The Sicilian's Bride (15 page)

“Did you hear that?” she asked, her heart pounding.

“I think she’s got some life in her yet,” he said and poured some gasoline into the carburetor. “Stand back,” he ordered. Then with one powerful pull on the cord the engine roared to life. He gave Isabel a thumbs-up and she’d never been so proud of herself in her life.

They primed the pump and she could hear the beautiful sound of water gurgling in the pipes. On the roof, which they reached by a long wooden ladder, she could see the water was now filling the tank.

“I think you may be able to have a shower tonight,” he said.

She definitely needed a shower after being caked with dirt and sweat. Just as soon as he left. But he didn’t leave. He said he was afraid the boars would be back.

“It’s the season, you know. You can’t take a chance on losing your vines.”

Before she could protest that there was nowhere for him to sleep, he said there was a room for the servants behind a door in the kitchen she’d never opened. Inside was a bed and Dario said he’d be fine staying there.

By that time Isabel didn’t have the energy to argue, and why should she tell the man who had provided her with food and water to leave when she didn’t want him to? Fortunately she’d bought extra sheets, a pillow and blankets, almost as if she knew something like this would happen. And she did feel safer having him there. Not only safer but happier.

He promised to hook up a tankless flash hot water for her the next day, but she thought a cold shower would feel wonderful. And it did. From the top of the stairs, she called to him.

“It’s your turn,” she said, wrapped in a towel.

He stood at the foot of the stairs and looked up at her. His
face, only half-lit by the gas lantern, was all sharp lines and deep hollows. She sucked in a deep breath. There was a long silence. Their eyes locked and held. She told herself to move, to go to her room, but her feet wouldn’t obey. Her skin tingled from the cold shower but his smoldering gaze made her feel as if she was burning up.

Was he thinking about how few steps stood between the two of them? Was he thinking of how few seconds it would take for her to walk down and throw herself into his arms? Or for him to climb up the steps and wrap his arms around her? She knew what it would feel like. Like heaven. But heaven was not what was in store for her. She knew it. She’d tried to find it before but it was always outside her grasp.

She had a house and a new life—more than she’d expected. She wouldn’t wish for more. Her job was to stand on her own two feet. Nothing wrong with accepting help, but never should she count on it. Nothing wrong with a few kisses. As long as that’s all it was. She was proud of her self-control.

Finally she relaxed her shoulders, then she sighed and turned and went to her bedroom with the hole in the roof and stared at the stars while he showered. She tried to think about the Milky Way and the constellations, but instead she thought about how he must look with the water coursing over his body, the drops catching in the hair on his chest. No wonder she couldn’t sleep.

Later, Dario lay in the bed in the old servants’ quarters on top of a blanket he kept in his car. The window was wide open and he didn’t need any cover. He wanted to feel the breeze on his bare body and think about Isabel upstairs. Was she having as much trouble sleeping as he was? Was she thinking what he was thinking? Why hold back when they were attracted to each other? Why stop when they were in the prime of life with normal passions kept buried too long?

They were both mature adults with realistic expectations, that is to say, none at all. They were sleeping under the same roof, working toward the same goal—producing fine wine—his family liked her and she continued to amaze and surprise him. After she’d been betrayed by the married man, she’d suffered, but then she’d rebounded remarkably. It was good to know she wasn’t interested in a long-term relationship any more than he was.

Too restless to stay in bed, he pulled on his jeans and went to the kitchen where he found a bottle of cold sparkling water. When he heard footsteps on the stairs he set the bottle down and leaned back against the counter. Had she heard him come into the kitchen?

It was the second time he’d seen Isabel in her sheer nightgown, so transparent he could see her breasts, her stomach, and her long legs in the bright moonlight that shone through the window. He grabbed the back of a chair to keep his balance. How was a man supposed to resist this kind of temptation? She stood in the doorway blinking in surprise. Every fiber of his being called out to her, but his voice was silent—until he finally said, “You can’t sleep either?”

“Just thirsty,” she said in a half whisper, half sigh.

He held out his bottle. She took it.

“What about you? That bed must be hard as cement.”

“It’s not the bed. It’s you. I was thinking about you.” He paused. “You’re good for me. You’ve made me break out of the shell I was in.”

“What did Magdalena do to you?” she asked softly.

He sucked in a deep breath. She’d told him about her ex, and he’d already told her about Magdalena, but it was time he came completely clean about what had happened. He pulled out a chair and straddled it. She sat across the table from him, her chin propped in her hand. Her hair was in a
tangle around her face. She smelled like fine-milled soap and she looked as though she’d just stepped out of his dream.

“I told you she and I went off together when she was crowned Miss Sicily and I neglected the vineyards. That was bad enough. I justified it by thinking we would eventually get married and settle down here at Encanto on the family estate. Then I’d have no more distractions. Magdalena’s reign as Miss Sicily would be over and she’d be as happy as I was to stay home.

“But that was not the future Magdalena wanted. To her, Sicily was the last outpost of civilization. She wanted out of the island altogether, but she didn’t tell me or anyone that or she’d lose her title. So she finished out the year and then ran off with my cousin Georgio from Milan. He’s a very well-to-do businessman who came to our engagement party and made a pass at her without my knowing. She saw he was her ticket out of here and she took it. I was blindsided. Completely fooled. I had no idea.” He buried his head in his hands. “Sometimes it still feels like it happened yesterday,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I think I know how you must have felt.”

He raised his head. He stared off into space. “Like the volcano had erupted and buried me in hot ashes. Like all the color had been drained from the world. Everything was in black and white. Mostly black. Some gray. I walked around, I went to work in the fields, I managed the harvest, but at the end of each day I had no idea how I’d gotten through it. My mind was blank. It was the only way I knew to survive. I felt nothing, not the heat or the cold or the rain. I was numb. You could have done open-heart surgery on me without an anesthetic.” He gave a hollow laugh. “Maybe that’s what happened. They opened me up, looked at my heart and saw it was broken, cracked in half. They shook their heads and said, ‘No chance of repair.’”

“Oh, Dario,” she said, reaching for his hand. There was
sympathy and understanding in her eyes, but no pity. If anyone understood it would be Isabel and he was grateful.

He stared off into space. “I never told anyone what I was going through, but the family guessed, which is why they hold such a grudge against Magdalena.” He rubbed his chin. “I did survive, as you see. Color came back to the fields and the vines. The sky was blue again. The sun rose and set a few hundred times and I was an older, wiser man, I hope. So don’t feel sorry for me.”

She shook her head.

They sat there for a few minutes, then she touched his cheek, as soft as a feather, and she stood and reached for his hand. He didn’t have to ask what it meant. The answer was in her face, in the way she clasped his hand. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. They both knew what would happen next as they walked up the narrow stairway to the bedroom and the narrow bed meant for one. Meant for one, but just right for two people who’d been waiting for this moment since the first time they’d met on that dusty road.

As the stars faded and the sky grew light, they lay together, wedged at the hip, legs entwined, arms flung around each other. Lying there, happier than she ever remembered, with Dario’s face half buried in the pillow, Isabel relived the night spent making glorious, passionate love with Dario under the stars, the most amazing night she’d ever had. She said a prayer to the heavens and whatever gods were listening—
Please, please don’t let me fall in love with him.

But it was too late.

T
HE NEXT DAY
was Saturday. Isabel didn’t expect her workers but she heard a truck in her driveway in the morning. She looked at Dario, sleepy-eyed, his hair falling across his forehead. He raised his head, propped himself on his elbow and kissed her. If she’d thought last night was a dream, she knew now it was real. He was real and she was ecstatic. But a little worried too. What did it mean? What happened next?

“The bed’s a little small,” she said.

He grinned at her and her heart beat to a crazy rhythm. “Seemed just right to me,” he said. “Although you’re welcome to try mine the next time.”

So there would be a next time. She returned his smile, then she remembered.

“Someone’s here,” she whispered as if afraid someone would hear and someone would know. A hangover from the old days, she knew, when an affair must be kept secret from the world. Some day she’d get over it, but not now. Not yet.

She jumped out of bed, surprised she’d slept at all, let alone so late. She felt his eyes on her as she stood naked in the small room and her sensitive skin burned. She dressed quickly in a pair of shorts and an old T-shirt.

“I’ll go see who it is.”

When she went to the front door she saw his sister Lucia standing on the steps with a basket in her hands. “I heard you’d checked out of the hotel and I was afraid you didn’t have any food.”

Isabel felt a moment of panic. Would she find out her brother was here? What would she think? More importantly what would
he
think if the word spread he was spending the night? “How nice. Thank you.” She should invite her in, but if she ran into Dario, it could cause problems.

Lucia turned to look down the driveway. “That looks like Dario’s car down there.”

“Uh, yes, you see, he was afraid there’d be boars in the vineyards so he came by…” Her mind was racing so fast trying to come up with a plausible explanation, that she stumbled and her mind went blank.

“You don’t have to explain to me,” Lucia said with a small knowing smile on her lips. “I’ll be off now, but I wanted to say I’ve spoken to the priest and he’s free on a Saturday to do the Blessing if that’s okay with you. He’s also available for other ceremonies…like a wedding,” she added with a gleam in her eye.

Isabel hoped Dario didn’t hear her say that. Surely Lucia knew he’d never commit to another relationship. Neither would Isabel. And yet, despite the brick wall she’d so carefully built around her heart, she had a sudden vision of herself walking through the vineyard in a long white dress. She closed her eyes and forced herself to be strong. No wedding dreams, no letting her imagination run away with her. That was a sure way of getting caught in a melt-down she’d never recover from.

“Thank you. That should be fine,” she told Lucia. “The Blessing I mean,” she added hastily.

Lucia’s gaze drifted to somewhere over Isabel’s shoulder.

“Lucia, what are you doing here?” Dario asked. Isabel
whirled around. Just as Lucia was about to leave, he had to appear. But he didn’t sound angry at being caught in a compromising position, just surprised. Just one glance at his bare chest, his low-slung jeans and his hair standing on end made Isabel’s heart leap and told her as well as his sister that he’d just gotten up and that he’d definitely, without question, spent the night with her. He didn’t seem to care what anyone thought. What a change from her last affair, where the anxiety of being caught had left Isabel with a nagging pain in her chest.

“Lucia’s brought us some food,” Isabel said brightly. All she could think was that he looked so sexy with his eyes still filled with sleep that her pulse was racing. She had an urge to run her hand around the outline of his rough jaw. She wanted to press her cheek against his bronzed chest and listen to his heart to see if it was beating as fast as hers. Instead she clenched her hands into fists and told herself to be strong.

“Thanks,” Dario said casually to his sister.

Feeling as relaxed as he seemed to be, Isabel said to Lucia, “Won’t you come in for some coffee?”

Lucia said she had to go home, then she headed back down the driveway. Before she got into her car, she turned to look at them for a long moment. Isabel waved.

“I don’t know what she must think,” she said to Dario, still slightly anxious.

“She thinks we’re having an affair.”

“Are we?” Waiting for his answer, her heart hammered so loudly she was afraid Lucia could hear it from where she stood.

“Aren’t we?” he answered with a devastating smile that warmed her heart and curled her bare toes.

Isabel breathed a sigh of relief. The contrast between him and Neil, her one-time fiancé, was startling in every way. Her ex-boss had worried constantly about being found out. When they had been found out, it was she who’d suffered, not him.

He pulled her tightly against him and kissed her throat, her chin, her eyelids and finally her mouth.

“Why not have an affair?” he asked when he let her go at last. “We get along well, if last night was any indication.”

She blushed. Yes they got along extremely well.

“We’re both free of obligations,” he continued.

“As long as we both know we can come and go at will. That is, no strings,” she said firmly. “No promises. No commitment.” She said these things for herself to hear as well as for him. The rules had to be agreed on, whether she liked them or not.

He nodded solemnly, put his arm around her and they went inside.

She asked herself how could anything that felt this good be bad? As long as no one got hurt, and Isabel knew better than to let herself get hurt. She needed his help on the vineyard. He wanted to help her. Instead of fighting for the property, they were both working toward one goal—to turn the grapes into fine wine. It was as simple as that.

After eating a half dozen delicious
cornetti
, the crescent-shaped local pastries Lucia had brought, and drinking more coffee, Dario walked out to the vineyard. The sun was shining on a run-down house and rows of neglected vines, and the world had never looked so good to him. Isabel was beautiful, wonderful, kind and generous, and for now she was all his. Before he let himself wallow in contentment, he saw with alarm that there was water gushing up from the ancient water pipe buried under the ground. Just when he’d repaired the pump, gotten water into the house and filled the tank on top of the roof, now this. He turned off the water at the pumphouse, got a shovel from the shed and dug down to expose a length of pipe. But he couldn’t tell where the break was.

“The water pipe’s broken,” he called to Isabel. She came running from the house. “I need you.”

“What happened?” she asked breathlessly.

“The pipe’s old, it sprang a leak so the water’s not getting to the vines. We’ll have to replace it.” Even in the heat of the battle with the leaky pipe, he realized he’d said
we
when he meant
you
. After all, it was her pipe.

“You stay here. I’ll turn the water back on and you tell me where it’s coming from.”

She nodded. A few minutes later he heard her shriek. He ran back and found her drenched in water from the spray.

“Good, you found it,” he said, his gaze riveted to her shirt plastered to her breasts and her shorts clinging to her hips.

She looked so surprised with her hair dripping down her face and her shirt and shorts soaked to her body, he burst out laughing despite the situation.

She laughed too and they stood looking at each other, water gushing from the pipe, until the laughter died and she was in his arms again, where she belonged, her breasts pressed against his chest, his shirt wet. He knew right away he was ready to go back up to the bedroom and continue where they’d left off. In fact, they might still be there if his sister hadn’t appeared.

It was a good thing they had an agreement. Nothing serious. He’d been hurt, so had she. This affair of theirs was part of the healing process, and he’d never felt so happy as when he had Isabel in his arms. Still, there was good reason not to lose their heads. He’d never take a chance on love again and she wouldn’t either. He’d learned the hard way. Besides, there was work to be done here. “I’d better get this thing repaired,” he said abruptly.

“Need my help?” she asked, stepping backwards.

He shook his head. “You go change.” Because if she didn’t change into dry clothes, and he couldn’t stop holding her and planning about how he’d like to take her clothes off and make love all afternoon, then he’d better get out of here. And that was something he didn’t want to do.

After the pipe repair, Dario went up to the roof to get his mind back to work, while Isabel whitewashed the cellar. When she started painting the front of the house, he held the ladder for her.

“You’re brave,” he noted. “The ladder hasn’t been used for years.”

“I’m only brave when there are no boars around,” she said from her perch under the shingles of the roof.

That night they searched the basket Lucia brought and found homemade pasta, pesto sauce, fresh tomatoes, Par|mesan cheese and sausage his grandfather had made. But first they each had a refreshing shower, now available with either hot or cold running water. He thought it best to wait outside the house until she had finished showering. Then he changed his mind. The sound of running water and the picture of her standing naked under the shower had a profound effect on him. Why wait for her to finish her shower when it would save water if they showered together? As he bounded up the stairs, he wondered where Dario the workaholic had gone? He’d changed since she arrived. That much he knew.

It bothered him to remember that the last time he’d changed was when he’d followed Magdalena from one end of the island to the other allowing his vineyards to go to ruins. But this was different. He wasn’t neglecting anything. As long as he was in control of the situation, no worry. He knocked on the bathroom door, tossed his clothes on the floor and joined her in the shower.

“It’s more than I expected,” she said when they came downstairs after the shower. Dario’s hair was still wet, his body still responding to hers in the most primitive way. She sat outside while she dried her hair in the late-afternoon sun. “Cold water would have made me happy, but make that hot water and you add it up to pure bliss.”

Bliss is what she radiated. Bliss is what he felt too. Dario
couldn’t take his eyes from her face and the sight of her copper-colored hair gleaming in the sun. He hadn’t smiled much for at least a year. But now, every day and every hour, something Isabel said or did made his mouth curve upward.

She was so warm, so generous, that he felt like a new person in a new world, a world he was getting used to. He already knew she was gutsy, dedicated, and determined to get the house in order as well as supervise the harvest. She was also so much fun to be with he sometimes stopped working just to watch her standing on the top of the ladder, a smudge of paint on her nose, and he’d catch himself staring at her wondering how long this could last.

Days went by. Long sunny days followed by balmy starlit nights together in her narrow bed. She painted the kitchen and made curtains for the bedroom. He worked on his own harvest in the morning, but joined her every day for a long lunch. “It’s a Sicilian tradition,” he explained. It was also a Sicilian tradition to make love in the afternoon on long summer days. Then back to work.

In the evening he’d return for dinner laden with supplies and they cooked together, ate together, talked together, laughed and kissed and fell into bed at night, tired, but never too tired to take their relationship to a new level of intimacy. As long as they both knew the rules.

Sometimes, even when Dario wasn’t helping her out at the Azienda, he felt as if he was standing on the top of a ladder. Not only on top of the ladder, but on top of the world. He had no idea how long his mood would last. One week passed, then two weeks and he was still on top of the world. But the last time he’d been this close to a woman their happy affair had come crashing down around him. The warning voice inside his head got more muted each day. He knew it wouldn’t happen again because he would never let himself go the way
he had. He was holding back, keeping his heart and soul locked away.

Of course, Isabel was a different kind of woman than Magdalena and he was a different man than he was then. He was a man with defenses firmly in place around his heart. If he still had a heart, which he sometimes doubted, it had hardened into Sicilian granite. Which wasn’t a bad thing under the circumstances.

But waking up each morning in bed with Isabel was something else. He liked seeing her every morning, her glorious red hair tousled, her eyes sleepy. He liked seeing her every night, her hair damp from the shower, and just before she fell asleep she murmured
buona notte
to him. It seemed natural. It seemed right.

The approval of his family when they learned he was spending even more time at the Azienda with Isabel was a nice change from their worried frowns and negative remarks during the Magdalena era.

But still, he knew this affair wouldn’t last. They had a goal—to prepare the place for the Blessing of the Grapes. After that something would change. Either he’d go back to his house full time or…By then she’d have power and water and a telephone and she wouldn’t need him to stay there anymore. She wouldn’t need him at all. That was a good thing. At least he’d thought so until today, over two weeks since the first night he’d spent there. Now he wondered how much he would miss not being needed, miss being a part of her daily life.

Sitting at the picnic table after dinner when the air was cool, drinking wine and talking or just sitting there as night fell and the breeze came up made him feel that life couldn’t get much better than this. Isabel had cooked the whole dinner after a hard day of work grouting the bathroom floor because he was late.

“Tomorrow night I’m taking you to the hotel for dinner,” he said. “For a change. You’ve been working so hard here, you need a break.”