Secrets of Castillo del Arco (12 page)

She slipped her jewelled sandals off before venturing onto the sand and he offered her his hand so she might carry her sandals and the skirt of her gown without losing balance. She slipped her hand into his. She saw his heated smile and felt his warm grip and let both seep deep into her bones. So what that she was leaving tomorrow? She was going to enjoy every moment of this last night with him.

Just one last night …

The beach was long and almost empty, the season late; what day trippers there had been had long since departed. The beach was theirs, a long strip of sand glowing under the light of the full moon, the air balmy and still, the dark waters laced with silver.

‘Did I tell you,’ he said after they’d walked hand in hand in companionable silence for some way, ‘How beautiful you look tonight?’

Her breath hitched, her heart fluttered in her chest like a winged beast. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t believe you did.’

‘Then I am remiss. So let me tell you now.’ He stopped
walking then and turned to her. ‘Tonight you are more beautiful than I have ever seen you. More beautiful than the sun setting over the most beautiful city in the world, more beautiful than the pearl of a moon hanging heavy in the sky.’

There was so much power in his words, so much depth and feeling, that her heart almost burst from her chest to embrace him. But at the same time she knew she dared not believe him. ‘Thank you, Raoul, but I wish you wouldn’t say such things.’

‘Why shouldn’t I tell you what I think?’

‘Because I am leaving tomorrow, and you will only make it harder—for me, at least.’

‘Then don’t leave.’

She laughed a little uncertainly and turned, starting to walk back the other way. ‘We’ve been through this. I have to go. I can’t stay here for ever.’

‘And what about what happened last night? Didn’t that mean anything to you?’

‘Hey, I wasn’t the one who left this morning without saying goodbye.’

‘I knew you were angry with me.’

‘No. I’m not angry.’ She thought about the talk she’d had with Phillipa earlier today, the sense her friend had made, even though the thought of leaving and missing out on more nights like she’d spent last night …But, no, space and distance were what she needed now. Head space. Physical distance. ‘Last night was amazing. But everything has happened so quickly, I need some time to work it all out. To work out what I want.’

He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘I understand.’

They walked a little way to the sound of the sea lapping at the shore, music and laughter wafting on the breeze from a party somewhere up the coast, and she thought that was the end of the matter until he said, ‘Can I let you in on a secret?’

She turned to him. ‘Of course.’

He stopped her and took her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips against her palm, sending a sizzle all the way to her toes. ‘A long time ago, I made a promise to myself. Last night, in your bed, I was tempted to break it.’

She shook her head, confused, laughing just a little to try to ease the tension. ‘I’m not sure I understand.’

‘You see, I do not break promises easily. And wanting to break a promise made me hurt you, I think, by leaving this morning without a word.’

‘You had business, you said.’

‘I did. But I did not have to leave you to do it. I was afraid of what might happen if I stayed.’

‘Raoul,’ she said, her heart tripping, ‘What are you saying?’

‘A long time ago I vowed never to marry again. I promised myself that I would never take another wife. But last night, in your bed, I came close to breaking that vow—so close that it scared me.’

Every cell in her body froze; her lungs squeezed tight, so tight she could barely get out the words. ‘I don’t think I understand.’

‘I panicked this morning. I behaved stupidly and left you, and I hurt you and made you angry when that was the last thing I wanted to do. What I really wanted to
do was ask you, Bella, if you would do me the honour of becoming my wife.’

‘Raoul …’

‘I know I don’t deserve it, Bella. I know I am the last person you would want to marry, and the least deserving, but would you consider my proposal anyway? Would you marry me?’

‘You’re serious. You’re actually serious.’

‘I have never been more serious in my life.’

She looked up at him, his eyes so intent that for a second she was tempted—oh, so tempted—to fall into those dark depths and believe him.

But, no! She shook her head and started walking down the beach away from him, her heart thumping like a drum, making so much noise it was no surprise she couldn’t think straight. ‘Raoul, that’s just crazy.’

‘Don’t you think I know that?’ she heard him call. ‘Don’t you see why I couldn’t face you this morning?’

No. She couldn’t think. And she couldn’t see that. She couldn’t see anything, not with the sudden tears streaming down her face as she stumbled along the sand.

She wasn’t even sure what she was running from. Didn’t she want Raoul to want her? Except that it almost seemed too much, too soon. Too perfect. Too imperfect. Oh God, what should she believe?

‘Bella!’ he yelled, catching her arm, pulling her to him.

‘You didn’t want me here,’ she remembered as she slammed into his hard chest. ‘You never wanted me to come to Venice in the first place, and yet now you tell me you want to marry me?’ She punched him on the arm,
on the shoulder, would have punched him on his chin if his wrist hadn’t snagged hers and dragged it down where her fist could do no damage. ‘So what are you trying to prove by asking me to marry you?’

‘What are
you
trying to prove? I’ve told you I want to marry you. Why do you fight that? After the night we shared, why can’t you believe that?’

She shook her head. ‘That was one night! We need more time. It’s too soon.’

‘I thought it was too soon. How could I think of breaking a promise I had made for life after such a short time with you? Don’t you think I have tortured myself all day for leaving you like I did? For leaving you thinking I didn’t care?

‘But let me make it plain—this is not about one night. Because I wanted you the moment I first set eyes on you. I wanted you then, Bella. I want you now. And I am willing to break every vow I have ever made in my life to have you, if you will only have me.’

‘But wouldn’t it be more sensible to wait?’

‘Why wait, when we feel this way? Why live apart when we are made to be together? Because if I am not mistaken you feel it too, don’t you? You feel this magic between us. Do you really believe this is going to go away? Why should we wait when we are so good together?’

There was something exciting about his words, something urgent and powerful that tugged on that part of her that wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe his words were true—maybe because they so closely mirrored her own feelings.

She didn’t really want to leave. Logic told her she should, but her heart would always stay here with Raoul, no matter how far she moved, no matter where she lived.

But
still
he hadn’t said the words that she so wanted to hear. ‘You tell me how much I mean to you, and yet you haven’t told me that you love me.’

‘Haven’t I?’ He took her in his arms and kissed her then, so deep and deliciously that it felt like his kiss had touched her very soul and sworn his love. ‘But then, if I didn’t love you, why else would I want to marry you?’

He kissed her again and she knew she had not imagined it the first time—that there was no way he could not love her, not when his kiss touched her so deeply, not when she knew in her heart he was the man for her.

It might be crazy, rash and all kinds of madness, but it was a madness they clearly both shared—and what point was logic and waiting when what you wanted was clearly right?

‘You are really sure about this?’ she asked one final time to be sure of what he was asking. ‘You really are serious about wanting to marry me?’

‘I have never been more serious in my life.’

And the zipper of heat that flushed out from her spine confirmed that she had no choice, no choice at all …

‘Then I will marry you, Raoul. Please, yes, I will marry you.’

‘I so wish Umberto could be here,’ she mused as Phillipa handed her the bouquet, a glorious rose concoction in soft apricot, peach and cream colours from which long ribbons fluttered. It was two minutes before the wedding
ceremony was due to get underway and they were expecting a knock at the door at any moment to let them know it was time. Meanwhile she had time to think about Umberto and a moment they had both missed out on.

‘He would be so proud of you,’ Phillipa said.

Gabriella could only agree. Umberto would have had no objections to her marrying Raoul. He would have approved wholeheartedly, no doubt, which was some consolation, given he was not here to give her away. She just wished he could be here to see how she looked today.

The beaded gown clung to her body like a second skin and the hours she’d put in today at the spa and hair salon had been well worth it. Her skin was smooth, her nails perfectly manicured and her hair had been pulled up into a classic style, sleek and polished, with a few tendrils coiling around her face, a face that today even she conceded came close to beautiful. That was probably more due to the fact she couldn’t stop smiling rather than her perfectly applied make-up, but whatever it was it was working.

Today she felt like a princess from some long-ago fairy tale about to marry her fairy-tale prince. And the only thing that could have made her feel better was her grandfather being here to see her get married.

‘Strange, really, how it was Umberto’s death that brought Raoul and me together. Do you think he’ll be here somewhere today watching over us?’

‘I know he will. And he will be as happy for you as the rest of us are.’

She smiled as she looked down at the bouquet. ‘You
know, I really thought you might try to talk me out of marrying Raoul, but you’ve been fantastic. Thank you.’

‘Why on earth do you say such things?’

‘Because you told me to wait and to take my time, and now I’ve gone and done neither. I thought you’d be lining up to tell me I’m about to make the mistake of my life.’

Her friend laughed. ‘Okay, so I thought you were being rash and I was worried about you. But I’ve seen you with Raoul, and do you really think I would interfere in anything, or in your dealings with anyone, who had obviously made you so happy? It is clear Raoul loves you with all his heart.’

Gabriella wrapped her arm around her friend and squeezed her tight, for she had needed to hear that. ‘Thank you so much for that. Because it is crazy, how fast this has all happened. But I love him so much. I love him with all my heart. I want to spend the rest of my life with him.’

She turned away then, pretending to be interested in the sparkle of the diamond-encrusted pearl earrings in her lobes, wondering where the hell the knock on the door she was waiting for to tell her it was time to start the ceremony was, knowing she should take courage from her friend’s words.

It is clear Raoul loves you with all his heart
.

Was it clear? She wanted it to be true. Because still he had not said the words to her. And then she thought again of the words he had said to her, letting them lend her strength …

Some things do not need to be said for us to know them to be true
.

And she knew he would say it. He was just waiting for the right moment.
Like tonight
.

A sizzle of raw heat slid down her spine and sparked a fire deep in her belly. Tonight they would consummate their marriage in that place where it had first happened, under the lover’s alcove.

She could hardly wait.

She heard a knock on her door and felt a hand on her arm, seeing Phillipa in the reflection in the mirror. ‘It’s time,’ her friend said.

The chapel was lit with burnished golden light, the sun already descending over Venice and gilding the assembled guests. There weren’t a lot, not that Gabriella noticed anything once she saw Raoul standing at the front waiting for her, his hair blue-black under the light, slicked back into his signature ponytail, his dark suit showing his height and the breadth of his shoulders to perfection.

And, although she believed in Raoul with all her heart, although she knew that he loved her, still she looked for some kind of sign—something to confirm that she was not acting crazy, agreeing to marry a man so quickly. Something to confirm he was the man she wanted, who wanted her.

She watched him say something to Marco standing alongside him, when the music heralding her entrance started. Marco glanced up and stopped him with just a tap to his shoulder and a nod, and Raoul stilled and turned around.

Their eyes meet across the small chapel and she felt the impact of his like a blast of heat.
Raoul
, her soul seemed to whisper, relief infusing every part of her as their gazes tangled and meshed, knowing nobody could look at her that way unless he truly loved her. Unless he was her soul mate. Nobody else could make her feel so alive, so desired.

Phillipa turned to her and beamed. ‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘Did you see the way he looked at you? This guy is seriously in love.’ And then she threw her smile and turned, setting off slowly down the aisle.

‘I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.’

It was done
.

Raoul felt the rush of success lift the weight of a promise made to a dying man clean from his shoulders in a tidal surge. But then he made the mistake of looking down at his new bride, who was watching him through that veil with those damned cat-like eyes, anticipating his kiss, full of expectant hopes, dreams and wishes; the tide crashed right back over him.

‘I love you,’ she mouthed and he wanted to run right then and there from the chapel. Guilt crashed over him. Hadn’t he done enough? He’d married her, hadn’t he?

He’d never wanted her love
.

But people were waiting; the priest was waiting, and she was waiting. She looked more like a goddess than any woman had a right to, every diamond hanging from her ear, every bead on her dress, even the moisture in
her eyes, catching the light so that she sparkled before him like a glass of fine champagne waiting to be sipped.