‘Maribel and Tilda have no idea how exhausted you are, delizia mia. You had a difficult birth and weeks of round-the-clock worry about Ella, and it will take time for you to get over that.’
Guilt assailed Kathy, for when he had phoned her earlier she had assumed that he was objecting to her going out on the town when it was obvious that concern had motivated him. ‘I could’ve said no to the night out.’
‘How often do you go for the sensible option around me?’
A dulled flush of chagrin lit Kathy’s drawn features, for it was true. She was so vigilant in fighting her own corner that her choices often related more to a statement of independence than practicality. He moved forward and lifted her up into his arms with easy strength to carry her through to the bedroom where he set her down on the bed. She fought an urgent desire to touch the arrogant dark head momentarily level with her knees as he bent to tug off her shoes. She wanted him to stay; she wanted him to stay so badly she dug her hands like talons into the bedspread. But she said nothing b
ecause she was determined not to be a clingy, needy woman.
‘You need all the rest you can get for the wedding.’ In the act of straightening, Sergio paused to swoop down on her ripe pink mouth and claim it in a kiss that startled her and rocked her with a pleasure that made her pulses race. ‘And for me, dolcezza mia.’
She lay in bed in the darkness drowsily reliving that erotic thrill. At the same time she was ashamed of herself for not telling him about Abramo’s visit or Grazia’s poisonous forecast. Keeping secrets from the guy she was about to marry didn’t feel right. On the other hand, if she wasn’t careful he might think she was the jealous type, liable to turn into a bunny boiler. She was painfully aware that he didn’t love her and was only prepared to marry her for Ella’s benefit. What if a reference to Grazia sparked off a change of heart on his part? Kathy despised herself for being so fearful. When had Sergio become so precious to her that the prospect of life without him loomed like a death sentence?
Kathy was truly enjoying her wedding day.
Maribel’s efficient planning had ensured that everything ran like clockwork, from the moment Kathy wakened to a delicious breakfast in bed to the arrival of a parade of beauticians eager to groom the bride to perfection. The pure white off-the-shoulder dress clung to her delicate curves and small waist before flaring out into a full skirt and a swirling embroidered train worthy of a royal wedding. The gown was rather more adaptable, however, than its traditional style suggested.
Mid-morning, Kathy employed reverent fingers to examine the magnificent jewellery that had been brought to her. It had arrived complete with a note from Sergio asking her to wear the emerald and pearl suite worn by generations of Torrente brides. Kathy slowly shook her head in wonderment. ‘I’ll glitter like a Christmas tree.’
‘Who wouldn’t like the problem?’ Bridget quipped.
‘It will look amazing. That’s a spectacular set and your dress is plain enough to carry it,’ Nola opined.
The church was an ancient medieval building shaded by massive trees on the slopes of a sleepy hill village. When Bridget and Nola assisted Kathy from the limo, Sergio was waiting outside to give Kathy a glorious bouquet. As Sergio descended the steps the bridal couple were so busily engaged in looking at each other that in the exchange the flowers almost fell to the ground.
‘I like the dress,’ Sergio breathed tautly.
Kathy collided with his dark deep-set eyes. Lean, strong features serious, he was so dazzlingly handsome and so achingly familiar that she felt almost dizzy with delight. She didn’t even notice Bridget putting out a hand to steady her hold on the flowers. Moving into the dim cool of the church with the heady scent of roses heavy on the still air and the magic musical notes of a harp swelling to greet them, Kathy was conscious only of Sergio.
An interpreter translated every word of the lengthy service for her benefit. Every word had meaning for her and she could feel a kind of peace stealing over her: her life and her future seemed more promising to her than it had in a very long time. She wanted to believe that the dark times were over. She had her precious little daughter and now she was marrying the man that she loved. Just at that moment she refused to qualify those beliefs with a single negative connotation.
Walking down the aisle on Sergio’s arm and out into the sunshine, Kathy was radiant. ‘How do you feel?’ she asked him.
‘Grateful it’s over,’ Sergio murmured with all the off-the-cuff immediacy of serious sincerity. ‘I don’t like weddings, dolcezza mia.’
That sobering little speech engulfed Kathy like an unexpected deluge of cold water. It made her feel foolish and naïve. It knocked her right off her fluffy bridal cloud of contentment and back down to earth again. ‘It’s going to be a long day for you, then. Leonidas and Maribel are really pushing out the boat for us.’
Sergio laughed softly as he lifted Kathy into the wonderful fairy-tale flower-bedecked carriage awaiting them. ‘Maribel knows how I feel about weddings. She has a terrific sense of humour and she’s making the most of the opportunity.’
His irreverent attitude did nothing to raise her spirits. Drinks were served back at the imposing house where many more guests were arriving. Innumerable introductions followed and when the swamp of people seeking them became too pressing, Sergio swept her off to take a seat at the top table in the magnificent ballroom. Kathy paused only to remove the detachable train from her gown. She laughed in appreciation when she saw that the wedding décor was based on a chess motif with witty touches—that idea could only have originated with Sergio. She was pleased that he had had the interest to make that choice.
After the two best men, Leonidas and Prince Rashad had made brief and amusing speeches, Bridget said just a few words in which she described Kathy as the daughter of her heart. As she spoke the two women exchanged a look of warm affection and Sergio later asked his bride when she had first met the older woman.
Kathy tensed. ‘I don’t think you want to know.’
‘You’re my wife,’ Sergio said levelly. ‘There’s nothing you can’t tell me.’
Kathy resisted the urge to remind him that he had refused to listen when she had told him that she wasn’t a thief. She was all too well aware that plenty of other people would share his scepticism.
‘Bridget’s daughter died in custody ten years ago. She took her own life,’ Kathy told him in a hesitant undertone. ‘Ever since then, Bridget has volunteered as a prison visitor. We met when I was in hospital in the second year of my sentence. She’s a wonderful woman and she became my lifeline.’
Sergio closed a lean masculine hand over her slim fingers, which she was involuntarily clenching and unclenching on her lap in an unconscious betrayal of tension. ‘I’m grateful she was there for you, dolcezza mia.’
After the meal, Kathy went off to freshen up. It was time to allow her highly adaptable wedding gown to enter its final reinvention. She removed the full constricting skirt of her dress to reveal a shorter, more fitted skirt and returned with Maribel to the ballroom in fashionable style. When he saw her, Sergio stilled in surprise and admiration before moving forward to greet her, brilliant dark eyes intent on her stunning face. He swept her out onto the floor to dance. ‘You look spectacular in the family jewels.’
‘So would most women.’
‘But they wouldn’t have your hair, your face or your astonishing legs, bella mia,’ Sergio husked. ‘You look gorgeous.’