by Rachel Lyndhurst; Carmen Falcone; Ros Clarke; Annie Seaton; Christine Bell
Tom looked guilty and a wave of compassion swept over Brianna. “I’m sorry, Tom. Are you sure you want to go through with this?”
Brianna’s heart almost stopped as he frowned. He looked at her for a few minutes and indecision crossed his face. She was sure he was about to change his mind. She caught her breath.
“If you’ve changed your mind, tell me. And tell me now. I am not going to risk this. I won’t lose the chance to get to know my mother. Even though she’s dead, I can still find out about her life and I can live where she lived.”
“This whole deception has gotten out of hand. It’s starting to involve too many other people.” His voice was firm. “It’s not just about an inheritance any more. People are going to get hurt. And we’re lying.”
“So what are you trying to say?” The panic built in her chest and she fought the disappointment that was clawing through her chest. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve changed your mind?”
“No, I gave you my word. I’ve made a commitment and I won’t go back on it. But I think we need to draw up an agreement before we go through with it.”
Brianna pushed away the confusion filling her. She had a lot of things to get her head around, including the feelings she was starting to have for Tom, but in the meantime she had a wedding to plan, whether he believed it or not.
Chapter Nine
Tom received some appreciative glances as he pushed his way through the throngs of casually dressed tourists crowding the morning market next to the harbor. He pulled at the collar of his shirt. It was the second time he’d worn a suit since arriving in Italy, and it was constricting his neck after T-shirts all week. He strode up the road past the houses that seemed to be glued to the steep hillside overlooking the azure sea. Terraced gardens with grapevines, olive, and lemon trees and various vegetables provided a brilliant foreground to the intense blue of the midmorning sky. Scarlet geraniums in window boxes and pots spilled down the front of the houses, and sweet fragrances hung in the still, hot air.
He paused at the entry of the small hotel at the top of the hill and wiped the perspiration from his face before pushing open the front door. The reception area was deserted, manned by a huge ginger cat draped along the counter. It swiped a lazy paw at him as he walked past the office. Tom stood next to the desk for five minutes before glancing at his watch. He tapped his fingers on the counter.
Come on Brianna, we’re going to be late.
God, he didn’t even know which room she was in. Leaning over the cat, he looked at the large book on the desk, scanning down the room numbers. Number six. Ballantyne. The name stood out in elegant copperplate in the old-fashioned reservations book.
He climbed the stairs to the first floor and walked along until he reached her room at the end of the corridor. After tapping on the door, he crossed to the window that overlooked the square below, and he stood gazing down at the open-air market while he waited for her to open the door. After another five minutes had passed, he knocked again and a harried voice called through the door.
“All right, already…hold ye horses. I’m bloody coming.”
Sweet. A ladylike bride.
He hadn’t planned on a wife, let alone one whose language could get quite colorful at times. Five more minutes passed and he glanced at his watch. He eased himself into the cane chair by the window and waited patiently. Noticing a speck of dirt on his shoes, he pulled out his handkerchief and polished it off. Satisfied they were back to their glossy shine, he looked up and a pair of long, bare legs filled his sight. He raised his eyes to the woman standing in front of the open door.
A vision in white confronted him. Brianna’s olive skin accentuated the virginal white of the tight, short dress molded to her figure like a second skin. Her feet were clad in a pair of barely there gold sandals, and her toenails were painted a soft pink. For the first time since he’d met her, her hair was loose and a torrent of black curls cascaded around her shoulders, one side pinned back by a small spray of red and yellow wildflowers.
His stomach contracted as though he’d been punched in the gut, and a frisson of desire shot straight to his groin.
“You’re ready then?”
“Yes, I’m ready…I think.” She smiled a shaky smile and reached over to tug the sleeve of his suit coat. “But don’t you think you’ll be too warm in a jacket?”
“It’s a formal occasion. I thought a well-dressed groom was called for.”
She reached up and brushed her lips across his cheek. “I’m sorry.” She pulled back and looked at him. “I was only teasing, but you do realize how much I appreciate this?” A frown wrinkled her forehead. “God, how many men would meet someone on a plane and then marry them within the week?” She shook her head and looked at him in disbelief. “It’s like a fairy tale. I can’t believe it. My mother’s cottage turns out to be a villa. I have a real grandfather, even though he doesn’t believe it yet. I really am starting to wonder about this. I always act without thinking, I know that.”
Tom looked down at his watch and feigned displeasure to divert his attention from the beautiful woman in front of him. She was not the flighty girl he’d felt sorry for last week. The braids and the casual shorts had disappeared. This was a woman oozing sex appeal, and his libido appreciated it. And now she was the one having second thoughts.
“Unless we leave straightaway, there’s not going to be a wedding.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a handwritten piece of paper. Even though he’d typed the agreement in his laptop, there hadn’t been a printer anywhere in the marina and he’d had to resort to handwriting. “So we’d better talk this over and decide if we are going to sign this or if we call it quits now.”
Brianna turned to pull the door closed and he gulped. Tanned smooth skin disappeared into a plunging deep V at the base of her back, and his fingers itched to run down her spine. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked in front of her along the corridor to the narrow staircase. She stopped at the top of the stairs and sat down on the top step.
“Show me.” She took the paper from his hands and quickly read the words. “Oh God, I don’t know. Am I crazy?” Brianna looked up at him as he sat down next to her on the wooden step. “On second thought, don’t answer that. I am. I know I’m crazy. I should never have suggested this in the first place.” Her bare shoulder pressed against his and he ignored the jolt of heat rocketing through his body.
“Oh shit, Tom, I just thought. We haven’t got rings. So that solves it. We can’t go ahead with it.”
“Yes, we have,” he said, patting his pocket. “I’ve got a ring for each of us.” He leaned over and put his arm around her, and as she leaned into him, her hair tickled his nose. “If you are going to change your mind, you have about two minutes to decide.”
“What do you think?” She turned to him and he looked down at her. Her eyes were wide and full of trust.
She didn’t really need to know what he was thinking at the moment, because it had nothing to do with getting married and making the right decision. He was fighting the temptation to push her back into the carpeted hallway, put his lips on hers, and run his fingers along her bare shoulders.
But that wouldn’t solve anything. It would only make matters worse. He removed his arm and cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.
“I know,” she said. “Let’s make a list. Have you got a pen?”
Tom pulled a pen from the pocket inside his jacket. “What sort of list? I’m trying to not make lists, remember?”
“Of course you’ve got a pen. Who else would carry a pen to their wedding?” Brianna burst out laughing and he grinned back at her. “Okay. Pros and cons. And then if that doesn’t work we’ll vote. And never mind the no-list-making thing. Exceptions are always allowed in life.”
He shook his head. “We can’t vote with two. It wouldn’t be fair to the loser.”
“Shit, shit, shit.” Brianna handed him back the agreement, leaned forward and put her elbows on her knee
s, and dropped her chin into her hands. “I honestly don’t know what to do. It really isn’t the right thing, is it?”
“Depends what we both want out of it. We’re both going into it with our eyes open.” Her uncertainty was hard to watch, and he wanted to see her smile.
“We haven’t even got time to make a list,” she said.
“I know how to decide,” he said, keeping his voice serious.
He pushed himself to his feet and stepped down two of the stairs so his face was level with hers, and then reached down and lifted one of her hands. He let go and lifted his other hand and held it in front of her.
“Rock, paper, scissors? Winner decides.”
“Okay.”
“Ready?” he said. She nodded.
“One, two, three…four!”
Tom laughed at both their palms extend flat in front of them. “Uh-oh. A tie. What now?” he said. “Best of three?”
Brianna held her hand up to him and when he held it, she pulled herself to her feet.
“No, no more time for games.” She turned to him, her eyes alight with laughter. “Give me the pen and paper. You convinced me. Hurry up or we’ll be late.” They both signed the agreement, and Tom put the piece of paper back in his pocket.
“Come on, then. You’re getting to know me. I hate being late, and I’m not going to be late for my own wedding.”
…
It was cooler in the dim foyer of the town hall, and the three guests waited quietly. Brianna was surprised to see Tom’s aunt chatting to Signore Antoniolli. It was a small town, so of course they’d know each other.
Her grandfather stood to the side and looked across at her without a glimmer of a smile on his face, his beetling brows almost meeting. She looked away, and Tom, God love him, took her hand and squeezed it. His wedding, he’d said. Well, it was her day, too, and if she followed her heart and remained true to herself, it would be her only wedding. Once they annulled the marriage, there was no way she was ever going to marry again, so she might as well make the most of this one.
Tom led her to the celebrant, and Brianna felt like she was distanced from the whole proceeding. Here she was getting married in an Italian town hall, surrounded by strangers, and not understanding a word of it. Nervousness settled deep in her chest like an ache.
She swallowed, but the tightness rose up into her throat. Determined not to cry, she bit down on the side of her cheek so hard she tasted blood. But she failed and the urge to burst into tears got stronger. Tom elbowed her and she looked across at him, tears threatening to spill over onto her cheeks. She shook her head and he elbowed her again and inclined his head to the celebrant who was standing there with an expectant look on his face
Even though the language was musical and pleasant to listen to, she’d stopped paying attention when her nerves had taken hold, and she had no idea what the man was saying. After a few moments, Tom leaned across to her. “He’s waiting for you to say you will take me as your husband.”
Her nervousness disappeared as she looked up into Tom’s deep blue eyes. The sexy crinkles around his eyes deepened as he smiled down at her. He’d drilled the words into her memory, and she had practiced it over and over.
“Err…i sarà.”
Aunt Carmen clapped and her grandfather nodded when the celebrant put their hands together and spoke solemnly.
“Si può baciare la sposa.”
All thoughts of tears drifted away as Tom took her face between his hands and leaned his head toward hers. She held that sexy blue gaze with her own. He closed the distance between them. Desire rocked through her and her trembling legs threatened to give way. All she could think about was running her hands up underneath his shirt and touching his bare skin.
“Pay attention,” Tom murmured against her mouth.
She opened her mouth to assure him that she was, and he kissed her, forestalling any protest from her.
Brianna sighed against his lips and looped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Tom deepened the kiss and shivers skittered across her skin as he explored her mouth. She stiffened when he put his hand on her bare back to draw a lazy circle on her skin, and his lips slid from her mouth to her cheek. Goose bumps rose on her arms. It was as if he’d read her mind. She’d been thinking about touching his skin, and now his fingers were playing on her back.
He pulled back slowly and locked his gaze with hers. “Convincing enough?” he whispered. “Now you have your villa, Mrs. Richards.”
The warmth tingling through her body disappeared as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown over her. For a brief minute she’d closed her eyes and pretended it was for real. Now she shivered, her body as cold as his voice.
Blinking, she looked around at the small group surrounding them. Tom kept a tight hold of her hand as a chorus of congratulations washed over them. His aunt chattered away to him in Italian and he pulled Brianna forward.
“Zia, welcome Brianna, my wife.”
Aunt Carmen kissed her soundly on both cheeks and gripped her hands.
Brianna looked across at her grandfather. A slight smile played about his mouth, and he held her gaze and extended his old wrinkled hand to her. She took it and closed her eyes. She could smell garlic and hair cream on him, but didn’t pull away as dry papery lips brushed her cheek. Unbidden tears filled her eyes, but before she could speak the old man turned away from her to Tom and shook his hand solemnly.
“Più tardi,” he said before tipping his hat and walking out of the room. She remembered the words from the lawyer’s office last week.
Later.
“A meal, si?” Aunt Carmen glared at the back of the old man as he walked out of the door. “Pah, he has always been a stubborn old man.”
Her expression changed to a beam when she turned to face them. “But it is your wedding and the rest of us will be so happy for you.” She came over to Brianna and enfolded her in a close hug. “My sister would never forgive me if I did not make a fuss of you on your wedding day.” She placed gentle hands on each side of Brianna’s face. “Welcome to the family, cara ragazza.”
Signore Antoniolli nodded and Brianna found herself swept out the door and into the hot sunshine. Aunt Carmen and the lawyer chattered nonstop as they crossed the square, and Tom still held her hand tightly. She looked at him. For someone who was playing a role, he was doing it pretty well.
“You can let go now, if you want.”
He dropped her hand and she looked down at it as the sunlight glinted on her wedding ring.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she muttered under her breath. “What in the bloody hell have I done?”
Confusion overwhelmed her, and Tom cupped his hand beneath her elbow as they reached the restaurant. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s just a bit hot.” She grabbed a menu from the counter and fanned herself as they made their way through to the courtyard in the center of the small restaurant. The waiter fussed around and seated the two women, and then poured them glasses of ice water. Aunt Carmen reached over and squeezed her hand. Her face had been wreathed in smiles since Brianna’s grandfather had left them.
Brianna looked down at the small cake in the center of the table as she sipped her drink. It was decorated with sugared flower petals, and had a plastic bride and groom stuck in the middle. She wondered who’d ordered it.
There was so much to process; it was as though she was in a dream. A week ago, she’d known none of these people, and now here she was sitting with a husband, his aunt, and the lawyer who had sent her that fateful letter.
Heat filled her cheeks and her hand shook as she fanned herself with the cardboard menu. “More water, please,” she whispered.
Tom held her against him and placed the glass of water to her lips. She sipped gratefully and the faintness receded as fast as it had come.
“Sorry. I’ve been on a bit of an emotional roller coaster ever since I got that letter, and it all just hit me.”
Tom sque
ezed her hand and kept his other arm around her bare shoulders while Aunt Carmen and Signore Antoniolli looked on affectionately.
“You know, we didn’t think this through very well,” she whispered. “They’re going to expect us to spend the night together.”
“Brianna, my dear.” He smiled and pushed the loose curls back from her forehead before he whispered in her ear. “Don’t worry. We don’t have to please anyone except ourselves now that the marriage certificate is signed. Your mother’s house is all yours and we have to keep a facade up for a few months until we get an annulment. It’s as easy as that.”
Gratitude overwhelmed her and for a moment she couldn’t speak.
“Oh God, what a day. We did it.” All she’d worried about was herself. What about Tom? How the hell had he gotten himself mixed up in her problems? She would be eternally grateful to him, but she hadn’t given him much thought.
She grinned at him and reached over and straightened his suit jacket. “At least you got to wear your suit before it got packed away. A wedding wasn’t on your list.”
“What list? Do I look like a man who needs a list?”
She looked him up and down, from his polished shoes to his crisp white shirt and straight tie, and nodded with a grin.
“Aye, my man. You surely do.”
“Well, I might now, but wait till you see Tom the boatman. He’s the new happy-go-lucky, don’t-give-a-damn man.”
She burst out laughing and grabbed his arm.
“I will be forever grateful, you know. Now, what can I do to help you out? How on earth can I ever repay you?”
“What do you know about boats?” he asked with a smile.
