by Kate Hewitt
They were standing on the terrace at the villa in Tuscany, the gardens and hills spread out before them in all their blossoming glory, the sun shining benevolently down. Alyssa and Paulo had been the witnesses to their wedding, the local priest, a smiling man who spoke no English, the officiant. Ella, clasped in Alyssa’s arms and gurgling happily, had been the only guest.
Mia had worn a strapless dress of ivory silk that she’d bought in Rome on an extravagant shopping trip last week; Alessandro had insisted she buy a complete trousseau, including some very sexy lingerie that made her heart race just to look at.
The last three weeks had been a whirlwind, and a wonderful one at that. Mia had let her fears trickle away in the blazing certainty of Alessandro’s attention. He doted on Ella and was kind and considerate with her, and the kisses that punctuated each evening had become longer and more lingering, leaving Mia in a welter of unsated desire, wondering why Alessandro insisted they wait, even as she acknowledged she was glad that he had.
He’d given her no reason to doubt the sudden, surprising choice she’d made that night after the ball, when she’d turned down the offer of a night for so much more.
Mia had been shocked by her own audacity and conviction, but in that moment she’d felt the rightness of what she was doing...what they were doing.
She could trust Alessandro. That, she realised, was the choice she was making.
With the ceremony finished, Alyssa handed Ella to Paulo, who took the baby with smiling ease, as she went to fetch the refreshments. Alessandro came to stand by Mia, placing a hand on her lower back, warm and sure, as he smiled down at her.
‘Happy?’ he murmured, and she turned to smile at him, realising that she really was. Over the last few weeks, her fears and doubts had been chipped away until there was very little of them left.
The dread that had taken residence in the pit of her stomach like some fermenting acid no longer pooled there. Yes, she was still afraid, but it was the uncertain nervousness of a new bride rather than the consuming fear of a woman on the brink of some awful abyss.
She was on the brink...but perhaps of something wonderful. Mia was trying to stay pragmatic, reminding herself that Alessandro had made no declarations of love, and neither had she. They didn’t know each other well enough for that yet, and she still wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to give him that much of herself.
And yet, despite her reservations, the possibility remained, in her heart at least, that this could be a marriage not just of convenience and companionship, which Alessandro had already promised, but also of love, something he most certainly had not. Something she’d never let herself consider before, but was now allowing herself to cautiously wonder about, if just a little.
‘Yes, I’m happy.’ She gazed out at the gardens, burgeoning with blossom and scent. ‘It’s been a perfect day.’
‘You didn’t mind not having a big wedding?’
Mia shook her head. ‘I never intended on getting married at all, so why would I want a big wedding?’ she answered with a little laugh. She glanced again at the rings on her finger, a tremor of excitement rippling through her at the sight of them. There was no going back.
She might have never thought she’d marry, and yet here she was. Here they were...and tonight would be their wedding night. Already nerves sizzled through her at the thought of that.
‘Most young girls dream of big, white weddings,’ Alessandro remarked.
‘Not me. This has been perfect, truly.’ She rested one hand on his, curled around the balustrade, the sun warming their skin. ‘I couldn’t ask for anything more, Alessandro.’
‘Nor could I.’ He smiled at her, his expression warm and glinting, allaying the last of her fears. This was going to work. It already was working. Then Alessandro nodded towards Alyssa, who was bringing out a magnificent millefoglie, the traditional Italian wedding cake of puff pastry, Chantilly cream, icing sugar and strawberries. ‘Shall we have cake?’
‘I can always have cake.’ Mia took Ella from Paulo as Alyssa cut the cake, and Paulo fetched a bottle of champagne. Ella grabbed at her fork as Mia took a bite of the delicious cake, savouring the explosion of sweetness in her mouth. ‘Not for you, little one,’ she said with a laugh as Ella’s chubby fingers latched onto the fork.
‘I’ll take her.’ With relaxed ease born now of experience, Alessandro reached for Ella, cradling her against his shoulder. As it always did, Mia’s heart constricted at the sight of father and daughter, husband and child. Her family. A thrill ran through her at the thought, and one that had nothing to do with fear, and all with hope and even joy. This was real now. They were.
They ate cake and had champagne in the spring sunshine. Alessandro had planned a dinner for them, and Alyssa insisted on having Ella for the whole night, assuring Mia that the baby could sleep in her cottage.
‘Ella is a good bambina,’ Alyssa said firmly. ‘She did not wake up even once. Such a good girl. This is your wedding night, Mia. Enjoy, Signora Costa!’
Signora Costa. Another ripple of surprised excitement shivered through her at the realisation of her new status.
The sun was starting to set, sending golden rays slanting through Mia’s bedroom, as she exchanged her wedding gown for a cocktail dress in scarlet with a handkerchief hemline and a halter neck. Her wedding ring flashed as she did her make-up and hair, gazing at her face as if to look for changes. She was a married woman. And by tomorrow morning, she would truly be a married woman, in the way that mattered most...
Mia’s stomach dipped as she considered the wedding night that loomed ahead of her, exciting and yet terrifying. Her one sexual experience had been short and frenzied, mere moments that had been blurred by passion.
Tonight would be in an entirely different category...and that both excited and scared her, with its promises of both pleasure and intense vulnerability. How would Alessandro be as a husband and lover? How would she be? Would she please him? Ella was only a few months old, and her body had changed since the last time he’d seen it, admittedly for only a brief time. What would he think of her gently rounded stomach, her heavier breasts?
A light knock sounded on the door. ‘Ready, cara?’ Alessandro called.
‘I think so.’ Mia gave her reflection one last tremulous glance before she went to the door and opened it. Alessandro stood there, looking as devastating as ever in a crisp button-down shirt in dove grey and darker grey trousers. He smelled wonderful.
‘You look lovely,’ he murmured, putting one hand on her waist as he pulled her to him for a prolonged kiss that made Mia’s senses spin and reel. She wondered if kissing him would always make her blood fizz and her heart hum, or if it would become natural, even ordinary.
‘So where are we going for dinner, exactly?’ Mia asked as they headed downstairs. ‘The trattoria in town?’
Alessandro chuckled, shaking his head. ‘I think not.’
‘There aren’t any other restaurants...’
‘This is our wedding night, Mia. We will celebrate in style.’
They walked out of the villa, and Mia stopped in surprise at the sight of the helicopter resting on the helipad in the distance, obscured by a few plane trees.
‘Where...?’
‘Come.’ Taking her hand, Alessandro led her to the helicopter.
‘But Ella...’
‘We’ll be back home in a few hours, never fear.’ He helped her up into the helicopter as Mia’s stomach fizzed with excitement. Where on earth was Alessandro taking her?
She found out an hour later, when they arrived in Venice, the city’s many canals gleaming under the setting sun, the wedding-cake roof of San Marco Cathedral blazing with gold. Alessandro had hired out an entire restaurant by Piazza San Marco, the dining room flickering with candlelight, the canal mere steps away, the restaurant secluded and romantic as they were served course after course by a discreet w
aiter.
‘This is amazing,’ Mia breathed, in awe of the luxury and romance of it all.
The food was delicious, and she allowed herself a glass of champagne to celebrate, losing herself in the warm and unabashed admiration she saw in Alessandro’s eyes. Tonight was made for magic.
And the magic continued as they walked hand in hand along the canal, chatting about everything and nothing. Alessandro had a dry sense of humour that made Mia laugh, and a sensitivity she hadn’t expected, even though she’d seen it on display with their daughter. As they enjoyed the sights of the city of bridges, she felt as if her heart were a balloon inside her, filling up with hope, buoying higher and higher. Their marriage could work. Their marriage could even be amazing...
Finally, as twilight settled on the city with deep indigo shadows, the placid surface of the Grand Canal nearly black, they took the helicopter back to the villa.
Moonlight streamed through the windows as they walked quietly, still hand in hand, through the villa, up to the master bedroom Mia had been sleeping in alone for the last few weeks but would share with Alessandro tonight.
In the few hours since she’d been gone, it had been transformed: tall white candles flickered and gleamed, and the bed sheets had been exchanged for a silk duvet, folded back to reveal smooth linen sheets beneath. The nightgown of cobwebby lace and nearly transparent white silk that she’d picked out last week was hanging on the wardrobe door. Mia’s heart tumbled in her chest at the sight of it.
‘Is all this Alyssa’s doing?’ she asked.
‘And mine.’
It thrilled her to think Alessandro had thought of such romantic touches. ‘This is all so romantic...’
‘And why shouldn’t it be? It is our wedding night, after all.’ Alessandro stood behind her, his hands warm on her shoulders. ‘It will be different this time, cara. So much better.’
Nerves fizzed and popped inside her. ‘It was pretty good last time,’ she admitted shakily. Now that the moment had come, and they were here together in this beautiful room, intending to consummate their marriage, she felt overwhelmed with both excitement and anxiety.
‘Even so.’ Alessandro nodded towards the nightgown. ‘Do you want to change?’
‘All right,’ Mia whispered, and, taking the beautiful nightgown, she went into the bathroom.
* * *
Alessandro paced the bedroom, feeling restless and eager and, he had to admit, nervous. He was never nervous, and yet he couldn’t deny the way his stomach clenched and his heart raced. Yes, he was nervous, but he was also excited. Very excited. He’d been waiting a long time for this, and more than once he’d questioned his decision to wait until their wedding night.
The evening had been perfect so far—the food and wine, the company, the romance of it all. Alessandro had never seen the point of such gestures before, but tonight they’d been important, and he’d enjoyed them. He’d wanted them. He’d wanted to make this night special for Mia, and special for him, in a way he’d never remotely wanted to before.
What was happening to him?
He thrust the question away, determined not to think about it tonight. This was just a bit of romance, that was all. It was a way to show Mia he appreciated her. It didn’t have to mean anything more than that.
Besides, tonight he only wanted to think about Mia...and what was going to happen between them.
The door to the bathroom opened and then she stood there, her hair loose and golden about her shoulders, her slender body swathed in ivory silk. Alessandro sucked in a hard breath, dazed with desire at the sight of her. The silk was so thin he could see the lush, shadowy curves of her body beneath it, and they enflamed him. The few rushed minutes they’d shared over a year ago were nothing compared to this.
‘You’re still dressed,’ Mia observed with a shaky laugh.
‘Not for long.’ His hands moved to the buttons of his shirt before they stilled. ‘Why don’t you do it, Mia?’
Her eyes widened. ‘Me?’
‘Yes, you.’ His voice turned ragged with the force of his feeling. ‘I want you to. I want you to touch me.’
She stared at him wide-eyed for a few seconds before she moved towards him, the silk whispering against her body. As she stood before him he breathed in her citrusy scent, felt her hair brush his jaw as her fingers fumbled with the first button.
‘I’m nervous,’ she whispered.
‘So am I.’
She glanced up at him. ‘No...’
‘Yes.’ He clasped her hand in his own and pressed it against his thudding heart. ‘Feel.’
She laid her palm flat against his chest, her fingers spread wide. Even that simple touch enflamed him, made him want more. So much more. ‘Why are you nervous?’
‘Because this feels important.’ The words came of their own accord, heartfelt, honest. He didn’t care what they revealed of him.
Mia glanced at him uncertainly, her hand still resting against his heart. ‘You’ve been with plenty of women before...’
‘Not like this. Never like this.’
‘Truly?’
‘Truly.’
She pressed her hand lightly against his chest, absorbing his words, the truth of them, and then she resumed unbuttoning his shirt. This time her fingers didn’t fumble, and soon she was parting the material, sliding it over his shoulders so he was bare-chested.
‘I never did get a good look at you before,’ she remarked, her hands resting lightly on the sculpted muscles of his chest. His heart still thudded.
‘You can look all you like now.’
‘I am.’ She ran her hand lightly down his chest, her fingers tracing the hard ridges of muscle, exploring his body in a way that made him feel dizzy with hunger for her even though her fingers were barely skimming his skin.
‘Mia, you have no idea what you do to me.’
She ran her fingers along the waistband of his trousers before flicking open his belt as she gave him a mischievous look from under golden lashes. ‘Don’t I?’
He let out a choked laugh. ‘Maybe you do, you imp.’ He couldn’t stand still any longer, submitting to her intoxicating touch. ‘Now perhaps I need to discover what I do to you.’ He put his hands on her arms, sliding them up to her shoulders, enjoying the feel of the silk of her skin, before he hooked one finger underneath the spaghetti strap of her nightgown and tugged it down.
Her breath came in a shudder and she swayed as he pressed a kiss to the pure line of her collarbone before moving lower to the soft swell of her breast.
‘Alessandro...’
‘It seems we affect each other in a similar way,’ he murmured. Already he was blazing with need, on fire with it, and they’d barely touched.
‘It does seem that way,’ she admitted shakily. Her legs nearly buckled as he drew the other strap down, and then with one gentle twist of her shoulders the beautiful gown pooled at her feet, leaving her naked and beautiful. So very beautiful.
‘I didn’t wear that for very long,’ she remarked with an attempt at wryness, although he could see the pulse beating wildly in her throat, her pupils dark and huge.
‘It was in the way.’
‘So are these.’ She nodded towards his trousers, and Alessandro spread his hands.
‘You may do the honours.’
With a gulp, she reached for the button, her fingers fumbling once more as she undid it and then started to tug down the zip, her slender fingers brushing the pulsing length of him, making him groan.
‘Mia...’ he began, and then he found he couldn’t finish his sentence. He drew her into his arms, and in a tangle of naked limbs, he brought her to the bed and laid her on it like a treasure.
He kissed her deeply, drinking her in, feeling how her mouth and her whole body opened to him, an offering freely given—and utterly accepted.
He stretched
out on top of her, relishing the feeling of her pressed against every inch of him, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her breasts pressed to his chest, all his to explore and savour.
And he did, taking his time, coaxing an unfettered and glorious response out of Mia, his wife.
His wife.
The words, the truth of them, reverberated through him as he finally slid inside her welcoming warmth, uniting their bodies in a way they had never been united before, because this was for ever. One flesh, bound by a sacred vow.
For ever.
Mia’s cry of pleasure was muffled against his shoulder as he began to move and she joined him, finding a rhythm they claimed for their own as it took them higher and higher, united in this, united in everything.
As one.
The realisation of it thudded through him in the aftermath of their joined explosion as Alessandro rolled onto his back, taking Mia with him. He never wanted to let her go.
He’d never expected this. All along he’d been planning his strategy, wooing his wife, poised for victory, negotiating the terms. She would be his.
He hadn’t realised he would be hers.
But he felt it now in every sated fibre of his being, and this union between them that they had just consummated wasn’t just special, it was sacred. It was overwhelming. And he knew, as he held her close, that he was in very grave danger of doing that which Mia herself had been so afraid of—losing himself. Giving everything to the woman he now held in his arms.
The woman who held his heart without even realising it. Without him ever having meant to give it to her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IT HAD BEEN one month since she’d become Alessandro’s wife, one amazing, incredible, pleasure-filled month. The days had been spent with Ella and often with Alessandro, when he could get away from work, spending time together in easy pleasures, exploring the market town and the surrounding countryside, and simply enjoying getting to know one another.
