Dante's Unexpected Legacy

by Catherine George

  ‘Some bastardo took a bend too fast and made contact with our front wing, then drove off like a maniac.’ Dante leaned over her, his face haggard. ‘Dio, your head is bleeding. I must get you to a doctor immediately.’

  ‘I don’t need a doctor!’

  ‘You do,’ said Dante inexorably, and wiped her forehead with a handkerchief. ‘Stay very still now while I arrange this.’ He took out his phone and after a pause spoke to someone at length.

  Rose listened to the rapid-fire conversation, but was unable to pick out more than the word incinta. At least she knew what that meant. It obviously had the desired effect, since Dante thanked someone volubly and turned to Rose. ‘We will be seen immediately we arrive. I just need to check that the car is safe to drive then I will take you to the doctor. I will be seconds only.’

  In sudden need of fresh air, Rose undid her belt and got out very carefully, relieved to find her legs steady as she watched Dante make a long examination under the bonnet. She whistled as she saw ugly scrapes along the shining crimson paint. ‘How bad is it?’

  ‘It is cosmetic only. The paintwork is scratched but there is no damage to the car otherwise.’ He closed the bonnet. ‘It is safe to drive, I promise. Mi dispiace, Rose. Even when I was young and drove very fast I never had an accident, yet today, when I was taking such care, this happened.’

  ‘Only because some idiot was speeding. It wasn’t your fault!’

  ‘Grazie, tesoro. Does your head ache?’

  ‘A bit. Do I look a mess?’

  Dante pulled her close, his heart hammering against hers. ‘You are still bleeding a little, but you are beautiful, as always.’ He swallowed hard. ‘When your head hit the window my heart stopped. It is good that bastardo drove off so fast,’ he added, eyes blazing. ‘I wanted to kill him.’

  ‘Bad idea! I don’t fancy visiting my new husband in prison.’ She smiled. ‘Thank heavens Bea wasn’t with us.’

  ‘Amen,’ breathed Dante, and managed a smile. ‘Though I was not driving fast!’

  Rose chuckled then eyed him searchingly. ‘Were you hurt anywhere, Dante?’

  He shook his head. ‘A few bruises and badly injured pride only. I am mortified that you had to experience such a thing, carissima.’

  ‘I’ll live. And so, in case you were wondering, will our baby.’

  ‘That is good—but in that terrible moment when you hit your head I had no thought for the baby, only for you, that I might have lost you a second time, this time perhaps for ever.’ He blinked hard, but tears, Rose noted in wonder, hung on his enviable lashes.

  Oblivious of passing traffic, or anyone in the world who might be watching, she pulled her husband’s head down to kiss him fiercely. ‘Well, you haven’t,’ she said gruffly. ‘I don’t suppose you have a tissue?’

  ‘This handkerchief only.’ He gave it to her, his eyes smouldering. ‘That was a wonderful kiss. Do it again.’

  ‘Later,’ she said. ‘Spit!’

  He laughed as he obliged, and held still while she scrubbed a bloodstain from his cheek then gave him the handkerchief.

  ‘Now you do the same for me.’

  * * *

  Once Dante was sure Rose felt composed enough to continue their journey he drove her to the private hospital used by the Fortinari family. As promised, they were seen immediately by a doctor who asked rapid questions Dante translated for Rose while the cut on her temple was dressed. When it was established that Signora Fortinari was not suffering from concussion, and a scan later confirmed that all else was otherwise well with her, the doctor told Dante he could take his wife home on condition that he brought her back immediately if she felt unwell.

  When Dante finally drove up the winding road to the Villa later Rose gave a deep sigh of relief as the lovely old house came into view. ‘Home at last,’ she said thankfully.

  ‘It is so good to hear you say home,’ Dante said with feeling. He got out to help her out of the car, and then picked her up to carry her into the house. ‘This is the custom for brides, yes?’

  Rose wreathed her arms round his neck happily, surprised when, instead of taking her into the salone, he carried her straight upstairs to their room and carefully laid her down on the pristine bed before casting himself face down beside her, breathing hard, his arm possessive across her waist.

  She lay still for a while, but then patted his arm. ‘I hate to spoil this romantic moment, Dante, but I’m hungry.’

  ‘I also,’ he agreed and sat up, smiling down at her. ‘So tonight we will have a picnic up here from whatever Silvia has left for us. I will bring it and you do nothing except lie there and look beautiful.’

  Her eyes sparkled. ‘Oh, well, if you insist! But I’ll have more chance of looking halfway beautiful if I can have a shower first, so could you bring up some of the luggage before you start on the picnic? And I’ll ring Mum to report in and check on Bea.’

  The euphoria of surviving what could well have been a serious accident cast a magical aura over their first evening together at the Villa as husband and wife. Dante, who prided himself on his driving skills, was obviously mortified about the incident, but Rose was deeply grateful for it. His anguished reaction when she was hurt had removed all her doubts about Dante’s feelings. He had no need now to tell her he loved her. She knew.

  When Dante returned after removing the remains of their picnic supper he raised an eyebrow as he asked why she was so deep in thought. Rose hesitated for a moment then made a clean breast of her doubts and fears, which won her a stare of utter amazement. ‘You did not believe I love you?’

  Rose tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘You never actually said so, though I knew you wanted me, physically.’

  ‘How could you not? At your slightest touch I am on fire, amore!’ He sat down on the bed beside her and took her in his arms. ‘But that is only part of my love for you, Rose. I want to spend every minute possible of the rest of my life with you, raise our children together, and grow old together. That is how I love you. Is it enough?’

  She smiled at him through a sudden haze of tears and hugged him close. ‘More than enough—even though you were so horrible to me on our wedding night.’

  Dante winced and rubbed his cheek against hers. ‘Forgive me, carissima, but try to understand. I wanted you to love me as a husband and lover, and for a moment I thought you married me only to gain a father for another child.’

  ‘While I was afraid that you took me on just to get Bea as part of the package,’ said Rose, and grinned sheepishly at the incredulous look he gave her.

  ‘How could you believe that? In Firenze I could not hide my delight at meeting you again. And I knew nothing about our child at that time.’ Dante laid his forehead against hers. ‘So, to avoid all future confusion, Signora Fortinari, I have loved you from the first day we met. Ti amo, sposa mia. Do you understand me?’

  ‘I do, I do. So make sure you understand, too, Dante Fortinari. I married you for exactly the same reason.’

  ‘For which I thank God.’ Dante slid the dressing gown from her shoulders and tossed it away. ‘You forgive me then, innamorata?’

  She pretended to think it over. ‘I’m working on it.’

  Dante pulled her close. ‘Always I am the peacemaker, in the business and with my family,’ he said bitterly. ‘Unlike Leo, who can be abrasive—that is right? I am the one who pours the oil on the troubled waters. Yet on my wedding night I accuse my bride of sins she has not committed.’

  ‘True. You’ll just have to spend the rest of our honeymoon making it up to me,’ she ordered.

  ‘With much, much pleasure, amore! I have given instructions to my family to leave us in peace at the Villa Castiglione for a while when they return from England tomorrow.’ Dante raised his head to look down at her. ‘They were surprised that you did not want somewhere exotic for our
honeymoon.’

  ‘I just wanted to start our life together at the Villa without our little darling for a couple of weeks.’ Rose sighed as she stretched against him. ‘You know, even with the marriage vows to prove it, I can hardly believe that we’re here together at last, Dante.’

  He drew her closer. ‘To have you here in my arms as my wife is a dream come true, tesoro.’

  ‘I never dared to dream anything so unlikely!’ She smiled up at him. ‘Even though the first day we met I knew who you were before we were even introduced.’

  ‘I knew at first sight that you were the love of my life, carissima,’ he said huskily. ‘So who did you think I was?’

  ‘The man of my dreams. But dreams were all I had for years, Dante.’

  ‘Now we have the glorious reality, yes?’

  ‘We certainly do. Shall I tell you something else, Dante?’

  ‘Anything you wish amore.’ His arms tightened. ‘Will I like this something?’

  Rose nodded and rubbed her cheek against his, which, she noted lovingly, was already showing signs of needing a shave. ‘I used to tell myself that one day my prince would come, and now here he is at last, right here in my arms.’

  ‘Where he intends to stay,’ said Dante with emphasis and then shook his head. ‘But I am no prince, tesoro.’

  ‘You are in my fairy tale!’

  He gave her the smile he shared with his child. ‘And because I have read many fairy tales to our daughter I know exactly how they end—we live happily ever after!’

  * * *

  By the end of the fortnight, blissfully happy though her honeymoon had been, Rose was in a fever of excitement at the airport in Pisa as she saw her child running towards them with Grace in pursuit and Tom, laden with luggage, following behind.

  There was a laughing collision as Rose seized her child, and Dante caught them both in his encircling arms and kissed his daughter’s beaming face as she talked non-stop.

  Rose gave Bea a smacking kiss and then hugged Grace. ‘How’s Gramma?’

  ‘Doing fine,’ her mother assured her. ‘Bea was no trouble at all except for the odd tear when she realised she was missing you.’ She turned to Tom. ‘We enjoyed having her to ourselves, didn’t we?’

  Tom dumped down the luggage to kiss Rose. ‘We had Charlotte and Fabio’s help for the first week, but the rest of it was excellent practice for when the first little Vilari arrives.’ He held out his hand to Dante, smiling. ‘No need to ask how you are!’

  ‘Davvero,’ agreed Dante, surrendering Bea to her mother. ‘I am a very lucky man. Welcome, Tom,’ he added, picking up some of the luggage. ‘The car is outside.’

  Bea frowned as Dante fastened her into her seat. ‘I don’t like this car, Daddy. I like your shiny red one.’

  ‘It needed painting, so your Uncle Leo lent me this,’ he said, kissing her nose. ‘But this is your very own red car seat.’

  Bea lay back in it like a queen on a throne with Rose and Grace close together beside her. ‘Can we go and see Luca and Chiara tomorrow, Daddy?’ she demanded.

  ‘Possibly.’ He exchanged a gleaming look with Rose over his shoulder. ‘Andiamo, let us go home.’

  ‘Not fast!’ warned Bea.

  ‘No, piccola,’ Dante assured her, laughing. ‘I will not drive fast.’

  Because he kept his word, Bea soon nodded off, leaving Rose to enjoy Grace’s company.

  ‘I’ve no need to ask how you are,’ said her mother, squeezing her hand. ‘You glow.’

  ‘I enjoyed these two weeks alone with Dante,’ Rose admitted. ‘I missed Bea, naturally, but it was good to have time together before we get back to parenthood.’

  Bea woke as Dante turned up the steep, winding road to the Villa. ‘Gramma,’ she said in excitement, ‘Daddy’s house is up here—ooh,’ she squeaked in delight as he drove up through the garden. ‘Balloons! Is there a party?’ She jumped up and down in her seat. ‘Look, Tom, Auntie Charlotte’s on the loggia.’

  ‘And not just Auntie Charlotte,’ said Grace with misgiving, and grasped Rose’s hand. ‘Do I look all right?’

  ‘You look gorgeous,’ Tom assured her.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy, get me out,’ demanded Bea, as an assortment of cousins came streaming from the house. Dante unbuckled his impatient daughter and set her on her feet so she could run to join the youngsters who surrounded her, laughing, then delivered her onto the loggia into the embraces of her Nonna and Nonno. The senior Fortinaris gave Tom and Grace a warm welcome, smiling as a radiantly happy Charlotte kissed the new arrivals then handed them on to Fabio and Leo and Harriet, and finally to Mirella and Franco.

  Rose hung back for a moment with Dante just to breathe in the noisy, laughing chaos of the scene. He put his arm round her, smiling down into her flushed face. ‘You are happy, amore?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said simply. ‘At this moment I have everything in the world I never dared wish for. A beautiful home, a loving, welcoming family, and my mother here with me to share it all today—but most of all, Dante, I have you.’

  ‘Ah, carissima!’ He took her in his arms and kissed her in passionate gratitude, a move which won much applause and laughter from the crowded loggia.

  ‘Come, mio figlio,’ said Maria Fortinari, smiling. ‘Release your bride for a moment. She will want to show Grace and Tom to their room to do the freshening up, and then we eat, yes, Rose?’

  A few minutes later everyone crowded round the table laid in the garden, the noise level high as they enjoyed the food Maria Fortinari and her cook had helped Silvia prepare.

  Under cover of the joyful hubbub, Grace took Rose’s hand. ‘I’ve no need to ask if you’re happy, love.’

  Rose gave a deep, relishing sigh. ‘I’ll be even happier if you—and Tom, of course—promise to come and stay with us as often as you can.’

  ‘I can safely promise that, especially when Charlotte’s baby arrives—I won’t be able to keep him away!’ Grace looked up at the house. ‘I’m so glad I’ve seen your beautiful home. I’ll be able to picture the three of you here.’

  Rose eyed her husband in surprise as he got up to rap a spoon on his glass.

  ‘Listen carefully, everyone, because I make my speech in English so Grace and Tom understand how happy I am to welcome them both here today and thank them for taking care of Bea these past two weeks.’ At the mention of her name Bea left her place between Chiara and Luca and went running to her father. He picked her up and kissed her in a way which brought tears to his mother’s eyes and to a few others round the table, notably Charlotte’s.

  ‘Hormones,’ she apologised, blowing her nose into the handkerchief Fabio had ready.

  ‘So now,’ continued Dante, ‘I wish to thank my mother-in-law for giving her daughter and her granddaughter into my keeping, also Tom, for taking such good care of Rose and Bea in the past.’

  To Rose’s surprise, Grace exchanged a look with Tom and got to her feet. ‘Thank you, Dante, and everyone here for giving us this wonderful welcome. I shall go home—’

  ‘Not yet, Grace,’ called Charlotte.

  ‘Not yet,’ agreed Grace, smiling, ‘but when I do I shall look back on today and feel happy because I know my girls are happy.’

  ‘Davvero,’ said Dante with feeling, and put his arm round Rose. ‘After the years apart, it is now time we live happily ever after!’

  ‘Like in my story book,’ said Bea with satisfaction, and Dante laughed as he set her down.

  ‘Only this is better because it is our story, yes?’

  ‘Much better,’ said Rose with feeling, and smiled all round to lighten the mood. ‘Now, then, Harriet’s made some gorgeous apple pies and I’ve made a very British trifle, so hands up. Who wants a dolce?’

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from BOUND BY TH
E ITALIAN’S CONTRACT by Janette Kenny.

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  Ten years ago one devastating night changed everything for Austin, Hunter and Alex. Now they must each play their part in the revenge against the one man who ruined it all.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  CAPRICE TREGORE WRAPPED her confidence around her like a protective cloak and strode into The Corbett, Aspen’s newest five-star hotel, which a Russian billionaire had built one year ago to cater to the rich and famous. She surveyed the interior, her senses in overdrive.