Dante's Dilemma (a Dante Legacy Novella) (15 page)

Julietta removed the scrap of linen he’d given her to use for a veil and gently dried his tears before kissing each cheek and then his mouth.
“
Sarai sempre nel mio cuore,”
she whispered. “You will always be in my heart.”

And then he was gone, leaving the newlyweds with the bitterness of parting, combined with the sweetness of loving memories.

“Where do we go now?” Julietta asked afterward.

“Nonno
arranged for a small cottage for our wedding night. It’s not far from here.”

“I… I don’t have anything to change into.” He grinned, and she nudged him with her hip, pretending exasperation. “And in the morning? What do you expect me to wear then?”

His grin widened. “The same as what you’ll wear tonight.” He lifted her into his arms and swung her in a dizzying circle. “Calm yourself, wife. Your sister has seen to all your needs. She even arranged to have the bulk of your clothing sent to Florence. I’m not sure how she managed all she did, but I’ve concluded your sister is a force of nature. I don’t think Tito has any idea what’s about to hit him.”

Julietta clung to Rom’s neck, laughing. “Should I warn that it runs in the family?”

“What man wouldn’t want a capable woman at his side? Be a force of nature,
amore mia
. I don’t fear it. I welcome it.”

Her laughter faded. “I hope we’ll always feel this way about each other.”

“You have doubts?”

She shrugged. “It’s just that we haven’t known each other very long. What happens if we irritate one another?”

“The road here had many rocks and ruts. But we maneuvered around them. We’ll continue to maneuver around them. Together.”

“And if we trip or fall?”

“I will help you stand again, just as you will help me.” He leaned in and kissed her, his strength becoming her strength. “We will dust each other off and kiss our hurts and bruises. Then we’ll continue down the road, hand in hand. We will love together, have children together, build a life together. And we’ll grow old together. You know it’s true. You’ve seen it, just as I have.”

She couldn’t deny it. “It won’t be a perfect life.”

“It never is.” His tone grew serious. “But it will be perfect for us.”

Night fell just as they reached the cottage they’d been offered for their wedding night. It belonged to an elderly couple who were visiting relatives in Rome. Someone had left a cold dinner for them in the refrigerator—a cheese and olive plate, roasted chicken, several pasta dishes, and a small wedding cake—though neither of them were hungry. At least, not for food.

Nonno
had added one more surprise. In the middle of the floor was a vase, decorative plastic pearls glued to it and their names painted around the base. Julietta laughed. “Is he serious?”

“Knowing my grandfather, very. He’s a man who holds his traditions dear.”

“So, we should smash it?”

“Of course. We can count the pieces while we pick up the fragments.” He frowned in mock seriousness. “How else will we know how many years our marriage will last? Come, we’ll do it together.”

Between them, they hoisted the vase above their heads and smashed it down on to the stone floor of the kitchen.

“Per cent’anni!”
Rom exclaimed. For a hundred years.

And sure enough, when they swept the last clay shard into the rubbish bin, it added up to a magical one hundred. “Do you suppose we could be so lucky?” Julietta marveled from her position on the floor.

“With you, I think anything is possible.”

She smiled at him over her shoulder, then stilled, taking a moment to simply drink him in, absorbing him into her skin and feeling the rush of his essence heat her blood and kick her heartbeat into a swift rhythm of rising passion. She’d wondered what it would be like to give herself to this man, physically, as well as emotionally. That time had come, and the nervousness and fear of the unknown faded away like dew beneath the warming balm of the sun.

She remained seated on the floor, the skirt of her dress billowing around her. Slowly she removed the bolero jacket and set it aside. Then she swept her hair off her back, silently presenting him with the row of tiny buttons that punctuated the length of her spine. After the slightest hesitation, he crouched behind her. His heat surrounded her, warmed and aroused her. She marked the progress of his hands by the slow give of her gown, each button gently released until the fitted bodice fell away.

Julietta sighed. How she wished she wore delicate silk and lace beneath her gown. But finances hadn’t allowed for anything so luxurious. Her strapless bra was a simple white cotton, decorated with a small blue bow, added to satisfy part of the wedding custom “something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” The plain cotton matched the equally plain high-waisted panties hidden by her petticoats.

Rom unhooked the back strap, and she allowed the bra to fall away. She turned in place, and he simply stared, shaking his head. “You look like Aphrodite, with the sea foaming around you,” he said, his voice low and husky.

“I’m not a goddess. I’m just a woman.”

“Fortunate, since I’m just a man.”

“My man.”

He lifted her from the floor, freeing her from her gown and petticoats. “And my woman.”

She still wore her garter and stockings, along with the despised cotton panties. Not that he seemed to mind. He cupped her face and pulled her in for a slow, tender kiss, one she returned with all her heart. He lifted her into his arms and carried her through to the section of the cottage set aside for the bedroom. It wasn’t a separate room, just a generous space off the main area, tucked behind a filmy curtain of gauze.

He set her on the bed, the mattress so wide and soft, it threatened to swallow her. She couldn’t help laughing at the way she sank into its depths. Rom followed her down, frowning in dismay. “How am I supposed to be romantic and sophisticated when I’m floundering like an elephant caught in a quagmire?”

“I think the more urgent question is how you’re going to explain the loss of your wife,” she teased. “‘I’m sorry Signore and Signora Bianchi. The last I saw of her, she was vanishing down the gullet of a down mattress.’”

For an instant her joke fell flat, the realization striking them both that there wouldn’t be any future conversations with her parents or family. Nor with his.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry, Julietta. I’m sorry loving me meant losing them.”

She caught his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. “We’re not going to spend our life pretending they never existed. We’re not going to avoid mentioning them because we’re afraid we’ll cause each other pain. They’re part of us and will be part of our children and our children’s children. So, right here and now, we make an agreement. We
will
talk about them. We’ll celebrate the time we had with them. We’ll regret that, for the moment—and only for the moment—they can’t share in our joy. But we will pray that one day in the near future, we will be reunited with them. And then our happiness will become theirs.”

He took her hands in his and kissed them. “I’ve married a wise woman. You’re right. This can either remain a shadow between us, or we can drag it out into the sunshine and not allow it to grow into a monster lurking in the dark.”

She linked her arms around his neck. “And now, husband. Please unearth me from this hungry bed and make mad, passionate love to me. This is one part of my wifely duties I’d like to learn…” She offered a siren’s smile. “And learn well.”

Rom didn’t require any further prompting. He suspected his wife hid her nervousness beneath bold words and a tantalizing smile. If truth be told, he had a few nerves, as well, desperately wanting the night to be perfect—especially since so much of their romance had been the opposite.

He left the bed long enough to remove his clothing, taking his time so she could see and accustom herself to the man she’d married. Nude, he returned to the bed and sat beside her. God had gifted her with an endless bounty of hair, the rich, brown curls the most glorious he’d ever seen gracing a woman. They framed her delicate features and slender torso like a vibrant halo of bronze. He helped her strip away her few remaining undergarments, noting the faint blush that spoke of her unease at being completely naked in his presence. He didn’t touch her, which he knew surprised her.

“There’s no rush.” He offered the explanation with an easy smile. “Let’s become comfortable with each other first. We will look until we are no longer self-conscious. Then we will touch until we know each other better than we know ourselves. And finally,
adorata mia,
we will make love. And it will be exactly right, the most natural thing in the world.”

Her gaze darted like a hummingbird moth, stroking him with its velvety wings. A blush continued to tint her face, and he kept their conversation light and casual until her color returned to normal and she replied to his questions without any lingering awkwardness. Keeping his movements slow and casual, he came down beside her and slid his arm beneath her shoulders, scooping her against his side. Her heart skittered nervously and her breathing quickened. Again, he gave her time to relax, asking about her sisters and teasing her for being called the “easy” one.

“I suspect you’ve worked hard to keep your true nature hidden.”

She turned her head to look at him, her hazel eyes alight with laughter. “Are you saying you don’t think I’m easygoing?”

He tapped the end of her nose with his index finger. “I think you’re warm and compassionate. I know for a fact you’re dutiful and put your family before yourself.”

“Until today,” she whispered.

“There’s a difference between being dutiful and loving your family, and sacrificing yourself,” he replied. “If we have a daughter, would you ask such a thing of her?”

“Never.” Her response came without thought, passion vibrating through that single word. She released a slow sigh. “No. I’d never ask a child of mine for so great a sacrifice.”

“Just as your parents should never have asked it of you.”

It was as though he’d lifted a great weight from her shoulders. Tears welled in her eyes, and she curled into him. “They shouldn’t have insisted I marry Tito, should they?”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t have, if they hadn’t thought it would be in your best interest, as well as their own.”

“Do you think Serena and Tito will marry?”

He laughed, though it sounded more sardonic than amused. “Probably.” He kissed the top of her head and her curls clung to the hint of shadow roughening his jaw. “The only question is whether Tito is willing to go through with another wedding.”

“You mean it depends on whether he loves Serena as much as she loves him.”

Unable to help himself, he stroked his wife’s bare shoulder, lingering on the fragile sweep of her collarbone. Her skin flowed like silk beneath his hands. “Or whether his desire for your family’s vineyard outweighs the dent his ego took today.”

She froze beneath his touch, and he reluctantly stilled his roving hand. “No,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure.”

He lowered his head and kissed her, taking her mouth in a slow, deep kiss. She responded instantly, her lips parting, her tongue tangling with his. Her breath shuddered from her lungs, and for the first time, she touched him in return. Her hands shifted across his chest, exploring the hard, masculine angles. She murmured against his mouth, something that sounded like approval. And then her hands slid lower, arrowing along the pathway of crisp hair to his erection.

Her touch grew tentative, and he released a sound that hovered between gruff laughter and a groan. “You won’t hurt me,” he told her. “Though you might unman me.”

“You feel strange.”

“You’ll become accustomed to the strangeness.”

“I never realized men were such an interesting combination of soft and hard.”

He shot her a speaking look. “With luck, the hard will prevail.”

Her laughter bubbled free. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I’m relieved to hear it.”

“I meant—oh, never mind.”

He cupped her breasts and kissed them, one after another, watching the nipples tighten into rosy pearls. “You meant you thought all parts of a man were rough and abrasive.”

“Yes.” The word escaped on a gasp.

“Whereas I find every part of you soft. Soft and warm and sweet.”

It was his turn to drift downward. He trailed his fingers from the soft to the warm to the sweet he’d mentioned—across her soft abdomen to the warmth gathering between her legs, and inward to the sweet honey that would ease his passage when he took her virginity. She opened to him, no longer ill at ease with their nudity. But then, from the moment they’d first touched, she’d belonged to him, just as he belonged to her. Despite the conflict sparked by The Inferno, the inability to deny or turn from it, it graced them with love, removing all resistance and bringing endless joy and passion to their union.

Even so, he refused to rush the moment, intent on giving his wife the most pleasure possible. He caught her nipples between his teeth and gently bit down. Her breath hissed from her lungs, and she forked her fingers into his hair, pulling him tight against her breasts.