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Maybe, she thought as she made her slow way down the hall from the master suite, this was her fault. Maybe there was something inherently wrong in her that led every man she met to think that lying to her and manipulating her was necessary. Maybe it served some greater good she couldn’t see.
As she walked down the halls of this ancient old house, she tried to make her breath deep and even. And as she did, she found herself looking at the art on the walls, much of it the kind of ambitious works that belonged in museums. But mixed in with the prestige pieces were paintings of the villa itself. Or meditations on the grounds, the hills, the vineyards. And portrait after portrait of figures from the great Accardi past.
She ignored the men with their improbable blue eyes and dark, brutally sensual features. She focused on the women instead, standing in strange positions and surrounded by hostile-looking relatives. And something about their mysterious smiles through history calmed her.
Because surely, the marriage she found herself in was no different than those expected of women since the dawn of time. It was only recently, relatively speaking, that anyone had married for love or even companionship. For most of history, Victoria’s situation had been more common. A match arranged by her father, her own wishes ignored. The expectation had always been that she would make the best of whatever situation she found herself in.
That’s what the women who smiled down at her tonight had done. Generation after generation, the Accardi wives had been brought to this same villa and left to figure out how to thrive no matter what sort of marriage they found themselves in.
Bitter or brutal. Cruel or cold. Even passionate or sweet. They could have had no idea what awaited them when they arrived here. Victoria knew all too well that the promises made to a blushing bride did not necessarily come to anything.
All she really needed to do was find a way to be all right with being a part of this same sweep of history.
She felt the full weight of all those centuries as she made her way into the dining room and paused in the doorway, her eyes moving over Ago as he stood at the windows with his back to her. She wondered what he saw, looking out into the darkness that came so early this time of year, knowing that everything for miles in all directions was his.
Victoria included.
She felt a great surge of conviction within her, but she didn’t really know what it was she planned to do until he turned to face her. She didn’t know herself, not truly, until she smiled wide and guileless, then moved into his arms.
As if she’d heard nothing today.
As if everything was as it was when she’d woken up this morning.
As if she was still that foolhardy.
Ago kissed her as if he was starving for her taste and she kissed him back with equal fervor, and there was a relief in that. To lose herself in all that slick heat, where it didn’t matter what she knew or what he’d said, because there was only that fire. And the only thing that felt real was that mad heat.
Ago pulled back and looked down at her, his gaze brooding, searching.
This morning Victoria would have assumed that he was battling the same overwhelming feelings that she was. Tonight, she knew better. He was looking to see if this spell he wove around her had worn off. He was admiring his handiwork.
But she was an Accardi wife, like it or not. She was made of sterner stuff. Victoria smoothed her hands over her belly the way she liked to do, to check in with her baby, and it settled her. She was made of sterner stuff because she had to be. Because she would raise her son to be the best man he could be, despite what his father might try to instill in him.
Because Ago liked his ghosts. That meant Victoria would have to find a way to make sure her child knew the bright light of day.
“You appear to have weighty matters indeed on your mind,mia mogliettina,” Ago said as he led her to her seat with that offhanded courtliness that might have made her swoon, yesterday.
But today she wondered if even that ingrained courtesy of his was just another weapon he used against her. If it was as false as the rest.
“There’s only one weighty matter that occupies my thoughts,” she said with the smile he would expect as he drew her chair as close to the table as she could manage, with her belly getting in the way. Victoria found that she was grateful even for that, because for all it made her feel clumsy and unlike herself, she liked the distance her belly provided. Ago had long since dispensed with making her sit down at the foot of the table while he sat at the head. Now they shared a corner. And she had found that so charming. So sweetly intimate.
Tonight she wondered if she might be able to get away with “accidentally” stabbing him with the tines of her fork.
But that was unduly bloodthirsty. And besides, it would give her game away.
“It will not be long now,” Ago said as he sat in his usual place. “Soon enough the child will be here and a new generation of this family will begin.”
Victoria just kept on smiling as the staff brought in their first course. There was quiet as the platters were placed between them with great ceremony. And then as Ago waited for her to pick up her fork before applying himself to the antipasti. She served herself some of the risotto, but she didn’t sample it. Instead, she felt her smile grow sharper at the edges.
“I’ve been spending my afternoons in the family library,” she told him.
“There is not much there,” he replied, his attention on the prosciutto and cheese before him. “It is mostly memorabilia. If you are looking for novels of note or volumes to expand your thinking, I would direct you to the main library instead.”
“One thing I am not lacking,” she said, and it was a greater effort to keep her voice pleasant than she’d expected, “is education, Ago. Thanks to fearsome nuns and terrifying Jesuits. I’m not sure your Cambridge dons could outmatch them.”
He laughed at that. “By all means, then. Rot your brain attempting to understand the maudlin scribbles of entirely too many of my ancestors.”
“Your grandmother and your great-grandmother kept detailed diaries.”
