Valtieri's Bride & A Bride Worth Waiting For: Valtieri's BrideA Bride Worth Waiting For

by Caroline Anderson

‘Mia bella ragazza,’ he said softly, and held out his hand to her.

  * * *

  It was a beautiful, simple ceremony.

  Their vows, said by both of them in both English and Italian, were from the heart, and they were witnessed by their closest family and friends. Both sets of parents, his three sisters, Jen and Andy, Luca and Isabelle, Gio, Anita, Carlotta and Roberto, and of course the children.

  Francesca and Lavinia were bridesmaids, and Antonino was the ring bearer. There was a tense moment when he wobbled and the rings started to slide, but it was all right, and with a smile of encouragement for his son, Massimo took her ring from the little cushion and slid it onto her finger, his eyes locked with hers.

  He loved her. When he’d lost Angelina, he’d thought he could never love again, but Lydia had shown him the way. There was always room for love, he realised, always room for another person in your heart, and his heart had made room for her. How had he ever thought it could do otherwise?

  She slid the other ring onto his finger, her fingers firm and confident, and he cupped her shoulders in his hands and bent his head and kissed her.

  ‘Te amo,’ he murmured, and then his words were drowned out by the clapping and cheering of their family.

  * * *

  Afterwards they went for lunch to the little trattoria owned by Carlotta’s nephew. He did them proud. They drank Prosecco and ate simple, hearty food exquisitely cooked, and when it was over, they drove back to the palazzo. The others were going back to Luca and Isabelle’s for the rest of the day, to give them a little privacy, and Massimo intended to take full advantage of it.

  He drove up to the front door, scooped her up in his arms and carried her up the steps. The last time he’d done this she’d been bloodstained and battered. This time—this time she was his wife, and he felt like the luckiest man alive.

  Pausing at the top he turned, staring out over the valley spread out below them. Home, he thought, his heart filled with joy, and Lydia rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.

  ‘It’s so beautiful.’

  ‘Not as beautiful as you. And that dress…’ He nuzzled her neck, making her arch against him. ‘I’ve been wanting to take it off you all day.’

  ‘Don’t you like it? I wasn’t sure myself. I thought maybe I should have stuck to the other one,’ she teased, and he laughed, the sound carrying softly on the night air.

  It was a sound she’d never tire of, she thought contentedly as he turned, still smiling, and carried his bride over the threshold.

  * * * * *

  A Bride Worth Waiting For

  Caroline Anderson

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  PROLOGUE

  ‘II’S over.’

  For a moment he didn’t move, just stood there and let it sink in. Then he turned slowly round and scanned her face.

  ‘They’ve got him?’

  Ruth nodded. ‘They caught up with him in a villa just outside Antibes. He’d got sloppy—maybe he thought we’d given up.’

  He grunted. ‘Fat chance after what that bastard’s done. So he’s finally going to be put away—well, I hope they throw the book at him. They will if I have anything to do with it. Never mind the other things he’s done and the countless lives he’s ruined, that animal owes me nine years.’

  Ruth—his researcher and friend, his ex-colleague and the woman who’d kept him sane for all that time—shook her head. ‘Sorry, Michael. He’s dead.’

  He swore quietly and succinctly and with considerable feeling. ‘What happened?’

  ‘There was a girl there with him. Frank didn’t say what he’d done to her, but I’m sure we can fill in the details. She shot him after they stormed the house—they were cuffing him, and she just shot him through the head with his own gun at point-blank range. Said he deserved it.’

  ‘Is that the official version?’

  Ruth shook her head and smiled. ‘Oh, no. I gather his gun went off in the confusion. Conveniently.’

  He nodded, glad the girl wouldn’t be punished for what amounted to a public service. ‘Good for her,’ he said softly. ‘I would have liked ten minutes alone with him, though, before she did it.’

  ‘Absolutely. You and all the others. It was too good for him, but whatever. It’s over—that’s all that matters really.’

  It was. And that meant they’d all be safe—him, Ruth, Annie and the son he had yet to get to know. The threat hanging over them was gone, finally, after all these years.

  And now it was time for the last act.

  He felt the rush of adrenaline, the nerves, the anticipation—like the start of an operation, but worse, because he was personally involved in this one. It wasn’t something he could remain detached about. No way.

  ‘What about the others?’ he asked, his voice rough—rougher even than usual, rusty with emotion and lack of use.

  ‘They were picking them up when Frank rang me. They’ve been closing in for days, had everyone under surveillance. They did a dawn swoop. It’s massive. It’ll be on the news.’

  ‘So it’s official?’

  Ruth nodded. ‘Yes—just about. I expect someone will come and see you. Frank rang me this morning—I’m surprised he hasn’t called you.’

  ‘He may have done. The phone rang when I was in the shower. I ignored it. I’ll call him now.’

  And then he could get things in motion. He’d been on ice for eight, nearly nine years, and now the waiting was over.

  ‘Fancy living here?’ he asked quietly. ‘Swapping houses? Just for a while. I could use the flat as an excuse to be there.’

  There was a silence, and as it stretched out he turned and studied her thoughtfully.

  ‘Am I missing something?’ he asked, and she gave a wry little smile.

  ‘If you don’t need me, there’s somewhere else I’d rather be.’

  ‘Tim?’

  She nodded. ‘He’s asked me to marry him—again. And somehow, with this finally over, I feel free at last—as if the debt’s paid and I can move on. And I do love him.’

  He closed his eyes, let out his breath on a short huff of laughter before the emotion choked him. ‘Ruth—that’s great. Wonderful. I’m really glad for you. It’s about time—and of course I don’t need you. Not that much—not enough to get in the way of this. You know I’d never stand in your way. I’ve asked too much from you for too long as it is—’

  ‘No. It’s been fine. I needed your support every bit as much as you needed mine. You kept me safe, gave me a reason to live when it all fell apart, and I’ll be eternally grateful for that, but…’

  ‘But you don’t need me any more,’ he prompted.

  ‘Not now.’ She smiled gently at him. ‘I’ll always need your friendship, and you’ll always have mine. You know that. But Tim’s there for me now. I need to be with him.’

  ‘How much does he know?’

  She shrugged. ‘Enough. I never thought I could ever trust a man again after what happened. And I certainly never thought I’d love again after David died. But—with Tim, it’s all fallen into place, and I feel I can start again. Draw a line under this, get on with my life.’

  ‘I’m so glad for you,’ he said softly.

  ‘Thank you. I’ll still work for you,’ she added. ‘If you want me to.’

  His grin was crooked. ‘I don’t know. This changes things, doesn’t it? I don’t need to write for a
living. Not any more. I might try something different. Grow grapes or something. We’ll talk about it. Why don’t you have a holiday—six months? I’ll take a break from my writing. That should give us both time to sort out the future.’

  ‘Sounds perfect.’

  ‘I’ll still pay you, of course, in the meantime. Put you on a retainer or something—and don’t argue.’

  She opened her mouth, shut it again and smiled. ‘So when do you want me to move out—if you still do?’

  He felt the lick of adrenaline in his veins. ‘Please—if you feel you can. I can use the excuse of refurbishing the building—that should give me plenty of opportunities to talk to her. How soon could you move?’

  ‘The weekend? I don’t know—the sooner the better, really. I can’t imagine not being with Tim now. I’ll talk to him when I see him.’

  ‘You seeing him today?’

  Ruth nodded. ‘I’ll go back at lunchtime—he’s off today.’

  ‘Go now. I’ve got things to do as well—people to talk to. We’ll meet up again later in the week.’

  She nodded again, then hugged him, the unprecedented physical contact taking him by surprise. In nine years he’d always kept his distance, giving her space, careful to preserve her comfort zone because of what had happened to her. Now it seemed she didn’t need it any more.

  ‘I hope it works out for you with Annie and Stephen,’ she said a little unevenly. ‘You deserve to be happy. It’s been far, far too long—for all of us.’

  And for ever for David. He put away that thought, shaking his head slightly to clear it. It was time for the living, now. Time to move on.

  Time for the last and maybe most important op of his life. He’d planned it meticulously over the past year, and thrown out each plan. He was going to have to fly this one by the seat of his pants, but he was going to succeed. He had to. The stakes were too high for him to fail.

  ‘You take care, babe. Tell Tim from me he’s a lucky man.’

  He watched Ruth go, then sat down, staring blindly out over the gently rolling fields. He could see a tractor working in the distance, the gulls wheeling in its wake, dots against the vivid blue of the sky.

  It was still warm during the day, even though it was September. It reminded him of France. That late September had been just like this, with glorious sunny days and then later, moving into October, clear, starry nights when the temperature would fall and their breath would fog on the cold night air as they walked hand in hand between the vines.

  He shut his eyes, seeing her again, young and vibrant and full of laughter, her eyes bubbling over with joy. She’d tasted so sweet, so eager and passionate—so utterly irresistible. He hadn’t been able to resist—not that night, knowing things were coming to a head. He’d lost himself in her, and she’d given him everything. Her ring. Her heart.

  And a son who didn’t know him.

  Yet.

  His fingers closed over the ring. He’d worn it on a chain around his neck for so many years now the chain had worn a groove in the band. She’d given it to him that night to keep him safe, after they’d made love, and he’d treasured it all this time. It was almost as if he’d survive as long as he had it on him. He’d never taken it off, but he would now. He’d have to, or she’d see it and know, before he was ready.

  He took it off, slipped it into his wallet, fingering the lump it made in the soft leather.

  Maybe soon he could tell her the truth. Not yet, though. First, she had to get to know him again, get to know the real man, the man he was now. And he had to get to know her.

  At least they were free now—him free to woo her, her free to love him if she would. That was by no means certain, but he wouldn’t allow the thought of failure. Not now, not at this stage.

  He moved away from the window, his eyes no longer focusing on the tractor in the distance, but on his reflection in the mirror. Dispassionately, with clinical detachment, he studied the man who stared back at him.

  Would he get away with it?

  He didn’t look like the man Annie had fallen in love with. Time and the surgery that had saved his life had seen to that. The results were passable—battered, but passable. He wasn’t actively ugly, at least; he should be grateful for that. He wondered if his own parents would have recognised him. At least they’d been spared seeing him at his worst. It would have killed his mother. It had damn nearly killed him.

  He turned away, reached for the phone, dialled a long-familiar number.

  ‘It’s me,’ he said economically.

  He could almost hear the smile at the other end.

  ‘Michael. Welcome back to the real world.’

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘HIYA.’

  Annie was just about to close when she heard Ruth’s voice behind her. ‘Hiya yourself, stranger,’ she said, turning with a grin. ‘I missed you over the weekend. How are you?’

  ‘Better than you, apparently. You look tired, Annie.’

  She flapped her hand. ‘I’m always tired. I’ve been tired for years,’ she said, dismissing it. ‘Don’t worry about me, I’m used to it. What can I get you? Coffee? Tea?’

  ‘Nothing. I don’t want to stop you, you’re about to close.’

  ‘I have done,’ she said, shutting the door and flipping the sign in the window. ‘There’s half a pot of coffee left and it’s only going down the drain if we don’t drink it. Want to share it with me?’

  ‘If you’re sure you’ve got time. What about Stephen?’

  ‘He’s got chess club.’ She reached for the cups. ‘So, how are you? I haven’t seen you for days.’ Annie scanned Ruth’s face, checking out the slightly heightened colour in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes, as if something was bottled up inside her and threatening to spill over. She’d be a lousy poker player, she thought with a grin.

  ‘OK, come on, spit it out. What’s going on? Where have you been?’

  Ruth gave a self-conscious chuckle. ‘At Tim’s. Actually, I’ve got something to tell you.’

  ‘I’d never have guessed!’ Annie teased, plonking the full cups on the round table by the window and pulling up a chair. ‘Come on, then—tell away.’

  Ruth laughed softly and sat, making a production of opening the creamer and tipping it into the cup, stirring it unnecessarily long until Annie was ready to scream.

  ‘Ruth?’ she prompted.

  ‘Sorry.’ Her smile was—good heavens—shy? ‘I’m getting married.’

  Annie’s heart squeezed tight, and she leant over and hugged Ruth, pressing her eyes firmly shut to hold back the unexpected prickle of tears. ‘Ruth, that’s fantastic!’ she said, her voice choked. ‘When did he ask you? I take it we’re talking about your gorgeous policeman, since you spent the weekend with him?’

  Ruth sniffed and sat back, her cheeks pink. ‘Of course it’s Tim. And he’s asked me over and over again. I said yes this morning. I’m going to move in with him.’

  ‘Well, of course you will.’ She listened to herself in dismay. Did she really sound so bereft? How silly. She injected a little enthusiasm and interest into her voice. ‘Will you be far away? Where does he live?’

  ‘Not far. Only three miles. He’s been asking me endlessly to move in with him, dropping hints for ages before he began proposing—and I’ve finally decided to do it.’

  ‘Oh, Ruth, I’m so pleased for you! I wondered what was going on—you’ve been looking so much happier since you met him.’

  ‘I have been. I am.’

  ‘It shows.’ Annie smiled wistfully. ‘Lucky old you. You know, I did wonder at one point, when there didn’t seem to be a man in your life at all, if you’d got some kind of thing going on with Michael—’

  ‘Michael? Good grief, no!’ She laughed and shook her he
ad. ‘Hardly.’

  ‘Is he so bad?’

  Ruth chuckled. ‘No, he’s not bad at all. Far from it. I suppose if he was your type, you’d think he was very sexy in a rather brooding sort of way. I don’t know. You can judge for yourself on Monday.’

  ‘Monday?’

  ‘Mmm. He’s coming over then—I’m moving out at the weekend, and he’s going to start tearing the place apart. He’s jumped at the chance to get in there. He wants to refurbish the whole building, in fact; says it’s long overdue, which it is.’

  Annie blinked in surprise. ‘Does he have time?’

  Ruth nodded. ‘He’s going to have a break from writing, and he’s told me to take a holiday, so I am. I think he’s planning a little physical work to free up his thoughts and, let’s face it, the place could do with a hefty dose of TLC. I think he’s looking forward to pushing his sleeves up and getting stuck in.’

  Her heart thudded unexpectedly. ‘Wow. So I get to meet the great man at last.’

  She chewed her lip absently. She’d never met her landlord, not in the seven years since he’d bought the Ancient House. Ruth had been the go-between, working for him as his researcher and living here in the flat that occupied the whole of the top floor, but curiously Michael himself had never darkened her door, so she knew little about him except that he was a writer—a hugely successful one, if the best seller lists were to be believed.

  That was probably why she’d never met him. Too busy and important to trouble himself with some trifling investment property—or so she’d thought. He certainly didn’t need her contribution to his income if the rumours of his advances were true.

  Roger had loved his books—he’d even met him once, but she’d been out when he called and so she’d missed him, to her disappointment. But he hadn’t described him as broodingly sexy—

  ‘I wonder if he’ll use the refurb as an excuse to put my rent up?’ she murmured, dragging herself back to practical matters and the here and now.

  Ruth shrugged. ‘Dunno. I doubt it. You’ll have to ask him.’ She pulled a face. ‘It’ll be odd not living here after so long.’