
“You thought Alessandro had ruined everything with Gina by acting too quickly,” Rosita reminded her.
“Yes, but we knew Gina’s background. We knew he could surmount her fears and objections.”
“We know Hannah O’Neill’s background, too. It is one of strong family. No divorce. That girl does not want a messy life. She ran away from it. Perhaps Antonio is right to make the stand and fight for her.”
“It’s a risk he didn’t need to take.”
“That is the man he is. If it is wrong for her, then he is wrong for her and they will not be happy together.”
It was a line of logic Isabella could not refute.
Antonio was...Antonio. Totally elemental. No subtlety. All the polish she’d tried to give him...no more than a very thin veneer. His genes were probably a direct throwback to the genes from her husband, born and bred in the Outback, one of the Kings of the Kimberley.
Edward...
She remembered he’d taken one look at her—such a look it had made her toes curl—and said, “You are mine, Isabella Valeri.”
And she was.
There had never been another man for her.
But that was sixty years ago and times had changed.
Whether Antonio was right or wrong for Hannah O’Neill...well, that was in the lap of the gods now.
CHAPTER TEN
Tony’s adrenaline was running high as he strode around the jeep to help Hannah out. She was wearing high-heels. Very sexy high-heels. Red, which looked great against her honey-tanned bare skin, with just thin little straps around her ankles and across her toes holding them onto her feet. She definitely needed help getting out and feeling steady in those shoes.
He opened the passenger door. Hannah swung her legs towards him. The filmy fabric of her dress slewed slightly, opening up the thigh-high side slit, semi-disguised by the soft ruffle that ran around the hem of the skirt. Very provocative, that ruffle. There was one around the V-neckline, too, forming filmy little sleeves over her shoulders and accentuating the soft swell of her cleavage. Fabulous dress, with big splashes of pink-red floppy poppies running down in a diagonal against a creamy background that was the exact same colour of some of the strands in her hair.
He loved her hair, rippling way out over her shoulders, a rioting mass of crinkly waves in an incredible array of blonde shades from cream to honey, all intermingled and looking great. It flowed towards him as she bent forward to stretch her legs down to the street. Shiny and soft from being freshly washed, it smelled of lemons, and he instantly thought how much he would enjoy burying his face in it later tonight.
She linked her arm around his, hugging it as she set her feet on the ground and straightened up. “Thanks, Tony.” A slightly rueful smile was flashed at him. “I think I’ll have to hang on to you. I haven’t worn these shoes for a while.”
He laughed, brimming over with pleasure in her as he clamped his other hand over the one resting on his arm. “When a man has a woman as beautiful as you are, hanging on his arm, he’s not about to let her slip away. I want everyone to know you’re mine, Hannah O’Neill.”
Her lovely green eyes danced pleasure right back at him. “Well, I’m
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