Read Online The Sicilian's Bride by Carol Grace - Free Book Online

Magdalena had walked out on him over a year ago, let alone buy them lunch at his once-favorite restaurant. That was all that was wrong with him.

CHAPTER FOUR

    O N THE WAY BACK to the town of Villarmosa, Dario showed Isabel several other villas, all attractive, all with intact roofs, some with gardens and others with patios. Isabel very politely but firmly told her guide she wasn’t interested in any of them.
    “Not interested?” he asked, sounding incredulous. She had the feeling he thought she was deliberately trying to thwart him, as if she was a bourgeois crass American who had no respect for fine living and no appreciation of his culture. He tilted his head to observe the frescoes on the ceiling of the next house he took her to. “The art work here alone is worth the price of the place.”
    She took a deep breath and tried once again to explain. “I’m sure it is. But it’s not my art work. It didn’t belong to my uncle. The house has no vines, no grapes, no challenging new career for me to undertake.”
    “But there is a pond and this one comes with swans instead of water snakes.”
    She sighed and glanced out the window. It was a lovely picturesque pond with graceful white-plumaged birds paddling by.
    “Swans mate for life, you know,” he said.
    “Even in Italy?”
    “Especially in Italy. Divorce is legal here, but not as commonas other European countries. For one thing we marry late or not at all and most young people live close to their parents.”
    She nodded. How cozy it all sounded. How different from the families she’d lived with—single mothers, absentee dads and too many children on welfare. He was watching her to gauge her reaction to the house.
    “This house just doesn’t speak to me,” she said at last. It was true. It was a nice house, the frescoes were beautiful, the swans a definite plus, but she couldn’t see herself living there.
    He might have rolled his eyes. Whatever he did, he effectively conveyed his dismay at her lack of good sense.
    “What did you expect the house to say to you?” he asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “ Benvenuto? Welcome? Make yourself at home? Glad you could make it?”
    “I don’t think you’ll understand, but I need to feel something, a family connection, a feeling that I could live here, that I could belong here.”
    “Which is what you feel at the Azienda?” he asked. There was no mistaking the disbelief in his voice.
    She nodded, but she knew that to him the Azienda was a terrible mess. It really didn’t matter what he thought. She’d allowed him to show her around and now he had to do what he’d said he’d do for her.
    To her great relief, after three more villas, each one desirable with assets like a deep well and a sturdy roof and even some furniture, he gave up when he saw her negative reaction. She kept her remarks to a minimum and her tone firm, and he finally drove her back to the hotel. She couldn’t help feeling victorious. She’d successfully resisted his best efforts and now he owed her.
    He walked her up to the door of the hotel and thanked her politely for accompanying him. He was probably furious with her for not caving in, if the frown lines between his eyebrows were any indication, but he said nothing.
    Surely even he, incredibly rich, well-connected and sinfully handsome, didn’t always get his way? She thanked him for lunch and the sightseeing, then she waited but he said nothing else. He just turned and headed for his car.
    “I believe we had a deal,” she said, raising her voice.
    He looked back at her, seeming surprised. Could he really have forgotten? Not a shrewd businessman like him. He was hoping she’d forgotten.
    “You said if I didn’t see anything I liked, you’d help me find the workers I need.”
    “And I will. Of course. It may take a little time.”
    “I don’t have time. My grapes are ripe. They need to be picked.” She was only guessing. What did she know about grapes really? When he