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Louisa beamed her. A crown? For her? “Grazie,” she said, placing the flowers on her head. The wreath was too big and slid down to her ears, but Louisa didn’t care. She grinned and flicked the ribbons over her shoulder.
There were more children. More flowers presented. Too many for Louisa to carry, so she began giving them to the women behind her, running from the front of the parade to the rear and back again. It became a game between her and the children, to see how fast she could run the gamut before another flower appeared. By the time they reached the fountain, she was laughing and gasping for breath.
“Told you the town wouldn’t care,” Nico whispered in her ear. She turned to discover his eyes glittered with laughter, too. “This is amazing,” she told him.
“You are having fun, then?”
Was he joking? What she was feeling at this moment was so much more than amusement. She felt free. All those years of being the outsider were but bad memories. She’d found a place where she’d belonged. A home.
To think, if Nico hadn’t gone to the palazzo the day the headlines broke—if he hadn’t insisted she stay—she might still be looking.
What would she have done without him?
“I’m having a wonderful time,” she said. She moved to throw her arms around him in a hug only to be thwarted by the enveloping crowd. Having emptied their baskets into three oversize half barrels, the marchers stood clapping rhythmically. “They’re waiting for you,” Nico told her. “The queen is the first to stomp the grapes.”
As though they’d been waiting, two of the men wearing medieval costumes appeared at her elbows and began guiding her forward. “Wait, wait,” she said, laughing. “I still have my shoes on.”
“Just kick them off,” a familiar voice hollered. Looking left, she saw Dani waving from a few feet away. “I’ll grab them for you,” her friend said.
She made her way to the front barrel that, despite its size, was overflowing with large bunches of purple grapes.
“I’m not doing this without my royal companion,” she said, looking over her shoulder.
Evidently the crowd thought this a wonderful idea, because a second later, Nico was pushed into the circle. As he stepped closer, his laugh faded to a mischievous gleam. “Now you’ve asked for it, bella mia.”
Grabbing her by the waist, he lifted her in the air and plopped her feetfirst into the barrel.
Louisa shrieked as the grapes squished between her toes. “It’s cold!”
“You expected a warm bath?” he asked with a laugh. Stepping into the barrel with her, he took her by the hands. “Be careful, it’s slippery.”
No kidding. The crushed grapes and skin quickly stuck to the bottom of the container, creating a layer of slickness. Twice already, she would have lost her balance if Nico hadn’t been holding her up. Still, as cold and slippery as the grapes were, it was fun marching in place. Particularly with Nico’s hands sending warmth up her arms.
A few minutes later, the rest of the crowd joined them, kicking off their shoes and crowding into the vats. Laughter abounded as everyone was eager to take their turn mashing the grapes to a pulp.
“I can’t believe this is how people used to make wine,” she said to him over the noise. “They must have had incredibly muscular thighs.”
“Not really.” Nico had leaned in to speak. His breath floated over her collarbone leaving goose bumps. “Italian winemakers have used presses to crush grapes since the middle ages. This is just for the tourists.”
“You mean there is no Old World tradition?”
“Not that I know of.”
“I’m up to my ankles in pulverized grapes because of a gimmick? You—”
He laughed and she gave his shoulder a shove, only to have her feet slide out from beneath her.
“Careful!” Nico scooped her up into his arms just as she was about to fall bottom first into the mashed fruit. “We wouldn’t want you to be trampled,” he said, smiling down at her.
No danger of that now. With her arms wrapped around his neck, and his arms holding her tight, Louisa had never felt safer. “I’m not worried,” she said. “You’d rescue me.”
His smile faded. “Always.”
Louisa’s breath caught at the seriousness in his voice. Just as it had at the royal wedding, the world receded, leaving only the two of them and the sound of their breathing. Nico’s eyes grew heavy lidded, his attention focused on Louisa’s mouth. Slowly she ran a tongue over her lower lip, an action for which she was rewarded with the tightening of his hand on her waist. “Louisa...” His voice was rough and raw.
