room.
Her gift lay on the table unopened. He couldn’t imagine what she might have given him relating to his brother. The youngest daughter of King Victor could be unpredictable, so it seemed.
When he realized he was making too much of it, he undid the gold paper around the flat, three-by-four-inch box. As he lifted the lid, he saw his own face looking up at him. The black-and-white photo took him back in time. He remembered sending it to Alberto, who was always after him to send him pictures.
A friend had taken it while he was in Kenya at the mine. He drew it from the box. There was a note folded beneath it. He smoothed it out.
Dear Lanza,
After I returned home from my last visit to Domodossola, I decided to send you this photo of Stefano at twenty-two because you said you wanted to get to know me better and asked me what I treasured most.
As I told you, I’ve always missed him and wished he were here. No one ever had a better brother.
I’ll never stop loving him and hope this helps you to understand the sadness you sometimes glimpse in me. I’ve always considered him my other half. Life has never been quite the same without him.
Alberto
Stefano closed his eyes tightly, squeezing the paper in his hand. Gripped by emotions churning inside him, he remained there for countless minutes. When he could function, he dashed down the stairs for his ski outfit and gloves. The need to be alone propelled him outside into the storm, which hadn’t abated. He was surprised it had gone on this long.
The deep snow made it difficult to walk, but he was so churned up, nothing mattered. He kept going for several hours, working off the adrenaline surging through him.
He would never have credited Lanza with enough sensitivity to give him a priceless treasure like the one in the box. Though he’d believed his parents, the note and photo to Lanza was further verification that everything they’d told him about his younger brother’s desire for Stefano to be free was true.
He found himself suffering all over again for Alberto’s willingness to rule while Stefano was allowed to wander the globe doing exactly what he wanted. Stefano had missed his brother, too, so much at times he’d wondered if his freedom had been worth it.
Where Lanza was concerned, he felt remorse for insinuating that she might have been unfaithful to Alberto. What in the hell had prompted him to use words that made her feel like he was treating her as an enemy with that couriered message? She’d been as much of a victim as he had.
Guilt plagued him over his behavior. He’d made her feel that she was trapped in a loveless, sexless marriage and could never have his heart because he hadn’t wanted to be a royal.
During their conversation he’d meant it when he’d told her he was looking forward to having children with her. If she hadn’t acted excited at the prospect, it was because she’d been guarding herself with good reason. He realized he’d done a lot of damage with his words. Those emails were a paltry excuse for the time alone they’d needed. She had every right to think of him as a beast.
While he’d been out walking in the snow, he’d been contemplating a plan to make her happy. If she wanted freedom, they would work out an arrangement.
Who was she, really?
The woman who’d exchanged vows with him yesterday had the face of an angel and eyes the color of a deep blue fjord. But after the conversation they’d exchanged at breakfast this morning—which had turned him inside out—he couldn’t get her off his mind.
Had Lanza been grief-stricken at his brother’s funeral, or had it been an act? Stefano would give anything to know if the wife he’d only been married to for twenty-four hours was the same woman Alberto had talked to over the year they’d been betrothed.
Enzo’s words to him at the bank a year ago hadn’t left his thoughts. Let her know before you’re married that you plan to be your own person and continue doing the mining work you love while you help her father govern. It’ll mean you’ll be apart from her for long periods. Give her time to adjust to that fact, know what I mean?
Stefano’s best friend had turned out to give him the wrong advice. That wasn’t Enzo’s fault. Stefano had been wrong to follow it and was the only one to blame for making Lanza feel insecure about a marriage forced on her.
To his shock it was already late afternoon by the time he made it back to the chalet. He’d been gone much longer than he’d realized and imagined he looked like the abominable snowman. But he didn’t have to worry about Lanza, who hadn’t been concerned how long he’d been gone, nor had she rushed downstairs even if she’d heard him come in.
When he removed his gear and eventually went upstairs, he saw her engrossed in a book on one of the couches facing the fireplace. She looked so enticing he wanted to lie down and take her in his arms.
To his chagrin there was no sign of a hysterical wife who was out of her mind with worry because she’d been left alone too long in a strange place and felt unprotected. Stefano had the deep impression she didn’t know what time it was and didn’t care. Again, it was all his fault. He needed to change things—and quickly.
He walked down the hall to his bedroom to freshen up. Before he joined her, he went to the closet for his overcoat. The pockets still held her high heels. He picked them up and placed them inside her bedroom door.
An odd sensation passed through him when he thought of her standing on them throughout their entire wedding day. She stood five feet four, but they’d made her taller. Taking a deep breath, he had to admit he’d found her exquisite with that lace veil covering her features in an almost seductive way.
No doubt Alberto had been attracted to her from the beginning. That would explain why it hadn’t been hard to go along with the betrothal. Stefano couldn’t help but wonder if Lanza had been physically drawn to his brother. Alberto, who resembled their mother, had enjoyed girlfriends behind the scenes before becoming engaged to Lanza.
Irritated because he was dwelling too much on the two of them, he headed for the living room. His wife had curled up on one end of the couch with a throw blanket covering her.
“Is that a book you brought with you?”