The Valtieri Marriage Deal (13 page)

‘Lunch?’

Curiously deflated suddenly, she shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so. Can we just go home?’

‘Of course.’

The following day while she was sorting out their washing ready for Italy, the clothes arrived. Plus some others she’d turned down, and it made her want to cry. It all seemed so unnecessary, she thought, but she packed them anyway.

Two days later, they flew to Tuscany, amid a hail of good wishes from their colleagues and friends at the hospital and promises to throw them a party when they got back.

They arrived at the
palazzo
in the early afternoon, to be greeted with a frenzy of activity.

‘Heavens, what on earth is going on?’ she asked Luca, but he just gave her a wry smile.

‘There’s going to be a wedding—remember?’

‘But only a small one.’

He snorted, and she felt a wave of panic. ‘Luca, you promised!’

‘It will be small,’ he assured her. ‘That doesn’t necessarily mean it will be low key. Anita will have organised it all—don’t worry. It looks like a lot of fuss, but when they all go away, it’ll be just us. Trust me,
cara.
It will be a lovely day.’

Could she trust him? There seemed to be an army of vans and trucks, and when they went through the house to the salon overlooking the terrace, she could see why. The terrace was smothered in white canvas, and as they watched it was hauled upright.

‘Good grief! I’ve never seen a marquee that size!’ she said, stunned, and he laughed.

‘Come on, let’s go and find the family. They’ll be in the library, I suspect, overseeing operations from the control centre.’

It sounded terrifying, and clearly everything she’d said had been ignored. It was just like last time, everything taken away from her, planned to death by others to give them the day they were expecting.

But she’d reckoned without Anita.

As they went into the library, she got to her feet and came over and hugged her. ‘Hi. How are you?’

‘Worried. That marquee’s huge.’

‘Oh, no, it’s a very moderate one. Don’t worry. It’s for afterwards—the wedding feast is set up at one end, and the dancing will be at the other, and that way we don’t have to move the tables. There are more people coming for the evening, as well, but you can slip away then and leave them to it. I expect you’ll be tired anyway, and I should think Luca will want you to himself.’

Luca would. Luca wanted her to himself now, and he could see the worry on her face and wanted to take her away from it all, but there was no way they could have got married without a certain amount of fuss, and he trusted Anita.

‘Right. We need to freshen up and have some lunch, and then we’ll come and see you. No doubt you’ve got lots of questions.’

‘No, not really. Luca, you need a suit fitting this afternoon, and, Isabelle, the designer is here with your dress. She’s going to do the first fitting today and then another tomorrow, if necessary, to give them time. I’m sorry to land it on you when you’ve just arrived, but she’ll wait until you’ve rested.’

‘I hope it fits,’ she said softly to Luca as they walked up to their rooms. ‘I really have no idea if it will, but lots of my things don’t now.’

‘It doesn’t show yet to the casual eye.’

‘But there won’t be a casual eye, will there?’ she said drily. ‘They’ll all be watching me like hawks, and something like that will be top of their list, with the speed of the wedding.’

‘Does that bother you?’ he asked. ‘Because it doesn’t bother me, in the least. I’m not ashamed that you’re carrying my child, Isabelle—quite the opposite, and I’m more than proud to show you off.’

His softly spoken words brought a lump to her throat, and with a sigh he opened her bedroom door, took her in and drew her into his arms. ‘Hush,
tesoro.
It will be all right. They’ll all love you.’

Do you, though? Luca, tell me—!

‘Right, I’m going to have a quick shower and go and sort this suit out. I suggest you rest for a while, then come down when you’re ready.’

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity, but very little of it seemed to involve Isabelle, and she had little to do but fret.

The guests had started to arrive—his sisters, Carla with her husband Roberto and their three children, and Anna and Serena, unmarried but both with boyfriends in tow, and of course Giovanni, who finally seemed to have decided that she was all right. Massimo of course was already there with his children, and then there was Luca’s grandparents too, who’d she’d already met, adding to the numbers, but the result of the influx was that every meal was a feast.

‘I’m really not going to be able to get into the dress if I keep on like this,’ she said to Anita, who chuckled and told her not to be silly.

‘You’ll worry it all off—I can see it in your face. Have faith in me, Isabelle. It will be a beautiful day.’

‘You have a hotline to the weatherman?’ she said with a smile, and Anita laughed.

‘Of course! All part of the service. But the long-range forecast is superb. It’s going to be a fabulous day.’

‘I hope so,’ she murmured, but the weather was the least of her worries, and the man who was to become her husband was so involved with his family that she had hardly had any time with him for the last couple of days, and she missed him. Missed working with him, missed spending the evenings alone with him, missed all of it.

She went out onto the terrace and found a seat tucked away in a quiet spot, and then she saw Luca down below her, walking along a path towards his brother Massimo. They greeted each other, and she watched them, her heart wistful. Massimo had loved his wife deeply, and she’d been torn from him, but at least they’d shared that love while she was alive.

She loved Luca desperately, but she couldn’t tell him, unless she was sure he loved her too.

‘Luca?’

‘Hi, Massimo. How are you doing?’

‘OK.’

Luca searched his brother’s face, and saw sadness in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, this must be hard for you.’

‘Don’t worry about it. I have something for you.’ And he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a little box.

Luca felt a lump in his throat. ‘No, Massimo.’

‘Yes. Please. I’ll never give it to another woman, and she hasn’t got a ring.’

‘I didn’t think of it,’ he said, shocked at his lapse. ‘I’ve been more concerned about her and the baby—the ring didn’t seem—I’ve ordered a wedding ring set with diamonds, it’s here somewhere, Anita said it arrived today, but—I didn’t think—damn. Massimo, I can’t take Angelina’s ring.’

‘Of course you can. It’s no use to her, and, anyway, it’s a family ring. It belongs in the family, and Isabelle is family now. According to Anita it’s even the right size. Please—take it. It should be worn, and I’d be overjoyed to see it on your wife’s hand.’

‘Oh, hell…’

He took the little box, slipped it into his pocket and hugged his brother hard. ‘Thank you.’

‘My pleasure.’ He stepped back, his face stiff with emotion, and with a brisk nod he walked away. Luca watched him go, then pulled the box from his pocket and stared down at the ring. Would Isabelle accept it from him?

He slipped it back into his pocket, strode up the steps and found her sitting on a seat in the gloom, looking out over the valley.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes. I was watching the swallows. They’re amazing—there’s a sort of shift change, have you noticed? Just before nine, when the swallows go to bed and the bats come out. It’s incredible. Fascinating. I could watch them for hours. And the lights are really pretty. I’ve been watching them come on in all the little villages. It’s beautiful—peaceful.’

‘It is peaceful. That’s why I love it so much.’

He sat down beside her and took her hand. ‘Isabelle, I have something for you. I don’t know whether you’ll want to accept it, but I hope you will, because it would mean a great deal to
all of us.’ He hesitated, then went on, ‘It’s been passed down in the family for generations, and I hadn’t even thought of it, because it was Angelina’s—Massimo’s wife’s—but he’s just given it to me to give to you, and I know it’s a bit late, and the wedding’s happening anyway, and it’s not what either of us had planned, but—’

He broke off, put his hand in his pocket and knelt down on the gravel in front of her. ‘Isabelle, I love you. You once said that loving me wasn’t the problem, it was trusting me. And I don’t want you to marry me on Sunday unless you feel you can trust me. So—will you marry me? Will you wear this ring for me, to show the world that you love me, too, and that you trust me with your heart?’

Her eyes filled, and she pressed her fingers to her lips and held back a tiny sob. ‘Oh, Luca—I never thought I’d hear you say that. Of course I’ll marry you.’

‘But can you trust me?’

‘Yes,’ she said, and then, realising she hadn’t even thought about it for days, maybe weeks, she said it again, more firmly this time. ‘Yes, Luca, I trust you—and I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long.’

‘Don’t be sorry. I’ve had trust issues, too. The girl in my past—she told me she was pregnant, and I asked her to marry me, doing the decent thing, of course, and then three weeks before the wedding I found out she was on the Pill, and she had been all along.’

‘Oh, no—so when I told you I was pregnant…’

‘I knew you were. You were very obviously pregnant. But my faith had been shaken, and I wasn’t absolutely sure it was mine. But she only wanted me for my money, and when you asked for a pre-nup to protect our baby, I knew then that
the baby was ours. Apart from anything else, you didn’t know anything about me, so if you wanted me, it was for myself and not for my money. But you didn’t.’

‘Oh, I did, Luca. I did—but I was so afraid of being hurt, and I knew that if you walked away, it would hurt me so much more than I’d been hurt before, and I’d have to see you over and over again for the next twenty or so years as our child grew up, and it would tear me apart. But you aren’t going to walk away, are you? You’re not that sort of man, and I realise that now. And I’d be honoured to wear your ring.’

He let his breath out on a sigh, and, opening the box, he took the ring out and slipped it onto her finger.

‘Oh, Luca, it’s beautiful,’ she said, and felt her eyes fill with tears. ‘Poor Angelina—will Massimo be all right with this?’

‘He said so. He said he’d be overjoyed to see it on my wife’s hand.’

He stood up and drew her up into his arms. ‘I love you—
te amo, Isabella,’
he murmured, and then he kissed her, his lips gentle on hers. Then he drew reluctantly away with a ragged sigh. ‘Only three more days,’ he said, and, threading his fingers through hers, he led her up to her room, kissed her again and then walked away.

T
HE DAY OF
the wedding dawned bright and clear, just as Anita had promised, and Isabelle couldn’t wait.

Her mother had arrived two days before with her husband, and she’d been stunned at Luca’s family’s obvious wealth. Stunned and wary, but the moment she met Luca, she was smitten. ‘He’s lovely—such a nice man, darling,’ she’d said, misty-eyed. ‘I’m so happy for you. He’s just exactly right for you.’

‘I think so,’ Isabella had replied, and now, on the morning of her wedding, she just wanted all the hoopla to be over so she could be with him, but of course there was so much to do.

The hair, the nails, the dress, the make-up, the veil—and then finally it was time to go, and she walked down the beautiful stone staircase to the central courtyard with its exquisite frescoes, and Luca, looking more handsome than she’d ever seen him, was standing there waiting.

Luca, who she loved with all her heart.

Luca who, if the expression on his face was anything to go by, loved her every bit as much. He took her hands in his and stared wordlessly down at her, his heart in his eyes, and then, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, he led her out to
the beautiful vintage car smothered in ribbons and flowers, and they set off together for the little hill town nearby.

They were cheered along the way by the estate workers, the villagers and then all the townspeople, and she felt near to tears. ‘They really love you,’ she said, and he just smiled and waved back.

‘They love a wedding. Italians are all deeply romantic.’

‘Except Gio.’

‘Oh, he’s romantic. He’s just disillusioned. I was the same, but then I met you, and everything changed. Wave to them,
cara.
This is as much for you as it is for me.’

They pulled up outside the town hall, and amongst the cheers she heard the word
‘bellissima’.
Beautiful. Her? Her eyes filled, and she smiled at them, and they cheered again.

The town hall, when they managed to get inside, was packed. ‘I thought it was going to be small?’ she murmured spotting her friend Sarah and Richard Crossland in the crowd, and he laughed softly and squeezed her hand.

‘This is small,’ he assured her, and then paused, staring deep into her eyes. ‘Last chance to change your mind,’ he murmured.

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I love you, Luca.
Te amo.
Let’s get married.’

It was nearly midnight before they got away.

They’d been wined and dined, there had been speeches, and everything had been punctuated by cries of ‘Kiss, Kiss!’ and Luca, laughing, had dutifully kissed her, again and again and again, until by the time they’d been dancing for a while she could feel the tension radiating off him.

Then another cry went up, and he stopped dancing, cupped her face in his hands and plundered her mouth with
his, while everyone cheered and catcalled all around them. Then he lifted his head, his eyes glittering, scooped her up in his arms and carried her inside in a hail of confetti and sugared almonds.

‘Where are we going?’

‘To our new quarters. We’ve got the two big rooms on the end overlooking the terrace.’

‘Two rooms?’

He gave a lazy, sexy smile. ‘Only one bedroom. The other one’s a sitting room.’

‘They’ll see the lights,’ she said as he carried her in and turned them on, and he laughed.

‘They know what we’re doing,
tesoro,’
he murmured. ‘It’s not a secret. Does it worry you?’

She thought of all the people outside, people she’d never met, but others whom she’d grown to love, and she shook her head. ‘No. I’m not ashamed to be in love with you. I’m proud to be your wife, Luca, and it’s been a very long wait. But you could close the curtains.’

They slept late the next day—and the day after, and the day after that.

After all the hustle of the wedding, it was wonderful to relax and do nothing, and now, in the middle of her pregnancy, Isabelle felt really well.

They went sightseeing around some of the little hill towns, and walked through the pretty streets while he told her the history of each one, and they walked through the forests and sat under olive trees in the shade and ate impromptu picnics of bread and cheese and ham with ripe, juicy tomatoes which dribbled down their chins, and then they had to kiss the juice
away, of course, so that on most days they came home early and went back to bed, using her pregnancy as an excuse, but nobody believed them and neither of them cared.

They were deeply in love, blissfully happy, and life was wonderful.

And then at the end of the week, he took her to a friend’s private clinic for her routine twenty-week scan to check for problems, and it all fell apart.

‘Are you sure about the dates?’

‘Absolutely,’ she said. ‘It could only have been one occasion. Why?’

‘Because the baby seems a little small. I would say it was eighteen, maybe nineteen weeks from the skull measurements.’

Beside her, Luca went very still, and Isabelle felt her heart start to pound as she began to flick the pages of a mental midwifery textbook. ‘Is there anything else?’ he asked, and his friend shrugged.

‘Not that I can see. It’s hard—the baby’s position isn’t the best, I can’t get a good view of the heart, but the spine’s OK and the skull’s a good shape. It’s not anencephalic, if that’s what you’re thinking, and the placenta looks OK.’

‘The heart,’ Luca said. ‘Why can’t you get a good view?’

‘It’s a bit shadowed. I don’t know. We’ll have to give it two weeks and check again, to see if we can get a better look and to make sure the baby’s growing, but I think the most likely thing is that you’ve got the wrong dates.’

‘But we can’t. We haven’t.’ She was feeling sick, fear for her baby beginning to swamp her, and she reached for Luca’s hand, but it wasn’t there. He was standing staring at the screen, his hands rammed deep in his pockets, and he didn’t say a word.

‘Luca?’

‘We’ll come back,’ he said, and helped her wipe the gel off her tummy with curious detachment. ‘Two weeks?’

His friend nodded. ‘That should be long enough. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.’

Maybe not for him, but for them it was going to be an eternity, Isabelle thought as she sat in the car beside a silent Luca all the way back to his home.

‘Luca, why?’ she asked, worrying. ‘What can it be?’

‘There’s no sense speculating,’ he said, and so she sat there and speculated and worried and panicked on her own, while he maintained a stony silence.

They pulled up at the bottom of the steps, and he helped her out of the car and in through the door. ‘Go and rest. I’ve got things to do,’ he said, and disappeared without another word.

‘Luca?’

But he didn’t hear her, because she’d only mouthed the word, and she stared after him, a horrible suspicion dawning.

Surely he didn’t believe that the dates were wrong, did he? Because that would mean that he thought the baby wasn’t his.

‘No!’

She bit her lip, and then, turning away from the cloistered courtyard, she ran upstairs to their room and threw herself sobbing down on the bed. He couldn’t believe that! After all they’d been through, the journey they’d made to reach this point of trust, to have it all wiped away so easily was devastating.

So devastating, in fact, that the only thing she could think of was getting away. She didn’t even care about her luggage. Her own clothes, ones bought with her own money, were at home—her real home, the one her mother had struggled for so many years to buy. Her mother was there now. She’d go
home to her, go and see Richard Crossland and ask him what could be wrong with her baby, and then she’d deal with whatever fate threw at her alone.

Her passport was in her handbag, and her mobile phone. She’d learned enough Italian to get herself to the airport. All she needed was a lift down the drive—and Roberto would take her.

But, first, she needed to see Massimo.

She found him in the office at the back of the house, and he got to his feet with a startled exclamation when he saw her.

‘Isabelle,
cara,
whatever’s wrong? You look dreadful—come, sit down, what is it?’

She shook her head, and with shaking fingers she tried to pull the ring from her finger—the ring he had given Luca to give her barely a week ago—but it wouldn’t come off, and she started to cry again, and he pulled her gently into his arms and hugged her while she wept. ‘Oh, Isabelle, no—what is it? Talk to me.’

‘I had my scan—and there’s something wrong, the baby’s small, and Luca doesn’t believe me now—he thinks it isn’t his.’

‘No. No, I don’t believe that. He was so sure, he had such trust in you.’

‘Well, not any more. He thinks I’ve lied, and I haven’t, there must be something wrong with my baby, and I can’t bear it, Massimo. I can’t bear it if anything happens to my baby.’

‘Hush,
cara,
hush, this is wrong. Let me ring him.’

‘No! I just wanted to give you this back, and I’m leaving.’

‘No!’

‘Yes. I can’t stay. I have to get away—Here.’ She tugged it off, scraping her finger and making it bleed, and she dropped it in his hand and turned away, heading blindly for the door and a life without another man who’d let her down…

He thought he’d felt pain before, but it was nothing compared to this, this pain like a knife through his heart.

He’d gone over and over it, but there were so many things it could be, and none of them were good. The heart?
Dio,
not that, he thought, his mind searching the vast number of things that could cause a baby to fail to grow.

And he’d let her fly—let her work ludicrous hours, when he should have told her to sit at home with her feet up and rest—should have brought her back here right at the beginning and made her take it easy instead of working fifteen hours at a time and then flying back and forth.

He jackknifed out of the chair and strode out onto the terrace, but the sun was too bright and his mood was too black. And then he saw her, a distant figure stumbling down the drive, hurrying away.

‘No!’

His phone rang, but he ignored it and ran for the car, just as Massimo came out. ‘Luca! Isabelle’s gone.’

‘I know! Why didn’t you stop her?’ he raged, but he didn’t wait for the answer, just threw himself into the car and shot off down the drive after her, his heart in his mouth. What the hell was she doing in the full heat of the sun, running along the uneven road? And why?

He skidded to a halt just in front of her and leapt out, running back and grabbing her arms. He just stopped himself from shaking her, but he wanted to, to shake some sense into her.

‘What are you doing?’

She jerked herself upright and glared at him, her face ravaged with tears. ‘I’m leaving. What does it look like?’

‘But why?’

‘Because you don’t believe me. Because you think I’ve lied to you about the baby being yours.’

‘No!
Tesoro,
no! Never!’

‘Then why wouldn’t you talk to me?’ she screamed, tears coursing down her dusty cheeks and leaving muddy trails in their wake. She scrubbed them away, biting her lip and fighting for control, and he felt another crushing wave of guilt.

‘Oh, Isabelle, my love—I couldn’t talk,’ he said unsteadily. ‘I was going through all the things it could be, wondering what was wrong with our child, if it would live or die—’

His voice cracked, and he let go of her and turned away, his shoulders heaving, and she stared at him, taking in his words, letting them sink in and make some sense of this sad and senseless day, and then tentatively she reached out her hand and laid it on his shoulder.

‘Luca? Please hold me.’

He turned, his face contorted, and dragged her hard up against him, and together they stood on the long, winding drive and wept.

Finally he lifted his head and led her into the shade of a cypress tree, and they sat down side by side, his arm around her shoulders, and he spoke softly to her, her hand wrapped firmly in his.

‘I was so busy blaming myself and feeling guilty for letting you work so hard and making you fly, and not letting you have your quiet little wedding, and all the time you thought I didn’t believe it was mine? Oh, Isabelle, I thought we’d got past this.’

‘I thought we had. I thought you would have talked to me, shared your fears.’

‘I wanted to protect you from it.’

‘How?’ she asked. ‘By refusing to discuss it? I’m a midwife, Luca—I know all the things it could be. How did you think not talking it through would help me?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. Of course it wouldn’t, but I was afraid to put too much into your head. I should have realised it was already there from the first suspicion that everything wasn’t right. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe you were running away.’

‘I thought you didn’t trust me. I couldn’t bear that.’

‘I’m sorry. Of course I trust you. You’re far too honest to lie about a thing like that. That’s one of the things I love most about you.’

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, and she leant against him with a sigh, taking comfort from him and at the same time offering it.

‘Luca, what are we going to do?’

‘Wait,’ he said quietly. ‘What else can we do? We wait, and when we have the next scan, we’ll hopefully have more answers.’

‘And if there’s something wrong? I mean, there might not be. It could just be a little baby. I was working too hard, and I should have stopped, and I wasn’t eating properly, and I was so busy being stubborn I didn’t do the best thing for the baby, but what if—’

‘Hush,’ he murmured, pulling her closer. ‘It’s not your fault, and working hard and flying and the wedding are not responsible. If we’re logical, we both know that, but we’re doing what people do when things go wrong and blaming something or someone instead of just accepting fate. And if there
is
something wrong,’ he said, ‘then we’ll face it together, and somehow we’ll find the strength to do that, and to work through it together and support each other and our child.
Whatever it is, however great or small, we can deal with it,
cara.
It
will
be all right. Come on, let’s go home.’