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My mother knows better than to make demands of me in public. She’s fully aware it puts me in a dangerous position. I don’t believe for one second she doesn’t see Cristiano in the doorway. Yes, she knows it’s safe to talk around him. Still, the tic in my jaw is relentless.
“Cristiano, give us a minute.”
“Don’t undermine me in front of my men,” I warn when he steps away.
“I won’t be seated until I’ve spoken to her.”
I could threaten to have her removed from the church, but she’s my mother, and there’s no sense in making a threat I’d never carry out.
“Do not make this more difficult on Daniela than it has to be. Upsetting her changes nothing. I need your word before I let you see her.”
“Is my word enough, or do you require a drop of my blood to seal the promise?”
My father did his best to destroy her spirit, but he never did. I gently take hold of her face and drop a kiss on her head. “Behave yourself,” I say before turning to Cristiano.
“Please escort my mother to see the bride. They have only ten minutes to chat, so that Daniela has time to finish getting ready before the ceremony.”
My mother touches my cheek. “I love you just as you are. But until I take my last breath, it’s my job to make you a better man.”
“Go, before I change my mind.”
“Ten minutes,” I repeat as Lydia Huntsman slips her arm through Cristiano’s and murmurs something that makes his mouth curl.
I’m going to regret letting her go to Daniela.I’d stake my fortune on it.
70
Daniela
The bride’s parlor is beginning to feel suffocating. Along with Paula and Nelia, there’s a seamstress in case there’s a problem with the dress, and a makeup artist. I can’t spend another minute in here with people I barely know fussing over me.
In a perfect world, Isabel and Valentina would be here.
In a perfect world, my mother would be here.I miss her.The hole in my heart is especially raw today. I need her to reassure me as she adjusts my veil, or to squeeze my hand and tell me how much she loves me.Doesn’t every bride want this?
I need to get out of here for a few minutes.
“I’m going across the way to the bride’s chapel,” I tell Nelia.
“Shall I come with you?” Paula asks, handing me a small white Bible that I requested for the ceremony. The Bible my mother carried on her wedding day is at Quinta Rosa do Vale. I could have sent someone for it, but it didn’t feel right to carry it today. Just like it didn’t feel right to wear my mother’s veil—or her jewelry. My parents loved each other, and comparing their wedding to this is to make a mockery of their love.
“You don’t need to come. I’d like to spend a few moments alone before the ceremony. But could you please keep this for me?” I ask Paula, handing her my bouquet of creamy white garden roses with a sprig of myrtle, a nod to Antonio’s British roots and my family’s stature in the valley. I especially love the silk wrap at the bottom, held in place by pins with pearl heads. The arrangement is beautiful in its simplicity, unlike the complicated arrangement I’m about to enter.
When I open the door, Pinto, the guard stationed outside the door, is talking to Sister Maria Gloria, an elderly nun who attends the bride’s parlor.
“Put the lid back on the kettle,” she chides. “Otherwise, the water will be too cold for tea.”
“I’m sorry, Sister, but I need to take a quick look inside before you can take it to the bride.”
I shake my head—everyone’s suspect, even an elderly nun.
“Sister Maria Gloria,” I say, giving her a small smile. “Is he giving you a hard time?”
“It’s your wedding day. Don’t worry about me, dear. I can take care of myself.” She winks at me. “I’ve brought some more hot water, if you’d like a cup of peppermint tea before the ceremony begins. I also brought some biscuits to settle your stomach. Brides get very nervous while they wait to walk down the aisle,” she whispers around Pinto’s shoulder.
“That’s very sweet. Thank you. I’m going to say a small prayer in the chapel, and then I’d love some more tea.”
She smiles as Pinto holds the door, giving her plenty of space to roll the small cart into the room.
