Page 38 of Unveiled As The Italian's Bride
‘But you have a portrait of her...’
‘It always makes sense to be reminded of mistakes made. How else do we learn?’
‘But that’s so...so extreme.’
‘For you, perhaps. For me, it’s practical. We learn and we move on.’
Andthatwas why he was an island, why he would never allow himself to give his heart or his emotions to any woman: why this situation made complete sense to him. Not only had he been raised to put duty first but his one and only foray into marriage had been a disaster. So now, with her, he had nothing to lose. They were on the same page, she thought, except...
She frowned and thought of her own misgivings and was uneasily aware that things might not be quite so straightforward for her.
‘You must have had your own learning curves in your life?’ Dante murmured.
‘None as dramatic as yours. Thank you for telling me about her. We’re in this together and it helps knowing a bit about each other.’ She thought of her parents and was less hesitant about him meeting them now. A little bit shared had put things into perspective. His perfect life hadn’t been quite as perfect as she’d expected and hers... Well, he would discover soon enough that hers contained its own twists, turns and unexpected corners.
She could see a way to them having something of a friendship. Maybe it wouldn’t be marriage the waysheunderstood marriage, but they would mug along until the time came for them to go their separate ways.
She took a sidelong look at his dark, handsome face and wondered about those women he would take—discreet dalliances to sate a physical appetite...
She shivered, tingled and suppressed a surge of inappropriate curiosity.
That kiss—she could still taste it on her mouth and when she thought about that she felt faint. A proper relationship with this man, she thought—the touch of his mouth on her for real and the heat of genuine passion leaving him weak with want—what would that be like?
It was such a silly, a fleeting moment of disorientation, that she almost laughed out loud.
‘Indeed,’ Dante murmured.
Still half-wrapped up in inappropriate thoughts, she projected to the sleeping arrangements awaiting them and knew that at least there was no need to worry on that front. The bedroom was so small she couldn’t have swung a cat in it and the bed was a single, just big enough for her to sleep in if she didn’t move around too much. He would be on the pull-out sofa in the living room, and when she thought about what awaited him she wondered whether she should warn him in advance. What if he clocked where he was going to sleep and collapsed on the spot? She couldn’t resist a smirk; paramedics weren’t exactly a dime a dozen out in this neck of the woods.
‘We’re nearly here.’
‘How can you tell? Everywhere looks the same.’
‘Maybe in the snow,’ she admitted. ‘But I’ve been here a thousand times. I recognise the landmarks even when the weather’s like this.’
‘There are a lot of questions I should have asked,’ he said ruefully.
‘Too late. Like I said, if you let me carry the conversation, then it’ll be fine. It’s not as though you’re going to be sticking around for long anyway.’
‘Just time enough for me to break the news before I disappear on urgent business.’
‘You’re a very important person,’ Kate said, and her heart sped up a little as their eyes tangled in shared amusement.
‘So I am,’ Dante agreed.
‘You should tell the driver to take it easy up the lane,’ she warned as the trees closed in around them, shadowy silhouettes buffeted by the snow, which was now falling thick and fast. When she looked at him, he was staring out of the window, oblivious to her.
Her parents’ tiny house loomed into view, ablaze with lights, which was a useful guide to the driver, because everywhere else surrounding it was plunged in snow and blizzard-dark. The car pulled to a slow stop and, as it did, Kate saw the front door open and there was her mum, huddling in a cardigan, her long hair swept to one side. For a few seconds, she was overwhelmed with love and affection.
‘We’re here.’ She turned to Dante but then scrambled out of the car without giving him an opportunity to respond.
Dante hesitated.
He didn’t know what he had expected, and he wished he’d asked a few more questions, although events had happened more speedily than he had anticipated. He had also been lazy. Lazy in assuming that it would be straightforward to present this as a business deal of sorts, that he would be dealing with a woman with no hidden corners and no particular story to tell.
He’d been lazy and locked up in an ivory tower which he had built around himself over the years, from childhood. He seldom thought of his childhood, because acceptance of his destiny had been bred into him but just for a second he recalled the lack of physical affection from his parents as something solid, sad and tangible. He remembered childhood anxiety at always having to show a certain face, to maintain a certain stance from the day he could walk and talk. He had grown up tough, hard and self-contained. But as he looked at his wife-to-be rush out of the car, hurtling like a kid towards the slender woman framed in the doorway, and watched the loving embrace between them, something inside him hurt.
He quickly stifled that and swept out of the car, knowing that the driver would follow with the bags, including the very expensive, hand-blown glass vase he had brought with him as a gift.
