The Italian's Bought Bride
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‘It sounded…’ Her mouth was dry and she licked her lips. ‘It sounded so…’
‘So what?’ Stefano challenged.
‘Cold,’ she whispered.
Stefano raised his eyebrows. ‘What are you trying to say to me, Allegra? Are you having second thoughts?’
‘No!’ She grabbed for his hand and after a second he coolly withdrew it. ‘Stefano…I just wondered…the things you said…’
‘Do you doubt that I’ll care for you? Protect and provide for you?’ he demanded.
‘No,’ Allegra said quickly, ‘but Stefano, I want more than that. I want—’
He shook his head with slow, final deliberation. ‘What more is there?’
Allegra gazed at him with wide, startled eyes. What more is there? So much more, she wanted to say. There was kindness, respect, honesty. Sharing joy and laughter, as well as sorrow and heartache. Bearing one another’s burdens in love. Yet she saw the hard lines of Stefano’s face, the coldness of his eyes, and knew that he was not thinking of these things.
They didn’t matter.
They didn’t exist.
Allegra licked her lips. ‘But Stefano…’ she whispered, although she didn’t know what to say. She barely knew what to feel.
Stefano held one hand up to stop her half-spoken plea. Something twisted his features, flickered in his eyes. Allegra didn’t know what it was, but she didn’t like it. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, cold and frightening. ‘Are you questioning what kind of man I am?’
His voice and face were so harsh, unfamiliar. Allegra shook her head. ‘No!’ she gasped, and it came out in a half sob for she knew then that she was. And so did he.
Stefano was silent for a long moment, his gaze hard and fastened on hers, until Allegra could bear it no longer and stared at the floor.
She realized he was treating her like a child—a child to be charmed or chastened, placated or punished.
With sudden, stark clarity, she realized he’d always treated her this way. She’d never felt like a wife, or even a woman.
She wondered if she ever would.
‘Go to bed, Allegra.’ He tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear, his thumb skimming her face once more. ‘Go to bed, mylittle bride. Tomorrow is our wedding day. A new beginning, for both of us.’
‘Yes…’ she whispered. Except it didn’t feel like a beginning. It felt like the end. Her throat was raw and aching and she couldn’t look at him as she nodded. The implications of what he had said to her father—what he had now said to her—were flooding through her, an endless tide of confusion and fear. ‘Yes…all right.’
‘Do not be afraid.’
She nodded again, jerkily, as she moved backwards up the stairs. Stefano gazed up at her, his eyes burning into her mind, her heart, her soul. Burning and destroying.
She turned around and ran the rest of the way up.
‘Allegra!’
Gasping aloud in frightened surprise, she saw her mother, Isabel, striding down the upstairs corridor. Allegra glanced behind her, but she could no longer see Stefano.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ Isabel demanded, belting her dressing gown, her long, still-blonde hair streaming behind her in a smooth ripple.
‘I…I couldn’t sleep.’ Allegra stumbled into her bedroom and her mother followed. Everything was unchanged, she saw—the teddy bears, the tattered books, her wedding dress. All signs of her innocence, her ignorance.
‘What is wrong?’ Isabel asked. Her face, with its austere beauty, was harsh. ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!’
‘Nothing is wrong,’ Allegra lied quickly. ‘I couldn’t sleep and I went for a drink of water.’
Isabel arched one eyebrow and Allegra shrank back a little. She wasn’t frightened of her mother, but she couldn’t help but be nervous around her. After a lifetime of nannies and boarding school, she sometimes wondered if she even knew her mother at all.
Isabel’s cold eyes swept over Allegra’s dishevelled appearance. ‘Have you seen Stefano?’ she asked, and there was a sly note in her voice that made Allegra’s skin crawl even as she shook her head.
‘No. No, I—’
‘Don’t lie to me, Allegra.’ Isabel took her daughter’s chin in her hand, forcing her to remain still, as pinned as a butterfly uselessly fluttering its fragile wings. ‘You never could lie to me,’ Isabel said. ‘You’ve seen him. But what’s happened?’ There was a cruel note in her voice as she added, ‘Has the fairy tale been tarnished, my dear daughter?’
Allegra didn’t know what her mother meant, but she didn’t like her tone. Even so, she felt trapped, helpless. And alone.
And she wanted to confide in someone, anyone, even her mother.
‘I saw him,’ she whispered, blinking back tears.
There was a tiny pause that spoke far more than anything her mother could have said in words. ‘And?’
‘I heard him talking to Papa…’ Allegra closed her eyes, shook her head.
Her mother exhaled impatiently. ‘So?’
‘It’s all been a business arrangement!’ This came out in a wretched whisper that caught on the jagged edge of her throat. Tears stung her eyes. ‘Stefano never loved me.’
Her mother watched her with cool impassivity. ‘Of course he didn’t.’
Allegra’s mouth dropped open as another illusion was ripped away. ‘You knew? You knew all along…?’ Yet even as she spoke the words, Allegra wondered why she was surprised. Her mother had never confided in her, never seemed to enjoy her company. Why shouldn’t Isabel know? Why shouldn’t she have been in on the sordid deal, the business of brokering a wife, selling a daughter?
‘Oh, Allegra, you are such a child.’ Isabel sounded weary rather than regretful. ‘Of course I knew. Your father approached Stefano before your eighteenth birthday and suggested the match. Our social connections, his money. That was why he was at your party. That was why you had a party.’