Rose nodded and hugged her tightly. ‘Thank you so very much, Mum.’
‘What for?’
‘Everything.’
Dante was waiting impatiently in the lobby as the others hurried on their way to let the bride and groom make their triumphal entry. ‘You look so beautiful, tesoro,’ he told Rose, his eyes glowing. ‘And so like the girl at the Vilari wedding I thought I was dreaming when you walked towards me today.’
‘You like my dress?’
‘So much I cannot wait to take it off,’ he said in her ear, then laughed delightedly at her heightened colour and took her hand as music struck up inside the ballroom to herald the arrival of the bride and groom. ‘Allora. That is our song!’
Later that evening, when they were finally alone in one of the luxury suites at the Chesterton in town, Dante took his bride in his arms and kissed her with a sigh of relief. ‘At last I have you to myself, Signora Fortinari.’
Rose smiled wryly. ‘Is that really me?’
He nodded and rubbed his cheek against hers. ‘It is a title you share with my mother, also with Harriet, so, to be sure you know who you belong to, sposa mia, think of yourself as Signora Dante Fortinari.’
‘I will,’ she assured him and hesitated, wondering whether to give him her news now. No. Best to keep it for later. ‘It was such a lovely day, Dante.’ She turned her back. ‘I should have changed before we left the Hermitage but—’
‘You knew I would want to take the dress off myself,’ he agreed, and kissed the nape of her neck. ‘Mille grazie, tesoro.’
‘You’re welcome! Will you undo my buttons, please?’
Dante heaved in a deep breath. ‘Dio, Rose, my hands are unsteady and you have many buttons.’
‘Exactly the same number as last time.’
‘I do not remember undoing so many!’
‘You didn’t undo any.’ Rose turned her head to meet his eyes. ‘I was so eager I did it myself.’
Dante breathed in sharply and buried his face against her neck. ‘This time,’ he said through his teeth, ‘even though I want you more than my next breath, I will do it, innamorata.’ He began undoing the tiny satin-covered buttons with speed and dexterity which quickly sent the dress into a heap of caramel chiffon at Rose’s feet, and he snatched her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, his eyes dancing as he saw the blue silk garter above one knee.
‘My something blue,’ she said breathlessly.
Dante slid the garter down her leg and took it off to put in his pocket, then, with maddeningly slow care, removed her stockings and the satin underwear that had cost almost as much as her dress. He looked at her in simmering silence for a moment and then, careless of finest designer tailoring, tore off the rest of his clothes. He pulled her to her feet beside the bed to hold her close and kissed her parted mouth. ‘I want you so much, Rose,’ he whispered.
Not exactly what she wanted to hear, but for now it was enough because she wanted him just as much.
He bent to pull back the covers on the bed. ‘I can wait no longer, sposa mia.’ He picked her up and gave a purring growl of pleasure as they came together in the bed, skin to skin.