‘He’s a stranger,’ she whispered to it, thinking back to the conversation she’d had with her mother last night.
 
 Carla, looking much restored after her time at thefazenda, had come into her bedroom just before Bel had turned off the light, and had taken her daughter’s hands in hers.
 
 ‘Querida, I am now going to tell you what will happen to you tomorrow night,’ she’d begun.
 
 ‘Mãe,’ Bel had said, as horribly embarrassed as Carla, ‘I think I know.’
 
 Her mother had looked vaguely relieved, but had still persisted.
 
 ‘So you are aware that the first time may be a little . . . uncomfortable? And that you might bleed? Though some say if you have ridden horses, the delicate tissue that marks a woman out as pure could already have broken. And you rode such a lot at thefazenda.’
 
 ‘I didn’t know any of that,’ said Bel truthfully.
 
 ‘The . . . process takes some getting used to, but I imagine Gustavo is experienced in the ways of it and I’m sure he will be gentle with you.’
 
 ‘Mãe, is it . . . is it ladylike to enjoy it?’ asked Bel tentatively.
 
 Carla let out a peal of laughter. ‘Of course,querida. You will be a married woman, and there is nothing a husband wishes for more than a wife who is happy to explore the pleasures of the bedroom. It’s how you keep your husband, and how I have kept mine.’ A faint tinge of colour rose to her cheeks. ‘And remember, it’s for God’s purpose: to beget babies. It is a holy state between a husband and wife. Goodnight, Izabela. Sleep well and do not fear for tomorrow. It will be better than you expect, I promise.’
 
 As Bel remembered this conversation, she also thought of her automatic revulsion at the thought of Gustavo touching her in the ways her mother had subtly described. Rising from the chair to return to him, she only hoped that it was first-time nerves and that after tonight, it would be as her mother had told her.
 
 *
 
 An awed hush fell on the grand ballroom as Izabela entered in her spectacular Patou ballgown of shimmering white, which hugged her curves and cascaded into a fishtail train behind her.
 
 As Gustavo embraced her, the guests applauded.
 
 ‘You look beautiful, my darling, and every man in the room is jealous that it will be me sharing your bed tonight,’ he whispered in her ear.
 
 Apart from the first dance, for the next three hours she hardly saw Gustavo. They each entertained their own family, and Bel danced with numerous nameless men who all told her how lucky Gustavo was to have caught her on his hook. She drank very little, already sick with tension about what would happen afterwards, a feeling that resurfaced with a vengeance as the guests began to gather near the main staircase to cheer them both on their way upstairs.
 
 ‘It is time,’ Gustavo said, appearing beside her, and they walked together through to the front of the crowd.
 
 Gustavo called for silence. ‘Meus senhores, senhoras e amigos. May I thank you for coming and celebrating this great day with us. But now, it is time for me to take my wife’s hand and lead her upstairs.’
 
 A round of whistles and lewd catcalls followed his remark.
 
 ‘So, I bid you good evening and goodnight. Come, Izabela.’ He offered his arm to her and she took it. And turning, they walked up the stairs.
 
 This time, once the door to their suite was shut, Gustavo’s approach was not so subtle. Without further ado, he pushed her onto the bed and pinned her wrists against the mattress, covering her face and neck with frenzied kisses and pawing at her beautiful gown.
 
 ‘One moment,’ she whispered. ‘Let me turn over and you can undo the buttons,’ she said, relieved that she could roll away from the stench of the alcohol on his breath.
 
 She felt his hands clumsily picking at the tiny seed pearls that held her dress together and felt his frustration as he finally grabbed the material and tore it open.
 
 Pulling the dress away from her body, he undid her brassiere then turned her over, his lips diving straight to her nipples. A hand travelled up her stockinged inner thigh and then ventured beneath the triangle of silk that covered her innermost part.
 
 After a few seconds of further fumbling, he ripped the silk away, then knelt up to undo his own trouser buttons and release himself. Still fully dressed, he pushed his hardness against her tender skin, moaning in frustration when it could not find entry. Finally, using his own hand, he manoeuvred himself to the opening he sought and thrust himself into her.
 
 Bel lay beneath him biting her lip from the pain. The world was black above her as she closed her eyes and took deep breaths to stop the panic. Thankfully, after only a few seconds, he gave a strangely feminine high-pitched scream, and collapsed on top of her.
 
 Bel lay still, listening to the heavy breathing in her ear. His head was next to hers, face down on the counterpane, his entire weight upon her so that she was pinned beneath him, her knees bent over the edge of the bed. Finally, when she made a move to disentangle herself, he raised his head and looked at her.
 
 ‘At last, you’re truly mine.’ He smiled as he touched her cheek. ‘Now, you must go and clean yourself up. You understand that the first time—’
 
 ‘I know,’ she said quickly, making swiftly for the bathroom before he had a chance to elaborate.
 
 Bel was glad that she and her mother had had the conversation the night before the wedding. For even though her insides ached, when she wiped herself, the tissue remained clear. Taking down her hair, she changed into the nightdress andpeignoirthat a hotel chambermaid had thoughtfully hung on the back of the door earlier. When she returned to the bedroom, Gustavo was already lying naked in bed. His face wore a puzzled expression.