Home > A Veil of Vines(4)

A Veil of Vines(4)
Author: Tillie Cole

The prince approached at a leisurely pace, like a man who was used to people waiting for his arrival.

From this distance, I could barely make out his features, but the closer he got, the clearer they became. And Marietta had been right. He was extremely handsome, the epitome of Italian beauty. His black hair was thick, brushed over to the side and styled to perfection. His skin was olive and clear, his face cleanly shaven. His tailored navy-blue suit was most certainly designer, and it fit his lean, muscular body like a glove. I could see why the rumors of his handsomeness had reached the circles of the New York Italian gossipmongers.

When he was but a few feet from me, his blue eyes met mine. His jaw clenched briefly, as if he was fighting discomfort—or forcing himself to be here, I thought—but then a blinding smile pulled on his lips and a confident façade settled on his exquisite features. “Duchessa,” he said warmly, bowing politely before reaching for my hand. Such was the duty of any aristocratic man; he gently brought the back of my hand to his mouth and grazed his lips across the skin.

He released my hand, and I dropped into a curtsey. “Principe.”

When I stood, Zeno’s blue eyes were watching me closely, roving down over my fitted knee-length Chanel dress and down to my Prada heels. His gaze rushed over my shoulder-length hair, which was styled straight and parted in the center. On the plane, I had applied a dusting of light makeup, finishing the look with a bold red lip. Five-carat Tiffany diamond studs sparkled in my earlobes—classic Italian glamor.

His eyes finished their journey, and I caught a slight flaring of his nostrils. A nervousness washed over me. I may not have had a long history of relations with men, but I could recognize one who liked what he saw. The knowledge should have pleased me. It surprised me to find that I was simply . . . indifferent.

Zeno’s mouth hooked into a small smirk. Behind him, a few men dressed in the typical housekeeper uniforms of black pants, white shirts, black vests and smart black ties came down the stairs. Wordlessly, they moved to the trunk of the limo and retrieved the few suitcases I had brought with me.

“The belongings you had shipped arrived yesterday. They have already been put away in your room.” The prince pointed to the men now carrying my bags. “These too will be ready for you within the hour.”

Prince Zeno extended his elbow, gesturing for me to thread my arm through his. “That gives us time to eat the dinner I have had prepared to celebrate your arrival.”

I gave him a tight smile and linked his arm. We had only taken three steps when I said, “Oh, excuse me a moment.” I rushed back to the limo, grabbed the half-full bottle of Bella Collina merlot and hurried back to the where the prince was waiting.

His eyes narrowed as he noticed what I held. I felt my cheeks warm and explained, “2008 is such a special vintage of this wine. I couldn’t let it go to waste. Especially because of how much it costs.”

Prince Zeno smiled. “Your father mentioned your love of our most sought-after wine.” Ah, I thought, that explains it being left for me. I wondered what else my father had schooled him on to impress me. “We can have the rest with the meal,” he added.

Zeno pushed out his elbow once again. I linked my arm through his and let him lead me up the steps. With every step ascended, I couldn’t help but look out over the gardens, to the rolling hills in the distance.

“What do you think, Duchessa?” Zeno asked, bringing my attention back to him.

I shook my head, searching for something to say. I could not quite put the beauty of this magical place into words. “It is . . . beyond anything I could ever have imagined.”

“It is quite something,” Zeno agreed.

“How many acres do you have here?” I asked.

“Bella Collina has just under ten thousand.”

“That much?”

Zeno shrugged. “A great deal of that land is woods, orchards and olive trees for the oils. And, of course, the vines. About five thousand are used for the wines.” I cast my eyes over the vast land below. “Most of our vineyards around Italy are of a similar size.” He paused, then said proudly, “Though none produce wine like Bella Collina. Whether it be the soil here, the weather, or a mixture of both, no other winemaker in the world can compete.”

I nodded in agreement. “So you spend a lot of time here?”

Zeno tensed momentarily, before schooling himself. “Not so much. The palazzo in Florence is my home.” He cleared his throat. “My father . . . he spent much of his time here.”

At the mention of the king, I felt a rush of sympathy. Pressing my free hand to Zeno’s arm, I said, “I am so sorry about your father, Zeno. It must be difficult for you right now.”

Zeno’s blue eyes flicked down to me for a second before focusing back on the final set of steps. “Thank you. He spoke highly of you.” Zeno’s jaw clenched. Nothing else was said on the matter. It was obvious the subject was painful for him.

Silence reigned until we reached the house. I stopped and stared up at the mansion. “It is breathtaking.”

Zeno waited for me to stop my admiration before gesturing toward the open doors that led into the house. The minute I entered the lobby, my eyes widened. Above was a domed roof, which reminded me of the Florence Duomo, the beautiful cathedral where our wedding would take place. Rich golds and reds adorned the walls and furniture. And in the center was a grand staircase, split into two. Impressive crystal chandeliers hung like diamonds from the ceiling, bathing the room in golden light.

But best of all were the oil paintings of all the Savonas of Italy. I walked to the long wall and smiled at the old monarchs who had shaped Italian history. It ended with a new painting: Prince Zeno. He stood in a proud pose, staring off to the side, the angle showcasing his strong jaw and dark features.

I turned away, stopping in my tracks at the sight of the huge painting that covered most of the wall. It was of a small vineyard nestled into the side of a hill. I moved closer. The vines ran in rows, green and browns, bustling with ruby-red grapes, thick and ripe. In the distance was a small villa. No, it was better described as a gray stone cottage, like something pulled from the pages of a fairytale—a hidden sanctuary tucked away from the busy world. An old-fashioned lamp shone above its door, welcoming anyone who approached.

I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I was so entranced by the serene beauty of this small piece of heaven that I didn’t notice Zeno had moved beside me until he spoke. “It was my father’s favorite painting. He would spend hours looking at it.” He shrugged. “I have no idea why. It is of a shabby villa in the middle of a field, only fit for paupers.”

My stomach rolled at the hint of sadness in Zeno’s voice. He must have felt my pity, because he immediately cleared his throat and gestured for me to follow him. He led the way through an ornate golden archway to another large room where several people in housekeeping attire stood waiting.

Zeno moved to my side and placed a hand at my back. “This is the Duchessa di Parma,” he said to the estate’s staff. “Duchessa, these are the people who keep Bella Collina in pristine condition, the men and women who will make your stay here comfortable.”

I nodded and made sure to look each employee in the eye. “It’s very nice to meet you all.” I gestured around the beautiful room we were in. “You do an excellent job of maintaining the estate. I have never seen anything like it in my life.”

The men bowed and the women curtsied at my compliment. Zeno placed his hand on my back again and steered me through a set of glass doors and out onto a large patio. The warm breeze rippled through my hair. To my right was a dining table set for two.

I made my way toward the table, but stopped when I saw the view. “Beautiful,” I murmured as I moved to lean against the stone balustrade that bordered the patio. Beyond was a panoramic view of the vineyards, acres and acres of full and blooming vines. The moon hung low in the sky, bathing the countryside with its pale blue hue.

I heard the sound of a chair scraping stone. When I turned, Prince Zeno was holding the chair out for me to sit. Tearing myself from the view, I walked to the table and sat down. Zeno moved opposite and pointed to my hand. “Are you going to let go anytime soon?”

   
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