Ravelli's Defiant Bride

That was a big promise and an even bigger temptation, Belle reflected sleepily. She knew she ought to ask him about the photo in his wallet but just at that moment when she felt deliciously happy and comfortable felt like the wrong moment and she kicked the idea back out of her head with relief. No man had ever made her feel secure the way Cristo did, she conceded blissfully. She would ask him some time soon and would no doubt quickly learn that she had been agonising over nothing. Perhaps he had had the photo for some reason and had simply forgotten he still had it…

Recalling that thought, Belle drifted back to the present to find Cristo on the pool terrace regarding her where she reclined in the shade with an abandoned book, his amusement unhidden. ‘You were a thousand miles away.’

‘So, I daydream sometimes,’ Belle parried, studying him with helpless appreciation: a lithe sun-bronzed god of a male, lean, powerful frame garbed in black jeans and a white tee. His breathtaking good looks still enthralled her but then she wasn’t the only one looking, she recognised with pleasure as Cristo’s gaze whipped with flattering appreciation over her bikini-clad curves. ‘Were you looking for me?’

‘Sì.’ Cristo hesitated. ‘I’m flying the rest of your family here this afternoon.’

Brow furrowed in surprise, Belle sat up. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’ve been warned that the story about Gaetano and his children by your mother will be published tomorrow, so I’m taking your grandmother and the children out of harm’s way and over here where no one will bother them.’

Thrown off balance by that terse explanation, Belle exclaimed, ‘When did you decide to do that? My gran as well? They won’t want to come at such short notice, for goodness’ sake.’

‘Bruno’s bored stiff at home over the summer and counting the hours. I Skyped him and he believes he will like the Umbrian landscape,’ Cristo supplied with a decided hint of one-upmanship.

‘You Skyped him?’ Belle gasped in complete disconcertion.

‘I alerted your grandmother to the situation last week. She’s now only awaiting your call to reassure her that they won’t be intruding on us,’ Cristo completed.

‘But she never said a word when I last spoke to her…’ Belle’s voice trailed away, for she could scarcely recall what she had discussed with the older woman during that call and would have been the first to admit that her concentration hadn’t been what it was of late. More and more her entire world seemed to be defined by the closed little world she inhabited with Cristo, where nothing else seemed to matter very much.

‘She didn’t want to worry you, so will you ring her and assure her they’re all welcome and that we have plenty of space for them?’ Cristo prompted. ‘The experience of having the paparazzi on the doorstep would be traumatic for the children.’

Pale and dismayed at the threat of her family being exposed to that kind of rude and humiliating attention, Belle was propelled straight off the lounger and back indoors.

When she phoned her grandmother, Isa was her usual calm and logical self. ‘Whatever happens we’ll weather it the way we’ve weathered everything else. You don’t have to bring us to Italy,’ she declared staunchly.

‘I’m dying to see you all again. I know it’s only been a few weeks but it feels more like months,’ Belle confided truthfully. ‘And Franco keeps on asking for you all.’

‘Newly married couples need privacy and five children and a granny are going to put quite a dent in that,’ Isa forecast ruefully.

‘You’re family—that’s different,’ Belle protested. ‘And I’ve missed you all so much.’

And that was true, regardless of her contentment with Cristo, she acknowledged. In fact her time away from the family had already taught her how much she had taken their presence for granted before her marriage and how much she had since missed the warm hurly-burly of their home and her grandmother’s soothing support.

With her family’s coming visit confirmed, Belle went off to consult Umberto about where everyone was to sleep and discovered that Cristo had already spoken to him on the subject the week before. Isa suffered from arthritic knees and s

ometimes found stairs a challenge and Belle was further disconcerted to learn that a room downstairs that opened out on a seating area on the terrace had already been set up for the older woman’s occupation.

‘When did you organise the room for Isa?’ Belle asked Cristo curiously as she came to a halt in the doorway of his office.

‘As soon as I knew she was coming, bellezza mia. My grandmother also preferred ground-floor accommodation,’ Cristo told her quietly.

Belle collided with his spectacular dark heavily fringed eyes and her heart hammered behind her breastbone. ‘Is your grandmother still alive?’

‘No. She died the summer after I graduated but she was very much a part of my life when I was younger,’ Cristo admitted.

‘How does your brother Zarif feel about the news article that’s about to be published?’ Belle asked worriedly. ‘I know how worried you were about the effect it might have on him.’

‘Zarif never panics and he believes that such a juicy story was always going to escape into the public domain. He says he’ll ride it out.’

In receipt of that assurance, Belle felt a little of her tension evaporate. She wanted to ask Cristo if he now felt that he had married her for nothing. After all, he had married her to bury that story and the safeguard hadn’t worked. ‘That’s good.’

Cristo sprang upright, his attention pinned to Belle’s pensive face, the sparkle in her eyes and the ripe curve of her mouth. ‘You’re happy your family’s coming to stay, aren’t you?’

Belle cast off her insecurities and a grin relaxed her mouth. ‘Yes. I’ve missed them a lot.’

‘I really didn’t appreciate how close you all were. Growing up, I was strictly an only child. I first met my half-brothers when I was a teenager and only then because my stepfather argued in favour of it.’