Not Juliet (9 page)

He’d just have
to watch out for the shock, when it hit her.

He kept a
steady speed all the way to the little church, raising clouds of
dust he was certain would be visible from miles away.

As soon as the
car was parked in the narrow strip of shade along the west wall of
the chiesa, he pulled Riella into his arms and allowed his lips to
capture hers. This move achieved more than one thing: it ensured
Riella stayed quiet and happy as they waited for the dust raised by
their arrival to settle, and it was a welcome distraction for
himself, too. Unfortunately, he was so turned on by the feel of her
hot skin on his, the pert nipples poking through the thin material
of her dress and into his chest, the velvety smoothness of her
tongue intertwined with his, and her fingers tugging gently at his
hair, that he almost forgot to stop. Again.

Reluctantly, he
broke contact, licked and smacked his lips, then told the
truth.

“You taste so
good, it’s unbelievable. I can’t wait until I get to taste you
everywhere.”

And then he
pulled her out of the car. Her dumbfounded expression was comical,
but whatever retort she was thinking of was lost in the face of her
curiosity.

“Why have we
stopped here?” she asked, eyes wide.

“You said
something about being lovers. I want to make an honest woman out of
you.”

Riella gasped
and pulled back on his hand. “Now? Here?”

Luca turned her
around in a tight circle. “Look around. Is there any better place
on earth?”

The little
chapel was bordered by a few cypress trees and a couple of low,
elderly maples. Beyond them, to the east, lay the village of Santa
Fiora, sheltered behind ancient woods which formed part of one of
the national natural reserves. Undulating smooth green hills spread
out as far as the eye could see, rising higher to the north, in a
mountain peak. Tall cypress trees interrupted the smoothness of
slow curves, lending the landscape the appearance of curving
women’s hips, laying replete and fulfilled, awaiting their lovers’
caress. Perfect, in Luca’s view.

From the look
on Riella’s face, she saw the beauty in it, too.

Father Marco
walked out of the copse of eucalyptus to the left of an olive grove
at a fast pace. He smiled widely when he spotted first the Bugatti,
and then Luca. His head tilted sideways in an unspoken question
when Luca pulled Riella closer into his body and wound an arm
around her back.

“Ah! Just in
time,” Luca said quietly.

Riella waited
for the man to approach in silence. Had she got the message yet?
Luca wasn’t certain. She gasped when she spotted his dog collar.
Luca braced himself.

“Are you
serious?”

She pulled away
from him a little, so she could face him and shout in his face.
He’d expected that, and he didn’t let go. He forced his voice to
stay calm in the face of her indignation – out of surprise, he was
certain.

“Yes, I
am.”

“You want to
marry me here?” He nodded. “Now?” He nodded again.

“But… but…”

“It’s going to
be a small ceremony, enough to make it official between us. When
all our problems are over, we can have a huge gypsy wedding to tell
the whole world about it.”

She wrenched
her hand out of his and stepped back. He didn’t like the distance
between them, so he moved forward and wrapped his arms around her
middle, pulling her near. His breath was close enough to stir her
eyelashes when he spoke.

“You love me,
Riella. And I love you. When two people are so in love with each
other, they pledge to spend the rest of their lives together. I
thought that’s what you wanted. Was I wrong?”

Her breath was
shallow, her heart fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. Her face
was pale. Christ! Was she going to pass out in his arms, right now?
What exactly scared her so much?

“If you decide
you don’t like married life with me, we can get an annulment. I
promise you I will do whatever you want me to do. Cross my heart.
Anything, for you, Riella. There’s just one small favor I ask of
you.” At her unspoken question, he continued. “For one day… Less
than that; for just a few hours… Could we leave aside all our
troubles, all the threats and the worries? Just until tomorrow?
Please.”

Father Marco
was closing in – almost in speaking distance now.

“Luca!” he
shouted, out of breath. “What an honor. So glad to see you. What
brings you to the humble abode of our Saint Francesco, my
friend?”

“Don’t push me
away,” he asked her, then placed a chaste kiss to her forehead
before turning to the priest.

With one last
caress of her cheek, he let go of her hands and walked to the robed
man.

The breeze caught and
lifted Riella’s tresses as she turned her head to stare at Luca’s
back, and she shivered. She felt shock, of course – the emotional
strain she’d put herself under in the last few hours, first by
walking into the strange camp alone, and then by laying her soul
bare, fully accepting of Luca’s scrutiny, had drained her – but
most of all she’d felt the chill when Luca had stepped away. Her
body missed his touch, whether or not she was aware enough to
recognize it.

What he was
asking was not at all unreasonable. She could give him that much.
She gathered all her doubts, and fears and suspicions, and shoved
them away, to the back of her mind. The rest of the day belonged to
her… to them.

Smiling, she
let her gaze skim over the Tuscan countryside again. Luca had been
right; she couldn’t imagine a prettier place to get married in. The
small chapel was painted a brilliant white. Its roof shone
brightly, making the small crosses above and either side of the
wooden front door appear as if the angels had bathed them in a halo
of gold. Birds chirped and the wind whispered in the trees. It was
peaceful, a fairyland she felt privileged to be part of.

Riella’s eyes
searched Luca’s. He caught her glance for a moment, then turned
away again to answer one of the priest’s questions. She sighed
deeply, trying to find guidance within herself. What did she feel,
and more specifically, did she believe, in her heart of hearts,
that marrying Luca was a good idea?

She closed her
eyes, to help her focus. The answer was as clear and unequivocal in
her mind as the certainty that the brightness of day followed the
darkness of night.

Riella smiled,
face upturned to the skies above.
Dear Father in Heavens
,
she pleaded,
please bless this union and keep our love alive
forever
. Then she took a deep breath and walked to stand
alongside Luca.

“Would you like
to go in?” Father Marco asked when she slipped her hand inside
Luca’s. His eyes missed nothing.

She could see
Luca’s lips lifting in a victorious smile, and she loved him even
more for it. He was right. He had always been right. She was
Juliet, and he was her Romeo. Only this reality was far better than
any fairytale.

“Can’t we do it
out here?” Luca asked. “It’s such a beautiful day, it would be a
pity to miss even one second of its beauty.” His hand stroked
Riella’s cheek and she smiled and leaned into Luca.

“Indeed, our
Lord has blessed us and this land,” the priest agreed. “Well, He
will hear us wherever we stand. Shall we proceed?”

Instead of an
answer, Luca turned to hold Riella’s hands in his. He stood
straight in front of her, then brought her hands to his lips and
kissed each finger.

Riella would
have expected the priest to speak, but instead she heard the low,
emotional voice of her Romeo. “Please, Riella, would you consider
making me the happiest man alive?” Luca asked. “I promise to love
you, protect you and cherish you now and for all eternity. Will you
marry me?”

She gulped and
stared into his eyes, so dark and deep with unspoken promise. He
would be there for her; she had no doubt now. It was all in her
hands now. She could have her happy ending with the love of her
life, or she could let it all slip through her fingers. Seize
the moment
, a little voice whispered in her ear.

“Yes,” she
breathed.

“Third time
lucky,” he said with a wink, and swept her into his arms. His lips
were almost upon hers when Father Marco cleared his throat. Luca’s
face crinkled in annoyance, but he waited, growing more and more
impatient, as the priest hurried through a few verses spoken in
high-speed Italian.

She could tell
when he’d finished, because Luca’s shoulders relaxed, and his eyes
shone with an inner heat she expected would make him explode if he
didn’t get to touch his lips to hers right away.

“You may now
kiss your bride, Luca,” Father Marco said, and took a step
back.

Riella stood
frozen, her breath bouncing off Luca’s lips and back to touch hers
again. The non-distance between them sizzled with unspoken passion.
A second later his lips pressed down on hers and she closed her
eyes in unspeakable bliss.

Luca’s kiss
turned deeper, more serious, more passionate. Sighing in
contentment, Riella relaxed and concentrated on the kiss, pouring
herself into the moment, losing herself in the feeling of him.

She stayed in
his embrace, didn’t even dare breathe, in case the spell broke.
Over and over again, like on a loop, the favorite scenes from all
the love stories she’d secreted in the depths of her mind played
on, with herself as the smiling leading lady, making her heart
inflate with happiness, until she thought she’d burst.

Luca had been
right. Yes, there was such a thing as love at first sight. True
love stories existed, as the two of them had proven it.

“I love you,”
she whispered against his lips.

The smile that
broke over his face made the unforgiving Tuscan sunshine seem no
brighter than a raincloud. “As I love you, my beautiful wife.”

Luca stood there,
grinning from ear to ear for a minute, and Riella couldn’t help
smiling in return. Oh, this was the happiest day of his life, for
certain.

He pulled her
tight to his chest, and held her there until he could regain
control of his emotions and he was sure the tears in his eyes had
subsided.

One obstacle
down… several more to go. He wasn’t looking forward to revealing
his full name to her. Not one bit. Still, he could delay the
moment. He’d promised her a meeting with the gypsy king the
following day, and he would keep his promise. They could have a
business meeting, perhaps discussing the finer details over a bowl
of fresh wild strawberries and cream, at breakfast. Freshly
showered, wearing nothing but bath robes, or maybe only towels. A
towel would look far sexier on her, with her wet loose curls
dribbling rivulets of water over her naked back and shoulders…

Yes, he would
keep her from finding out for one more night. This day was too
perfect; he was in no mood to spoil it by arguing, even if make-up
sex was an attractive idea. Both his and her bubbles of happiness
were too perfect to be allowed to pop now.

Floating in his
seventh heaven, Luca drove home as fast as he could, stopping only
once to ravish his wife. He hadn’t been able to control himself
when she’d turned and leaned out of the window, revealing the
beautiful curve of her behind and setting his pulse racing.

He drove on
smaller roads, partly because there was less traffic, and partly
because of some irrational subconscious need to keep Riella hidden,
out of full view, and away from any imaginable danger.

Obviously, the
rogue who’d attacked her in Florence was persistent, not deterred
by Luca’s returning fire. The bulldozer incident in the camp had
proved that much. Luca wasn’t sure whether Riella would be safe in
his villa on the north Piombino coast, but at least she was
prepared now. Any new attack would no longer take her by surprise.
And he would try to minimize the chance of that happening by
keeping her moving. After ‘the talk’ he was planning to have with
her in the morning, he would make sure they would never stay in one
place for more than two hours, tops, during the day, and he would
hire protection in every town they stayed overnight.

For tonight,
they would be safe. His address was no secret, as so many people
needed to be able to get hold of him, but he couldn’t imagine the
rogue would be able to recover his nerve and strike again so soon
after his last failed attempt. Besides, he’d sent envoys everywhere
to spread the word that Riella was off-limits. If they knew what
was good for them, his people would respect her as they did their
king, without argument.

Luca turned off
the main road and onto a graveled lane. Well, more pebbles and fine
sand than gravel, a permanently dusty approach to his villa which
turned his shiny black Bugatti a washed-out shade of dirty gold, to
his irritation. That was why he preferred to ride his bike. On his
Ducati, he was through the dust too fast for it to settle.

“I never asked
what happened to your bike,” Riella said, smiling. “See what you do
to me? I can barely think straight.”

Luca laughed.
“I’m glad.”

“You are?”

“Um-hmm.”

Riella punched
him jokingly on the arm.

“Ow, ahhh, that
hurt,” he complained in a teasing voice. “You’re lethal!”

She gave him an
eye-roll and shook her head.

“And you’re a
liar. Now tell me, how come I’m sitting in this gorgeous and
extremely expensive car instead of across your knees, on a
motorbike?”

“I called from
Rome for my car to be delivered. A friend brought it over and rode
my bike back. Simple.”

She thought for
a minute. “You must have good friends.”

Luca didn’t
answer. He could probably count his good friends on the fingers of
one hand. Even among those, some probably only stayed loyal as long
as he could demonstrate strong leadership. It was the curse of a
king – never to know why people hang around you, never to be sure
of unconditional friendship.