Temporarily His Princess - By Olivia Gates Page 0,42
her feel he was following her breaths.
Ignoring him, Ferruccio maintained his focus on her. “But you’re not only real, you’re nothing like I expected. As soon as I had a name to his alleged fiancée, I investigated you.” At Clarissa’s silent reprimand, he caressed the hand that discreetly poked at him, his eyes on Glory. “And now I’m left with an unsolvable question. How was he able to get a woman of your caliber not only to take him seriously, but to agree, and so fast, to take on the onerous task of marrying him?”
Vincenzo snorted a laugh. “And that’s what you say when you’re trying your best to marry me off? What would you have said if you wanted to send her running away screaming?”
Clarissa tugged on her husband arm, her color high with embarrassment. “He must have done exactly what you did to make me undertake the same task with you.” Her eyes turned apologetically on Glory. “Now you see the impossible part I was talking about.”
Suddenly deciding to throw herself into the part Vincenzo expected her to play until his king and queen left, Glory quirked her lips at Clarissa. “And now that I do, I actually feel better about Vincenzo’s exasperating tendencies. I now have proof they’re genetic and therefore beyond his control.”
Clarissa whooped with laughter. “I knew it! I liked you on sight, but now I know I’ll love you! You’re exactly the addition we need to our brigade!”
Ferruccio cast an indulgent look at his wife, then raised an eyebrow at Glory, clearly approving the comeback that bundled him and Vincenzo and put them firmly in their places.
Vincenzo’s arm tightened. “How about we call it quits, Ferruccio, before we’re cut down to an even tinier size?”
Ferruccio gave a tiny bow of his regal head. “By all means. Not that I’ll quit being flabbergasted at your phenomenal luck anytime soon.”
Vincenzo sighed. “Your flattery knows no bounds. Now before you have Glory rethinking her hasty and ill-advised decision to marry me, how about you go do some kingly stuff and leave me to resume what I was about to do before your…surprise inspection? I was about to take Glory to explore the place before dinner.” He turned his eyes to Clarissa. “You, of course, are more than welcome to join us.”
Clarissa looked up into her husband’s eyes, exchanging what Glory had once thought she’d shared with Vincenzo. Such allegiance. Such understanding. Such adoration.
Clarissa pinched her husband’s hard cheek. “See what you’ve done? Now make nice so you can stay for the tour and dinner, too.”
Catching her hand to bury his lips in its palm, Ferruccio looked over at Vincenzo challengingly. “Why make nice when I can order him to invite me? Or better still, invite myself?”
Vincenzo raised him a pitying glance. “Seems you haven’t lived on Castaldini long enough to realize how provincial it remains, don’t realize what power I wield in my ancestral region. Here, I rule supreme. King or no, Ferruccio, one more word and I sic my whole province on you.”
Ferruccio’s eyes gleamed with devilry. “Let’s not start a civil war over the dinner you’ve been cornered into feeding me. Now lead the way, Vincenzo. And try to do your ‘ancestral home’ justice as you act as the guide.”
Grumbling something about getting Ferruccio later when he wasn’t under Clarissa’s protection, Vincenzo did lead the way.
And how he did. He detailed everything with the thoroughness of someone who took the utmost pride in the place that had been in his family for generations. As he should. This place was phenomenal.
And it would be the first and last time she was here. Why not just enjoy the experience while it lasted?
“The architecture of all the buildings is a symbiosis of every culture that makes up Castaldini—Roman, Andalusian, Moorish and some North African influences,” Vincenzo said, his explanations all for her. “Geometric patterns rule, with accessory-heavy decoration, from mosaic to plaster carving to worked metal. The main castle is circular but the other annexed buildings and towers are quadrangular, with all rooms opening onto inner courts.”
It was all right out of a fairy tale. Far grander and better preserved that any of the architectural wonders she’d visited all over the world.
She asked, “How long has this place been in your family?”
“Over five hundred years.”
Wow. That really put into perspective the difference between them. Her family tree was known only three or four generations back on both sides. And there hadn’t been a “family home” in her life,