Her brother walked in, looking clean and scrubbed. She recognised his expression with a sigh.
‘So what do you want?’
‘Me? Actually, I came to tell you dinner is ready when you are... The thing is, Tilda—you know, as this is your wedding night and all—I thought I might let you two...you know... You can do the whole candle thing and everything.’
‘That’s very considerate of you, Sam, but totally unnecessary.’
‘I already asked Ezio.’
‘And what did Ezio say?’
‘That I had to ask you, but the thing is, there’s this podcast I’ve been really looking forward to and this guy...a professor at... Well, you wouldn’t know him, but he’s really good. He makes astrophysics soaccessible, you know what I mean? And a tray in my room would be good because I’m really exhausted and, quite honestly, if I have to watch you twosmoulderingat each other I’ll throw up.’
‘Sam, I... We... Oh, all right. But tomorrow,’ she warned sternly, ‘You eat with us like a civilised human being.’
‘Oh, God, yes...of course. Oh, thanks, Tilda—and it’s just down the corridor, a sharp right and the other side of the hallway. The rooms kind of flow... Yeah,’ he said, pleased with the description. ‘They flow, so you just follow—follow the smell, I suppose.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
THISWASGETTINGout of control, Tilda decided, standing back, hands on hips, to view the pile of clothes on the bed. Also, it was giving her a headache.
She shook her head—a mistake—and growled out an impatient, ‘Get a grip, Tilda!’
For a split-second, she was tempted to dress for dinner in a pair of jeans and sweater, and not one of the selection of lovely cashmere ones beautifully folded on the shelves, but that might be a provocation too far. She didn’t want to poke that particular tiger, which could get a bit unpredictable when roused.
No, definitely a gesture that could backfire, she decided, abandoning the idea with some regret.
But this indecisive dithering was slowly driving her crackers. She had never spent more than five minutes deciding what to wear...
Anyone would think she had someone to impress!
But then, she had never had so much choice, she thought, looking at the stack of designer garments piled high. How was she meant to know what a billionaire’s wife would wear? Even a temporary one.
A small, secretive smile curved her mouth as she experienced a light-bulb moment. Yes, she knew theperfectway to make an impossible decision.
Eyes scrunched tight, she stepped towards the pile of dresses on the bed and burrowed her hand into the pile of silks and satins, letting her fingers close around a slithery piece of silk.
She opened them and held the dress up, a bias-cut calf-length in deep emerald-green. It was the sort of bold colour she rarely wore. The demure neck contrasted with the dramatic and daring low cowl-back that reached almost to her waist.
She had previously discarded it as being too bold, too nother... She shrugged and thought why not? She wasn’t playing herself. The idea was oddly liberating.
She didn’t want to fade into the background.
The idea of being looked at did not bother her so much...or was it the idea of being looked at by one particular person? It was hard not to feel confident when a man who looked like Ezio, a man who all women desired, looked at you the way he had... She gave a sinuous little shiver and felt scared and excited all at once. She felt like someone about to step out into the unknown.
Half an hour later, in a pair of spiky heels the like of which she had never owned in her life, she walked down the corridor, still feeling not quite like herself, but enjoying the swish of heavy silk against her legs as she walked, her heels tapping on the terracotta underfoot.
The breeze, scented with salt from the sea, wafted in through the open windows, the softness caressing the bare skin of her back and neck.
As she got to the end of the corridor, she glanced at her reflection in one of the windows to check her hair was still in place. A few soft, silky strands had escaped the loose chignon but otherwise it was still intact.
Sam had been right about the flow of the rooms in the living area. They did for the most part flow seamlessly on from one to another, giving the impression of space and light, each in its own individual way as beautiful as the one she had just left.
The light was fading now. A few lamps were on and several candles in the sconces had been lit, casting flickering patterns on the ceiling. She reached a massive living room, furnished, as the villa was throughout, with a combination of modern pieces and antiques. The vast sofas looked made for flopping in, but no one was.
The place was so quiet, she could hear a clock from the previous room ticking.
Ahead, she could see the formal dining room, but that too was empty. She sensed movement and turned her head, for the first time seeing that beyond the floor-length windows along one wall there was another space, previously dark. She could now see the golden reflection of light against the glass—the famous Fern House, she assumed, as she walked to a set of doors.