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  “Good.” Astorre returned to the hall.

  Stephano held the door for them, but before they left the room, Rossie whispered to her, “Well, if anyone can warm him up, it’s you Clara. I have faith as you’re the sweetest woman I know.”

  Astorre cleared his throat. “Clara is a sweetheart.”

  Rossie nodded at him like they were conspiring about her. “Glad you see that, Your Grace.”

  Clara took Astorre’s hand as they followed a polished wood floor with a narrow blue carpet. Gorgeous landscapes with shades of the same blue were hung on the walls. Rossie had exquisite taste.

  They reached double doors with arches shaped in a dome and entered a dining room that beat out any restaurant she’d ever seen.

  Rossie had been busy making this house hers.

  The long cherry wood table was absolutely her style and the chairs had been upholstered in teal fabric.

  They took seats and servants brought in trays of food and goblets filled with wine. Astorre asked Rossie, “So, how did you and Clara meet?”

  The lemon chicken with mashed potatoes had been prepared for her.

  Seriously.

  Rossie knew she had a thing for creamy lemon sauce. She picked up her fork and brought a bite to her mouth--it tasted both savory and sweet at the same time. Delicious. Rossie said, “I needed help when I first started my wedding business. Clara is a jack-of-all-trades and can pretty much fix anything.”

  “But I’m a master at nothing.” Clara finished her bite, shook her head and said, “Rossie’s being nice.”

  Rossie winked. “We’d known each other in school, kind of, but we became very good friends as adults.”

  Clara then told her husband, “I was a loner in school.”

  Astorre cut a piece of chicken. “I was too, until college.”

  Stephano said, “Astorre threw the best parties in college.”

  Astorre wiped his lips and met her gaze. “I figured I should live it up since I was going to end up homeless.”

  And she'd never wanted a career because she’d ruin it. Plus she’d never wanted to make real connections. She understood.

  They all continued eating and she had no problem finishing everything on her plate. "Thank you, Rossie. For remembering my favorite."

  Rossie held up her glass of wine. “Cheers to you, Clara.”

  Astorre and Stephano also held up their glasses, while she asked, “To me?”

  Stephano said, “Yes, you saved my friend from destroying himself. I hope you’re very happy.”

  “Congratulations to you both," Rossie added.

  Always a dear friend. Clara sipped her drink, as did Astorre. She said, “Thank you, but I had nothing to do with it. He met Max and suddenly…”

  Stephano’s gaze grew serious and he put his goblet down. “Fionalli was at your wedding?”

  “No, just in the hotel,” Astorre explained. “I didn’t let him get near Clara.”

  His friends would already know everything about what had happened. She twirled the liquid in her glass. “Max said he was really in love with Olivia.”

  Rossie’s head turned back and forth. “Have either of you considered that Max was biding his time to marry Olivia and get your title, Astorre?”

  Clara hadn’t thought to suspect his sister of sabotage and that seemed extreme to even consider. She ignored the wayward thought and hoped to get alone with his sister to understand her. “Well, that backfired. The minute, literally, that Max met me, Astorre changed his tune and decided that he wanted to marry me.”

  “My sister had already turned him down,” Astorre said.

  Her mind buzzed. Maybe there was more to the story that she hadn’t been told.

  Or not.

  She wanted to trust Astorre and decided not to pursue her questions.

  He squeezed her hand and they peered into one another's eyes. For a second she forgot where she was until Rossie said, “Well, when you get home, if you need our help, I’m not afraid to go to Montelino Bay.”

  “Montelino Bay?” Clara blinked.

  Astorre pressed his shoulder into hers. “That’s my horrible house’s name. Are you ready to go now, Clara?”

  Guess dessert was for another day. Or never. She didn’t need any more sweets so she stood. “Yes, I’m really curious now.”

  He nodded.

  Their friends walked them to the door and the waiting limo. Clara thanked them for their fast lunch. Rossie and Stephano waved goodbye and headed inside.

  Once the door closed, Clara heard the click and knew they were heading to her new home.

  It was time to show Astorre that he could trust her, and that she believed he was a good man.

  The rest of their lives started now, so it was best to find out what she was up against…and how they might work their way to being happy, together, forever.

  Chapter 8

  To Clara, Montelino Bay seemed like a name out of a suspense story where in the end the maid tried to kill the new wife. That was an old black and white movie plot and one of the few books she had a hard time reading. As they approached the house, serious fog from the sea made it impossible to see anything.

  The stone path and black gates seemed covered by gray clouds.

  Until they came close enough and she saw the gray-stoned castle walls--it was medieval and made her think of a lair where dragons might land in a fantasy novel.

  If she was going to visually paint a house where murder had happened, she couldn't have found one more suitable.

  Had his father gone mad because of lack of electricity?

  The windows were all dark like no one was there.

  Beside her Astorre was quiet, unusually so. He radiated tension.

  Clara understood why and didn’t ask questions. As the car pulled to a stop before the entrance, he sat in the back like he didn’t want to go in. She fixed the line of her fancy black dress. “If you want, we can go somewhere else.”

  “No, we need to get out.” It was clear the words hurt him and he really, really didn't want to.

  She swallowed, but didn’t argue. When he was ready, they scooted out and she stared straight up.

  There was no door. Instead there were turrets in the four corners, arrow slits, a barbican outside for defense in case of a siege, battlements, machicolation on the battlements to pour hot oil or water down, and the front door wasn’t open as there was a portcullis, a metal gate, complete with grooves in the ground that needed to be lifted.

  Montelino Bay didn’t seem like a home at all. It was living history in every rock.

  Astorre and Rossie’s two-hundred room house, Haron Hall, was more like a palace in comparison, with gilded walls and crystal chandeliers.

  The portcullis wound slowly and screeched as it was raised for them.

  Astorre’s face was white.

  It was like they were traversing time--backward. She wrapped her arm in his and hoped to lighten the mood by changing his focus. “What is it about Max that made you do a one-eighty on marriage?”

  He stared at her with emptiness in his dark eyes, but finally he blinked, and tapped her hand that held his arm. “Why are you asking?”

  The gate was up and the heavy wooden doors banged open like they were inviting in horses and a battalion of soldiers instead of the two of them.

  Inside the castle he called home, was a small town.

  A bakery was the first thing she smelled and the sweet confectionary made her mouth water for sugar cookies.

  They walked farther in and the townspeople, all wearing modern jeans, stared at them.

  No cars were inside the compound. Her mind raced with lots of questions, but Astorre seemed… sad. So she bubbled with observations to jot down later. “At lunch, your friend Stephano was startled that Max was there, in Gibraltar. Rossie asked if it could have been some plot to get your property. You did make it known to everyone you weren’t interested in your money, or title. So I was wondering… was there more to your dislike than wha
t you said?”

  “Yes and no.” He greeted anyone who bowed at him, with a nod of his head.

  The townspeople, no doubt related to their medieval ancestors who'd also lived here once, went back to whatever they were doing, though the old blacksmith shop they passed now looked more like a bank.

  She rubbed the goosebumps from her arm and continued to do her best to keep Astorre's spirits up, “Which is it?”

  They headed up the stone streets toward the interior castle that was somehow even darker with thick fog all around it. Astorre said, “He… in a few minutes you’ll meet Olivia. He wanted to marry her and have the title I intended to forfeit and my money, but he didn’t care about my sister, at all. She was his meal ticket. She’ll tell you what he intended for her, herself, I believe, so I’ll let her fill you in. But there was no way I’d let him anywhere near you, Clara.”

  If Olivia was inside, this, how in the world did she live, or love? Clara’s heart raced as the next ironed gate was pulled up for them. “I’m not a delicate flower that needs protecting though…your motive doesn’t make sense.”

  They headed inside as he asked, “Why not? You clearly don’t see your value.”

  “Pot meet kettle.”

  “What?”

  “American expression that means we’re two of a kind.” It was hard to believe that she was here, not on some tour, but she was supposed to live in what should be a museum, sort of like the Tower of London. “You were so determined to give it all up.”

  Her hair stood on it end as he said, “Yet I went on a trip with you instead of drinking myself into a stupor by my birthday.”

  The zip in her veins was because she wished somehow to minimize his pain, but as they passed a metal knight statue that was probably once an original outfit, Astorre said, “Clara, I was starting to change my mind about marriage the moment we met.”

  Today had been a whirlwind. She grabbed his biceps with her fingers to get him to stop walking. “Wait… you were interested in me? Seriously?”

  Skinny Clara the unfortunate wasn’t the type to win a handsome guy. She’d not even wanted to try.

  "Clara." He kept his voice low as they entered the great room of a castle that had hard wooden floors and a square wooden chandelier that might hold small torches. “It’s not hard to believe.”

  Yes it was. She…well, she wasn’t any man’s prize. The lights went on and she could see the entire room.

  The castle had electricity running throughout and not fire like in the old days, but the place didn’t matter as much as Astorre. She stood on her tiptoes to speak into his face. “It kind of is. You’re handsome, rich, and were so adamant about throwing away your fortune, at least to me.”

  He hugged her to hold her steady. “I thought you were safe at first because we had nothing in common. Then we talked and agreed more than we disagreed so I invited you on a tour. You made me laugh. Of course I wanted to bed you, not have you write some book.”

  His lips met hers and she forgot anything else as her arms wrapped around his neck.

  Once the kiss ended, she sighed a little and her mouth still ached for more as she tugged at his collar and joked, “Bed me sounds old-fashioned, not that I'm surprised standing here, and we were married which is different.”

  He directed her through the hall, his hand to his chest. “I was honoring your declarations that you didn’t want me, and I didn’t know how to handle that.”

  If he'd been interested, maybe he should have let her know? Her gaze narrowed as Astorre wasn’t exactly what she thought of as modest. “So?”

  He held her possessively. “So when another man expressed interest, a man I know to be wrong for you, I asked and you said yes.”

  “Well you didn’t quite ask, but I did agree.”

  “Technicalities only you call me on.”

  Suddenly her heart was lighter. There wasn’t some dark secret or foreboding in that--not like his house, though it was gorgeous in its way. “That’s it? That’s the secret? You liked me?”

  They passed a library that had huge stacks of books that needed to be shelved all piled on a desk. They left the great room and climbed a curvy set of stairs. “Is that so hard to believe? We spent every day together as I showed you around Europe.”

  She laughed and watched her steps, thankful she wore a knee-length dress and not one of those medieval gowns of old. And he was right, they’d had fun, which made the time fly. “It’s hard, because I wanted you too. You were the star of my fantasies, and then you surpassed what I'd ever imagined.”

  A rather cocky grin grew on his face when he guided her toward a set of doors. “You never once let on, always mentioning that book of yours.”

  Astorre opened both doors. A huge grand fireplace was lit for them, but the room also had electric lights from a chandelier. A bed was draped in royal blue and gold that matched the curtains of the archer stations. She could barely speak due to the awe inside her that this was all real. “I… I know how to bottle my disappointment, after years of doing it. I thought my crush was absolutely one-sided.”

  Astorre closed the door behind them with a loud echo. “We should send Max a thank you card.”

  He walked her to a small balcony off to the side and held the curtain for her to proceed out the modern glass door.

  They looked down upon the medieval town. Rolling green hills were on one side, and the sharp jagged coastline on the other. Fog surrounded them. When the weather was clear, the view would be magnificent. She felt as if she was some ancient queen. “This is your house?”

  “Yes.” He traced her backside until she straightened. He sighed and gestured to the thick white clouds. “More fog.” His lips pressed together. “And there are bats here.”

  Her heart fluttered. Seriously? “Why do you have bats? You can have them removed, you know.”

  A smile curved on his face and he shook his head. “Not in the house. They live in the cave near the sea and I like them.”

  Well, a cave wasn’t that bad. She glanced around and could only imagine the place was even more glorious in the sunshine. “You do?”

  He explained in a deep voice, “The bats warn anyone who travels on the sea road to the nature of Montelino Bay.”

  A huge laugh escaped from her as she looked at him. His face turned red like maybe he was teasing her. She fixed his shirt collar. “Well, I’m eager to meet your sister. Where is she?”

  They walked inside as mist began to fall that would soon be drops of rain. “We’ll find her around somewhere when I show you the house. But I wanted you to see our bedroom first.”

  A place where she wouldn't meet Olivia, she thought, as she headed toward a gold couch with blue trim in a sitting area of the room. Did he not want her to meet his sister? She sank down. “I like your idea. Question first: I’ve read a few fairy tales in my day, so I’m wondering if there is a forbidden part of the house?”

  He slumped into the seat beside her like a physical toll had been taken on his body. “Would you respect that if there were?”

  Did he think so poorly of her? She scooted her knees closer to him. “Yes, if there was a good reason.”

  He caressed her thigh. “There isn’t any room forbidden to you. But if you don’t want to hear the stories of that room, don’t ask.”

  Was he referring to his parents? “Was this where your parents…?”

  “No. That was the library.”

  No wonder he'd raced by without pointing it out to her. Her heart beat wildly but she didn’t want to let on as she said, “I don’t scare easy. I’m also not a fool, Astorre. I meant what I said earlier that Max and men like him are mostly just bothersome. I’d never be in love with any guy who wears his collar up.”

  His eyes widened like she’d just shot him with an arrow. “Seriously?”

  She leaned closer. “Yeah, it’s like Bad Guy Look, 101.”

  He nodded like he’d take that lesson to heart. “I’ll remember that.”

  In almo
st every movie with a bad guy, if he had a collar, he wore it high. As far as she could tell in life, it was an apt way of pointing out a jerk too. “You dress too nice to ever worry about it.”

  He kissed her hand. “If my collar ever goes high, please fix it. I don’t want my wife to start thinking bad about me.”

  “Good to know.” She laughed but then he trailed his lips from her hand to her wrist, then to her elbow. Her body grew warm.

  Maybe one more time before they met anyone else would be great. The Astorre she'd married wasn’t anything like the man who'd showed her around for weeks. He was sexier, kinder, and sweeter than he’d been before. Maybe together, they really did have that shot at happiness.

  His kisses sure made her think so.

  Chapter 9

  Astorre left his suite to see his staff. He'd summoned them for a meeting while his wife slept. He'd covered her with a warm sheet, then stared at her for a few minutes.

  She made Montelino Bay nice. Just because she was with him.

  He'd slept for an hour and hadn’t had the dream where he'd let his mother and sister down.

  The normal horrible nightmare where his father found his sister too, and then him.

  But as he headed down the hall with a hum on his breath, he knew this was all because of Clara.

  The staff handed him an olive green silk dress that one of the castle seamstresses must have altered for the new Duchess.

  Everyone was curious about Clara, so he returned to their chamber with shoes, the dress, and promise from his sister of a formal second lunch and tour of their tiny but powerful siege kingdom.

  While the House of Modena had been pledged to the Avce royals for thousands of years, they’d always kept their independence. They believed the superstitions that they needed the city royals as divinely decreed to help keep them all safe.

  He reached the room with her gifts to find Clara already awake and showered.

  He handed her the dress and she decided to wear it right away. “The staff ensured you had the colors of our house to wear tonight.”