The Italian's Wife

with which he did that annoyed her, for she had hit every tiny button on

that even tinier panel in her frustration and got nowhere. She stared UP

at him, saw the faint rise of dark blood scoring his cheekbones.

102

'You shouldn't have accessed my messages,' Rio drawled with freezing cool.

Holly could not credit the level of sheer rage that blasted through her

at that facetious response, that unjust attempt to turn the blame back

on her. 'Well, your simple phone wasn't simple enough and I couldn't get

rid of the blasted thing. And what's more,' Holly snapped, truly

lathered up into a steaming temper, 'you're just trying to sidestep the

whole subject and I'm not so stupid that I can't see that!'

'If you raise your voice once more, I'm going to cart you out to the

limo like a sack of coal,' Rio murmured with a smouldering smile full of

threat.

Holly sucked in a deep, charged breath. She felt as though the top of

her head might fly off with the force of unvented anger still blazing up

inside her.

'So go upstairs now and get changed and we will say our goodbyes,' Rio

completed in full command mode.

'Get changed into...what?' Holly queried helplessly.

'Into your going-away outfit-'

'I haven't got one,' Holly told him. 'You told me we weren't going

abroad until tomorrow. It's about the only thing you did tell me. I

mean, you didn't mention the two hundred guests, the press or the hotel

reception either.'

'I can't believe you didn't pack anything.' Rio was impervious to that

blatant invitation to take their argument into a new and fresh

dimension. 'But I presume you want to throw your bouquet.'

'You must be joking. Waste my lovely flowers on this crowd?' Holly

shrugged a rigid shoulder not very successfully and stuck her nose in

the air.

Fifteen minutes later they were in the limousine and seated in silence.

Indeed, the silence went on and on and on until it seemed to howl in her

ears like a gathering storm, clawing at her nerves.

'You have gorgeous hair,' Rio murmured in a gritty tone. 'If you heard

anyone comparing that glorious mane of yours to a ragdoll's, it was pure

bitchiness. As for your gown, it looks wonderful, and if it was cheap it

was the find of the century. Your accent's cute, it's you. I can't

imagine you without it.'

Holly snatched in a shuddering breath but said nothing.

'Jeremy was drunk and he is very sorry but, let's face it, he wasn't to

know the bride would be in the public bar. I don't like what he said and

I'm angry that you should've been hurt but I really don't give a damn

what people say!'

'Like Rhett Butler...?' she squeezed out shakily.

'He walked away. I'm not about to...nor on my wedding night,' Rio purred

like a predatory tiger on the prowl, his earthy intonation sending a

quiver of helpless awareness down her sensitive spine. 'As for the text

message you saw. It was an old message. I wasn't aware it was still

stored and it's now been deleted.'

'People think you got me pregnant and that that's why you broke up with

your fiancée. I don't like being stuck with the blame.'

'It's a five-day wonder, not worth worrying about.'

'Was...she?'

The silence hummed as if she had turned on a turbo switch. She could

literally feel his rising tension. 'At one time I thought so, and then I

realised that she wasn't'

'I'd kind of like to know what went wrong,' Holly admitted, but only

after a long pause to see if he added anything more.

'I don't want to discuss that. It happened before I met you and has

nothing to do with you,' Rio countered with cool emphasis.

In receipt of that snub, Holly felt flags of pink mortification

104

unfurl in her cheeks. Well, he hadn't missed and hit the wall there, had

he? Christabel was not to be talked about. Only at that point did Holly

notice that they appeared to be leaving the city behind them. 'Where are

we going?'

'We're spending the night at my country house and flying out to the

Maldives tomorrow.'

She had never even heard of the Maldives and once again felt crucified

by her own ignorance. All those hazy schooldays she had sat daydreaming

and looking out of windows, giggling at notes passed between her

friends, never, ever appreciating that some day she might regret not

taking school seriously. He probably had a university degree, she

thought with a sinking heart. Every time she opened her mouth she was at

risk of dropping herself into a big black hole of embarrassment.

'I've asked for your cases to be sent down to the Priory. I assume you

can get by without Timothy until tomorrow when we all meet up at the

airport.'

Holly swallowed hard and nodded in reluctant silence. It had not been a

great wedding. She had been too nervous and her self-esteem was still

too low for her to feel confident in such exalted company. She so much

wanted their marriage to work but she could not feel she had made much

of a start.

'Are you still in love with her?' Holly hadn't even known that she was

about to ask that question, but even as the anxious words escaped her

lips she saw that that was what she most feared: that every moment he

spent with her he might be fighting the desire to be with the unknown

Christabel.

Rio did not pretend to misunderstand. 'No.'

Slowly she breathed again and her tension eased. Obviously something

pretty serious must have happened for

him to break off his engagement to Christabel. She did not feel he was a

here today, gone tomorrow sort of bloke. So she had nothing to worry

about and it would be very foolish of her to risk spoiling the early

days of their marriage with pointless regret and envy that she did not

have his love. She would just have to make herself lovable, which meant

finding out where the Maldives were and learning Italian and trying to

put him first rather than Timothy.

Some time later, at the end of the long, winding, wooded drive that the

limo had traversed, an enormous Gothic pile in mellow stone met Holly's

stunned gaze. Against a backdrop of mature trees and smooth green lawns,

the house looked magnificent.

'How old is it?' Holly's attention lingered on the innumerable

diamond-paned windows and turrets and the hot-potch of different roof

levels.

'The earliest part of the building has been dated to the twelfth century

but the main building works took place four hundred years later,

although, of course, it has been altered in many ways since then.

Marchmont Priory was my mother's family home.' Rio assisted her out of

the limo. 'She stays here in the warmer months of the year.'

Old words were carved into the weathered stone lintel above the heavy

oak door. Elizabethan English, welcoming all to the Priory, Rio

explained before sweeping his curious bride up into his arms and

carrying her in traditional style over the threshold. There was no sign

even of who had opened the door and she commented o

n that.

'The staff are engaged in tactful invisibility,' Rio informed her.

Laughing at that explanation, Holly let her admiring gaze journey over

the worn flagstone floor and the inviting fire burning in the giant

stone fireplace. There was a wonderful atmosphere of peace and comfort.

106

'It's just beautiful,' she told him. Rio set her down and tugged her

face up so that he could gaze down into her eyes. 'So you don't think

it's a little shabby and outdated?'

'No, it's glorious...it feels like a proper home, you know, not all

perfect and fancy like the town house.'

Rio sent her an appreciative smile that made her heart lurch inside her.