The Bride's Awakening - By Kate Hewitt Page 0,53

her figure; he’d never realized how perfectly she was proportioned, the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips. He’d once considered her mannish; the thought was now laughable. He’d never seen a more feminine woman. ‘You look amazing,’ he said, his voice low, heartfelt, and Ana smiled.

She had the most amazing smile. He’d noticed her teeth before, straight and white, as one might notice a piece of workmanship. Now he saw the way the smile transformed her face, softened the angles and made joy dance in her eyes in golden glints.

Amazing. His wife was amazing.

‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice just as heartfelt, and Vittorio did the only thing he could do…He kissed her. As he drew her close, he was conscious of her generous curves fitting so snugly against his own body, amazed at the way her length lined up to his. How had he ever stooped to kiss a shorter woman before? His back ached just to think of it.

And Ana’s lips…They were soft and warm and as generous as the rest of her, open and giving and so very sweet. Vittorio had meant only to kiss her briefly—something between a peck and a brush—but once he tasted her he found he couldn’t get enough. The kiss went on and on, her arms snaking up around his shoulders, her body pressing against his—she’d never been shy—until someone behind him cleared his throat in a pointed manner.

‘Pardon me for breaking up this rather touching scene,’ Bernardo drawled, ‘but the guests are starting to arrive.’

‘Good.’ Vittorio stepped away from Ana, his arm still around her waist. She fitted against him, nestled near him in a way that was neither cloying nor coy. It was, he knew, as genuine as the rest of her was.

Bernardo eyed Ana with obvious surprise. ‘You cleaned up rather well.’

‘Bernardo,’ Vittorio said sharply, ‘that is no way to speak to my wife the Countess.’

Bernardo turned back to Vittorio, his eyebrows raised. ‘Isn’t it what you were thinking?’ he countered. Vittorio pressed his lips together; he didn’t want to argue with his brother now. He wouldn’t spoil this evening for Ana. Bernardo turned to Ana and made a little bow. ‘Forgive me, Ana. I meant no insult. You look very beautiful.’

Vittorio said nothing. This was how his brother always acted; he’d deliver the sting with one hand and the sweetness with the other. It made it impossible to fight him, or at least to win. Vittorio had learned this long ago, when his parents had drawn the battle lines. Constantia got Bernardo and his father took him. They had been his parents’ most potent weapons. It had, Vittorio reflected, been a long drawn-out war.

‘No offence taken, Bernardo,’ Ana said, smiling. ‘I was thinking the same thing myself.’

Bernardo gave her an answering flicker of a smile and bowed again. Vittorio squeezed Ana’s waist and the first guests came towards them before he could thank his wife for being so gracious.

Ana moved through the party in a haze of happiness. She never wanted to forget the look on Vittorio’s face when he’d turned around and seen her. She’d expected the disbelief, of course, but not the joy. He’d been happy to see her. He’d wanted her by his side. And when he’d kissed her…Every secret hope and latent need had risen up inside her on newly formed wings, and she hadn’t suppressed them or forced them back to the ground. For years she’d refused to entertain such dreams, knowing they could only lead to disappointment, yet when Vittorio had looked at her, she’d felt like the woman she’d always longed to be. The woman she was meant to be. It was a wonderful feeling.

She stayed by Vittorio’s side for most of the party. He wanted her there, kept his arm around her, her hip pressed against his. She laughed and chatted and listened and nodded, but none of it really penetrated. The need—the desire—was building within her slowly, a force rising up and needing to be reckoned with. To be satisfied.

Tonight, she told herself. Tonight, he will come to me. As the evening wore on, her certainty—and her happiness—only grew.

Vittorio had been so proud, so happy to have Ana by his side. He’d drifted through the party in a haze, on a cloud. He couldn’t wait to get Ana alone, to touch her—

Yet now she’d gone to see her father off and, alone, he felt strangely flat, indifferent to all he’d achieved. He wanted her to