The Arranged Marriage. Emma Darcy
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either in tone or pitch. He recognised the song as a Celine Dion favourite, “Because You Loved Me,” and Gina Terlizzi gave it every bit as much emotional expression—if not more—than the original artist.
A touch on his arm directed his attention to the boy who’d been seated next to his grandmother. He’d slid off his chair and moved onto the dance floor, his feet rocking to the beat of the song, shoulders swaying, arms waving in rhythm, his face raptly lifted to his mother who smiled at him in the pauses of the song. He was copying her gestures, her swaying, the two of them joined in harmony with each other.
When the song ended, he clapped delightedly and called out, “More, Mama!”
Alex couldn’t help sharing a smile with his grandmother who was clearly affected by the little scene, her face softened with the pleasure that old people invariably found in the artless joy of little children.
“Yes, we must hear more,” she called out supportively.
Gina nodded, took a deep breath and started the tape again.
It was certainly no hardship listening to her. As she sang what Alex considered a great rendition of Frank Sinatra’s old song, “All The Way,” he looked back at Michelle, expecting her to be enjoying it as much as he was. She returned a petulant glare that really riled him. Couldn’t she concede Gina Terlizzi was worth listening to?
He looked at the little boy, happily jigging along with the song, and when he clapped at the end of it, Alex couldn’t resist joining in the applause. Why not? It was deserved. And he felt a need to make up for Michelle’s stubborn stand-off.
“Another one, please,” his grandmother requested.
Alex knew most of the popular wedding songs from hearing his grandmother playing them over and over to sort out her recommendations to the couples who booked their weddings here. She’d started the business years ago, determined on maintaining the castle with the profits made—a totally unnecessary decision since the King investments could easily carry any cost to keeping this prime property as it should be kept.
Alex suspected she simply enjoyed planning big occasions and seeing the ballroom put to good use. It also gave her a convenient lead-in to asking her three grandsons when she could expect a wedding from them. She had one now and as Alex listened to Gina Terlizzi sing “From This Moment On,” he silently vowed to ensure that his grandmother would have some voice in the planning of it. Michelle could like it or lump it.
Respect was called for.
Respect would be given.
From this moment on…
CHAPTER FOUR
THEY were sitting at the table by the fountain again. A sumptuous afternoon tea had been served. Marco was happily running around the lawn, exploring various parts of the gardens. It would have been the perfect wind-down from her audition, but for the somewhat sour presence of Michelle Banks.
Even so, Gina’s inner excitement could not be dampened. Isabella Valeri King had more than approved her singing. She had complimented her on it with open pleasure. So had Alex King. And best of all, she now had Isabella’s assurance of a high recommendation for bookings. In future, she would be singing at the castle many times, for a much bigger fee than she had ever been offered before.
It didn’t matter that Michelle Banks had more or less removed herself from making even a friendly comment. Perhaps she had wanted Alex to herself this afternoon and resented his being dragged into helping with Isabella’s business. Although Alex hadn’t seemed to mind the claim on his time.
He’d been so kind and helpful. If he wasn’t taken, Gina had the funny feeling she’d be head over heels in love with him. When he’d held her hand, and she’d looked into his eyes, there’d been a heart-thumping connection that had energised her whole body.
But she mustn’t dwell on that.
He was taken.
It was probably his nature to be kind to everyone. It didn’t mean that he was attracted to her, anywhere near as strongly as she was attracted to him. How could he be? She wasn’t in the same class as his fiancée.
The home-baked carrot cake with the delicious soft cream-cheese topping kept tempting her. She’d already had one piece. Would it look greedy if she took another? She was always hungry after a performance. It took so much energy. Apart from which, her stomach had been churning with nerves beforehand, making it impossible to eat a proper lunch.
Alex reached out and helped himself to a second slice. Catching her watching his action, he grinned, his blue eyes twinkling a teasing awareness of her own temptation. “It’s my favourite cake. Can’t resist.”
“It sure is the best,” she agreed on a pleasurable sigh.
“Like some more?”
He was already moving a serving towards her plate and Gina couldn’t resist, either. “Yes, please.”
“It’s terribly rich,” Michelle remarked critically.
“An indulgence in rich food now and then is one of the pleasures of life,” Isabella declared.
“If you want to pay the price,” Michelle mocked, her gaze flicking over Gina’s well-rounded arms.
“Oh, some people burn off the calories easily enough,” Alex drawled, then smiled at Gina. “I imagine keeping up with a highly active little boy like Marco gives you plenty of exercise.”
Her heart fluttered at the support he was giving her against his fiancée’s opinion. She wasn’t fat in his eyes. He liked her. He had to like her to be defending her weakness for the calorie-laden cake. Or maybe he didn’t care if she put on weight. Why would he? She wasn’t the woman he was going to marry.
“Marco does keep me busy,” she replied to Alex, then wrenched her gaze away from him, bypassing the fashionably thin woman he loved, to excuse her appetite for rich food to Isabella. “It’s Sunday. I’ve always considered it a day to relax a bit on rules and simply enjoy.”
“That is the Italian tradition,” the old lady approved. “Besides, I like my cooking to be appreciated.”
“It really is a superb cake,” Gina instantly responded.
“Thank you, my dear.”
Gina wasn’t into the game-playing of scoring off people, but she couldn’t help taking considerable satisfaction in Isabella’s benevolent approval. Strict dieting could be taken too far. When people took the trouble to provide special treats, unless there was some medical problem forbidding any indulgence, it seemed impolite not to partake of anything. It was like ignoring the efforts to please. Possibly Michelle felt no need to please in return. She had only taken black tea with a slice of lemon, disdaining all the food offered.
Not that it was any of her business how these relationships worked, Gina told herself, but she had the strong feeling Isabella wasn’t overly fond of her grandson’s choice. Neither was she. Although it could be jealousy prompting the dislike that was growing in leaps and bounds.
Marco provided a fortuitous distraction, pelting across the lawn with his hands cupped together to contain something. “Look what I found, Mama!” he crowed excitedly.
“Come and show me, Marco,” Isabella called, turning in her chair to beckon him to her.
Her encouraging smile—or her natural air of authority—drew him to the other side of the table and he came to a triumphant halt between Isabella and Michelle. His eyes danced delightedly at the older woman and Gina knew he was basking in her indulgent interest, wanting to show off to her.
“It’s a surp’ise!” he told her, beaming sheer mischief.
“I like surprises,” Isabella assured him.
“Look!” he cried, uncupping his hands like a master magician.
A small cane toad