she descended the stairs to take his arm for him to lead her to her marriage with his brother.
She’d meant to glance at Bernardo to see how he reacted to Angie, but the sight of Renato, his eyes fixed on her with a look she couldn’t understand, wiped everything else from her mind. The cathedral vanished, the guests disappeared. There was only herself and Renato, about to become a part of each other’s lives for ever.
The whole congregation seemed to he holding its breath as they made their responses, and to heave a collective sigh when they turned to walk back down the aisle, into the sunlight: husband and wife. The arrangement was made, the deal done. Both parties were satisfied.
At the reception in the Residenza they each managed to get through their parts without too much self- consciousness. Heather smiled and cut the cake. They toasted each other in champagne and tried not to seem too aware of what everyone was thinking. There was applause as they took the dance floor together.
Out of the corner of her eye Heather saw Angie dancing with Bernardo. They seemed lost in each other, but their faces were distraught, almost desperate, and her heart sank.
‘Did you really think it would work, bringing her here?’ Renato murmured.
‘I hoped,’ she said wistfully. ‘They love each other so much.’
‘Which is why neither of them can see reason. Not like us.’
‘I guess that makes us the lucky ones,’ she said, smiling.
He returned her smile. ‘I think we might be.’
Something in that smile made her aware of the movement of his legs against hers through the material of her bridal gown. His hand was firm in the small of her back, and he was holding her very close. Once before they had danced, and she’d fought to deny her growing physical awareness of him. But now she didn’t have to deny it. Her heart beat a little faster.
At last the guests began to leave, except for the ones who were staying the night, and the bride and groom were free to slip away. Her things had already been moved into the room with the big four-poster bed that for years he had occupied alone.
Now it was hers too. Signora Martelli.
There was only one light in the room, a bedside lamp that cast a small glow over the deep red counterpane and the rest of the room into mysterious shadow. The long mirror showed her to herself, a faint muted figure, still uncertain whether she really belonged here.
Something in the silence made her turn quickly and see Renato standing just inside the door. She hadn’t heard him come in. How long, she wondered, had he been there, looking at her with that strange expression that she couldn’t read?
In this light he looked taller and more imposing than ever, except that when he moved towards her there was a new hesitancy in his manner, and she realised that he wasn’t really very sure of himself either.
Renato had had champagne set there on ice, to wait for them, with two tall crystal glasses. Renato poured two glasses and offered one to her. She raised it to him, feeling her heart quicken its beating beneath the white dress.
‘To us,’ he said. They clinked glasses.
She was still in full bridal regalia, but now he lifted off the pearl tiara and removed her veil himself, causing her hair to fall down about her shoulders. Abruptly she set her glass down. Her hand was shaking.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘It must have been a great strain for you, going through today with all those faces staring at you, wondering.’
‘For you too. In fact they were probably wondering more about you, how you felt taking on the woman your brother-ouch!’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said swiftly releasing her hair where his hand had suddenly tightened. ‘I didn’t mean to do that. I think we should agree never to refer to that-or to him-again. It’s over. It didn’t happen.’
Yes, she thought, that was the only way they could live-as though it hadn’t happened.
When Renato spoke again it was in a suspiciously cheerful voice, as though he were forcing himself to change the subject.
‘Did you see Enrico and Giuseppe vying for Mamma’s favours today?’
‘Yes. Poor Enrico was hopping with rage when she danced with Giuseppe. If she hadn’t danced with him straight after I dread to think what would have happened.’
‘Mamma wouldn’t have done that,’ he said lightly. ‘It wouldn’t have been proper, and today has been a day of great propriety. We should congratulate ourselves. We’ve made a wise marriage, bearing in mind the interests of our family and community. This is what sensible people do.’
‘It’s an excellent business arrangement,’ she agreed. ‘We both gain.’
‘I’m glad you see the position so clearly.’
But as he spoke he was letting his fingertips rest against her neck, setting off a soft excitement deep within her that made a mockery of his prosaic words. She met his eyes, wondering why there was a frown far back in them.
‘You haven’t changed your mind?’ he asked abruptly.
‘No, I haven’t changed my mind.’
‘Ah, yes, you’re a woman of your word, I remember.’ He drew her close, looking intently into her face as though trying to divine something she hadn’t told him.
She had the feeling that he couldn’t find it, because the little frown between his eyes didn’t abate. If anything it was more intense as he lowered his head so that his lips could touch her neck. She cupped his head instinctively, feeling how well it fitted there.
As his mouth moved persuasively over her skin his fingers were working on the fastening at the back of her dress. It whispered to the ground and she felt the cool night air against her skin.
But she herself couldn’t be cool. She was already burning with need for him. Something that had started the day he walked into the department store and challenged her was about to come to fruition, and she would find whether she’d gambled everything on a false dream.
He tossed his jacket and shirt aside and took her into his arms. His kiss was gentle, almost everything held back until they knew each other a little better. Their other kisses had been fierce, antagonistic. Tonight, for the first time, they had time to kiss in peace, giving each other the benefit of leisurely exploration, no rush, no quarrelling, just a man and a woman free to think only of each other.
She tried not to think of all the other, cynical kisses his lips had bestowed, or she would grow too jealous. She wanted him all to herself, now and for ever. Her mouth told him so as she welcomed him inside, relishing the feel of his tongue exploring her, teasing and inciting her. His mouth was warm and persuasive, cajoling her into pleasure. She answered with her own lips and tongue, with movements she hadn’t even known she knew, but which seemed to please him because he gave a little growl of pleasure and redoubled his onslaught.
She didn’t know where her flimsy slip went, or how she came to be lying on the bed while he tossed aside the rest of his clothes and joined her, pulling her into his arms so that she felt his chest against her, as smooth as the marble of the statues that dotted this ancient island. He was part of it, part of a civilisation that went back almost to the dawn of time, but what she sensed in him now was timeless. Civilisations had arisen from it, yet it was un- civilised, primitive and thrilling.
Once before he’d seen her naked, but she hadn’t known. Now she was in his arms again, and this time he was as naked as she, pressing her against his hard body while his hands roved over her. She explored him in turn, tentatively at first, then with growing confidence as she discovered how excitingly masculine he felt against her palms, the tautness of his muscles like sprung steel.
At some point he switched out the bedside lamp so that they were almost in darkness. Only a little light came from the great curtain-hung windows. It might have been any man holding her against him, caressing her body intimately with such skilful hands. But then she sensed the power tempered by gentleness in his embrace, felt the hard, muscular length of his thighs against her own, and knew that this could be no other man but Renato.
She felt his touch along the length of her inner thigh, seeking and finding the heart of her. Shockwaves of desire went through her as she waited for him. In the dim light she could see the gleam of his eyes. She thought they seemed troubled, almost hesitant.
‘Renato…’ she breathed.
‘You’re sure-tell me that you’re sure-’
It was hard to speak through the tide of warmth engulfing her but she managed to whisper, ‘I’m sure-I want
