“Buongiorno,” Lauro said, grazing her lips. “Latte?”
The pink blush of dawn streamed through her bedroom window. Celina stretched and wriggled her nose at the smell of coffee and Matilde’s fresh, warm brioche. She was glad to be back at the villa, but she was still incredibly sore from the accident, even after three days. “How did you get in here?”
“You must have left the padlock off the door last night.”
“You’re not supposed to be in here. Your father—”
Lauro silenced her with a kiss. He wore a bandage across one cheek where he’d hit the pavement, and it gave him a rakish look. “I couldn’t resist. You’re gorgeous in the morning.”
“Mmm, I could get used to this.” A sleepy smile tugged at her lips as she breathed in a subtle scent of spiced sandalwood that clung to his white cotton shirt. She brought herself to a seated position and clasped her knees to her chest, acutely aware of her thin silk gown.
Lauro kissed her cheek. “I hope you do.”
Remembering Carmine’s decree, her smile slipped from her face. “What are we going to do?”
“I have some ideas.” Bringing her hand to his lips, Lauro kissed her fingertips. “Why don’t we escape and let the fresh air blow through our minds. Will you meet me at the marina in an hour? We can take out one of our boats.”
The thought of being out on the ocean sounded like heaven because her life felt suspended in time. Karin was looking after the cioccolateria for her. Matilde had been walking Marco to and from school. Celina was beginning to think Matilde had seized on an excuse to take walks during the day. Not that she could blame her; it was such a mild, beautiful climate, and Marco adored her. Celina was grateful to have help. She gazed at Lauro, growing excited at the prospect of being alone with him. “I’d love to go out.”
“Sailing or cruising?”
“I love sailing, but with this shoulder the way it is, I’m afraid I won’t be of much help.” She was still aching from the force of the impact and being thrown from the vehicle.
“Good point. We’ll motor along the coastline in the yacht. See you soon.”
Lauro kissed her and crept from her room.
Carmine had been watching their every move. She knew that if they violated his order, he had every right to ask her and Marco to leave their home. At supper, she and Lauro had kept a respectable distance from one another. She’d busied herself with Marco, yet she could feel the weight of Carmine’s gaze on her throughout the evening.
And Lauro’s.
At least Sara’s cool attitude toward her had waned considerably. Sara had expressed her gratitude toward Celina for her efforts in saving Lauro in many ways and was treating her almost like a daughter again.
After finishing her latte and brioche, Celina shifted to the edge of her bed, breathing through the aches that slowed her movement. A hot bath would relax her muscles.
She padded into the tiled bathroom and turned on the porcelain hot and cold water taps, adjusting each one to just the right temperature. She poured in a scented mixture made from flower blossoms and olive oil that Sara had left for her and eased in.
Once ensconced in the large claw-foot tub, Celina closed her eyes and let her mind drift. She recalled the uncanny way she had heard Tony calling to her the night of the accident. Wake up. Hurry. His voice had been as clear as if he’d been standing over her, and she couldn’t dispel the thought that she’d experienced divine intervention that evening. It was as if Tony hadn’t wanted to see her lose another man she loved. Somehow, his spiritual will was so strong that it reached across the dimensions, enabling her to save Lauro.
She and Lauro were meant to be together, she was sure of it. But how? To stand between him and his father was a serious issue. Yet, somehow she and Lauro would stand united.
Over the past months as she’d watched Lauro and Marco together, she couldn’t imagine a more perfect man to raise her son. And now, she knew in her heart that Tony approved. Surely the church would see the logic in this plan. A man raising his brother’s son. Even if she had to plead their case in front of the Pope, she would.
She blinked through tears of gratitude, strengthened in her desire to form a family with the man she’d grown to love. Laughing at herself, she recalled the first time she’d met him in Naples and her distasteful impression of him.
Toweling dry, Celina thought how time and circumstances had shifted both of their perceptions. She brushed her hair into a simple twist and secured it with tortoiseshell combs, leaving wisps around her face.
A half-hour later, dressed in a soft yellow sundress with a lightweight sweater looped over her shoulders, Celina stood at the entry to the marina looking for Lauro. Assorted boats, including sleek Riva, Benetti, and Baglietto yachts, were moored along the wooden pier.
From the deck of a large yacht, Lauro waved, and Celina set off to join him.
They were soon underway. Lifting her face to the soft sea breeze, Celina basked in the sun. She glanced at Lauro, who wore a loose, white cotton shirt and casual pants. The sun glinted off his aviator sunglasses.
“You love being on the water.” She hadn’t seen him this relaxed since before the accident.
“I grew up on boats.” He shook his thick hair in the wind. “Amalfi was a wealthy maritime republic dating to the 7th century. Every year, Amalfi still enters a regatta between the four old maritime republics of Italy, against Genoa, Pisa, and Venice. Nino and I used to row in it. We were fierce competitors.”
“I can just imagine that.” As they motored along the coast, she marveled at the villages that rose from the water’s edge, clustered on cliffs. She pointed to an elevated road that hugged the cliffs. “Is that the corniche route we’ve taken to Naples?”
Lauro nodded. “The way people drive on that, I think the sea is safer.”
She whirled around. “I can’t believe you just said that. I’ve been thinking about the night of the accident. More than anyone, you know how treacherous these roads are. To have driven in the state you were in—angry, intoxicated—”
“I wasn’t drunk.”
“Even if you weren’t, you were driving like a madman. Promise me you won’t ever do that again. You endanger innocent people on the road.” She folded her arms. “I’ve already had to identify the remains of one husband after an accident. And your mother told me that was where Isabella crashed.”
Lauro rubbed his forehead, letting her words seep in. When he finally spoke, he said, “First, you should know that Isabella did have an accident there, but that’s not how she died. She flung herself off the cliff, unable to face her future. But we never speak of it that way. She was given a funeral mass in the church and buried. Papa arranged it.”
“Oh.” Celina pieced this together, shocked that he’d kept this from her. Yet another Savoia secret. But this one she understood.
He went on. “Forgive me, I’m sorry about that night. Sometimes Papa makes me so angry I go crazy. What right does he have to dictate our lives?”
He doesn’t, she wanted to scream. This was more complicated than that. Carmine had brought up valid issues as to why they couldn’t marry in the church.
“We need to research dispensations,” she said. Surely the church would understand and grant a dispensation after weighing the logic of their request. “Then we can make decisions. But storming off and driving like a maniac isn’t going to solve anything.”
“You’re right, and I’ll never do that again.” Lauro gave a wry chuckle. “You sound like me. I’m usually the practical one. But I’ve had enough of doing what’s expected of me. What about me? My life? When do I get a turn to do what I want? And what I want is you.” He took her hand and pressed it against his heart. “I want to marry you. Quanto ti amo.”
Bringing his hands to her heart, she murmured, “Oh, my darling. I love you, too.”
He kissed her and then motioned ahead. “Here’s a good place to talk.” After motoring into a private cove, Lauro cut the engine and dropped anchor.
Sheer cliffs rose on either side of them, and high above them fig and olive trees arched over the edges to provide dappled shade. The secret hideaway muted distant sounds of the outside world. Birds chirped above them, and waves lapped in a lazy rhythm against the hull.
“This is utterly magical.” Celina breathed in, filling her lungs with calming fresh air.
“I thought we needed a respite.” Lauro took off his sunglasses and held out his hand. “Come with me.”
After opening a bottle of wine in the galley, Lauro and Celina settled on the deck on a large, cushioned lounge area. He took blankets and pillows from a storage bin, cocooning her in softness.
Feeling pampered, she smiled as he poured red wine, passed a glass to her, and touched it with his.
“Here’s to figuring out our lives and regaining our sanity,” he said, kissing her.
Celina sipped her wine. The boat’s gentle rocking motion soothed the tension she’d held in her body since the accident. “When faced with an insurmountable problem, I always tell myself that there has to be a solution.”
He trailed his hand along her arm. “We will find a way to do what makes us happy.” Determination etched his face. “Are you as committed as I am?”
“I am, but your father—”
“If he doesn’t change his mind,” Lauro said, sounding resolved, “I’m prepared to leave Italy to live the way we want. I’m willing to go to San Francisco, or anywhere, with you. We can appeal to another bishop, maybe one in the States. Amore mio, I’ll do anything to be with you.”
She thought about the story he’d just told her of growing up on the water. “But this is your home. You love it here.”
“I love you more.” He curved his arms around her. “I have spent my life living up to my responsibilities. I’ve waited my entire life to have a life. Now, for us, this is the right thing to do.”
“Then I’m the luckiest woman alive, my love.” She nuzzled his neck, reveling in the sureness of his embrace.
Lauro ran his hands down the length of her back, and she shuddered against him, feeling the firmness of his physique through her thin dress.
Gently cradling her face, he tilted her chin and caressed her lips with his. “This is how I want every morning of the rest of our lives to begin…soon.”
She melted into the reassuring circle of his arms and feathered her fingers along the exposed part of his collarbone beneath his shirt. As she did, she felt his body respond to her touch, as did hers. Her sweater slipped from her shoulders, and she lay against the pillows.
Bending his head, he dragged his lips across her neck, her shoulders, her chest. He held himself above her, passion flaring in his eyes. “How can what feels so right be forbidden?”
She ran her hands through his wavy hair. “I don’t see how it can be when two people are in love.” Shifting her leg against his, she felt desire building in both of them.
He kissed the length of her neck. “That day in the test kitchen, all I wanted was to show you how much I love you.”
Celina ran her fingers along the edge of his shirt and slipped a button free. “Still need this?”
Lauro tossed his shirt aside, and Celina gazed up at him, taking in his well-toned chest and muscular arms. With his bronzed skin and gleaming olive eyes, he was even more beautiful than she had dared to imagine. She ran her hands over his chest, tentatively at first, kissing the bruises he’d sustained in the accident.
A craving for him grew deep within her. How she’d missed the physical touch and lovemaking in her marriage. Tony had been ripped from her so quickly, leaving her cold and lonely, broken and embittered at the unfairness of fate. Today, she needed to feel like a woman again, to love, and to be loved, now and forever, or as long as they might have together.
Lauro’s hands were warm against her skin, and she hungered for more. She shrugged her shoulder free from a strap, inviting him in.
Gazing at her with glittering eyes, he whispered, “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“It’s what we both want, isn’t it?” After the cold dish fate had served her, surely her maker would understand her sweet appetite.
Between kisses and murmurs of love, Lauro took his time peeling off their clothing, pausing to stroke every curve and hollow of her body.
Celina stretched in the filtered sunlight, enjoying the freedom. A light breeze tickled their heated bodies. They came together naturally, twining themselves as one.
“Amore mio, anima mia,” he murmured, making sweet love to her. He fanned out her hair like a halo and stroked her face. Caressing the length of her body, he whispered kisses over her blazing skin. “How I love dusting you with kisses under golden skies. Quanto ti amo. Forever my love, forever.”
Reveling in his graceful, sensual touch and sweet, lyrical vow, Celina arched against him, clinging to him until they were both sated with love.
Afterward, they dove into the cool, vivid blue water, splashing like the happiest of dolphins in the secluded cove.
Celina had given her heart, wholly and fully, and herself, without reservation. And yet, as magical as their lovemaking had been, she couldn’t help but notice that her neck prickled with prescience, a foreboding feeling that not all was right with her world.
She wondered where they would go from here—and what was to come?