Page 43 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

‘It is. A view of the summer house near the tennis courts,’ she said, meeting the question in his eyes. ‘During the school holidays we always stayed put. We couldn’t afford to go on holiday and my mum got paid extra for being on the premises, which sometimes made me feel like I never got away from the place. But I was allowed full use of the art department and that was brilliant.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.’

‘Because I want to know. I want to know everything about you,la mia cara, and I intend to spend the rest of my life finding out.’ He picked up her hand and kissed each finger in turn, his gaze not leaving her face. ‘So will you marry me, Kelly? As soon as possible?’

‘Will I marry you?’ She laughed with sheer and exultant joy. ‘Hell, yes.’

Had she thought that life couldn’t get any more perfect?

It was just about to.

EPILOGUE

‘CARA?’

Romano’s voice was silky as Kelly turned to look at him, basking in the coal-dark brilliance of his eyes. She’d thought he was asleep after that particularly passionate bout of lovemaking but, there again, he never failed to surprise her with his powers of recovery. ‘Mmm?’

‘You’re okay?’ he purred.

Lazily, she trickled her hand down over his chest, biting back a smile as she felt his wriggle of faint impatience when her fingers came to a teasing halt. ‘Why, Romano Castelliari, I think you want me again.’

‘Always,’ he affirmed hungrily. ‘But you haven’t answered my question.’

She let her gaze drift over him, thinking he looked like a marble statue as he lay in the silver-coated moonlight with only a sheet covering his magnificent body. ‘I’ve never been more okay,’ she assured him. ‘It was an absolutely gorgeous day.’

‘So everyone said.’

She gave a sigh of contentment. Today had been the christening of Floriana and Max’s third child and this time Riccardo and Angie had flown in from America with their family to the Tuscancastello. The ceremony had been held in the Castelliari church but this time Kelly had been delighted to observe that Romano’s rugged features had shown no trace of anguish or bitterness, for his demons had been vanquished. By her, he said. His beautiful wife. He said a lot of nice things like that.

It had been great to get all the cousins together—Angie and Riccardo’s two, Floriana and Max’s three and Kelly and Romano’s sturdy little toddler son, Vito. Kelly smiled.

‘Why are you smiling like the cat that got the cream?’ he probed.

‘Because I’m happy. And I’m also curious.’

‘Oh, you’re always curious,’ he murmured, his hand cupping her breast. ‘Go on, then. Satisfy your curiosity. Ask away.’

‘Does it feel weird for you?’ she probed. ‘Knowing it’s not your castle any more? That we’re staying here as guests for the first time?’

He considered the question, then shook his head. ‘Not at all. Max is a good estate manager and the family is happy. And, to be perfectly honest, I’m much happier about their children being brought up in Italy.’

‘You’re so traditional,’ she teased.

‘And you love it.’

‘Mmm. That’s probably because I love you.’ She told him that as often as possible, feeling he had a lot of love to catch up on, and every day she somehow loved him a little bit more. It was slightly scary to realise that nearly three years had passed since that afternoon in Granchester when he’d asked her to marry him. The following morning she had left her tiny flat and never gone back, moving permanently to Italy—a country she now considered home.

They had wed very quickly, in secret, in a small venue overlooking the green sweep of the Piedmont hills. Neither of them had wanted a fuss, or press, or any intrusive questions about why they weren’t marrying at the family castle. Kelly had barely paid any attention to her dress or her flowers. The day had been about them, and their love. And she had cried. Of course she had. But Romano was a dab hand at dealing with tears these days, drying them tenderly with his pristine handkerchief, just as he had done on that night at the opera.

Her life had changed in so many ways when she’d left England. Exactly nine months after their wedding, their son Vito had been born and was the light of his adoring parents’ lives. What a wonderful father Romano was, she thought lovingly. So tender and so strong.

She was still making jewellery—very part-time—but had come to an executive decision on what would be more likely to sell in the more affluent circles in which she now moved. She certainly hadn’t started using diamonds but was now crafting her distinctive dangly earrings in gold and was doing better than she could have ever dreamed. Sometimes she had to stop and ask herself if this was real life, it was so good.

‘You’re pregnant, aren’t you?’ Romano said suddenly.

She nodded, continuing to trace the outline of his lips with the tip of her finger. ‘I think so. I mean, I’m only a bit late and I haven’t done a test yet but I just feeldifferentsomehow. Does that sound mad to you?’

For a moment Romano couldn’t speak, the lump in his throat was so damned big. And then he looked at her shining eyes and the thick fall of hair and the way she was smiling at him and he pulled her closer so that she could hear the loud thunder of his heart.

‘No, not mad,’ he purred.

It sounded perfect.

She was perfect. In every way.

And when he had finished kissing her, he would tell her so.

---