His Lost-and-Found Bride

There couldn’t be a Logan and Lucia. Not if she still couldn’t mourn their daughter.

It would be best for them both.

CHAPTER NINE

SHE FELT NUMB. It was the only way she could survive.

Last night had been a blur. They’d got up this morning just as the sun had been rising and made their way in a water taxi to the airport. Logan had spoken barely a word to her.

And that was what hurt most.

He’d been polite, of course, courteous even. But it had all been strained. Any time she’d caught a glimpse of his once gleaming green eyes all she’d been able to see was the blankness that had been pulled over them.

They stood patiently in the queue, checking in and filing through to Departures. As soon as they made their way through she made a feeble excuse that she needed to pick up some things.

Logan gave a nod of his head and said he was going for coffee and would meet her at the departure gate. He seemed almost as relieved as she was to get some space.

Lucia ducked into the nearest shop. She didn’t even care which one it was—and started walking blankly through the aisles.

Lingerie. Just what she needed. She cringed as she passed a couple winking and nudging each other near the sexiest black and pink lingerie in the shop. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d spent money on matching lingerie. And she certainly wasn’t going to need some any time soon. Not at these prices anyway. Who actually spent this kind of money on underwear?

Something inside her sparked a wave of fury. Her steps became quicker, more determined. She marched along the aisles until she saw something that caught her eye, something she might actually wear.

It was a pale pink satin nightdress trimmed with exquisite lace. It was not as short as she might usually wear, reaching down to at least her knees. She reached out and touched it. The heavy satin was silky to touch, pure of quality and luxury. She picked out her size and walked to the cashier’s desk without a second thought.

The cashier folded and wrapped the nightdress in tissue paper and Lucia didn’t even blink when she handed over her credit card.

Why shouldn’t she buy herself something beautiful? As she pushed the package into her bag her mind flashed back to her bedroom and the beautiful red dress that Logan had bought her lying crumpled on the floor.

She hadn’t even picked it up. She didn’t need any reminder of the night they’d spent together. It was already ingrained in her brain.

She didn’t need anything to remember the feel of his fingers on her skin, the feel of his lips on her neck and throat. The smell of his scent winding its way around her. The squeeze in her heart the next day when he’d told her they needed to talk.

And the look in his eyes when she’d finally stood up and walked away, pushing everything else back into a space she didn’t have to deal with.

She’d been walking on eggshells ever since.

And not just around Logan. Around herself too.

For a few tiny seconds she allowed herself to think about Ariella Rose. She’d allowed herself to say a few words, to contemplate what might have been and what she’d lost.

But it had been too much. The wave of emotions that had swept over her had had to be quickly quelled. On that warm summer’s day she’d never felt so cold. The tremors that had come over her body had been overwhelming.

It would have been so easy to bury her head in Logan’s shoulder and just hold on for grim life. But she was too scared. Scared that if she went there she might never come back.

The truth was that no adult should outlive their child. And only someone who’d been there could understand that. Her friends and family had no idea of the type of thoughts that had crept through her brain in the few days after her daughter’s death. She’d never acknowledged them to anyone.

Instead, she’d kept things locked away—even from Logan. How did you tell the man you loved with your whole heart that you would rather be with your daughter than him?

It had been too cruel. Even for her.

Her eyes scanned the coffee shop. Logan was sitting staring out of one of the windows, his hand stirring his cappuccino endlessly.

She dumped her bags in the chair next to him. It wouldn’t be long until their flight was called. She walked over to the counter. ‘Full-fat caramel latte with whipped cream and a strawberry frosted doughnut.’

A whole day’s worth of calories about to be consumed in ten minutes. But she just felt like it. Sometimes days were just like that.

And from the look on Logan’s face his day was entirely like that too.

* * *

It seemed the longest flight in history.

It was amazing the things you could think up to do rather than talk to the person sitting directly at your elbow.

Lucia was wearing a bright orange dress, and matching stilettos. She had a large brown leather bag—which looked as if it could carry the entire contents of her kitchen—slung over her shoulder.

Her wheeled suitcase looked bigger than his car. It was clear she was here to stay.

For a second he’d wondered if she was having second thoughts. She’d disappeared at the airport for a bit, then reappeared, eating a whole host of things that would never normally cross her lips.

Logan was far too wise to comment. Lucia hadn’t been known for hormonal binges. But it had been twelve long years. Lots of things could have changed that he knew nothing about.

And, frankly, it wasn’t his business any more.

As they landed at the private Tuscan airport and waited for their car, one of the signs at the newsstand caught his eye.

He gave her a nudge. ‘When was the last time Prince Antonio saw his Cinderella bride?’

For the first time since they’d left Venice the glazed expression left Lucia’s face and her eyes widened. ‘What on earth have we missed? We’ve only been gone a few days.’

He shook his head as the car pulled up in front of them. ‘I have no idea. We’ll need to talk to Louisa as soon as we reach the palazzo. I wonder if this will have implications for the wedding?’

He opened the door for Lucia and they climbed inside. After a few seconds she pulled out her laptop and started working. Logan sighed and leaned back, watching the green Tuscan hills roll by.

The journey from the airport took them back through the village and he took a few moments to study the surrounding architecture again. It was important that he keep the palazzo as in keeping with its surroundings as possible. Any kind of modern renovation would be disastrous. So, while modern fixtures and fittings could be included, they had to be sympathetic to the history of the house.

They pulled up outside the palazzo. It was a hive of activity. Monday mornings in the Italian building trade could notoriously start slowly. Not today.

Connor was in talks with someone outside the chapel building. It was obvious he was keeping on top of the security of the fresco.

A delivery of the special pink-coloured stone used in the palazzo was being unloaded. Some of the outer restoration work still needed to be completed. He could see his special stonemason signing for the delivery.

Louisa came walking out of the main entrance as Lucia grabbed her case. Louisa looked distracted, as if her mind were on a hundred other things. She hadn’t even noticed their return.

‘Louisa?’ he said, trying to be heard above the building work around them. She was frowning and it marred her pretty face. Her hair was pulled back in a rumpled knot and her long tunic looked like yesterday’s.

Her head flicked up. ‘Logan.’ Her eyes darted over to Lucia. ‘Lucia. You’re both back.’ She walked over quickly. ‘Do you have news?’

Lucia gave her a cautious smile. ‘We do. The fresco is by Burano, he lived and worked in the Renaissance period and we have other

examples of his work. He was both a painter and a sculptor. We’re making arrangements to look at the sculpture on the fountain in the village. It could be another piece of his work.’

Louisa gave a smile and a quick nod. ‘That’s great. Really great. What happens next?’