Bartaldi's Bride

by Sara Craven

  The bed had been turned down, and there was even a nightgown waiting for her, one she’d never seen before, in ivory satin, with narrow straps and a deep plunge of a bodice made almost entirely of guipure lace. One side of the skirt was slashed almost to the thigh, and edged in the same lace.

  She was suddenly aware of how deferentially they were treating her. And how their eyes slid away when she looked at them.

  But what did she expect? By carrying her up the stairs like that Guido had put his mark on her. Virtually announced his intentions to the world.

  She bit her lip. She could only imagine what Paola must be feeling, she thought with remorse.

  The shutters were closed, reducing the room to discreet shadow, then Benedetta and Filumena withdrew with polite murmurs, and Clare was alone.

  Or so she thought. But almost immediately the door opened, and Guido came in.

  He had changed too, she saw, into slim-fitting black pants, that hugged his lean hips, and a black silk shirt. His face was serious, and a little remote.

  ‘How do you feel?’ He stood at the side of the bed and looked down at her.

  ‘Much—better.’ She hesitated, her eyes grave and a little disappointed. She’d expected him to behave with more finesse. ‘You don’t waste much time, signore..’

  ‘Because I don’t have much time to waste.’ He paused in turn. ‘Do you like the gown?’

  ‘It’s exquisite,’ Clare returned with some of her old spark. ‘Do you have a store of them—to meet all eventualities?’

  ‘No.’ He smiled at her. ‘You have a lot to learn about me, mia bella.’

  Her fingers plucked at the embroidered edge of the sheet. Her mouth felt suddenly dry. ‘And is this going to be the first lesson?’ Excitement warred with shyness inside her.

  ‘That must wait a little, I think. Because we have to talk.’ He sat down on the edge of the bed, and handed her a flat velvet case. ‘I came to bring you this.’

  It was a single diamond—a teardrop of fire on a slender gold chain.

  ‘I searched for a flawless stone,’ he went on. ‘There is other jewellery, of course, some of it very old. But I wanted to give you something for yourself alone—something no one else had worn.’

  She swallowed. ‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. But you don’t have to do this, Guido. I—I don’t need jewellery or expensive presents. That’s not it at all.’

  ‘Then you will have to steel yourself, beloved. The Marchesa Bartaldi is expected to wear the family jewels on grand occasions.’

  She said woodenly, ‘I’m sure Paola will look lovely. And don’t you think you should be with her now?’

  Guido fastened the pendant round her neck, adjusting the diamond so that it glittered in the valley between her lace-veiled breasts.

  ‘The perfect setting,’ he said softly. ‘And is my company so undesirable, mia cara, that you wish to be rid of me?’

  ‘No,’ she said almost desperately. ‘It’s just that I want us to do the right thing—even though I know we’re doing the wrong one. But I want us to do it as well as possible. And you’re laughing at me.’

  ‘Because you’re talking nonsense.’ He took her hands in his. ‘Chiara—can you be the only person in the world who does not know I have come here to ask you to be my wife?’

  She stared at him, her heart pounding suddenly, her lips parting on a soundless gasp. When she could speak, she said huskily, ‘This is some joke. It—must be…’

  ‘I have never been more serious.’ He tapped his wristwatch. ‘And I would like an answer, carissima. Every soul in the place is hanging on your word.’

  ‘But you’re going to marry Paola,’ she protested wildly. ‘She’s in love with you. She told me so.’

  ‘Then that will come as news to Tonio, to whom she’s been engaged for the past forty-eight hours.’

  ‘And you don’t mind?’ Her mind was reeling.

  ‘It was what I always intended,’ he said with a shrug. ‘He has loved her for years, God help him. All that was needed was for Paola to stop falling for unsuitable men and realise she could only be happy with Tonio. Which she’s now done.’ He frowned swiftly. ‘I thought she had told you.’

  ‘She said something,’ she returned numbly. ‘But I didn’t understand.’ She shook her head. ‘But why did you bring me here? You said you wanted me to make her into a willing wife for you…’

  ‘No, my love. You were the one I always meant to have. And it was yourself that you had to coax into submission. Into acceptance of your fate. There were times when I thought it would never happen,’ he added with feeling.

  ‘Guido.’ Her voice shook. ‘You—devil.’ She paused. ‘But what about Paola’s money? She said you didn’t want it to go out of the company.’

  ‘Paola has no money, mia cara, apart from the settlement I shall make on her when she marries. Her father gambled away everything he had. That was why my father took her into our home—because he felt that he should have stopped him years before.’

  ‘And Tonio knows this?’

  ‘Naturalamente.’

  ‘Then why did you pretend that you were going to marry Paola?’

  ‘To keep the undesirables away,’ he returned promptly. ‘Fabio was not the first, you understand. And she had to be protected while she learned the truth of her own feelings.’ He smiled at her very tenderly. ‘As you had to be, also, my stubborn darling. You were always so sure I wanted you to be my mistress. Whereas I simply wanted you.’

  He paused. ‘I am not a boy, Chiara, and you are not the first woman in my life. But you will be the last. And I know I am not the first man for you. Violetta has told me something of this James. Is there anything you wish to tell me too?’

  ‘He’s not important,’ she said. ‘He’s been history for a long time. Only I thought you were like him—marrying for purely mercenary reasons. And it made me angry.’

  ‘We have both had moments of doubt,’ he said quietly. ‘When I saw you on the station at Barezzo that day, I thought, Here she is at last. And then, when it seemed that you were Fabio’s accomplice, I was angry too, and sick with disappointment.’

  ‘You looked as if you wanted to kill me. When I saw you go for Marco today, I realised I’d had a lucky escape.’

  ‘You’ve escaped nothing, carissima. Not unless you decide you don’t want to marry me after all. That you don’t love me.’

  ‘I’ve loved you from the first, too,’ she said. ‘But I told myself I had to fight it.’ She drew a breath. ‘But there is something I have to know, Guido. The truth abut your lady in Siena.’

  He was silent for a long moment. ‘Her name is Bianca,’ he said at last. ‘And I knew her first about ten years ago. Yes, we were lovers—then. But we went our separate ways, and I did not meet her again until two years ago, when a mutual friend told me she was back in Siena, and very ill. And that she needed help.’

  His mouth twisted. ‘When I went to see her I found that she had contracted multiple sclerosis, and that it had advanced rapidly. She was married when her illness was diagnosed. Her husband could not take the idea of her disability, and walked out on her.

  ‘I found her an apartment, and arranged for full-time care. The doctors tell me it will not be needed for very much longer. And I go to see her, and we laugh, and talk of old times, and I make sure that I treat her like the lively, beautiful girl I remember. Lately, I have told her about you,’ he added quietly. ‘And she has begged to meet you.’

  ‘Oh, Guido.’ Clare swallowed. ‘I’m so sorry. And of course I’ll come with you.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve judged you so harshly. I don’t understand how you can still want me.’

  His smile teased her. ‘But you know that I do.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said softly, her eyes luminous. ‘I know.’

  He leaned forward and kissed her, slowly and thoroughly, his mouth caressing hers with sensuous pleasure. And Clare, her arms round his neck, kissed him back, revelling in her freedom t
o do so. A freedom all the more precious for having been painfully bought.

  And between kisses they murmured to each other, and laughed a little, and touched each other in delicate exploration.

  At some point she found that Guido was now lying beside her, his silk shirt discarded, and that the straps of her nightgown had mysteriously slipped down, freeing her breasts from their little lace cups, and that he was stroking her excited nipples with the tip of a finger.

  ‘You know how wrong this is, mia bella,’ he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. ‘Your godmother would be shocked. My uncle would be scandalised. I am supposed to wait patiently for our wedding night before I do this.’ He bent and kissed each scented peak. ‘Or this,’ he added, his hand sliding under the slash of her skirt to find her moist silken core.

  ‘Must we?’ The breath caught in her throat as she arched against his caressing hand in mute demand. ‘Wait, I mean?’

  ‘I think we must.’ His hand moved, subtly, wickedly, bringing a small moan from her throat. ‘At least until I have locked the door and taken off the rest of my clothes.’ He paused as his fingertips moved in devastating friction against her tiny centre of sensation. ‘Or after—this.’

  She came almost at once, her body pulsating in an eager delight that was close to pain, and he held her close, and kissed her mouth, and her tearful eyes, and murmured how beautiful she was, and how much he loved her.

  And then he locked the door, and took off the rest of his clothes and her nightgown, and made slow, sensuous love to her, using his mouth and hands in ways she’d never dreamed of, enjoying her body in rapt completeness and teaching her to enjoy his.

  ‘Tonight,’ he said, when they were lying dreamily sated in each other’s arms, ‘I shall look at you at dinner and smile, and you will know what I am remembering. You—naked except for my diamond pendant.’

  ‘This making it impossible for me to eat or drink anything.’ Clare let her hand roam lazily. ‘Anyway, I have my own memories, signore.’ She looked at him from under her lashes. ‘I suppose we shall have to remain celibate now until the ceremony.’

  ‘I think we may also have to do penance,’ he said ruefully. ‘And apologise to all our well-wishers downstairs. I think my uncle and your godmother may be angry with us—unless they are too involved with each other to care.’

  ‘Are they really fond of each other? That’s wonderful.’ She frowned a little. ‘But Violetta has always vowed she would never get married again.’

  ‘I think Cesare has other ideas. He will win her round. He saw at once that I loved you.’

  ‘How clever of him.’

  ‘We are a clever family, carissima’ He turned her face to his and kissed her lingeringly. ‘I think we should be married as soon as it can be arranged. Perhaps we had better not wait for the chapel to be finished.’

  She smiled, pillowing her head on his chest. ‘Are you in such a hurry, Marchese? I rather like being Bartaldi’s woman.’

  ‘You will find,’ he said softly, ‘that being Bartaldi’s bride will be infinitely more rewarding.’

  And as she walked down the aisle to Guido, waiting for her at the altar just a few brief weeks later, Clare saw the love in his face, and the pride, and the reverence. And she knew, joyously, that he was right.

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-0673-1

  BARTALDI’S BRIDE

  First North American Publication 2000.

  Copyright © 1999 by Sara Craven.

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  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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