The Sicilian's Bride (9 page)

Dario went to the hotel at seven to pick up Isabel. The sun was low in the sky and the air had cooled a little. He paused at the front desk and asked if the
signorina
was in. She was. Now that the dinner was looming, he almost wished she’d turned down the invitation for some reason, then he could avoid the scene completely.

He’d made his position clear to his family. As far as he was concerned, there was only one way to make up for losing the land and that was to get it back. But he hadn’t considered that Isabel could possibly deserve the land as much as he did. Now, after seeing her toiling away as he’d never seen anyone work, he wondered. Maybe she did.

He had the clerk call up to Isabel Morrison’s room and say he would be in the bar waiting for her. He couldn’t risk another face-to-face encounter with her in her robe. He’d sworn off women, all women, after Magdalena had walked out on him, but he wasn’t made of stone. That much was clear. Then what
had possessed him to bring her lunch today? Simply repaying her for the dinner last night. After all, Sicilians had never let their enemies starve, whether they were Phoenicians, Normans, Vandals or American heiresses.

At that moment he looked up when Isobel entered the bar. She looked stunning. The total opposite from the last time he’d seen her only hours ago at lunch, her face sunburned, her hair damp, her face dripping perspiration. Tonight she looked as though she’d stepped right out of an American movie in a turquoise-colored dress that set off her fiery red hair. A more amazing transformation from disheveled and frustrated vineyard worker to glamorous woman he’d never seen. His gaze met hers and held for a long moment while he just stood and stared. The voices in the bar faded.

He’d planned to maintain whatever distance was necessary, however much he admired her determination, that’s all he wanted to admire, but at that moment all his plans were forgotten as he appreciated her for what she was, a stunning apparition who stood out even in a crowd of attractive Italian women at the bar. It was her copper-colored hair, and it was her body wrapped in a blue-green dress that showed her curves to everyone in the bar. They turned to gawk at the newcomer. They’d have to be blind not to notice her.

He noticed too. In fact it was impossible for him to look away. In her face he saw hesitation, a hint of unease. After all, she was the stranger here. He had to force himself to stay where he was instead of rushing over to her and claiming her as his guest, or whatever she was. Certainly she wasn’t his date, since he didn’t date and didn’t intend to.

“Ready to go?” he said, and set his empty glass on the bar before leading her outside to his car.

“The hotel owner is very nice,” Isabel said as Dario opened
the car door for her. “He was telling me about the big wine competition coming up. Sounds exciting and quite important.”

“That’s right.” She wouldn’t have any wine to enter this year. She’d be a spectator. She’d see Montessori recapture the gold this year, if the judges knew what they were doing. And next year? Would she be his competitor then?

“I suppose you’ll enter.”

“Of course. It’s important to take away a medal, the gold if possible.”

“I’d like to enter. Maybe next year…” She looked away with a dreamy look in her eyes. “Oh, and he told me I need to have a Blessing of the Grapes ceremony.”

“That’s true.” Once her grapes were blessed there was no turning back. She’d be hooked, she’d have respect, a place in the community and she’d never leave no matter what happened. Maybe it was time to recognize the facts and get on the train before it left the station without him.

As he drove he was struck by the sweet smell of jasmine. Just when it was best to keep his distance from her, he wanted to get closer. He wanted to inhale her skin and find out where the scent came from. Was it her bare shoulders? Her neck, her throat? Or was it the flame-colored hair that brushed against her shoulders? He shouldn’t have had that drink in the bar. He needed his brain and all his senses on the alert for this evening with his family.

For so long he hadn’t looked at another woman. He had a permanent pain in his chest where his heart was and he had vowed never to be taken in again, a vow that was easy to keep. He hadn’t been tempted. Not once.

He told himself there was no chance it could happen again. Magdalena had aimed a spear right through his heart. Every time he took a deep breath, every time he woke up in the night thinking of his colossal mistake, he felt the pain in his chest,
and he didn’t expect it ever to go away. Why should it? He deserved it. It was a constant reminder of how naive he’d been to fall for someone like her.

The American woman was a slight diversion, which he needed. Nothing major. There was no harm in admiring her for what she was or in helping her out when she needed it. His family was right. He’d been working too hard. He needed a break from time to time. Whether sparring with her or feeding her or admiring her determination, he found Isabel a change from his all-work-and-no-play lifestyle. That was all it was. No need to worry. He told himself to give it a rest.

“I’m glad you enjoyed speaking to the hotel owner. The hotel bar is a gathering spot for the neighborhood, which is another reason I strongly recommend you stay there.” Why should she deprive herself of the comfort of the hotel and brave the rigors of living at the Azienda?

“You have a point,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot of neighborhood news there.”

He wondered exactly what she’d heard. Gossip traveled fast in a small town. He was glad he’d already told her his story, and she’d heard it from him. He normally hated talking about his past mistakes. But last night was different. Maybe it was the wine talking, maybe some long-repressed desire to get his story out from where it festered inside, and lay it on the table. It was a chapter in his life he wanted everyone to forget. Especially himself. But so far it stuck like a bone in his throat.

Isabel shifted in her seat and her skirt pulled to one side giving him an extra-good look at her beautiful long legs. He dragged his gaze away. Wasn’t there temptation enough without her legs on display?

“I have nothing against the hotel,” she said. “But as you know I’m in the middle of an important process and I should
be up at my vineyard 24/7,” she said. “By the way, I’m very grateful to you for the lunch and the ice.”

“Lunch there is fine, but I wouldn’t stay overnight if I were you,” he said. “Apart from the lack of running water and electricity, there is always the threat of wild boars.”

Her eyes widened. Then she turned to give him a skeptical look. “Are they worse than the poisonous vipers in the pond?” she asked pointedly.

“Much worse,” he said without apologizing for his white lie about the snakes. “They come at night in packs and uproot your vines.”

“Then I’ll just have to move up there so I can scare them off,” she said.

“Good idea,” he said. Obviously she didn’t believe him after the snake story. He believed she should be warned, if she was planning to stay up there after dark. Then he shot a skeptical look at her. “How exactly were you going to do that?”

“How do you do it?”

“I use a shotgun.”

Isabel pressed her lips together to keep from telling him he’d lost his credibility with her after the snake story. She refused to let him scare her, though the thought of a bunch of wild boars rooting through her vineyard caused goosebumps to pop out on her arms. That and the thought of using a gun. She knew she could never shoot an animal, even if it was destroying her crops. She felt a shiver of fear go up her spine. Just how big were these boars? When should she expect them? How
would
she scare them away?

“It seems,” she said as he pulled away from the hotel, “that considering the threat from these wild beasts to my vines, I should definitely be on the site, I mean to move there permanently as soon as possible. What if they come rooting while I’m not there?”

“Hire a night watchman?” he suggested.

“I’m not going to spend money hiring someone to do something I can do myself,” she said. “I can tell you are not used to seeing women change tires or hook up their propane stoves. Or scare wild boar either.”

“I’m not. I admit it. I look forward to you facing off the wild boars. I have no doubt you’ll send them running for their lives.”

“I appreciate your confidence in me,” she said with a matching touch of sarcasm. He didn’t think she could face a wild boar without flinching, and truthfully she didn’t either. But she’d never admit it to him.

First she’d give it a try. After all, she’d spent a lifetime standing on her own two feet and learning not to depend on anyone. She didn’t want him to think she needed him to help her. He’d already done enough what with the lunch he’d provided, and the ice and the workers he’d sent up.

Thanks to him, so far she’d met some friendly people and enjoyed talking to them. There would surely be other friendly people as soon as she had some leisure time to circulate and socialize. She felt encouraged for the first time in days.

“Are all your friends in the wine business too?” she asked.

“More or less,” he said. “Are all
your
friends in the design business?” he asked.

“No, not at all. And I’m not in the design business anymore. I’m in the wine business.”

“I thought you were going to design a wine label for yourself?”

“I am. And I’ll design a new one for you too, if you change your mind.”

“Go ahead,” he said.

“Really? You’d give me a chance? I don’t know if you’ll like what I come up with, but since you’ve been so helpful to
me, showing me around the countryside and everything and bringing me a picnic lunch, I owe it to you.”

She didn’t know why he’d changed his mind, but she was glad he had. Her mind was spinning with ideas for a new, enticing label for him. Her fingers itched for a paper and pencil to get started.

After a long drive toward the outskirts of town, she said, “I’ve been thinking about moving to the Azienda right away. You’re not just trying to scare me away with the story about the boars are you? Are they really a threat?”

“They really are. Not every night. Not every season. But it’s only fair to warn you. They’re fairly large with no enemies. They’ll eat everything in sight, especially the roots of your vines.”

“What about people?”

“They love people, especially fresh, newly arrived Americans.”

She gasped and he gave her a rueful half smile. He was teasing her! That was a good sign. And totally unexpected.

“Which is why if the boars come and rip you to shreds while you’re out defending your vines,” he continued, “no one will know. The workers will find nobody there in the morning. Then the whole community will blame me for not telling you about them. It’s not just the boars. There’s that hole in your roof. What if the rain fell through the hole in the roof, you contracted pneumonia and had to be airlifted out to a medical facility? How would I feel then? I’d be responsible for not warning you.”

“Thank you. I stand warned on both counts,” she said. She hoped he wasn’t back to being serious. She shot a glance in his direction but his expression gave nothing away.

“Why do I have the feeling that the minute I was airlifted out of here, you’d be there on the tarmac waving to me with the deed to the property for me to sign over to you?”

He smiled again. Twice in one night. Maybe he was human after all. Tonight when he’d met her in the bar, the smoldering look he’d given her had made her feel hot on the outside and shivery inside. She wasn’t sure how to interpret it.

“You may not believe this,” he said, “but I’m beginning to think you have what it takes to make it there after all, despite the boars, bats and the hole in the roof.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened. A warm feeling suffused her bare shoulders and crept up her neck to her face.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’d still like to see the land back in our family, but I’m willing to help you fight off the pests because maintaining the vines is important to me. I can see you appreciate the place almost as much as I do. But you have to get a telephone so you can call me if anything goes wrong.”

“That’s very generous,” she said. “But I couldn’t impose. You’ve already done enough for me.”

“I just want you to know I’ve been honest about everything I’ve told you. I don’t know everything. I
thought
there were poisonous snakes in the pond. I was wrong. It’s not the first time. Go ahead and swim there.”

“I will,” she assured him. “Just as soon as I buy a swimsuit.” It was a good feeling knowing she’d won his respect.

“What about you?” he asked. “Haven’t you ever been wrong about anything?”

“Wrong? Oh, yes. I’ve been very very wrong. And I’ve made my share of mistakes.” She pressed her lips together. She’d come all this way to get away from the past, why go into it now? But instead of keeping it to herself, she found she couldn’t stop talking now that she’d started. “I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. After all the things that happened to me in my childhood, all the disappointments, all the moving from family to family, despite all the dashed hopes that I’d find a home and a family, I still let myself believe someone loved
me….” Her voice trembled and she stopped and took a deep breath wishing she hadn’t blurted out the part about love.

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter now.” That was a lie. It still mattered. It shouldn’t but it did. It mattered terribly. She’d fallen in love, given her heart away when she knew better. It was the last straw. “It taught me a lesson. More than one. I won’t make the same mistake again. But it led to my coming here and starting a new life. The inheritance from my uncle came just when I needed it the most. It was a godsend. Do you believe in miracles?”

“No,” he said shortly.

“I don’t either, but why, just when things looked the bleakest, did my uncle leave me the vineyard? Doesn’t that sound like a miracle? If it isn’t, I don’t know what else to call it.”

He didn’t say anything, and she wondered if she’d talked too much about miracles and getting the Azienda. Of course he didn’t believe she’d received it in the form of a miracle. He believed she’d received it because her uncle was a failure as a vintner. She just wanted him to know how much her inheritance and coming to Sicily meant to her.