by Day Leclaire
Relief threatened to turn her spine to summer-warmed tree sap and it took every ounce of control to remain upright. “And—and we’ll go to Hidden Harbor?”
“Together, as husband and wife.”
“You can stay tonight.” She made the offer one last time, hoping against hope he’d take her up on it. “I won’t make a fuss.”
“No, I can’t. Not without making you mine. And that’s not going to happen until the timing is right.” He pulled her close, his mouth pressed to the top of her head. “I’ll see you in the morning, moglie mia.”
She’d had a lot of practice shielding her emotions. This was no different from those others. So why did she find it so much harder? “I’m almost afraid to ask what you just said.” If her comment was a final, desperate bid to get him to stay, it failed. Miserably.
He released her and crossed to the door, as though anxious to put as much distance between them as quickly as possible. Opening it, he glanced over his shoulder. “Moglie mia. It means, my wife.”
And with that, he left. Left her whispering, “But I’m not your wife. Not really.”
“Do you have any idea what the hell time it is?” Luc growled into the phone. “What is it with you Salvatores that you can’t read a damned clock?”
Marc grinned. “You’re a Salvatore, too, unless I’m mistaken. And I can read a clock.”
“You just don’t give a—Oh, sorry, sweetheart. Did I wake you?” There was a murmured conversation and Luc said in an aggrieved voice, “It wasn’t me! It was Marc. He called because... I don’t know why he called. Why the hell did you call, Marco?”
“To tell you that I’ll be leaving Nevada later today.”
“And not a moment too soon! Did you get the Beaumont contract? You didn’t do anything foolish, did you? You’ve had everyone worried sick that you’d come home with some gold-digging floozy on your arm. You’re not going to do that, are you? What? Oh, sorry, sweetness. I didn’t realize I was yelling.”
Marc sighed. The next few minutes weren’t going to be pleasant “Yes, I got the contract.”
“Great. When will you be home?”
“I have a small stop first.”
“What small stop?” Luc demanded suspiciously.
“Hidden Harbor, Maryland.”
“Never heard of it. What’s in Hidden Harbor?”
“My wife’s home.”
“Your... You better be joking, Marco! What? Oh, sorry, bellissima mia. I didn’t mean to shout again.” He lowered his voice half a decibel. “You’d better be joking, little brother.”
“It’s no joke. Hanna and I were married last night. Maybe early this morning. I can’t really recall.” He held the receiver away from his ear and waited until the virulent stream of Italian slowed to a trickle. “No, I was not drinking. No, I have not lost my—you really shouldn’t use language like that in front of your wife, Luc. She is a preacher’s daughter—mind. No, she’s not some sort of fortune hunter, although I suspect she hasn’t a lot of money. And no, I’m not bringing her home for inspection. At least, not yet. I need time alone with her before I subject her to you hoodlums.”
“What about Dom? What am I supposed to tell him?”
“Tell him I’m delayed on business.”
“You want me to lie?” Luc asked, affronted. “To my own father?”
“Don’t act like you’ve never done it before, big brother. I’ve watched you in action, remember?”
“That was different! I had a good reason.”
“Well, so do I. Papa isn’t a young man. I want to give the marriage a chance before springing it on him.”
“You mean, you want to make sure it’s going to last,” Luc guessed shrewdly.
Marc’s voice hardened. “It’ll last. I’ve waited a long time for this woman. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure of it.”
“If you’re that certain, it must be my new sister-in-law who’s having second thoughts. What? Oh, didn’t I mention, precious? Marc got married. No, he hasn’t asked to talk to you. I’ll explain it later. No, sweetness, you don’t need to tell him—Marc, it’s for you.”
“Marco, what have you done?”
“Hello, Grace. How’s it going?”
“Terrible. Spill it, what have you done?”
“The same thing you and Luc did.”
She sighed. “Yes, but couldn’t you have learned from our mistakes? If you thought our marnage caused an uproar, it’s nothing compared to what will happen when this gets out.”
“The only way it’ll get out is if you or Luc do the outing.”
“Oh, right.” She chuckled. “So, what’s she like? What’s her name?”
“Her name’s Hanna. She’s beautiful. Intelligent. And furled.”
“Furled?”
“Cautious.”
“Oh, dear. No wonder you want to wait before introducing her to your family.”
“You got it. Do me a favor, will you, Grace? Try and keep Luc from pulling some crazy stunt... like showing up on Hanna’s doorstep.” At her snort, he sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I know. It’ll be a challenge. But try and keep him out of my hair for a few weeks, okay? Distract him. Tell him you’re pregnant or something.”
“I am.”
It took a moment for that to sink in. “You’re what? Really? Are you serious? Have you told Luc?”
“Really. Very serious. And I will as soon as we hang up. Will that provide a good enough distraction?”
Marc laughed. “Yeah. That should do it. Congratulations, sweetheart. I know little Gina’s been asking for a brother or sister.”
“Mmm. So has Luc. And Alessandro, and Stefano and Rocco. Pietro and Carina have mentioned it a dozen or two times, as well. Not to mention Dom. Little did I realize when I married Luc that our love life would be orchestrated by the entire Salvatore clan.”
“Which is precisely why I’d appreciate your giving Hanna and me some breathing space.” He heard Luc’s voice raised in the background and suspected Grace’s news had just leaked. “Tell big brother congratulations and that I’ll call in a few days. Take care of yourself.”
“Good luck, Marc. I hope she knows what a wonderful husband she’s gotten for herself.”
“If she doesn’t, I’m sure you’ll be the first to tell her. Ciao!”
“Ciao,” she said with a laugh, and broke the connection.
For a long time, Marc sat and stared at the phone. In a few minutes, he’d thank his hosts for their generous hospitality and for signing a contract with the Salvatores—not to mention providing him with a bride—and depart. He’d catch a cab to the Grand Hotel and pick up his wife. It was the events that would follow which concerned him.
His darling wife had many admirable qualities. But there were a few that, quite frankly, worried him. For one thing, she wasn’t being open with him, not about her background and not about her life in general. If she were broke or deep in debt, perhaps due to her late husband’s illness, he could understand her reticence. But he knew it was more than that. He’d seen her completed marriage application, even though she’d tried to conceal if from him. Eventually they’d have to discuss a few of the more pertinent details.
Even that didn’t matter. What did was her lack of trust, a problem he suspected would comprise the most difficult part of their marriage. Hanna was a fiercely independent woman, a quality he quite liked in a wife. It reminded him of his sister-in-law, Grace. There was only one small problem with that. A husband and wife needed to work together as a team. Compromise would be necessary at times. And on occasions, one would have to accede to the wishes of the other, trusting the partner to make the best decision. He suspected his dear wife would find that a particularly challenging skill to master.
Still... When he looked into Hanna’s hazel eyes and saw the longing she tried so hard to hide... When he sensed the sweet emotions she fought to keep in check... When he tasted the desire filling each kiss... When he held her in his arms and felt the rightness of their joining,
felt the trust and acceptance her body instinctively offered, he knew he’d made the only possible decision. This woman was his soul mate.
Now he had to convince his sweet wife of that fact.
He grinned. But he would. He had a lifetime to accomplish his goal.
The day went steadily downhill after he left the Beaumonts. The minute he arrived at The Grand Hotel, Marc realized he’d made a tactical error in not spending the night with his new bride. She’d already checked out of the hotel and sat in the lobby, her suitcase at her feet. If it hadn’t been for the distinctive flash of auburn when she turned her head, he doubted he’d have recognized her.
She’d dressed in a navy suit, a color that did absolutely nothing for her, the stark white collar washing the natural vibrancy from her face. As though to defy nature, she’d slicked her hair back, screwing it into an excruciating knot at the nape of her neck, the style so stifling even the natural vibrance of the color had trouble escaping. And she’d perched plain black reading glasses on the tip of her nose, the frames secured around her neck with a thick cord.
Heaven protect him, he’d married a schoolmarm!
“Carissima, ” he greeted her uneasily, leaning down to offer a kiss. She turned her head at the last possible moment and his mouth collided with her cheek.
“You don’t have to keep up the Don Juan act, remember?”
“Don Juan was Spanish. I’m of Italian descent.” He straightened, his spine so stiff, it was a wonder it didn’t crack in half. “I apologize if you find the endearments offensive, but that’s how we were raised. I come from an affectionate family—affection we display openly, both in physical ways and through our words.”
She had the grace to blush, not that such a small show of remorse satisfied him. “I guess I’m not used to it.”
“I can understand that.”
His eyes narrowed. There was another matter they needed to address and he cursed himself again for not spending the night with his bride, since this issue could have been dealt with in the privacy of their bedroom. More likely, it wouldn’t have come up at all, since a night of intimacy would have resolved their current awkwardness.
“I can also understand your reluctance to greet your husband with a kiss while in public. If you are shy about such things, you have only to say so. But perhaps in future you’d be so kind as to say hello before criticizing me.”
Her blush intensified and she pressed her lips into a firm line—but not before he caught the betraying tremble. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
Gently he leaned down and plucked the glasses from the tip of her nose. Ah-ha. He could see the faint purple beneath her eyes. It would seem his wife hadn’t gotten any more sleep than had he. “We’re tired, ca—Hanna. We acted impulsively last night and it’s understandable that we’d have second thoughts this morning, especially since we didn’t spend the night together to solidify our marriage.”
“That was your choice, not mine!” Her voice splintered on the final word and she fumbled for the glasses dangling from the end of the cord around her neck and thrust them back in place. But it was too late. He caught the diamond-bright glitter that could only come from tears.
“So it was,” he conceded ruefully, crouching in front of her so they were on the same level. “A mistake I take full responsibility for. Come. Let’s not snap at each other. Someone might get hurt. What do you say? Shall we start over?”
She gave a small nod, which was probably as much as could escape with her hair in such a tight twist. Marc stifled a sigh. He had a lot of ground to reclaim before he found his swan princess again.
“I ordered a cab,” she said in what he sensed was her version of an olive branch. “And I reserved a ticket for you at the airport.”
“Thank you. That was very thoughtful.”
“I... I guess we’d better go.”
He offered his hand and after the slightest of hesitations, she took it. Once again her dislike of public displays of affection was brought home to him and he couldn’t help but wonder at the cause. But he noticed that despite that, her fingers clung, refusing to release him even when she could have gotten away with it. It was a small thing. But it was a start. Not only did she need him, but she wanted him. She simply didn’t know how to let her guard down enough to ask.
Outside the hotel, she hesitated. “About those endearments,” she said in a small rush. “I’m sorry about what I said. I really don’t mind them.”
“Are you sure?”
She offered one of the direct looks that were such a part of her nature. “Positive. I’m sorry I was rude. I’m...nervous.”
“About going home?”
“Yes.”
The cab pulled up and Marc loaded first his wife, then the luggage. Hanna didn’t look nervous. If anything, she looked scared to death. He sighed. Today hadn’t gotten off to a good start and no doubt it wouldn’t improve any time soon. A fact, he suspected, that would be borne out over the next several hours.
“There are a few things I may have neglected to mention.”
Marc glanced at Hanna. They were the first words she’d uttered since they’d left the small municipal airport outside Hidden Harbor. In fact, aside from telling the cab driver their destination, she hadn’t managed a single syllable. So she was finally going to open up. About time. “A few things you neglected to mention,” he repeated. “Let’s see... Like about your parents?”
She stilled. “You saw?”
“On the marriage application? Yes. I assumed from your attitude last night that you didn’t want to talk about it.”
“I didn’t. Don’t.”
He shrugged. “Fine. Tell me when you’re ready.”
“I was...” Her gaze flickered toward the cabbie and she lowered her voice. “Let’s just say I didn’t have a normal childhood. Not one like yours. The town is my family.”
His eyebrows shot upward. “The entire town?”
“Yes. Every last blessed one.”
Before he could ask any further questions, the taxi pulled up to the curb outside a large brick building that looked like it might have been a factory at some point. “What’s this?” Marc asked, unable to ignore an intense feeling of foreboding.
“This is where I work.” She thrust open the door and climbed from the cab. “Well, and where I live, too.”
“This town—the one that’s like a family—keeps you in a factory?” he asked with undisguised horror. He exited the taxi and paid off the driver, surprised when the man actually removed the luggage from the trunk and lined the pieces up on the sidewalk. Perhaps small towns were like that. It would make a welcome change.
“No one keeps me anywhere. This is where I choose to live.” She smiled encouragingly. “It’s quite nice inside. You’ll see.”
“Looks like a busy place.”
“Yes....” She glanced at him, catching her lower lip between her teeth. “I think someone may have called ahead to warn people I was returning.”
“Warn?”
“Maybe alert would be a better word.”
“And why, moglie mia, would everyone need to be alerted?” He folded his arms across his chest. “A welcome party, perhaps?” For the first time she directed her gaze elsewhere. It was a telling action, and one that caught his attention as nothing else would have.
“No.” She cleared her throat. “Not exactly.”
“Then what exactly?”
“You were bound to find out sooner or later.”
He fought to rein in his temper, silently cursing that he considered himself the “patient” Salvatore. Right now, he didn’t feel the least patient. In fact, if he didn’t get some answers soon, he’d display his anger to a degree that would have shocked Dom and his five brothers. “More secrets?”
“Not a good start?” she questioned with a lightness that failed to ring true.
“No.”
“I’m sorry, Marco. Maybe it was your talk about being a gigolo. I know you�
�re not. It’s just...” She released her breath in a gusty sigh. “The truth is, I’m fairly good with money.”
“Fairly good?”
“Okay, very good.”
“And?”
“And all these people are here because they want to see me about various financial matters.”
“You’re a financial advisor?”
“If you go heavy on the advisor part, I guess that’s as good a title as any.”
The tightness building inside diminished and he managed to smile. “Is there a better title?”
“Queen. Or empress.” A teasing expression sparkled in her gaze. “Take your pick.”
“Cute.” He liked it when she laughed. It emphasized the flashes of gold in her eyes and brightened her entire face. She was stunning like this. “I’ve never kissed a queen,” he said, gathering her in his arms. “Or an empress. Welcome home, my lady.”
He half expected her to stiffen and pull away. Instead, she relaxed against him, lifting her face to his. Carefully, he slipped his fingers into her hair, feeling the tight strands loosen and curl around his hands. Then he kissed her. He reveled in the generous sweetness of her mouth and the warm sigh that welcomed him home. Her hands clung to his shoulders as though they were all that kept her anchored to the ground. If they hadn’t been standing outside her office building, he’d have swept her into his arms and found someplace private, someplace where he could offer the completion that should have been hers the night before. But that wasn’t currently an option and he reluctantly released her.
“I’m sorry about last night.”
“Sorry?” Her brow wrinkled. “Why are you sorry?”
“It’s my fault our marriage got off to such a bad start. I should have stayed with you. That way we’d have awoken together on our first day as husband and wife.”
An unmistakable yearning deepened the color of her eyes. “Why didn’t you?”
“I thought I’d give you time to get used to the idea of having a husband. Instead all I did was give you time to have second thoughts.” Regret filled him. “And you did have them, didn’t you?”
