She’d always wanted to feel a part of a warm, gregarious family and suspected she would turn into the clichéd Italian mother doting on her son into his forties, but for now she was still daunted by the many-stranded web of Alessandro’s blood ties.
And she had never been able to see herself as the matriarch of that network and this house. Whenever she came here to the castello, she felt like a very temporary, barely tolerated guest.
She loved the place all the same.
As they began the climb that wound through the lower portion of the vineyard, she took in the beauty of the estate. Even in winter it was covered in the lush confusion of the estate manager’s intensive farming techniques. With the land so fertile, Alessandro’s grandfather put every speck of dirt to work. Olive trees bordered the rows of grapes. Beneath the orange trees, the lavender had been cut back for winter. Garlic and runner beans would soon spring up in the lemon grove. Strawberries, their leaves faded by winter, surrounded the fig trees and the stacked plots where the tomatoes and basil would grow were freshly turned and ready.
Then the house rose to its full glory. Its yellow stone and red-tiled roof held a matte finish in the weak sunlight, but its sprawling wings and elegant balconies were as aristocratic as ever. It was gracefully aged, never old.
The driver pulled the SUV to a stop in a crunch of gravel between the fountain and the wide front steps. They were keeping the protection of a security team as a precaution, but Bree was quick to leap from the front seat and scan the layered balconies and small terraces across the upper levels of the castello. She was only four years younger than Octavia, but made her feel ancient.
Octavia bumped knuckles with Alessandro as they both tried to release the baby from the straps of his car seat.
“I’ll do it,” Alessandro said, but caught her hand. “Rings still don’t fit?”
“I didn’t try them this morning. Too tired,” she said truthfully, disturbed as he gave her fingers a gentle massage, trickling warmth through her.
She knew what he was doing with all these seemingly absent caresses; he’d done the same thing in the weeks leading up to their wedding night. It was a type of calculated seduction and she wished she didn’t respond to it, but she did. He was gorgeous in a three-piece suit and tie, while she felt dowdy in a wrap dress and low heels, her makeup applied hastily on the plane to try to disguise the circles under her eyes.
“Things will be calmer now we’re home,” he promised.
Except they weren’t home. They were staying here at the castello, through his grandfather’s birthday, before they would finally return to the town house in a week or so to properly start their life afresh.
She wished she had as much confidence in their marriage now as she’d had going into it nearly a year ago. Ignorance was bliss, she supposed, because today she held a lot of trepidation for the gauntlet that had to be endured here and the return to the life she’d failed to master the first time around.
But Alessandro meant that being away from his mother would be more peaceful.
Octavia missed her already and hadn’t wanted to leave London, but Ysabelle had been leaving to see her count anyway. Besides, every time Octavia had decided she didn’t want to come to Italy with Alessandro, he’d done something considerate like take Lorenzo when he was fussing or brought her something to eat or drink when she sat down to nurse. It had been a lot easier to resent him when they’d been apart. When he was near, handsome and attentive, dropping little kisses and caresses on her, she slipped back into blind adoration.
More important, even though he happily handed off diaper duty to the nanny, she had observed him showing a sincere attachment to their son. This morning she’d overheard their man-to-man chat about world markets and which investments to avoid for the next year. It amused her all over again thinking of it. He’d sounded so serious, asking Lorenzo for his opinion on the matter.
So there was one fact she couldn’t deny in all of this: Lorenzo deserved to have his father in his life.
Which meant she had to find her place in Alessandro’s.
No matter how daunting the prospect.
She drew a long, subtle breath as the maggiordomo came out the open doors of the castello and down the stairs. He greeted her with one of his polite nods. “The family is eager to meet the new arrival, Signora. They’re waiting in the front parlor.”
Wonderful. Octavia found a smile.
Alessandro came around the car with Lorenzo bundled in one arm. He held out his free hand to her, sparing a moment to offer her a steady look. Gratitude? Pride? She wasn’t sure how to interpret it.
She swallowed, unsteady as they climbed the stairs and entered together.