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Charlotte shook her head. “She couldn’t make it. Most of my family couldn’t make it. One of my sisters is on the way. She’s coming from London with her husband. They’re not here yet, but I think they should arrive soon.”
“Not to worry. You have lots of family here,” Livia answered. “The Riccis are here. You are one of us now.”
In the end, Charlotte thought her wedding was impossibly beautiful, although it wasn’t as small as Brando had intimated. Her sister and brother-in-law arrived moments before she walked down the aisle, and of course, all of Brando’s family was there—his mother, his mother’s sister, his brothers and sister, cousins, so many cousins, plus other guests, people who were “like family” to the Riccis.
They said their vows in the garden overlooking the valley with the gently rolling hills, dark green vineyards and views of the tiled roofs of the village below, and then moved to the castello’s courtyard for the dinner and music. The flowers on the table matched her bridal bouquet—the palest pink roses hand-tied with a wide pale pink satin ribbon.
She felt beautiful in the dress Livia had made for her, and Brando looked impossibly handsome in his black suit with the white shirt and dark tie. His hair was sleekly combed back, highlighting his strong cheekbones, jaw and lovely mouth. Her hand had trembled in his as they’d said the vows, but his voice was deep and steady, and he’d held her gaze the entire time, promising to honor and protect her for the rest of their lives.
During dinner Brando insisted she stay seated at the head table, asking guests to come to her. She wondered what he’d said to them as no one seemed surprised, or questioned why she left her chair only to cut the cake, and have a first dance with Brando. The song from the first dance was the same song they’d danced to on New Year’s Eve, “At Last” by Etta James. Charlotte was surprised he’d remembered, but also touched. Dancing with him beneath the stars and moon and strings of white lights was probably one of the most romantic moments in her life. Brando might not love her, but he’d gone to great pains to make tonight special. To make her feel special.
“You take my breath away,” he said, as the song came to an end.
“Thank you for a beautiful wedding, and a beautiful night,” she answered.
His head dropped and he kissed her, there in front of everyone. The kiss filled her with warmth and hope. Their families and friends applauded. Brando lifted his head and grinned. She blushed and smiled.
And then before she knew it was all over, Brando was saying he needed to carry his bride away, and he encouraged everyone to eat and drink and dance as late as they wanted as there were no neighbors nearby to disturb.
Brando literally carried her away, too, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her through the courtyard doors and up the central staircase to his room on the third floor.
She’d been here before but she’d never seen it like this. Tonight, the master bedroom glowed with dozens of white candles. They were everywhere—on the mantel, on tables, on windowsills. There were roses, too, countless white roses, and across the bed lay a delicate ivory satin nightgown with an ivory satin-and-lace robe.
“A gift from Livia,” Brando said, putting her down next to the bed. “She said every bride needs something special to wear for her wedding night.”
Charlotte suddenly felt overwhelmed by the beauty of the day, and the kindness of Brando’s sister, as well as everyone’s goodwill. Their guests had been happy for them, celebrating their marriage with toasts, hugs and laughter. “Livia has completely spoiled me,” she said, reaching to lightly stroke the satin nightgown. “I hope she knows I’m so very grateful.”
“She does.” He watched her from the foot of the bed. “How do you feel?”
“Good. A little tired. But happy.” She looked at him, and smiled, tears in her eyes. “Thank you for tonight. It was beautiful, all of it, and I’m—”
“Grateful,” he interrupted, finishing her words for her. “Yes, I know.” His mouth quirked. “But I didn’t do this for your gratitude. This was for us, and our son, so we’d have memories and photos to share with our children and grandchildren, and then they can say, Oh, you were so young!”
She smiled. “Well, thank you for giving us memories.” She glanced down at the shimmering satin nightgown. “I guess I should change.”
“Let me help you out of your gown, and then I need to get something from the library and I’ll be back.”
She turned around and he made quick work of the dozens of small hooks hidden in the seam of her gown. The bodice fell away and she caught the silk, pressing it against her breasts to keep from exposing herself.
“I have seen you naked before,” he said, a hint of amusement in his deep voice.
She blushed. “Not like this. There is so much more of me now.”
“I think you’re absolutely beautiful pregnant.”
She didn’t know what to say, and so she stood up on tiptoe, and kissed him. He caught her by the arms and pulled her closer, his mouth claiming hers, hunger and heat and possession in the kiss. Desire shot through her, bright and fierce. She wanted him badly, wanted the pressure and sensation, wanted touch and release. Everything in her craved more of him—more of his time, more of his attention, more of his heart.
She loved him, and yet she feared the love because she didn’t know how she’d ever survive this marriage if he didn’t love her back.
Brando lifted his head, gazed down into her eyes, before pressing the pad of his thumb to her full, tender lips. “There are so many things I want to do to you. It’s incredibly difficult to keep my hands off you.”
It wasn’t a declaration of love, but it was something, she thought, as he left the room and she removed her veil, and unpinned her hair, brushing it smooth before taking a bath and changing into her satin nightgown, the delicate fabric impossibly soft and light as it followed her every curve.
Brando returned, and his dinner jacket was off, and the tie gone. He’d unbuttoned his dress shirt, exposing the upper planes of his muscular, golden chest. He was carrying a bottle and two crystal flutes. “Come,” he said, going to the French doors and opening them onto his private balcony.
She followed him out, smiling as he popped the cork from the champagne and filled the two flutes. “Just a sip,” he admonished, handing her one flute. “Just for a toast.”
She took the pretty flute and glanced down at the pale gold champagne, the bubbles rising and popping.
“To you,” he said, lifting his glass. “To your beauty, to your amazing mind, to the miracle you carry. I’m lucky to call you my partner, and wife.”
Her eyes burned and a lump filled her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered, lightly touching her glass to his.
As she sipped her champagne, a loud popping sound came from the corner of the castle, and then fireworks filled the sky, a dazzling display of light.
She could hear their guests cheering below, and Brando reached for her, and kissed her as the dark sky lit up with all the colors of the rainbow. It was an extraordinary surprise, and a wonderful way to cap a magical evening.
He’d given her absolutely everything this evening but his heart.
CHAPTER NINE
THE CASTELLO WAS still full of guests the next day, with Brando’s friends and family staying over to enjoy a leisurely Sunday morning brunch before an afternoon departure.
Charlotte came downstairs for the late breakfast, hoping to see her sister Alice, but Alice and Philip had already left to catch their flight back to
London. Charlotte felt a pinch of disappointment, aware that she’d exchanged only a dozen words with her sister last night, but at least Alice and Philip had appeared to be having fun, sitting at the same table with Brando’s brothers, and talking the evening away with Marcello and Elena, Marcello’s wife.
Elena and Livia were together, drinking coffee, and Elena waved Charlotte over now. “Last night was beautiful,” Elena said to Charlotte as she joined them at their table. “And those fireworks! Did you know?”
“No, it was a complete surprise,” Charlotte answered. “I was shocked, but I shouldn’t have been. Brando did most of the planning for the wedding and it went off perfectly.”
“It did,” Livia agreed. “And you were the most radiant bride. Brando couldn’t keep his eyes from you.”
Charlotte grimaced. “He watches me constantly, afraid that I might go into labor.” She saw her sister-in-laws’ confused expressions and explained, “We had a scare a couple weeks ago. If Brando hadn’t flown me back to Florence in his helicopter, who knows what would have happened. But fortunately we got there quickly and the doctors could stop the labor. That’s why he’s so protective of me now. We want the baby to stay put as long as possible.”
Elena glanced at Livia, murmuring, “Aren’t you glad Brando married her, and not the other one? That would have been awful.”
Livia gave her head a slight shake, discouraging Elena, before smiling warmly at Charlotte. “We’ve been hoping he’d settle down, and so very glad it’s you. We’re already quite fond of you.”
“And we also know you’re not after his money like the other one,” Elena added. “Thank goodness Marcello convinced Brando to take a paternity test before the wedding—”
“The wedding?” Charlotte interrupted. “Was Brando engaged before?”
Elena looked at Livia. “Would you call it an engagement, Liv? I don’t think it was that formal. She was pregnant and he was going to marry her. Wasn’t that pretty much how it was?”
