The Italian's Rightful Bride. Lucy Gordon

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The Italian's Rightful Bride - Lucy  Gordon


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have liked. Everything about her just missed being something better, and she had never been so acutely aware of it as now.

      The dress she chose was a restrained blue silk which had cost the earth and did little for her. After trying her hair up, then down, then up, she finally let it hang loose about her shoulders. Her make-up was like the dress, restrained, chiefly because she lacked the self-confidence to be bold.

      Nobody could have faulted Gustavo’s behaviour over dinner. He talked to everyone and didn’t try to monopolise Joanna. But when he turned to her she felt as though the rest of the room had vanished.

      She didn’t know what they talked about either then or over the next few days. They went riding together. There was laughter and idle chatter, and sometimes she would find him looking at her with a serious expression that made her heart turn over.

      Halfway through the week he invited her out to a restaurant. He was the perfect host, charming, attentive, but not, to her disappointment, flirtatious. He asked about her life and she told him about how she’d lived since her parents died and her Aunt Lilian had raised her.

      He told her about his own life on the Montegiano estate, and the love in his voice told her why he was prepared to put his home before everything else in his life.

      ‘For six hundred years my family have lived in the same house,’ he told her, ‘always adding to it and making it more beautiful.’

      ‘It sounds wonderful,’ she told him eagerly. ‘I love old places.’

      ‘I would like you to see it.’

      When they were drinking wine, he said with a touch of ruefulness, ‘You know what our friends plan for us, don’t you?’

      Her heart began to beat faster. Was he going to propose right now?

      But when she nodded he only said, ‘We must not let them make complicated something that should be very simple. This is our decision, not theirs. There can be nothing without affection and respect.’

      The words ‘affection and respect’ chilled her slightly, for they fell far short of what she wanted. But for a while it was enough to be here with him, intoxicated by his presence, falling more deeply in love with every passing second.

      Afterwards they went to a nightclub, and danced together. At last, after so much dreaming and hoping, she was in the circle of his arms, feeling his hand firm on her waist, the warmth of his body moving against her. The sensation was so sweet as to be almost unbearable.

      She was wildly, passionately in love. She knew now that the songs and the stories were right after all. The world was bathed in a golden light and soon heaven would be hers.

      At the end of the week he invited her and Aunt Lilian to visit his estate just outside Rome. She was in seventh heaven. Of course he wanted to show her his home before making any final decisions.

      She was so sure she understood him that even his reticence did not trouble her too much. He was naturally quiet and controlled. But that was only on the surface. Behind his barriers she sensed another man, vibrant, thrilling, waiting for the right woman to free his heart.

      She knew she could be that woman, because they were alike. She too was quiet and retiring, and they would have a meeting of minds leading on inevitably to a meeting of hearts.

      That, at any rate, was what she told herself.

      The Montegiano estate only increased Joanna’s sense of magic. Standing about three miles outside Rome, it covered a thousand acres, culminating in the great palace that stood on a rise, dominating the surrounding landscape.

      For someone as much in love with the past as Joanna the house was a marvel. Down long corridors she wandered, meeting ancestors who looked down from centuries past. Gustavo described them in a way that brought them to life for her, and was clearly impressed by her knowledgeable interest.

      ‘You know a great deal about history, and especially of my country,’ he said, smiling.

      ‘I’ve always been crazy about the past. I went on an archaeological dig once, and loved it. I’d probably go to college and study archaeology if I wasn’t…’

      Just in time she stopped herself from saying, If I wasn’t going to get married, and hastily substituted, ‘if I wasn’t the sort of person who dithers about deciding things.’

      She knew she was being studied by every employee in the place, all waiting with bated breath for the announcement.

      Day after day she and Gustavo rode together, and he told her about the estate he loved in a voice that was gentle, almost emotional. One day as they walked through the woods he said, ‘Do you like my home, Joanna?’

      ‘I love it,’ she said fervently.

      ‘Do you think you could be happy living here?’

      That was his proposal.

      She accepted so quickly that the memory made her blush later. She brushed her fears aside, desperate to seize her heart’s desire.

      When, at last, he kissed her it made her forget everything else. There was skill in everything he did, covering her mouth, teasing her with his lips, caressing, holding her close. The effect on her was electric. Yet even then she was cautious enough to hold back a little, waiting until she could sense that his passion was as deep as her own.

      The wedding was set to take place two months later, in England. Two weeks before the date Gustavo and his family arrived to stay at Rannley Towers and take part in a series of glittering festivities. In the weeks apart they corresponded, but mostly about practical affairs. They talked about the estate, the life they would live there. He addressed her as ‘My dearest Joanna’ and signed himself ‘Yours affectionately’.

      But when she saw him again nothing mattered but that he was here, and they would soon be married.

      Her dress was a masterpiece of ivory silk, cut simply to suit her tall figure. The sleeves were long, almost down to the hem, the train stretched behind her and the veil streamed down to the floor and over the train. When she put it on and regarded herself in the mirror she knew that she was beautiful. Now, surely, he would fall in love with her?

      And then Crystal arrived.

      CHAPTER TWO

      AT THE time she seemed like the wicked witch, but Joanna supposed that the bad fairy was more accurate, because Crystal actually looked like a fairy, being petite with blonde hair that fluffed about her face like candy-floss.

      She had deep blue eyes, full of fun, a dainty nose, a mouth that was pure Cupid, and her delicious, gurgling laugh was irresistible. She was lovely, glamorous, enchanting.

      Everything I wasn’t.

      Crystal had been invited to stay in the house by Frank, one of Joanna’s many cousins, who was courting her. At their first meeting Joanna had liked her. Crystal charmed everyone with her beauty and her wicked sense of humour.

      She had a way of talking rapidly, so that Gustavo often asked her to slow down or explain some English word to him. Several times Joanna heard her saying, ‘No, no, you say it like this.’

      Then she would dissolve into laughter at his pronunciation, and he would laugh with her.

      Was it then that Joanna first sensed danger?

      How can I tell? Whatever I sensed, I wouldn’t admit it.

      So many things: the burning look that flashed briefly in his eyes for Crystal, which had never been there for her. The way he watched the door until she entered, and relaxed when she appeared.

      A hundred tiny little details, which she pretended meant nothing, until the day when it was no longer possible to pretend.

      At first she thought he was alone. Coming from the brilliant sunlight into the trees, she saw only him, and her heart leapt before she noticed that he was leaning over and down towards the woman in his arms.

      But


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