Happiness shone from the depths of her eyes as I lowered her onto the soft sheepskin and crawled above her. Caresa’s hands glided along my back and stroked along my skin. I rolled my hips against her, closing my eyes as I felt her warmth beneath me. I lowered my head and joined my mouth to hers.
“Ti amo per sempre,” I whispered.
“I will love you forever too,” she said with a smile. I skirted my body down over hers and kissed every inch of her olive skin. I ran my tongue over her breasts, Caresa arching into my touch. I continued south until I reached the apex of her thighs.
Caresa’s back arched as I brought my mouth between her legs and kissed her most sensitive part. A cry left her mouth. The sound, her taste and her warmth all spurred me on, my tongue lapping and lips sucking as her hands gripped onto my hair. My hands ran over her flat stomach and down over her thighs as I brought her closer and closer to the edge. I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to never hear her cries of pleasure stop. With a strangled moan, Caresa tipped her head back and tightened her grip on my head. I kept my tongue on her as she broke apart in pleasure, tasting her until her hands guided my head back north.
Caresa’s brown eyes were glazed, her cheeks flushed with red. “I want you,” she urged as she guided me onto my back. She climbed on top of me and straddled my thighs. My hands landed on her waist as she placed me at her entrance, then slowly sank down. My eyes rolled closed as I filled her, inch by inch, until I was deep inside. Caresa bent forward and sought out my mouth with her lips. I groaned as her tongue slipped over mine, then she moved, her hips rolling slowly and deeply. Her mouth slipped from mine, and I opened my eyes to see her face right before me. Her lips were parted and her eyes were leaden, but she whispered, “I love you, Achille Marchesi. With my whole heart.”
“I love you too.” I moaned loudly as her hips increased their speed. My hands on her waist guided her movements as I felt the pressure of my release building within me.
“Mi amore,” I whispered as her breathing stuttered and her movements jerked.
“Achille,” Caresa gasped as my hands gripped her hips like a vise. And then she stilled, crying out with pleasure, taking me over the edge with her. Light exploded behind my eyes as I groaned out my release, striving to catch my breath.
Caresa fell on top of my damp body, her skin hot from the fire’s warmth and her hair damp from exertion. She breathed into the crook of my neck as my hands still refused to let her go.
After a few minutes, I shifted her to the side, her head lying on my shoulder. I ran my fingertips down her arm, happy in the fact that I had her back. That I had her beside me again, in my home, beside the fire that she had kept lit for my return.
“Mi amore?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Mm?” Caresa said sleepily.
“You bottled for me.”
“You weren’t here,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t let this year’s vintage fail. I . . .” She breathed deeply, stifling a yawn. “I will never let you fail.”
Before she fell asleep, I said, “Amore?”
“Yes?”
“There is still a wedding date set for New Year’s Eve.”
Caresa’s head snapped up at my words. “What are you saying?” she asked.
I lifted her left ring finger and pressed a kiss to the diamond. I smiled. “This looks better than the vine ring I gave you weeks ago.”
“I don’t know about that,” she said, then ducked her gaze. “I . . . I still have it, Achille. I keep it under my pillow, so that you are always near.”
“Caresa,” I croaked. Then I laughed. “I still have mine too. In my wallet. I keep it with me always.”
“You do?” she asked softly.
“Always.” I turned on the rug to face her and ran a finger down her face. “Marry me on New Year’s Eve. A Sa . . . Savona.” I stuttered, the surname sounding peculiar from my lips. “Marry me in the Duomo, a prince and a duchessa before God and all society. Marry me because I never want to be away from you again. Marry me because you’re my split-apart and I will never let you go.” My lips curled into a small smile. “Your parents are already here, the invites have been sent. And you already have the dress.”
Her eyes gleamed. “And my veil of vines.”
“You have vines on your veil?” I asked, my heart stuttering in my chest.
“I always dreamed I would.” She smiled. “From a child I envisioned silken vines woven into the Spanish lace veil.” She breathed in deeply and laid her head back on my shoulder. “Because God knew I would one day find you. Find you when I returned home, amongst the vines.”
Just as I thought she had fallen asleep, she whispered, “And yes, I will marry you on New Year’s Eve. I would marry you today if we could. I no longer want to wait to be your wife.”
Caresa couldn’t see it, but I smiled widely. She couldn’t feel it, but my heart exploded in my chest. And she would never know it, but she had brought me back to life. She gave me hope, she gave me grace, and better yet, she gave me her.
I once asked her what I could possibly give her; she had told me she simply wanted me.
And I wanted her.
Walking toward me in a church in a white lace dress.
With her veil of vines.
As she was always destined to be.
Chapter Seventeen
Florence, Italy
New Years Eve
Caresa
“Et voilà!” Julietta announced flamboyantly in French as she threw the sheet from the floor-length mirror. I blinked as I took in my reflection. I had seen the dress many times before this day. But today it was different. Because today I was marrying Achille, a newly announced prince of Italy. The love of my life who had recently taken his place in the history books of House Savona’s legacy.
I let my eyes sweep down my perfectly fitted long-sleeved white lace dress and to the simple ring I wore on my left hand. My hair was pulled back in an intricate bun. My makeup was flawless—my eyes enhanced with shades of brown, my lips and cheeks rosy. I wore large diamond studs in my ears, but the one item that stole the show was my veil.
My perfectly designed veil of vines.
“You look beautiful, Caresa,” my mother said from beside me. She lifted my hand and pressed a kiss on the back.
“Thank you, Mamma,” I said, trying my hardest not to cry.
Marietta came to stand beside me and wrapped her arm around mine. “My Caresa!” she said dramatically. “You look stunning.” I smiled at my best friend. Her blond hair was tied back in a low bun, and she looked radiant in her lavender silk maid-of-honor dress.
“Are you ready, Caresa?” Pia asked. She too was a bridesmaid, looking beautiful in lavender. “The cars have arrived.”
I took a deep breath and, smiling at my reflection, announced, “I’m ready.”
The staff stopped in their preparations for the wedding breakfast to watch me as I walked down the hallway. I smiled at them as I passed, nodding in acknowledgment of their support.
The past couple of weeks had been insane. A few days after our engagement, just before Christmas, Zeno had gathered the most important families in Italy at the Bella Collina estate. It was there that he declared Achille his brother. It was there that he informed the shell-shocked crowd that Achille was a Savona. And that he was also the maker of the Bella Collina merlot.
And Achille had stood beside his brother, dressed impeccably in a Tom Ford suit, looking every inch the prince that Zeno was claiming him to be.
Zeno explained that the marriage would still happen, but that I was now betrothed to Achille. I knew the gossips would be in full flight, purporting this to be the scandal of the decade—King Santo’s illicit affair with Achille’s mother, Achille being acknowledged as a Savona, and our sudden engagement. But I didn’t care.
Let them all talk.
As I rounded the hallway to the top of the stairs, my eyes fell on a portrait of the old king, painted when he was twenty-five. And there he was, my Achille staring back at me from the canvas. Zeno had always resembled the king. But as I stared at a young King Santo, looking proud in a traditional regal pose, I only saw Achille. It was clear why he had kept Achille hidden. Anyone who knew the king as a young man would have seen the resemblance in a heartbeat.