Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 142043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
“Good morning, Count Maxim. Alessia?” she asks.
“Has she gone again?” I try to look concerned.
“She is not in her bed.”
Alessia’s feet patter over the cold tiled floor, and she slips her arms about my waist as she peeks around me. “Mama, I’m here,” she whispers in English for my benefit, I think.
Bloody hell.
We’ve been discovered, and now I’m framed as a liar to my future mother-in-law. I give Shpresa an apologetic shrug, and she frowns without a trace of humor in her expression.
Shit.
“Alessia!” she hisses and looks nervously over her shoulder. “Po të gjeti yt atë këtu!”
“E di. E di,” Alessia replies and in answer to my scowl, she gives me a sweet, contrite look and raises her lips to mine, offering me a chaste kiss. She slips out of the door, shrouded in her Victorian nightdress, and regards me with a heated over-the-shoulder look as she follows her mother up the stairs. I forgive her for outing me as a liar to her mother, and stand and listen as they hiss at each other in Albanian. I don’t hear her father.
I think we got away with it.
Well, he did say she’s my problem now. I shake my head as I shut the door, angered by the thought. Alessia is not my problem, for fuck’s sake. She’s a woman who knows her own mind. How could he even think that? It grinds my gears. Culturally, her dad and I are poles apart, and as much as I want to be respectful to him, he needs dragging into the twenty-first century. It’s obvious why Alessia is wary of him. She obliquely alluded to his volatile nature when she mentioned him during our time in Cornwall. She said then that she didn’t miss him—only her mother.
Hell. The sooner we leave here, the better.
How long will it take to get married?
Perhaps we should make a break for it.
Elope?
We could hole up at the Plaza Hotel in Tirana while we wait for her new passport and discover the delights of the capital together. How long will it take to get a passport anyway? Long enough for her father to come after us with his shotgun? I don’t know, and somehow, I don’t think Alessia would like the idea. But this furtive running around like we’re kids—it’s crazy. It’s as if we’ve traveled back several centuries, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to tolerate this for long.
I check the time, and it’s still early, so I strip out of my jeans and lie down. As I stare at the ceiling and reflect on the last few days, thoughts of my most recent dream drift into my consciousness.
What the hell was that about?
Kit?
He approves of me inheriting the earldom.
Is that it?
Would he approve of my hasty proposal and this shotgun wedding?
No, I don’t think he would. Perhaps that’s what it meant. Come to think of it—I’m not sure anyone in my family will approve. I close my eyes, imagining my mother’s response to the news. Maybe she’ll be happy to see me married… finally.
No. She’ll be furious. I know it.
Perhaps my dream meant Kit is offering his solidarity.
Could be…
Yes.
That’s what the dream was about.
* * *
Her mother is angry, and Alessia doesn’t know what to say to pacify her.
“What do you think you were doing?” Shpresa growls.
Alessia raises a brow in answer.
“Alessia!” her mother snaps, knowing full well what Alessia is trying to convey. “Just because that man has had a bite of your cherry doesn’t mean you shouldn’t wait until after you’re married!”
Mama!
“If your father catches you!” She sighs. “I think he’s gone out, maybe to look for you. He would probably have a heart attack if he knew what you were doing.” She tuts in exasperation as they make their way down the hall, but her expression softens when they reach the living room. “I suppose you’re pregnant already, so…” She lifts her shoulders, resigned.
A slow flush creeps over Alessia’s face. Should she tell her mother it was a lie?
“So, your handsome count, he’s in good shape.” Shpresa eyes her daughter with a teasing smile.
“Mama!” Alessia exclaims.
“He has a tattoo.”
“Yes. It’s his family’s coat of arms.”
“I see.” She sounds disapproving and she purses her lips.
Alessia shrugs. She likes his tattoo.
Her mother smiles. “He is good to you… in bed?”
“Mama!” Alessia’s voice rises several octaves in shock.
“It’s important. I want you to be happy, and you must keep him happy. And it won’t be long before the child arrives, and, well…” Her mother huffs, her disappointment rolling off her in waves while Alessia stares back at her blankly.
What can she say? That she lied to her parents?
And is this how it was for her mother after Alessia was born?
Alessia doesn’t want to think about that. Besides, it’s too early in the morning to be having this conversation.