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He led her to a grassy spot on the top of the highest hill, not too far from the castle. They spread a blanket so the baby could play. Six-month-old Esme’s idea of play was to try to clap her hands and catch her own feet, which always left her in a paroxysm of giggles.
Beneath the October sunshine, they spread out the housekeeper’s picnic of fruit, sausages, cheese and freshly baked bread, and shared a bottle of the famous red Moscato the vintner had pressed on them. Beneath them, in the castle courtyard, they could see servants preparing tables for the harvest festival—hanging fairy lights, flowers and colorful decorations. As the afternoon waned, more villagers started arriving by foot and horse and car, all of them loaded down with food and wine.
“You’re sure you want to go tonight?” Stefano said, tilting his head. “This is supposed to be our honeymoon.”
“I want to go. It looks fun. The villagers love you,” Tess whispered, her heart in her throat. She took a deep breath. “And so do—” She lost her nerve. Stuffing her mouth with grapes and cheese, she swallowed. “Yum.”
“It’s all grown on this estate.”
“Delicious.”
His dark eyes lit up. He murmured, “You’re delicious.”
Leaning over on the blanket, he kissed her, and she felt her body rise. They kissed for a long time in the warmth of the October sun, until twilight approached and Esme needed to get ready for bed.
Tess trembled, thinking how she’d nearly told him she loved him. What would have happened? The best case, she thought, was that he’d have said, Thanks, but no thanks.
Worst case: he’d be packing now to leave her.
That night, as they attended the harvest festival, surrounded by people who couldn’t wait to thank Stefano for all he’d done for them, she tried to convince herself that she could keep the secret for the rest of her life.
She didn’t need Stefano to love her.
It was enough that she loved him.
Wasn’t it?
Sitting beneath the fairy lights at the center table, Tess watched one person after another tell Stefano how he’d changed and bettered their lives. She tried not to love him. But it was hard, which was to say, impossible. And it hurt.
Because she knew he’d never love her back.
After all he’d gone through, who could blame his heart for turning numb? To Stefano, love must feel like pain. She could hardly bear to think of him as a lonely little boy, neglected and abandoned. Even his dog had been taken away.
If only my love could heal you.
Tess’s eyes widened as she straightened in her chair.
If only she could show him that love wasn’t something to be feared, but embraced.
If she could show him that true love could last a lifetime...
When the harvest festival was finally over and everyone started cleaning up, Tess rose to her feet and found Gerlanda, to ask how she could help. In response, the housekeeper gave a hearty belly laugh.
“You, do the cleaning? No. I forbid it. You do enough. You make our prince happy.”
“Sí,” another woman said. “We want Prince Stefano’s happiness, after everything he’s done.” Turning away, she smiled. “And by the way he looks at you now, Princess, you make him very happy indeed.”
Following the woman’s gaze, Tess turned. Stefano stood on the other side of the castle courtyard. His black eyes looked at her hungrily across the crowd. Their eyes locked in the velvety Sicilian night.
He came forward, and took her hand.
“It’s late,” he said huskily. She shivered at the heat of his touch. “Time for bed.”
He led her into the castle and up the stairs. Their footsteps echoed against the worn stone. He never let go of her hand, only pausing to check on Esme, sleeping in the nursery next door. Then he led her to the bedroom.
Silvery moonlight flooded the large window. Glancing out, she saw the full moon frosting the dark valley, reflecting against the black sea. Coming behind her, he gently rubbed her shoulders, pulling her back against his body. “Are you happy, cara?”
She turned in her arms. “Very happy.”
