Rebel with a Cause (15 page)

It was the grandest gesture anyone had ever done for her. She who'd organised this and that—the surprise parties here, the celebrations there. The biggest day of her life had been arranged by all who loved her. In an old church in the
middle of nowhere the man she loved had given himself to her—unreservedly.

‘I can't believe you did this for me.' She gazed up at him as they danced together on the specially constructed wooden floor.

‘I wanted to do something nice for you.' He smiled faintly.

‘You've done a lot of nice things already, Lorenzo—you gave me workshop space, you gave me time in Hanmer, you did those designs for me.'

‘But it was all with conditions. There are no conditions on this.'

‘Other than that I promise to be your wife and to love you always.'

‘Just that little thing, yeah.'

‘Unconditionally given.'

He pulled her closer. ‘Do you mind not getting to organise your own wedding?'

‘Mind?' She laughed. ‘I'm so relieved I don't have to. No stress. I could just enjoy it.'

‘Rosanna was fantastic.' He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. ‘So were your parents.'

‘Thank you so much.'

‘They love you.'

She nodded, unable to speak any more.

‘Sophy?'

She turned into his arms, hiding her tears in his neck.

‘I love you.'

She looked at him then. He was smiling, his face light, his eyes warm and free of shadows. ‘If I'd known how good it felt to say it, I'd have said it back that day when you rang for the doctor in my apartment. I wanted to make love to you then—I'm going to now.'

She reached up to him, placing the palm of her hand on
the slightly rough cheek. ‘Thank goodness,' she sighed. ‘I was worried you'd taken a vow of abstinence.'

‘I did,' he said soberly. ‘I wasn't going to be with you again until you were my wife.'

‘And now I am.'

‘Yes.'

They whispered quiet goodbyes to the others, then slipped away in the night—running together down the rows of vines, to the small cottage at the far corner of the land. It had been decked in flowers, the sweet scent filling the air.

His arms were tight about her. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.'

‘For what?'

‘Everything.' He looked down, a half-smile quirking his lips. ‘I talked to your father.'

‘You did?' She felt some nerves twinge.

‘When I asked him for his blessing. It was a pretty frank talk.' He looked rueful. ‘But he reckoned it's impossible to control feelings or to stop them, but that it's better to accept them. And then to deal with them.' He laced his fingers through hers. ‘I want to deal with my love for you. Now and every day to come.'

And then he did—showing her the tenderness she'd made him feel, the happiness she'd brought to life in him. She cried as he told her, showed her, loved her. And she held him, loved him, until he shook in her arms.

‘Not alone,' she whispered. ‘Not any more.'

He buried his hot face in her neck and she stroked him until both their tears were spent.

 

‘Are we staying here?' She was finally back on earth and able to absorb something of her surroundings.

‘For a few days.'

‘Then why do you have my passport?'

He chuckled. ‘So you couldn't say no and run away overseas.'

‘I'd only want to run away with you.'

‘And we will. Very soon. But I thought we could decide where together.' He twirled her hair round his finger. ‘You're tired.'

She was. But so happy. She snuggled closer to him and discovered she wasn't
that
tired. ‘Once was not enough, Lorenzo.'

‘Demanding wench.' He rose onto his elbow. ‘You're always asking me for more.'

She laughed. ‘And isn't it just such a hardship for you?'

‘No,' he said, pulling her closer, binding her in his arms. ‘It's heaven.'

Pure heaven.