The Bride's Awakening - By Kate Hewitt Page 0,48

away her self-confidence.

Yet he knew he would not ask his mother to leave. He’d never asked her to leave. He’d been the one to leave, all those years ago; he’d felt like an interloper in his own home, unwanted and undesired, and it had been easier simply to walk away.

Vittorio thought of the disappointment he’d seen in Ana’s eyes. She’d wanted him to stay; she’d even wanted him to make love to her. And he’d wanted it, too; his body even now stirred to lust. Yet he’d balked, like a shy virgin! The thought almost made him laugh in exasperation at his own reticience. All too easily he could imagine taking her in his arms, unwrapping her from that thick, bulky robe like a parcel from its paper.

Yet she wasn’t merely a parcel, a thing, this wife of his, and it was this uncomfortable new knowledge that kept him from staying. From consummating their marriage, for surely that was all it would be. A consummation, a soulless act, and he was—suddenly, stupidly too—afraid of hurting her.

Vittorio cursed aloud. Now was not the time to develop some kind of stupid sensitivity. He stopped, almost turned around, even if just to prove a point to himself. Then he remembered the way Ana’s grey eyes, so wide and luminous and somehow soft, had darkened with disappointment when he’d said he was leaving, how her breath had shortened when he’d touched her cheek and, furious with himself, at a loss for what he should do now, he kept on walking.

Chapter Eight

THE next few days were some of the most depressing Ana had ever known, simply by reason of their utter sameness. Except for the fact that she drove back to Castle Cazlevara every night after work, Ana would not know she was married. Her days had not changed at all; after an impersonal breakfast with Vittorio, she left for the winery offices, spent the day there and returned to the castle for another impersonal and often silent meal.

Vittorio seemed to have retreated into himself; they hardly talked, and the little gifts he’d showered her with before their marriage had stopped completely. Ana couldn’t tell if Vittorio was simply satisfied now he’d married her, or if he actually regretted the deed. As far as periods of adjustment went, theirs was an utter failure. There was no adjusting; there was only enduring.

Ana saw Constantia and Bernardo on occasion; they were currently residing at the castle, although they seemed to avoid both her and Vittorio. Bernardo ate out, and Constantia took her meals in her rooms. It was, Ana reflected, an unhappy household, shrouded in its own misery.

After three days of this, Ana could take it no longer. She found Vittorio at the breakfast table, reading the newspaper and drinking his espresso. He barely glanced up when she entered.

‘You’d think,’ Ana said, hearing the acid in her own voice, ‘that we’d been married three decades rather than three days.’

She saw Vittorio’s fingers tense and then he lowered the newspaper. ‘What do you mean, Ana?’ he asked in that careful, mild voice he seemed to save just for her. It was so neutral, so irritating, for it made Ana feel as if he was dealing with a child or a puppy that needed training.

‘I mean,’ she retorted, as Giulia, the morning maid, came bustling forth with her own latte, ‘that for the last three days—the only three days we’ve been married—you have been ignoring me. Are you regretting your decision, Vittorio? Because of course you know we can still get the marriage annulled.’

The only change in Vittorio’s expression was a tightening of his lips and a flaring of his nostrils. ‘I have no wish to annul this marriage.’

‘You have no wish to act as if you were married, either.’

Vittorio folded his paper and dropped it on the table. He picked up his tiny cup of espresso and took a sip, studying Ana from over its rim. ‘I wanted to give you time,’ he finally said quietly. ‘I thought…to rush into things might be difficult.’

‘To feel like I don’t belong—that we’re not even married—is difficult too,’ Ana countered. His words had comforted her, given her hope, but she wasn’t about to give up any ground quite yet.

Vittorio nodded slowly. ‘Very well. I was drawing up the guest list for the party I mentioned earlier. I thought we could have it on Friday, in two days’ time. If you have anyone you’d like to add to the list, just tell