Bride By Choice

‘It took me a long time to take it all in when I first came here,’ Heather said. ‘Now it feels just like home.’

‘And you live here all the time?’ Helen asked.

‘Not all. Renato and I have a little estate called Bella Rosaria a few miles away. We live there a lot in summer, but we’re here now to be near Baptista. Also our baby will be due soon. Here we are.’

She flung open the door to a huge room with two large four-poster beds hung with white net curtains. More net curtains hung at the floor-length windows.

Helen’s luggage had already arrived, and a maid was unpacking it. She had almost finished the last suitcase and was holding the black velvet bag where Helen kept her few really good pieces of jewellery. The sound of the door made her look up, as if startled.

‘What are you doing here, Sara?’ Heather asked. ‘I told Anya to do this job.’

‘Anya had to go out, Signora,’ the maid explained. ‘I only meant to be helpful.’

‘Very well, you may leave.’ It seemed to Helen that her hostess was displeased about something. There was a coolness about her manner until the maid had left the room.

‘Come and look at this view,’ Angie said, coming in behind them and opening the windows onto a broad terrace. From here they could see inland, over the vast garden to the land beyond, stretching away to the misty mountains.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Helen breathed. ‘All my life I’ve heard about this country, but I never knew it could be so lovely.’ She returned to the bedroom, out of the heat. ‘This room-my goodness! It’s-so much!’

‘Yes, isn’t it?’ Heather agreed. ‘It’s where Angie and I slept when I came out here-’ Something checked her.

‘When you came out to get married,’ Helen finished. ‘Did Renato meet you at the airport and drive you back through all that wonderful scenery?’

When they didn’t answer at once she looked around.

‘No, Renato was busy that day,’ Heather said quickly. ‘Why don’t you have a siesta? I’ll send you up some refreshment. Lorenzo will be home later, and we’ll all have dinner together.’

She gave Helen a small peck on the cheek, and departed

What am I doing here? Helen thought as soon as she was alone. The one place I swore I’d never visit.

But then Lorenzo seemed to be there beside her, giving her the smile he kept for her. Her body was warm again with the anticipation of his loving, her desire demanding to be slaked, her flesh aching with deprivation. And she knew that nothing could have stopped her following him while she lacked the fulfilment only he could give her.

Another maid arrived with coffee and sandwiches. She had them and settled down to her siesta. She was awoken by the feel of lips on hers, and opened her eyes to find herself in Lorenzo’s arms.

‘It made me so happy to know that I would find you here,’ he whispered. ‘What would I have done if you hadn’t come with me?’

‘But your mother is improving. You didn’t need me.’

‘I shall always need you, cara.’ His eyes held a hint of mischief. ‘We have unfinished business.’

She smiled back, teasing him. ‘And when we’ve finished-shall I go home?’

He was suddenly serious. ‘Our business will never be finished. Never as long as we live.’

He tightened his arms and kissed her long and deeply. She gave herself up to him, filled with a fierce emotion she’d never known in her life before. Even now she resisted putting a name to it, but she was where she wanted to be. How could she ever leave him?

He tore himself away at last. ‘I was sent to tell you that dinner will be in half an hour.’

‘That just gives me time to have a shower.’

‘I’ll come back for you.’

He did return, just as she’d finished slipping into a deep blue dress that looked ravishing against her dark colouring. But he wasn’t alone. Helen heard him chatting with someone as they approached, and opened her door to see him standing there with his arm about Heather’s shoulders.

‘We came to fetch you,’ Heather said, smiling in her friendly way.

In Baptista’s absence Heather was the lady of the house. She took Helen’s hand and personally led her downstairs to where the family was gathering for the evening meal, underlining the consensus that this stranger was already one of them.

Renato also made the matter plain by saying, ‘I’ve had Dagwood Baxter burning up the lines, cancelling that million-dollar order the day after he placed it. How come?’

‘I told him to stuff it,’ Lorenzo replied.

‘Why?’

‘He insulted Helen.’

‘In that case you did right,’ Renato said at once.

It was like that for the rest of the evening, warmth, kindness, acceptance. Helen blamed herself for a slight apprehension, but it was rooted in a deep instinct, and she couldn’t help it. But it would pass, she assured herself. All would soon be well.

The wedding of Fede and Baptista was planned quickly, but with the Martelli genius for organisation. Fede’s son by his first marriage would arrive from Rome the day before, and his son would be best man. His daughter sent her love but was unable to be present, as her little boy was poorly.

Helen was there on the evening after Baptista returned from hospital, when the family discussed who would give the bride away? Renato and Lorenzo squabbled amiably for the honour. Bernardo, not being Baptista’s son, made no claim, but to Helen’s eyes his air of unconcern wasn’t quite convincing. Gradually the truth dawned on the others too, and a silence fell.

‘Why don’t you all three do it?’ Helen asked. ‘It’s easy, really. Two of you take an arm each, and the third leads the way.’

‘What a wonderful idea,’ Baptista said at once. ‘I shall be escorted by all my sons.’

There was a general air of relief. Afterwards Angie hugged Helen, whispering, ‘Thank you.’ Lorenzo winked and gave her a thumbs-up of approval, and Baptista took her hands saying happily, ‘Already you are one of us.’

At that there were more nods and smiles, but the conversation passed on to something else before Helen could speak. So there was no chance for her to say, ‘But I’m not one of you. I never can be.’

Even if she could have brought herself to say it.

That night she and Lorenzo walked on the terrace overlooking the sea, glorious in the moonlight.

‘My mother really loves you,’ he said. ‘You made her so happy with that idea. In fact you made us all happy. Bernardo’s a thorny character, but you seem to have found the key to him. Has Mamma told you yet that she wants you to be her attendant?’

‘What about Heather and Angie?’

‘They’re both heavily pregnant. Especially Heather.’

‘But I’m not one of the family.’

‘Well, you soon will be.’

Now was the time to say, ‘I can’t marry you.’ Instead she let him draw her into the circle of his arms, and his kiss blotted out everything else.

Everything was different now. ‘Unfinished business’, Lorenzo had called it, and she couldn’t be with him without remembering how close they’d come to physical delight. Her body yearned towards him as much as her heart. But what could be arranged so easily in New Orleans was impossible here in the respectable house of Baptista Martelli. Unless they married…

She shut that thought off. Of all the foolish reasons for marrying a man the desire to make love with him made the least sense in this day and age. It didn’t matter that the sight of him filled you with happiness and anticipation, that his touch sent tremors of delight through you, and the sound of his voice melted your heart. It didn’t matter that you awoke thinking of him and went to bed aching for him, or that you couldn’t picture life without his wicked, teasing smile.

You put these things aside because he was Sicilian, and you’d sworn-long ago, in the days before you lost your