Page 13 of His Innocent's Passionate Awakening

His gaze held hers in a smouldering lock that made the backs of her knees tingle. ‘That will be the easy part.’

CHAPTER FOUR

ARTIE STOOD IN FRONT of the cheval mirror in her bedroom and checked her appearance. She had decided against wearing her mother’s wedding dress and chosen a cream satin ballgown of her mother’s instead. It was a classic design with a tulle underskirt that emphasised her neat waist, and a close-fitting bodice that hinted at the shape of her breasts without revealing too much cleavage. She hadn’t wanted to taint her mother’s beautiful wedding gown with her charade of a marriage. Her parents had married for love and lived happily together until Artie insisted on going to a birthday party against their wishes when she was fifteen.

She bit down on her lip until it hurt. Why had she been so adamant about going to that stupid party? Where were those supposed friends of hers now? Only a handful came to visit her in hospital. None had come to the castello once she had been released. None had come to her mother’s funeral. She had stood beside her father’s wheelchair as her mother was lowered into the family plot at the castello with her heart in pieces, guilt raining down on her heavier than what was coming from the dismal sky above. How could one teenage decision have so many unforeseen consequences?

Artie plucked at the skirt of her dress, her stomach an ants’ nest of nerves. Today was her wedding day. The day she married Luca Ferrantelli in a paper marriage to save her family home. Would this be another decision she would later regret? Or would the consolation of getting the castello back into her possession wipe out any misgivings? She glanced at the engagement ring on her hand. The longer she wore it, the more she loved it. She felt strangely connected to Luca’s grandmother by wearing her ring. But would the old lady spin in her grave to know Artie was entering into a loveless union with her grandson?

Rosa came in carrying a bouquet of flowers she had picked from the garden. ‘You look beautiful, Artie.’ She handed her the simple but fragrant bouquet. ‘You’re not wearing a veil?’

Artie brought the flowers up to her nose and breathed in the heady scent of roses and orange blossom. ‘This isn’t a proper wedding.’

Rosa frowned. ‘But it’s still a legal one. You might as well look like a proper bride. And make that handsome groom of yours sit up and take notice.’ She went to the large wardrobe and pulled out the long cardboard box where Artie’s mother’s wedding dress and veil were stored on the top shelf. She placed the box on the bed and lifted the lid and removed the tissue-wrapped heirloom hand-embroidered veil that had been worn by both Artie’s mother and grandmother. Rosa shook out the veil and then brought it over to Artie. ‘Come on. Indulge me.’

Artie rolled her eyes but gave in, allowing Rosa to fasten the veil on her head, securing it with hair pins. Rosa draped the veil over Artie’s face and then stepped back to inspect her handiwork. ‘You will knock Luca Ferrantelli’s socks off, sì?’

Artie turned back to look at her reflection. She did indeed look like a proper bride. She glanced at Rosa. ‘Tell me I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life. My second biggest, I mean.’

Rosa grasped one of Artie’s hands, her eyes shimmering with tears. ‘You have already lost so much. You can’t lose the castello as well. Sometimes we have to do whatever it takes to make the best of things.’ She released Artie’s hand and brushed at her eyes and gave a rueful smile. ‘Weddings always make me emotional. Just as well I didn’t get married myself.’

‘Would you have liked to?’ Artie was surprised she hadn’t thought to ask before now. Rosa was in her sixties and had been a part of the castello household for as long as Artie could remember. They had talked about many things over the years but not about the housekeeper’s love life or lack thereof.

Rosa made a business of fussing over the arrangement of the skirt of Artie’s gown. ‘I fell in love once a long time ago. It didn’t work out.’

‘What happened?’

Rosa bent down lower to pick a fallen rose petal off the floor. She scrunched it in her hand and gave a thin-lipped smile. ‘He married someone else. I never found anyone else who measured up.’

‘Oh, that’s so sad.’

Rosa laughed but it sounded tinny. ‘I saved myself a lot of heartache. Apparently, he’s been divorced three times since then.’ Her expression suddenly sobered. ‘Your parents were lucky to have found each other. I know they didn’t have as long together as they would have liked but it’s better to have five years with the right one than fifty with the wrong one.’

But what about six months with a man who had only met her a matter of days ago? A man who was so dangerously attractive, her blood raced every time he looked at her?

* * *

Luca stood in the castello’s chapel, waiting for Artie to appear. His grandfather had been too unwell to travel, but Luca planned to take his new bride to meet him as soon as their marriage was official. Luca had organised for a priest to officiate rather than a celebrant, because he knew it would please his grandfather, who was a deeply religious man—hence his disapproval of Luca’s life in the fast lane.

As much as he wanted his grandfather to meet Artie as soon as possible, he was quite glad he would have her to himself for a day or two. They would hardly be convincing as a newly married couple if they didn’t look comfortable and at ease with each other.

She was a challenge he was tempted to take on. Her resistance to his charm was potently attractive. Not because he didn’t respect and honour the word no when a woman said it. He could take rejection and take it well. He was never so emotionally invested in a relationship that he was particularly cut up when it ended.

But he sensed Artie’s interest in him. Sensed the chemistry that swirled in the atmosphere when they were together. Would it be risky to explore that chemistry? She was young and unworldly. What if she didn’t accept the terms of the deal and wanted more than he was prepared to give? He couldn’t allow that to happen. If she fell in love with him it would change everything.

And if he fell in love with her...

He sidestepped the thought like someone avoiding a sinkhole. Loving her would indeed be a pitfall. For her and for him. Love was a dangerous emotion. Whenever he thought of the possibility of loving someone, his heart would shy away like a horse refusing a jump. Too dangerous. Too risky. Too painful.

The back of Luca’s neck started to tingle and he turned to see Artie standing in the portal. He suppressed a gasp, his eyes drinking in the vision of her dressed in a stunning cream ballgown and off-white heirloom veil. The bright golden sunlight backlit her slim frame, making her look like an angel. As she walked towards him carrying a small bouquet of flowers he had to remind himself to breathe. The closer she got, the more his heart pounded, the more his blood thundered. And a strange sensation flowed into his chest. Warmth spreading over something hard and frozen, melting, reshaping, softening.

He gave himself a mental slap. No emotions allowed. This was a business deal. Nothing else. So what if she looked as beautiful as an angel? So what if his body roared with lust at the thought of touching her? This wasn’t about him—it was about his grandfather. Giving him the will to live long enough to have treatment that could cure him or at least give him a few more precious years of life.

Artie came to stand beside him, her face behind the veil composed, and yet twin circles of pink glowed in her cheeks. Her make-up highlighted the flawless, creamy texture of her skin, the deep brown of her eyes and the thick ink-black lashes that surrounded them. Her lips shone with a hint of lip gloss, making him ache to press his mouth to hers to see if it tasted as sweet and luscious as it looked. He could smell her perfume, an intoxicating blend of fresh flowers that reminded him of the sweet hope of spring after a long, bleak winter.

‘You look breathtaking,’ Luca said, taking her hands in his. Her small fingers moved within the embrace of his and a lightning rod of lust almost knocked him off his feet. Maybe he shouldn’t have suggested a paper marriage. Maybe he should have insisted on the real deal. The thought of consummating their marriage sent a wave of heat through his body. But his conscience slammed on the brakes. No. No. No. It wouldn’t be fair. He wasn’t the settling-down type and she had fairy-tale romance written all over her. Which, ironically, was why she was perfect for the role of his temporary bride. No one else would satisfy his grandfather. It had to be her.

‘I—I’m nervous...’ Her voice trembled and her teeth sank into the plush softness of her bottom lip.

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