The Italian's Virgin Bride

by Morey, Trish

  But then she’d changed, more than she could ever imagine, even though nothing seemed to show in the mirror. Marriage had made its mark, to be sure. But more than anything, Domenic had changed her. And it wasn’t just the lovemaking, though that was still as earth-shattering as it had been those first few days.

  No, working with Domenic had given her a new appreciation of the man. He was the consummate businessman, confident and direct and able to make a decision and implement his plans quickly and effectively. The new marketing campaign had been launched without a hitch with both hotel groups already reaping the benefits. Her choice of partner to save Clemengers and move the business forward had been well and truly vindicated.

  And, while Silvers didn’t have the tight-knit family loyalty of its staff that was a feature of Clemengers, it was clear he had the respect of everyone, notwithstanding he was a demanding and, at times, scrupulously tough boss. She had to admit to a grudging respect of him herself, a respect that only grew with their time together.

  But he seemed different too, and it was difficult not to like him. Where was the playboy his reputation decreed? Where were the women? Or was he just waiting for her to become pregnant, so he could revert to type? She wanted to think not. Even though she was mentally prepared for it, somehow the idea that he would split his time between wife and mistresses now seemed anathema to her. She’d been kidding herself to think she could live with it. She would hate it.

  Chapter 10

  ‘La bella donna!’ Guglielmo Silvagni held his arms out wide, gesturing Opal into his embrace. ‘You never told me your bride was this beautiful, Domenic.’

  They’d barely stepped from the car and into the broad vine-covered courtyard when his parents greeted them. Opal smiled and obliged, happily stepping forward into the arms of an older, grey-haired version of her husband, accepting his kisses to each cheek. For seventy, Guglielmo still had the look of power and stood tall and handsome like his son, though it was clear, by the looser fit of his clothes, that he’d lost some weight through his recent treatment.

  ‘However were you lucky enough to win the hand of such a prize?’ he asked his son.

  ‘He had no choice,’ she said before he had a chance to respond. ‘I came with the hotels. It was a package deal.’

  Domenic shot her a warning look, but Guglielmo was already laughing. ‘Ah, Domenic, I always thought you were a good businessman, and this proves it. But I suspect you have maybe met your match in this one. You make an old man very happy, my dear.’

  She smiled up at him, his laughter infectious. ‘I would rather make you happy, my father-in-law.’

  He laughed again, the sound rich and warm, the moisture in his eyes real. ‘So you do. More than you could know. What say you, Rosa?’

  At sixty-five, Rosa Silvagni was still a strikingly attractive woman, elegantly dressed in a fine knitted tunic and skirt that moulded her graceful figure perfectly. She smiled and took Opal’s hands in hers, her gentle eyes sparkling. ‘Dare il benvenuto alla famiglia. Welcome to the family.’ Then she kissed her, as Guglielmo had done, and hugged her tight.

  ‘Grazie,’ Opal replied, exhausting her limited knowledge of Italian.

  ‘But I am forgetting my manners. It is such a long way from the plane. And you look so pale. Let me have Maria bring you something to eat and drink.’

  Opal wasn’t sure if she needed food or drink. The long flight from Sydney, coupled with the drive from the airport to the family’s country estate near Volterra in rural Tuscany, had been draining and she was still feeling the motion of the plane. She eyed the inviting, wide-cushioned chairs set off to one side and knew it would be the perfect place to rest a while until she regained her land legs.

  Halfway there her world tilted and spun, her knees buckled, and she crashed to the ground.

  Despite her protests that she was just jet-lagged and was making too much trouble for everyone, she was bundled off to bed and a doctor summoned. It wasn’t so bad really, she thought a little later, dozing in the midst of the soft bed, the thick feather duvet warm and comforting. And at least the ground had stopped moving. The doctor came, poking and prodding and asking a few questions in broken English that only seemed to require monosyllabic answers that didn’t interrupt her dream state too much. Eventually he left, closing the curtains to let her rest and she drifted into blissful sleep.

  Something brushed her lips, something warm and delicious and enough to make her want more. She opened her eyes, bringing into focus Domenic, sitting at her side. He took her hand, stroking the back of it with his other.

  ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘Better,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry to be such trouble though, the moment I arrived.’

  He shook his head, a gentle smile playing at his lips. ‘It’s hardly any trouble. In fact, I have to say my parents couldn’t be more excited. The party tomorrow will be a true celebration.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You don’t know?’ he asked softly. ‘I wondered if you were just keeping it a secret. But the doctor is quite sure. You are to have a child, cara. My child.’

  ‘I’m pregnant?’ She flattened her free hand on her stomach. A child. A baby—growing inside her. Could it be true?

  ‘He suggests the pregnancy could be as advanced as eight weeks.’

  ‘But the test…’ She’d told him about the negative result last month and, although her period had never arrived, the aches and twinges she’d been experiencing in the last couple of days had convinced her that this month again they’d been unsuccessful. Had they been signs of something else—the early development of a child deep inside her—a baby?

  He shook his head. ‘The doctor said these tests are not always reliable.’

  She frowned. ‘But eight weeks. That would mean…’

  ‘Exactly. It would mean you conceived this child during our visit to the island, possibly on our first night together.’

  She nodded vaguely, trying to take it all in.

  ‘And now you need to rest. But I wanted to say thank you, my wife.’

  He kissed her then, taking her face in his hands, and touching his lips to her brow, her eyes and the tip of her nose and resting his lips on her mouth, almost sharing breath more than a kiss.

  A wave of dizziness washed over her, though whether from tiredness or the subtlety of his touch, she couldn’t tell. Emotion welled up in its wake as his pleasure fed her own. She’d achieved something she thought she’d never experience and she’d done it because of him. And somehow right now it seemed the most special thing in the world. In a complete turn-around she was actually excited to be carrying Domenic’s child.

  Would this make a difference to their relationship? Did he feel more for her than as an accessory to a collection of hotels? Already in their time together she was starting to appreciate more and more the man that was Domenic, the man behind the ruthless façade she’d seen when he’d forced her into this arrangement. A grudging respect of his business acumen together with a hunger for him in her bed was further softening her original ideas about him. If she was true to herself she’d even have to say that she liked him, and more than just a little. Now, there was a turn-up. She enjoyed his company and his conversation, just as much as she enjoyed his bed.

  And still he’d done nothing to prove himself the playboy she thought she’d married. There’d been not one incident, since the wedding night, when she’d all but forced him away and into the arms of another woman, to cause her to question his integrity.

  And now she wouldn’t force him to go anywhere. Their lovemaking was phenomenal and she relished equally their nights together when they would be alone for hours in each others arms, and the stolen moments in each other’s offices, a locked door, a passionate embrace that would spin out of control until the fires consumed them both. He was happy with her as a lover. She had no doubt of that. Why would he even need to look elsewhere?

  Maybe her fears of his betrayal had been misplaced. Maybe she
was letting her mother’s sad life dictate the boundaries of her own. Maybe there was a chance for them to make this marriage work—a real chance.

  His kisses were so tender, so sweet, and his words warm and rich with emotion. This was not the reaction of a man who was simply satisfied that the terms of his contract had been complied with. Surely there was something else in his kiss?

  ‘You have made my parents very happy,’ he said, finally drawing back. ‘It is the perfect wedding-anniversary present. I could not have provided a better gift.’

  She tried to hide her disappointment even as despair crashed over her. That was it? He was happy with her because she’d given his parents a gift? Didn’t he feel just the slightest bit happy that this was something special they’d created together, a product of their lovemaking?

  ‘No problem,’ she said, smiling thinly and adding a chirpy quality to her voice that she in no way felt. ‘That’s what I’m here for after all. Now I’d like to rest, if that’s okay.’

  He looked at her strangely, his dark eyes confused and searching. ‘All right,’ he said, squeezing her hand before rising from the bed. ‘Tomorrow is a big day. There will be lots of people who want to meet you. So sleep now.’

  And she would have if only there hadn’t have been so much to think about. She was going to be a mother. A mother! This was no longer some clause in a contract she had to fulfil, another condition to save a hotel business and all it stood for. This was a child, growing inside. A child who deserved the very best she could provide. A child who deserved a loving family.

  No way did she want that child to grow up the way she had done, much too quickly and all too aware of the tensions and discord within the home. This child should be raised and nurtured in a loving environment. It wasn’t fair on the child to do anything less.

  If only things were different between them. If only he could appreciate the person that she was and feel some kind of affection for her other than as just an incubator—at least just for the child’s sake. Was that too much to ask?

  The next day dawned sunny and mild and preparations were already well under way by the time Opal rose, feeling much more relaxed and herself, although aspects of her concerns still haunted her. At the core of it was the way her attitude to marriage with Domenic had changed completely. It wasn’t just a matter of being able to get on with him, though she was thankful for that development. But she wondered why it was so important to her now that their relationship be based on more than just tolerance. Of course, there was the baby, but was that all?

  For one who had sworn that he would never be able to hurt her, the question continued to puzzle.

  But there was little time to reflect on things as she was swept up in the celebrations for Guglielmo and Rosa, a large and festive affair with what looked like most of the region’s residents present. Which was just as well, considering how much food there was. Long, white-clothed tables were set out in the courtyard and spread full of plates of antipasto, pastas and salads. The succulent aroma of a spit-roasting lamb filled the air and laughter and conversation rang out loud.

  An endless procession of people lined up to meet her and congratulate them both on their marriage and baby, news of which had spread around the gathering like lightning. In fact at times she felt more the object of attention than the happy couple celebrating fifty years of marriage together.

  Domenic stood by her, one arm looped proprietorially around her shoulders, introducing her to the extended family and locals alike, and constantly asking whether she needed anything or whether she was tired. But after her long sleep and with the warm welcome of Domenic’s family and friends it was impossible not to feel good in their company.

  When she thought she’d met everyone there and it was finally time to take a deep breath and relax with a cool glass of lemon soda, someone stepped through the crowd to meet her. Another man she didn’t recognise with a woman on his arm—

  ‘Sapphire!’ she cried. ‘What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were coming.’

  Sapphy squealed in greeting and kissed her sister, introducing her to Paolo, a “good friend”, before shrugging her head towards Domenic, her smile a mile wide. ‘Neither did I until yesterday. Your gorgeous husband arranged everything, and all to be a surprise for you.’

  Opal looked over to him suspiciously, his eyes frustratingly hidden now beneath dark sunglasses. ‘He did?’

  ‘Of course he did. He’s crazy about you. You know that, especially now, with the baby coming. Congratulations.’

  Opal looked for some sort of confirmation but his lazy smile told her nothing. How could he be so thoughtful one minute yet so divorced from feelings for her the next? What was she supposed to think?

  It was so generous of him to get Sapphy here for this celebration, genuinely unexpected and sweet, and it would be nice to think that Domenic had done it out of feelings for her. Real feelings, not just those he knew he should display as a newly-wed and soon-to-be father. He valued her; there was no doubt of that. But the impression she’d gathered from their brief chat last night was that her role in his life did not extend beyond bed-warmer and baby-maker.

  Anything else was all part of the spray-on gloss of their relationship, that others might be persuaded into believing this was a real marriage. A veneer, she had to admit with some guilt, that was as much hers in the making as his. And as much as she loved seeing her sister here, it pained her still that their families were sucked into the artifice that surrounded their false marriage.

  It didn’t have to be this way. Something in her mind kept telling her that there must be something she could do.

  Rosa sought her out late in the afternoon, and on the pretext of showing her the garden while it was still light whisked her off from the crowd. Arm in arm the women strolled around the grounds, the older woman pointing out their fields of vines, now bare of leaves, the olive groves and the boundary of the property, clearly delineated by a row of pencil pines marching down the hillside. Eventually they came to small formal lookout, where rows of rosemary bushes circled a seat that overlooked the valley below and upwards to the next hill and the walled town of Volterra.

  ‘Our families have lived in this valley for generations,’ Rosa said, sitting down and gazing over the view. ‘We have a home in the city, or we can stay at any of the hotels, but this will always be home for us.’

  ‘I can see why,’ she said, feeling the restful beauty of the landscape seep into her. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  Rosa smiled and picked up one of Opal’s hands in her own. ‘As you are, my dear. I want to tell you how much it means to us both that you are here. Thank you for making our celebration so special.’

  ‘Thank you for making me so welcome. I’m sorry you couldn’t make it to Sydney for the wedding.’ She hesitated, searching for the right words to explain their unusual betrothal. ‘Everything happened so quickly.’

  ‘I understand,’ she said, patting the younger woman’s hand. ‘We could not have travelled then, as you know, and Guglielmo was still having chemotherapy. It was a difficult time. News that Domenic had finally chosen a bride cheered him considerably.’

  She clucked her tongue. ‘And now a baby coming too, and so quickly. We have been blessed, very, very blessed. I’m sure his recovery will be much faster now.’ Opal watched as Rosa wiped a tear from one eye. ‘Children are a gift from God,’ she said, her voice cracking on the last word.

  It was Opal’s turn to squeeze Rosa’s hands, saying nothing as she sensed the older woman had more to share.

  ‘I was fifteen when I married Guglielmo. I was so nervous—it was the first time we’d met—but he was already twenty and so handsome and tall and proud that I couldn’t help but fall in love with him.’ She looked over, smiling. ‘That probably sounds odd to you, the idea of an arranged marriage…’

  Opal smiled in response, thinking that times weren’t so different after all.

  ‘…but fifty years later, we are still together, still in
love. All I wanted to do was give him a happy home, surround him with babies and laughter.’

  She paused. ‘But it didn’t happen that way. We tried and tried for years without success. I had almost given up when I became pregnant. Oh, Guglielmo was so overjoyed, he was so happy. Then six months into the pregnancy I lost the baby.’ She shook her head and sniffed into a handkerchief. ‘I never thought I would emerge from that blackest despair. Until the miracle happened again. I became with child and Guglielmo took no chances. I had the finest doctors, the finest medical care and a long stay in hospital, where I was allowed to do absolutely nothing.’ She laughed a little, her voice brittle. ‘I would have gone mad if I hadn’t wanted this child so much. But eventually it was time and the baby was coming. Guglielmo was so excited. He was by my side when something went wrong and I went into seizures. They rushed me into the operating theatre, delivered Domenic by Caesarean and then battled to save both our lives. After that experience the doctors would not let me consider another child.’ She sighed.

  ‘So you understand, my dear, why news of this child is so wonderful, why your pregnancy has made us so happy. And for Guglielmo especially, you have given him the best medicine in the world. More than that, you have given him a reason to live.

  ‘And that is why we are so happy to have you in our family. Not only does Domenic bring us a beautiful bride but also the prospect of a grandchild before long. For us this is truly the greatest gift of all—the gift of life.’

  Opal smiled tightly, trying to control her own welling emotion, as she met the tear-filled gentle eyes of her mother-in-law. Unable to talk, she wrapped an arm around the older woman’s shoulders and hugged her close. That one woman should have to go through such pain to achieve something that should be so natural wrenched at her heart.

  It had been so easy for her—almost too easy. Yet it meant so much to Rosa and Guglielmo. This was what Domenic had been alluding to last night when he mentioned her pregnancy being the perfect gift. He would naturally know the story of his mother’s battle to have children. He would understand what it meant to them both.