The Bride's Awakening - By Kate Hewitt Page 0,36

his daughter. And suddenly the answer was obvious.

‘I don’t need to sleep on it,’ she said, her words no more than a breath of sound.

Hope lit Vittorio’s eyes, replacing the sorrow. His smile seemed genuine now and he touched her cheek again with his thumb. ‘You don’t?’

‘No.’ She reached up to clasp his hand with her own, her fingers curling around his. ‘The answer is yes, Vittorio. I’ll marry you.’

Chapter Six

EVERYTHING happened quickly after that. It was as if her acceptance had set off a chain reaction of events, spurring Vittorio into purposeful action that left Ana breathless and a little uncertain. It was all happening so fast.

The morning after she’d accepted his proposal—his proposition—he came to the winery offices. Seeing him there, looking official and elegant in his dark grey suit, the only colour the crimson silk of his tie, Ana was reminded just how businesslike this marriage really was. Vittorio hardly seemed the same man who had caressed her cheek and called her swallow only the evening before. The memory of his touch still lingered in her mind, tingled her nerve-endings.

‘I thought we should go over some details,’ Vittorio said now. ‘If you have time?’

Ana braced her hands on her desk, nodding with swift purpose, an attempt to match Vittorio’s own brisk determination. ‘Of course.’ He paused, and Ana moved from behind the desk. ‘Why don’t we adjourn to the wine-tasting room? I’ll order coffee.’

He smiled then, seeming pleased with her suggestion. Just another business meeting, Ana thought a bit sourly, even as she reprimanded herself that she had no right to be resentful of Vittorio’s businesslike attitude. She was meant to share it.

Once they were seated on the leather sofas in the wine-tasting room, a tray of coffee on the table between them, Vittorio took out a paper that, to Ana, looked like a laundry list. He withdrew a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and perched them on the end of his nose, making an unexpected bubble of laughter rise up her throat and escape in a gurgle of sound. ‘I didn’t know you wore specs.’

He arched his eyebrows, smiling ruefully. ‘I started needing them when I turned thirty-five, alas.’

‘Is that in your medical file?’ Ana couldn’t help but quip. ‘I should have a full report, you know.’

‘I’ll have it sent to you immediately,’ Vittorio returned, and Ana realized she didn’t know if he was joking or not. To cover her confusion she busied herself with preparing the coffee.

‘I realize I don’t know how old you are,’ she commented lightly. ‘At my mother’s funeral, you were—what? Twenty?’

‘Twenty-one.’

The mood suddenly turned sober, dark with memories. Ana gazed at him over the rim of her coffee cup. ‘Your father died when you were around my age then, didn’t he?’

‘Yes. I was fourteen.’

‘A heart attack, wasn’t it? Sudden.’

Vittorio nodded. ‘Yes, as was your mother’s death, if I remember correctly. A car accident?’

Ana nodded. ‘A drunk driver. A boy no more than seventeen.’ She shook her head in sorrowful memory. ‘He lost his life as well.’

‘I always felt like the death of a parent skewed the world somehow,’ Vittorio said after a moment. ‘No matter how happy you are, nothing seems quite right after that.’ Ana nodded jerkily; he’d expressed it perfectly. He understood. Vittorio looked away, sipping his coffee before he cleared his throat and consulted his list. ‘I thought we could have a quiet ceremony in the chapel at Castle Cazlevara. Unless you object?’

‘No, of course not. That sounds…fine.’

‘If you envisioned something else—’

‘No.’ She’d stopped dreaming of any kind of wedding years ago. The thought of a huge spectacle now seemed like an affront, a travesty, considering the true nature of their marriage. The thought was an uncomfortable one. ‘A quiet ceremony will be fine,’ she said a bit flatly, and Vittorio frowned.

‘As long as you are sure.’ He turned back to his list, a frown still wrinkling his forehead, drawing those strong, straight brows closer together. ‘As for dates, I thought in two weeks’ time.’

Ana nearly spluttered her mouthful of coffee. ‘Two weeks!’

‘Three, then, at the most. There is no reason to wait, is there?’

‘No, I suppose not,’ Ana agreed reluctantly. ‘Still, won’t it seem…odd? People might talk.’

‘I am not interested in gossip. In any case, the sooner we marry, the sooner we become…used to one another.’ He gave her the glimmer of a smile. ‘Of course, we can wait—a while—before we consummate the marriage. I want you to feel comfortable.’

Ana blushed. She couldn’t help it. Despite his tone