She continued to face him without flinching. “Because you’ll also have me. It’s your choice whether you have just the vineyards, or if you have a family who will adore you and a wife who will love you like no one else will ever love you.” She gripped her hands together, and he suddenly realized they were shaking. She was shaking. He could understand it. She was risking everything with her confession. “I’m telling you all of this because I won’t go into a marriage with any deception between us. When you make your choice, it will be with all the facts.”
And now the decision was his. Two roads opened before him, as sharp and clear as a summer’s day. The left-hand road offered glittering success and wealth, following in his father’s footsteps. The right-hand road also offered success, but of a different sort. This road held more trials and tribulations, his success hard-won and long-fought. But on that road stood Serena, beautiful and passionate, along with a son and daughter. And while his daughter stood in shadow, Rom’s ring on her finger, his son stood in brilliant sunshine, his eyes as dark and brilliant as his mother’s. Tito knew which road he wanted….
And he took it.
He hooked a finger in the neckline of Serena’s blouse and gave a gentle tug. She stepped into his arms, the fit as perfect as the first time they’d embraced. “You put a high price on yourself.”
“Yes, I do.” She lifted her mouth to his. “But I’m worth it.”
She proved it with a slow, thorough kiss that made promises he couldn’t wait for her to fulfill. They didn’t speak for a long time. When they parted, both a bit more rumpled and a lot more breathless, it was Serena who, in typical fashion, cut right to the heart of the matter.
“What about Rom and Julietta? Do you think you can forgive them?”
He nodded. “I forgave them as soon as I realized I’d been saved from a cold, miserable marriage.”
“Can you convince my parents not to chase after them?”
“I’ll do what I can.”
She sighed in relief. “When are you going to tell Rom and Julietta that all is forgiven?”
He frowned, anger still grumbling beneath the surface. “You assume a lot. I don’t recall saying all is forgiven.”
She smiled knowingly. “When?”
Tito shrugged. “Eventually.” Then he grinned. “But not until they’ve had a few years to wallow in their guilt and suffer for what they did. After all, they’ve saddled me with an irritating wife who will nag me incessantly.”
“Probably.”
He released a reluctant sigh. “But at least you’ll warm my bed.”
“Such a tepid description. Don’t you long for something far more than mere warmth?” She caught his earlobe between her teeth and gave him a gentle love bite. “Maybe something as hot as Mt. Vesuvius.”
He shuddered. “You would have made a lousy nun.”
“So I keep telling everyone.” She wrapped her arms around Tito’s neck. “But I’ll make a superb wife.”
Chapter Eight
Julietta didn’t remember much of the wedding ceremony, only dreamy moments awash with soft color and sound. Nonno’s gruff laugh when he tucked a bit of iron in Rom’s pocket to ward off evil spirits. His gifting her with his handkerchief to cover her loosened hair, to use in place of the veil she’d lost. His ripping a corner for luck. The shadowy coolness inside the sanctuary. The dust motes that danced in the dying rays of sunlight filtering through the latticework of the confessional. Her confession and the balm of forgiveness. The purifying scent of incense and the ritual of the Mass. The sanctity of their ultimate joining. The kindness in the voice and gaze of the elderly priest when he blessed their union. The weight of the handcrafted gold band Rom slid on her finger. The kiss of her husband, the first as his wife. The passion that lingered like a promise behind that kiss.
The impressions all melded together into a delicious medley of scents and sounds, tastes and touches. But the image that remained first and foremost was the sheer adoration and love on Rom’s face when they were pronounced husband and wife. His eyes blazed molten gold with the intensity of his feelings for her, feelings she returned with every particle of her being.
They exited the church into twilight. A photographer waited for them, another gift from Nonno. Julietta and Rom faced the camera nervously and Rom took Julietta’s hand, squeezing it tight. They glanced at each other an instant before the photo was snapped… and relaxed into the certainty of their love. The photographer grinned in delight at capturing the candid moment and promised to have a copy ready for them the next morning.
Nonno stepped forward and kissed the bride. “Evviva gli sposi,” he said, offering the traditional post-ceremonial greeting. Tears gathered in his eyes as he pulled his grandson in for a warm hug. “It hurts my heart to say farewell, even as it fills me with joy to see your happiness. Know I go with you in spirit, nipote.”
Rom thumped his grandfather on the back and reluctantly released him. “The invitation is still open, Nonno. You’re welcome to join us, anytime.”
“Who knows what God has in store for us? Perhaps there will be occasion for a visit.” He released his breath in a heavy sigh. “In a few minutes I must go and visit some old friends so I have a story to cover my actions. When I return to Santa Lucia and hear of your disgrace, I will show great sadness over my wayward grandson. And of course, I will know nothing of how such a thing might have happened.”
Rom eyed his grandfather grimly. “Don’t take any merda from Luigi.”
Nonno chuckled. “He will not dare, considering I contribute heavily to the support of his family.” He removed a thick envelope from his jacket pocket. “This is for you and your lovely bride. For emergencies.”
Rom shook his head and held up his hands. “Nonno, I don’t need your money.”
But his grandfather wouldn’t be denied and forcibly tucked the envelope in his grandson’s pocket. “It is mine to give as I see fit. It is my legacy to you, along with this….” He handed over a small box. “Consider it a bon voyage present. Then, tomorrow, Aldo will come to take you to Florence. That will be my last gift to you.”
“Thank you,” Julietta said and embraced Rom’s grandfather. “Thank you for everything.”
An ancient car pulled up and honked. “That is my ride.” Tears fell to Nonno’s cheeks, sliding into the heavy crevices lining his face. He wiped the dampness away with shaky hands. “I seem to have lost my handkerchief,” he joked gruffly.
Julietta removed the scrap of linen he’d given her to use for a veil and gently dried his tears before kissing each cheek and then his mouth. “Sarai sempre nel mio cuore,” she whispered. “You will always be in my heart.”
And then he was gone, leaving the newlyweds with the bitterness of parting, combined with the sweetness of loving memories.
“Where do we go now?” Julietta asked afterward.
“Nonno arranged for a small cottage for our wedding night. It’s not far from here.”
“I… I don’t have anything to change into.” He grinned, and she nudged him with her hip, pretending exasperation. “And in the morning? What do you expect me to wear then?”
His grin widened. “The same as what you’ll wear tonight.” He lifted her into his arms and swung her in a dizzying circle. “Calm yourself, wife. Your sister has seen to all your needs. She even arranged to have the bulk of your clothing sent to Florence. I’m not sure how she managed all she did, but I’ve concluded your sister is a force of nature. I don’t think Tito has any idea what’s about to hit him.”
Julietta clung to Rom’s neck, laughing. “Should I warn that it runs in the family?”
“What man wouldn’t want a capable woman at his side? Be a force of nature, amore mia. I don’t fear it. I welcome it.”
Her laughter faded. “I hope we’ll always feel this way about each other.”
“You have doubts?”
She shrugged. “It’s just that we haven’t known each other very long. What happens if we irritate one
another?”
“The road here had many rocks and ruts. But we maneuvered around them. We’ll continue to maneuver around them. Together.”
“And if we trip or fall?”
“I will help you stand again, just as you will help me.” He leaned in and kissed her, his strength becoming her strength. “We will dust each other off and kiss our hurts and bruises. Then we’ll continue down the road, hand in hand. We will love together, have children together, build a life together. And we’ll grow old together. You know it’s true. You’ve seen it, just as I have.”
She couldn’t deny it. “It won’t be a perfect life.”
“It never is.” His tone grew serious. “But it will be perfect for us.”
Night fell just as they reached the cottage they’d been offered for their wedding night. It belonged to an elderly couple who were visiting relatives in Rome. Someone had left a cold dinner for them in the refrigerator—a cheese and olive plate, roasted chicken, several pasta dishes, and a small wedding cake—though neither of them were hungry. At least, not for food.
Nonno had added one more surprise. In the middle of the floor was a vase, decorative plastic pearls glued to it and their names painted around the base. Julietta laughed. “Is he serious?”
“Knowing my grandfather, very. He’s a man who holds his traditions dear.”
“So, we should smash it?”
“Of course. We can count the pieces while we pick up the fragments.” He frowned in mock seriousness. “How else will we know how many years our marriage will last? Come, we’ll do it together.”
Between them, they hoisted the vase above their heads and smashed it down on to the stone floor of the kitchen.
“Per cent’anni!” Rom exclaimed. For a hundred years.
And sure enough, when they swept the last clay shard into the rubbish bin, it added up to a magical one hundred. “Do you suppose we could be so lucky?” Julietta marveled from her position on the floor.
“With you, I think anything is possible.”
She smiled at him over her shoulder, then stilled, taking a moment to simply drink him in, absorbing him into her skin and feeling the rush of his essence heat her blood and kick her heartbeat into a swift rhythm of rising passion. She’d wondered what it would be like to give herself to this man, physically, as well as emotionally. That time had come, and the nervousness and fear of the unknown faded away like dew beneath the warming balm of the sun.
She remained seated on the floor, the skirt of her dress billowing around her. Slowly she removed the bolero jacket and set it aside. Then she swept her hair off her back, silently presenting him with the row of tiny buttons that punctuated the length of her spine. After the slightest hesitation, he crouched behind her. His heat surrounded her, warmed and aroused her. She marked the progress of his hands by the slow give of her gown, each button gently released until the fitted bodice fell away.
Julietta sighed. How she wished she wore delicate silk and lace beneath her gown. But finances hadn’t allowed for anything so luxurious. Her strapless bra was a simple white cotton, decorated with a small blue bow, added to satisfy part of the wedding custom “something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” The plain cotton matched the equally plain high-waisted panties hidden by her petticoats.
Rom unhooked the back strap, and she allowed the bra to fall away. She turned in place, and he simply stared, shaking his head. “You look like Aphrodite, with the sea foaming around you,” he said, his voice low and husky.
“I’m not a goddess. I’m just a woman.”
“Fortunate, since I’m just a man.”
“My man.”
He lifted her from the floor, freeing her from her gown and petticoats. “And my woman.”
She still wore her garter and stockings, along with the despised cotton panties. Not that he seemed to mind. He cupped her face and pulled her in for a slow, tender kiss, one she returned with all her heart. He lifted her into his arms and carried her through to the section of the cottage set aside for the bedroom. It wasn’t a separate room, just a generous space off the main area, tucked behind a filmy curtain of gauze.
He set her on the bed, the mattress so wide and soft, it threatened to swallow her. She couldn’t help laughing at the way she sank into its depths. Rom followed her down, frowning in dismay. “How am I supposed to be romantic and sophisticated when I’m floundering like an elephant caught in a quagmire?”
“I think the more urgent question is how you’re going to explain the loss of your wife,” she teased. “‘I’m sorry Signore and Signora Bianchi. The last I saw of her, she was vanishing down the gullet of a down mattress.’”
For an instant her joke fell flat, the realization striking them both that there wouldn’t be any future conversations with her parents or family. Nor with his.
He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry, Julietta. I’m sorry loving me meant losing them.”
She caught his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. “We’re not going to spend our life pretending they never existed. We’re not going to avoid mentioning them because we’re afraid we’ll cause each other pain. They’re part of us and will be part of our children and our children’s children. So, right here and now, we make an agreement. We will talk about them. We’ll celebrate the time we had with them. We’ll regret that, for the moment—and only for the moment—they can’t share in our joy. But we will pray that one day in the near future, we will be reunited with them. And then our happiness will become theirs.”
He took her hands in his and kissed them. “I’ve married a wise woman. You’re right. This can either remain a shadow between us, or we can drag it out into the sunshine and not allow it to grow into a monster lurking in the dark.”
She linked her arms around his neck. “And now, husband. Please unearth me from this hungry bed and make mad, passionate love to me. This is one part of my wifely duties I’d like to learn…” She offered a siren’s smile. “And learn well.”
Rom didn’t require any further prompting. He suspected his wife hid her nervousness beneath bold words and a tantalizing smile. If truth be told, he had a few nerves, as well, desperately wanting the night to be perfect—especially since so much of their romance had been the opposite.
He left the bed long enough to remove his clothing, taking his time so she could see and accustom herself to the man she’d married. Nude, he returned to the bed and sat beside her. God had gifted her with an endless bounty of hair, the rich, brown curls the most glorious he’d ever seen gracing a woman. They framed her delicate features and slender torso like a vibrant halo of bronze. He helped her strip away her few remaining undergarments, noting the faint blush that spoke of her unease at being completely naked in his presence. He didn’t touch her, which he knew surprised her.
“There’s no rush.” He offered the explanation with an easy smile. “Let’s become comfortable with each other first. We will look until we are no longer self-conscious. Then we will touch until we know each other better than we know ourselves. And finally, adorata mia, we will make love. And it will be exactly right, the most natural thing in the world.”
Her gaze darted like a hummingbird moth, stroking him with its velvety wings. A blush continued to tint her face, and he kept their conversation light and casual until her color returned to normal and she replied to his questions without any lingering awkwardness. Keeping his movements slow and casual, he came down beside her and slid his arm beneath her shoulders, scooping her against his side. Her heart skittered nervously and her breathing quickened. Again, he gave her time to relax, asking about her sisters and teasing her for being called the “easy” one.
“I suspect you’ve worked hard to keep your true nature hidden.”
She turned her head to look at him, her hazel eyes alight with laughter. “Are you saying you don’t think I’m easygoing?”
He tapped the end of her nose with his index finger. “I think you’re warm and c
ompassionate. I know for a fact you’re dutiful and put your family before yourself.”
“Until today,” she whispered.
“There’s a difference between being dutiful and loving your family, and sacrificing yourself,” he replied. “If we have a daughter, would you ask such a thing of her?”
“Never.” Her response came without thought, passion vibrating through that single word. She released a slow sigh. “No. I’d never ask a child of mine for so great a sacrifice.”
“Just as your parents should never have asked it of you.”
It was as though he’d lifted a great weight from her shoulders. Tears welled in her eyes, and she curled into him. “They shouldn’t have insisted I marry Tito, should they?”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t have, if they hadn’t thought it would be in your best interest, as well as their own.”
“Do you think Serena and Tito will marry?”
He laughed, though it sounded more sardonic than amused. “Probably.” He kissed the top of her head and her curls clung to the hint of shadow roughening his jaw. “The only question is whether Tito is willing to go through with another wedding.”
“You mean it depends on whether he loves Serena as much as she loves him.”
Unable to help himself, he stroked his wife’s bare shoulder, lingering on the fragile sweep of her collarbone. Her skin flowed like silk beneath his hands. “Or whether his desire for your family’s vineyard outweighs the dent his ego took today.”
She froze beneath his touch, and he reluctantly stilled his roving hand. “No,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very sure.”
He lowered his head and kissed her, taking her mouth in a slow, deep kiss. She responded instantly, her lips parting, her tongue tangling with his. Her breath shuddered from her lungs, and for the first time, she touched him in return. Her hands shifted across his chest, exploring the hard, masculine angles. She murmured against his mouth, something that sounded like approval. And then her hands slid lower, arrowing along the pathway of crisp hair to his erection.
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