And in its wake came another emotion. He did not know what it was. He knew only that he was yielding to it, that it was far, far too strong for him to do anything else but yield to it.
And tonight—tonight he would do just that.
Tonight he would make his marriage real.
Those photos tomorrow would be no fairytale.
CHAPTER TEN
QUIETLY, Lizzy slipped from her room out on to the terrace, carefully lifting the long rustling skirts of her gown.
Ben was asleep. Reluctantly, but finally succumbing. It was later than his usual bedtime, but then he’d been judging a fashion parade. He and Rico had sat on the bed while she’d tried on one after another of her outfits, to choose which ones to wear the following day.
Nerves clipped at her as she thought about it. A photo-shoot, Rico had said. His friend Jean-Paul, to whom he had entrusted the story of their marriage, would undertake it.
She was glad Rico had suggested trying the outfits first, even though it seemed odd to have finished with her in evening dress.
‘I want a full-length portrait photo of you,’ Rico had said.
Then, when he’d finally chosen which gown he thought would be best for such a photo, he’d told her to leave it on.
‘It will get you used to the feel and fit,’ he’d told her, before heading off to get changed himself, for dinner.
She’d complied, though the close-fitting strapless duskyrose silk gown with its flowing skirts, gorgeous though it was, seemed to make her somewhat over-dressed for a seaside villa.
‘Ah, there you are—’
Rico’s voice made her head turn.
And then her breath caught, and stilled in her lungs.
He was strolling towards her in the soft light spilling out on to the terrace, and he was wearing evening dress himself.
He looked—
She swallowed.
Oh, dear God, he looks incredible.
The tailored hand-made tuxedo moulded his long,
lithe form, and made her legs feel weak. His freshly washed hair feathered over his forehead, and as he approached she caught the faintest tang of aftershave from his newly-shaved jawline.
She gazed at him helplessly, incapable of tearing her eyes away from him.
He came up to her. His eyes were on her, but all she could see was him.
A half-smile played about his lips.
‘Buona sera, Principessa,’ he said softly, and lifted her hand with his, to raise it to his lips.
His mouth grazed at her knuckles, and she felt a thousand butterflies release inside her.
He tucked her hand over his arm, and she found herself clinging to it. Numbly, she let herself be glided along the terrace.
‘We’re dining indoors tonight. Some light rain is forecast.’
She glanced absently at the sky, which was clouding over from the west. Then he was leading her into the large, formal dining room where they’d never eaten before.