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‘No. It’s something I want to ask both of you. It involves Callie, but she knows all about it.’
‘Do I?’ Callie demanded, making him wonder yet again if he had misjudged the moment.
She was unreadable, and where women of his acquaintance were concerned that was a novelty, and, for a man who had everything money could buy, novelty was the most valuable currency of all.
‘You should know how I feel about you by now,’ he insisted, and, grabbing her close, he kissed her, which in front of the younger Browns was tantamount to making a public announcement.
Before he had chance to leave for the kitchen, young Tom piped up, ‘You’ll need this...’ Holding out a blue plastic ring from his cracker, Tom stared up at Luca expectantly.
‘Grazie! Thank you, Tom. Your timing couldn’t be better.’ He stowed the ring away in the back pocket of his jeans, and left Callie to have his conference with the Browns. When he came back, he knelt at Callie’s feet—which wasn’t as easy as it sounded with all the toys scattered around. ‘Will you do me the very great honour of accepting this priceless ring, which has been especially chosen for you by Signor Tom?’
‘I’m overwhelmed,’ Callie admitted, starting to laugh.
The situation was bizarre admittedly, and could only happen, he figured, at Christmas. ‘Take it,’ he muttered discreetly, ‘or I won’t be responsible for my actions.’ As the younger Browns cheered he sprang up and put the ring on Callie’s finger. There were a few tense moments when she didn’t say a word, but then she laughed and threw her arms around his neck, and everyone cheered.
‘A Christmas wedding, then,’ Ma Brown exclaimed, clapping her hands with excitement.
‘A bit late for Christmas, Ma. It will have to be New Year,’ Pa Brown, who should have known he could never win, argued, frowning.
‘Ah, that’s where you’re wrong,’ Ma Brown assured him, ‘because Christmas is celebrated in January in Fabrizio. Isn’t that right, Luca?’
‘Quite correct, Mrs Brown.’
‘Still, not much time,’ Ma Brown said, frowning as she thought about it. ‘But enough time, if I know our Callie.’
‘You do know Callie,’ Luca asserted, giving Ma Brown the warmest of hugs. ‘You know her better than anyone except me.’
‘I’ll accept that,’ Ma Brown stated as Callie narrowed her eyes in mock disapproval.
‘How long have you three been conniving?’ Callie enquired, raising a brow as she looked at Luca and then Ma and Pa Brown in turn.
‘Four,’ Rosie put in. ‘Don’t forget me.’
‘Why, you—’ Callie was still laughing when Luca swept her off her feet. Swinging her around, which was quite a risky manoeuvre in a room full of Browns and Anita, he planted a breath-stealing kiss on her mouth. ‘Have you kept my letters?’ he asked as he set her down. ‘I was just thinking that you might want to read them now.’
‘Read them now?’ Rosie exclaimed. ‘The paper they’re written on is almost worn through. Don’t let Callie kid you, Luca. You are the love of Callie’s life.’
EPILOGUE
IT WAS UNSEASONABLY cold in the north of England. Brilliant white snow was falling in soft, silent drifts, slowing the traffic and muffling the noise of hooves as Callie’s horse-drawn wedding coach arrived outside the Browns’. To counterbalance the frigid temperatures, every house on the street was brilliantly lit to celebrate the holiday season, which would go on well into the New Year. In the town, stores and corner shops were still crammed with reindeer and stars, and sleighs and plump-cheeked Santa Clauses, as if no one could bear to let go of the Christmas cheer.
There would never be another wedding like this one, Callie was sure of that. She was going to marry Luca in the area where she’d grown up, surrounded by her closest friends the Browns, Callie’s landlady from the shop in Blackpool, and Anita, and Maria and Marco, who had travelled from Italy. She was wearing a dress chosen by Ma Brown and approved by Rosie. In ivory lace, it fitted her like a second skin—something she wouldn’t be able to indulge in for very much longer, Callie thought, smoothing her hands over her slightly rounded stomach as Rosie arranged her veil.
The ceremony would be a simple affair in the local church, followed by a small reception at the Browns’. Callie had wanted the people closest to her to know how much they meant to her, and that even when she became a princess and lived in the palace in Fabrizio, they would still be a big part of her life. As far as the world of royalty was concerned, Callista Smith would marry Prince Luca of Fabrizio at a grand ceremony in that country’s cathedral in a couple of weeks’ time.
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‘You look beautiful,’ Pa Brown said as he took charge of the young woman he thought of as a daughter. ‘I’ll be a proud man giving you away—though I’m only lending you out,’ he added, frowning. ‘I want you to keep in touch, our Callie, and never lose sight of your roots.’
‘I never will,’ she promised, giving Pa Brown a warm kiss on the cheek as Rosie draped a warm, faux-fur cape around Callie’s shoulders. ‘And you must all come and visit me regularly in Fabrizio.’
‘Only if I can watch the match while I’m there,’ Pa fretted with a frown.
‘I’m sure it can be arranged,’ Callie soothed, knowing how much the Saturday football match meant to Pa Brown.
They stepped out of the house straight into a snowdrift. Callie howled with laughter as she pulled her foot free from the glistening snow. ‘Not a great start,’ she admitted, ‘but nothing can spoil today.’
The day was so Christmassy, with crisp snow underfoot and robins chirruping in the trees. It was so evocative of all the optimism inside her. Luca had insisted she must travel to the local church by horse and carriage and she was glad of the hot-water bottle waiting for her beneath the blankets on the leather seat. Two beautiful dapple-grey ponies with white plumes attached to their headbands were waiting patiently to draw her to the church. There were silver bells on their bridles that jingled as they trotted along. People stopped to stare, and waved frantically with friendly approval when they recognised the local girl who was soon to become a princess.
