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‘I’m not laughing.’
‘So what is it?’ she demanded hotly.
‘What the hell do you think it is?’
Her hand closed around the ring. ‘A rather large emerald-cut diamond?’ she managed faintly.
‘Correct,’ Ramon confirmed. ‘Give it to me.’
As she handed it over to him sunlight refracted through the stone, shooting rainbow colours through the blue-white diamond. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it…’ she murmured.
‘I should hope not,’ he said dryly.
‘Who is it for?’
‘The mother of my child.’ Selecting her ring finger, he stared deep into her eyes. ‘For the mother of my child,’ he repeated steadily, ‘and—’ he put a finger over her lips so she was forced to let him finish ‘—the woman I love.’
He turned briefly to acknowledge the cheers of the villagers, but when he turned back to her only Annalisa saw the passion in his eyes. ‘Annalisa, tu me hara el honor de acordar hacer mi esposa?’
‘I think I can answer that in Spanish.’
‘I’m waiting,’ he warned softly.
‘Sí, mi amor,’ she breathed against his lips.
Her wedding dress was the first thing Annalisa saw when she woke up. A gauzy mist of the finest white lace ruffled by the breeze coming through the partly opened shutters. And on a similar blue silk padded hanger hung the boned bodice and fine lawn petticoat that were to be worn beneath the transparent overdress. Ramon had flown her to Paris to find it, and now the most beautiful dress in the world belonged to her.
She had planned everything down to the last detail. And now this matchless summer morning heralded the most perfect day…her wedding day.
She stretched luxuriously as she contemplated the pleasure-filled agenda. There was nothing left to do but bathe, step into the dress and wait for the antique barouche Ramon had arranged to take her to the tiny village church.
The clatter of horses’ hooves made her swing around to look at the clock. The carriage was supposed to arrive at midday, and it wasn’t yet nine.
Leaping out of bed, she hurried to the window. Perfectly matched Andalucian mares stood patiently in front of a highly polished open carriage. She could only see the crown of the driver’s wide-brimmed black felt hat…he didn’t respond when she leaned over the balcony and called to him.
Dressing quickly in a pair of faded jeans and an old T-shirt, Annalisa slid her feet into a pair of flip-flops and raced out of the bedroom.
‘No one’s here yet,’ she said, shading her eyes as she hurried across the yard. Her first proper sight of the carriage made it hard to contain her excitement. And the horses had been groomed to glossy perfection, their long manes falling in silken waves over their ebony withers. ‘Won’t you come inside?’ she suggested, coming round so she could talk to the driver properly. ‘Let me make you some breakfast. You can wait in the house while I get ready—’
Her torrent of words dried up when he turned to stare. The expression on the face of Ramon’s chauffeur was as disdainful as ever. The shock of seeing who it was unsettled Annalisa, but she had no intention of allowing anything to spoil her day. ‘It’s still very early. If you want to untack the horses they can go in the small paddock.’
‘The carriage is to be decorated, señorita,’ he said coldly. ‘The horses too—’
‘Well, at least take them to wait in the shade,’ she said firmly.
‘As you wish.’
‘There’s a water trough under that rattan canopy.’
She couldn’t help wondering about the man’s discontent. Ramon treated all his staff with the same courtesy and consideration, whatever their position in his household. She judged the chauffeur to be in his middle fifties, with the physique of a much younger man. But his face was always pleated into the same sour expression, as if there wasn’t enough happiness in his life to iron out the creases. Marking it down as another project to work on once she was married, Annalisa turned back to the house.
While she was soaking in the bath she smiled as she listened to the activity building in the yard. Maria Teresa had arrived and was bustling around in the kitchen. The reception was to be held at the finca, and as the orange groves had just yielded their best ever crop of first-class fruit the occasion had suddenly been transformed into a double celebration.
She had chosen to share the day with the villagers rather than opting for a grander ceremony at the cathedral in Mahon. Her love for Ramon needed no elaborate endorsement. It was enough to have Margarita as her attendant and little Aurelia to scatter petals. She closed her eyes as she tried to picture her own child, Ramon’s child…
