Return of Her Italian Duke

by Rebecca Winters

  He looked over at her. “Having a good time?”

  “This is the best. Can you imagine how much fun we would have had if you’d been able to drive us around years ago?”

  “I’ve tried hard not to imagine what joy that would have been. In truth, if I’d driven off in a car with you, no one would have seen us again. My father knew that if I got behind the wheel of any car, I’d disappear.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have. Like you told me, you’d never leave your mother.”

  He squeezed her thigh. She remembered everything.

  “When did you learn to drive?”

  “After I got to New York and bought my first car.”

  “What kind?”

  “A white Sentra, perfect for a college guy. I have pictures I’ll show you.”

  “I want to see and know everything that happened to you.”

  “We’ve got the rest of our lives, Gemma.”

  She didn’t respond, but he wasn’t worried. She’d come with him and today was only the first day. They whizzed along, chatting and eating. They explored Puglia before coming to the medieval town of Polignano a Mare, scattered with white buildings.

  “Oh, look, Vincenzo. This whole area is built on sheer cliffs.”

  “This is where we’re staying tonight. Years ago the guys told me about this place. I’ve been anxious to see it ever since.” He turned in to the Grotta Palazzese Hotel built from the local stone. “We can’t see it from here, but there’s a cave restaurant below where we’re going to eat tonight.”

  “I’ve heard about it. I can’t wait to see it! A real cave.”

  “Yes. Seventy or so feet above the water. Let’s check in and get our room, then walk around some of those narrow streets until we get hungry.”

  * * *

  Gemma’s heart raced when Vincenzo asked the concierge for a key to their room. Except for the night she’d crept up to his room all those years ago, and last night, she’d never been in another man’s bedroom.

  There were several couples checking in. She wished she could be nonchalant about their situation. After they reached their room and closed the door, Vincenzo put their bags down and pulled her into his arms. They kissed hungrily.

  “Relax. It’ll get easier.” He knew everything going on inside her. “Go ahead and freshen up.” She passed the queen-size bed on the way to the bathroom. This was all so new to her, she had to pinch herself.

  Before long he took her out to play tourist. She had the time of her life as they meandered through the ancient streets hand in hand. No woman they passed could take their eyes off Vincenzo. One of the clerks in a tourist shop fell all over herself to get his attention.

  But he’d fastened his attention on Gemma. He constantly teased and kissed her all the way back to the hotel, where they dressed for dinner. In their youth they’d had to plan every move to be together so no one would find out. It had been as if they were caged. Little could she have imagined a night like this with him. To be free and open to show their love was intoxicating.

  A cry escaped her lips when they went down the steps to the limestone cave restaurant below. In the twilight, the individual tables had been lit with candles. The whole ambience had a surreal feeling with the warm evening breeze coming off the Adriatic.

  They were shown to a table for two and served an exquisite meal of prawns and swordfish. She looked into his silvery eyes. “You can hear the water lapping beneath us. This is an enchanting place.”

  “The guys were right. You can’t find a more romantic spot anywhere in Italy.”

  “I agree. A restaurant without walls. It’s incredible.” Near the end of their meal, the waiter came over. “No more wine for me,” she said. “One glass is all I can handle.”

  Vincenzo declined a second glass, too. “Shall we take a little walk before going to bed?”

  The thought of being with him all night sent a wave of delight through her body. “I’d love it.”

  An hour later they returned to the hotel and headed for their room. Vincenzo waited for her to get ready for bed. While he was in the bathroom, she climbed under the covers, dressed in the only long nightgown she owned. She wasn’t quite as full now, but the food had stimulated her. She doubted she’d be able to sleep at all lying next to him.

  He entered the darkened room in his robe and opened the window to let in the sea air. When he got into bed, he turned on his side toward her and drew her around so she faced him.

  “Do you know that since we’ve been together again, all we’ve done is concentrate on me? I want to talk about you. I want to hear everything that happened to you from the morning you had to leave the castello.”

  She tucked her hands beneath her pillow so she wouldn’t be tempted to throw them around his neck. “That was the worst moment of our lives. Mamma was so quiet I was frightened. We left with Bianca and her mother in a taxi early in the morning. At the train station in Milan, we all said goodbye. They were going back to Bellinzona in Switzerland, where their family came from.”

  He let out a groan. “So that’s why Dimi couldn’t find her, either.”

  “I cried for days. Bianca and I promised to write, but it didn’t last very long, because they moved again and one of my letters came back saying return to sender.”

  Vincenzo stroked her hair with his free hand.

  “As for Mamma, she at least had her sister and niece in Florence. They offered us a home over the bakery. I loved them and we were very blessed, really. She was able to work in the bakery immediately to start earning money.”

  “Thank heaven your aunt was so good to you. I’d give anything to make it up to your mother for the pain. Not only couldn’t I protect my own mother, I couldn’t do a thing for yours.”

  Gemma heard the tears in his voice. “Please don’t worry about it. My aunt knew Mamma had to use the Bonucci name so your father couldn’t track her down. Everything worked out.

  “On our first weekend there, Mamma took me to the cemetery to see my papà’s grave. I never knew him, so all I could feel was sadness for that. But for the first time in years, I watched her break down sobbing. I’d been so fixated on my own problems, I never realized how much she’d suffered after losing my father.

  “Their married life had been cut short and she didn’t have any more babies to love. My selfishness had caught up to me and I determined to be a better daughter to her from then on.”

  “You were the best, Gemma! I was always impressed by how close you were to her. How did you end up going to cooking school? You never talked about it to me. I didn’t know that’s what you wanted to do.”

  “I didn’t, either. I assumed I’d to go college. One time when you and I were together, I told you as much in order to impress you.”

  “After I went to New York, I’d hoped that was what you would do.”

  “The trouble was, I didn’t know what I wanted to study. Two weeks after we got to Florence, the family sat me down. I sensed they were worried about me, and they said they thought I might have been suffering from depression.”

  Vincenzo reached for one of her hands and kissed the palm.

  “They told me I should attend cooking school. If I didn’t like it, I didn’t have to keep going. But since I’d already learned how to cook by watching Mamma, I’d be way ahead of the other students applying there.

  “It sounded horrible to me, but everything sounded horrible back then.” Her eyes stung with tears. “I’d lost all my friends.”

  “That’s exactly how I felt when I arrived in New York,” he whispered.

  “Oh, Vincenzo—” She tried not to cry. “Over the years Mamma had saved a little money, but not enough to go toward my schooling. Yet I never felt deprived.”

  “You were loved, and that kind of wise frugality puts the sins my father and unc
le committed to shame. Now keep telling me how you became a cook.”

  “So my aunt who runs the bakery knew someone in the administration at the Epicurean School, and I was given a scholarship. When she said that it was close enough for me to take the bus there, I realized they were all telling me I had to go and try it. I knew it was what my mother wanted. She’d sacrificed everything for me, so I did it.”

  “Did you hate it in the beginning?”

  “No.”

  He smiled. “That’s interesting.”

  “It was a surprise to my family, too. On the first day I met a girl named Filippa Gatti, who was from Florence. She reminded me of Bianca, and we became friends right away. She said she was tired of academic studies and wanted to do something different. After buying an expensive slice of ricotta cheese pie that tasted nasty, she thought, ‘Why not be a pastry cook? Anyone could cook better than this!’”

  “Why not?” Vincenzo laughed.

  “With so many classes together, we hit it off, hating some of the teachers, loving others.”

  “You mean the same way Dimi and I felt about our tutors.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’d like to meet her one day.”

  “She’d pass out if she ever met you.”

  “Ouch.”

  Gemma chuckled. “You know what I mean. There’s no man like you around anywhere.” He kissed her again. “She helped me deal with my pain over losing you, and our friendship got me through those nine years as an apprentice.”

  “I’m glad you have her in your life.”

  “So am I. You’d love her. She’s darling, with black hair like yours and the most amazing sapphire-blue eyes. She’s fun and so smart. After work we’d go to movies and eat dinner out and shop. Sometimes we took little trips along the Ligurian coastline. We’d visit lots of restaurants and check out the food.”

  He grinned. “Were there any good ones?”

  “I found out you can’t get a bad meal in Italy, but we determined to invent some fabulous dishes that would become famous someday. The truth is, Mamma was the creator in our family, better than my aunt or my grandmother and great-grandmother, who started the bakery. All I could do was try to match her expertise.”

  “You’ve succeeded, Gemma. Is Filippa as good a cook as you?”

  “Much better, and that’s the truth. She’s innovative, you know?”

  “I saw your résumé. You were named the top student in your class.”

  “That’s because Signora Gallo, the woman on the board, loved my aunt and knew it would make her happy to give her niece the top ranking. It should have been Filippa.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “In Canada, applying for a pastry chef position in Ottawa.”

  “Could you have applied there?”

  “Yes, but I wanted a position in France. That is, until I saw the opening advertised at the castello.”

  “It was our luck we got you first. Finders, keepers. Cesare believes you applied for the position because it was meant to be. But I hope your friend gets what she wants.”

  “Me too. She always wanted to work at a restaurant in New York City and be written up in some glossy magazine as Italy’s greatest cooking sensation. I’m kidding. She never said that, but I know she wanted to work in New York. In time I know she will, and I hope she becomes famous.”

  “I could put in a good word for her with Cesare. He owns an excellent restaurant chain.”

  She put her fingers to his lips. “No favors. We’re going to be ordinary people right now, remember? But thank you for being so kind and generous.”

  “Gemma...an ordinary person can recommend someone for a job without being a duca.”

  “You don’t know Filippa. She’s intensely proud. The only way she would take a job would be for her to prove she’s the very best at what she does. To be given a chance through a friend wouldn’t go down with her at all.”

  “Sounds like your soul mate.”

  “Vincenzo—”

  “Does she have a boyfriend who’s going to miss her?”

  “She had one. He let her down in a big way, but she’s over the worst of it now.”

  “That’s good. Now come here and let me kiss you the way I’ve been wanting to. We’ve talked long enough.”

  “I don’t dare.”

  “Then will you do me a favor and turn on your other side? I can’t promise not to reach out for you during the night. I have no idea what I do in my sleep.”

  “Then we’re both in trouble. Buonanotte, Vincenzo. I’ve had the most wonderful day of my life.”

  “Guess what? We have two weeks of wonderful days and nights ahead. Tomorrow I thought we’d fly to the island of Mykonos.”

  “You’re joking. Aren’t you?”

  “Is that excitement I hear in your voice?”

  “Yes! I’ve never been to Greece.”

  “Neither have I. Ironic, isn’t it? I’ve traveled all over North and South America, parts of Asia. I’ve been to many of the states in the US—Hawaii, Alaska—and I know New York City like the back of my hand. But the rest of my education is still lacking.”

  “So is mine,” Gemma murmured after she’d taken in what he’d just told her about his travels.

  “Both Takis and Cesare say I have to see the Greek islands. Once you go there, you’ll never want to travel anywhere else. I’ve arranged for us to stay at a small hotel with a restaurant, Gemma. It’s on a white sandy beach where the waters are blue and crystal clear. You step right out of the room onto the beach. If you want, you can walk to town from there.”

  She let out a long sigh, picturing the white Greek architecture. “In my opinion, to live and be surrounded by water is true paradise. That’s the one thing missing in Milan and Florence. They’re both landlocked. Eating by the sea tonight inside that grotto was sheer enchantment. No other restaurant could compare.”

  “Being with you made it magical. Tomorrow morning we’ll fly straight from Bari to Paxos. Sleep well, il mio adorabile cuoca.” He leaned over to give her a tender kiss, then rolled on his other side.

  Vincenzo had just called her his adorable cook.

  “You’re too good to me, you know. I haven’t done anything for you but cause you trouble.”

  “If you want to make it up to me, all you have to say are four little words besides I love you.”

  I know.

  “We’re doing fine, aren’t we? We’re a man and a woman enjoying life together, right?”

  “Yes.” Her voice wobbled.

  “You sound like you’re going to cry.”

  “How do you know me so well?”

  “Maybe because we met from the moment we were out of the cradle. You’re as familiar to me as Dimi. No one else was in my world. I saw you in every mood and circumstance, just as you saw me.”

  “Our deep friendship is unique. On the strength of it, will you tell me the truth about something? When you went back to New York this time, did you see Annette?”

  “Yes. We went to dinner and I told her she wouldn’t be seeing me again because I was so madly in love with you, it was as if we’d never been apart.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Gemma. I can read your mind. If you can’t commit to me by the end of our vacation, my feelings for Annette won’t be resurrected. I can’t imagine being a good husband to any woman when my heart has been yours from the age of five.”

  Now the tears started.

  “Maybe that was the problem with my father and my uncle. Both of their marriages were arranged. They didn’t have the luxury of already being in love with the women chosen for them. Our poor mothers had no choice, either.”

  “But they had you and Dimi to love.”

  “Still, what a shame
they weren’t lucky enough to have grown up with the sweetest little girl on the planet. If I had to look for a reason for their notorious philandering, that might be one of them. I’d have fought dragons for you.”

  “I would have nursed your wounds.” Her words came out ragged.

  “That’s what you did the night you came to my room. I ought to be thankful for what my father did to me. Though you didn’t know he was the reason I was hurt, the news brought you to me.”

  “I still can’t believe what he was capable of.”

  “It’s over, and we were able to have that precious time together before I had to leave the country. The memory of that night was the only thing that has gotten me through the years—and Dimi, of course.”

  “Has he met a woman he loves?”

  “He’s had girlfriends, but no one special. My uncle is still alive and in prison. Work is Dimi’s panacea to stave off the demons. With his contacts and resources, he’s helped us put the details of the castello transaction together. He and the guys have developed a strong friendship already.”

  “You can’t help but love Dimi. I’ve missed him terribly. Does he ever go to see his father?”

  “Not yet. He’s does a lot of his business at home to be with my aunt. She has several health care workers who provide relief for him. He says her doctor doesn’t give her much longer to live.”

  “How hard for him. How hard for you. Forgive me for talking my head off.”

  “It’s music I’ll never grow tired of, Gemma. We were parted by too many years of silence. I’m greedy for all the time I can get with you.”

  She lay there bombarded by shock waves of feelings and emotions. Gemma didn’t need any more time to know she wanted to be his wife. She’d always wanted to belong to him. What she had to do now was believe that even if he was the duca, he would stay this normal man who made her feel so complete she could die of happiness.

  In that regard every woman wanted to believe that about the man she married. She wanted proof that he would always love her and never change. But no power on earth could give you proof like that. Her faith in him had to be enough. She did have faith in this man. Since she’d been with him again, it had been restored to new heights.