“Sorry about the interruption,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair. “I was worried about my grandfather’s health. I couldn’t ignore the call.”
“Is he alright?” I asked, genuine concern breaking through.
“Yes.” Christian’s shoulders eased a little. “He just wanted to make sure we’d arrived safely.”
“He’s very attached to you.”
“It’s mutual,” Christian admitted, and for a moment something rare flickered across his face-a vulnerability he rarely let show.
“He seems so happy we’re here,” I said softly. “Happy you’re married.”
Christian’s smile was tinged with melancholy, one I didn’t see often.
“It’s no secret he’s always dreamed of seeing me ‘settled down,’ as he puts it.” His eyes found mine, unexpectedly sincere. “Thank you for giving him that joy, even if it’s temporary.”
Something in the way he said temporary tightened my chest. I nodded, unable to trust my voice.
The silence stretched between us, not exactly uncomfortable, but thick with things unspoken-possibilities neither of us dared to name.
“Did he say anything else?” I asked at last.
“Yes, actually.” Christian’s mouth curved into a smile. “He wanted to be sure I showed you the Sophie Vineyard under the moonlight. Said it’s a Kensington tradition for newlyweds. Apparently, it brings good luck.”
“Well, mission accomplished, I’d say,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light despite the tension lingering between us.
:
Christian nodded, his gaze flicking to my ruined dress.
“Maybe not exactly as he imagined, but yes.” He handed me his shirt. “Here-wear this. Lucy would never forgive me if I brought you back to the villa in that state.”
I glanced down at my torn dress and blushed furiously. He wasn’t wrong.
“Thank you,” I murmured, taking the shirt.
I turned slightly as I buttoned it with trembling fingers. It was absurdly large on me, falling almost to my knees, but at least it covered me completely.
When I turned back, Christian was standing, his bare torso gleaming under the moonlight. He was unbelievably handsome-broad shoulders, defined muscles, a sight that made my heart race again despite my attempts to steel myself.
“Ready?” he asked, extending a hand to help me up.
The walk back to the villa was quiet, thoughtful. Occasionally, our hands brushed, sending sparks racing up my arm. I thought of Joseph, of his fragile heart, of how he truly believed our marriage was real. Of how, for a few moments out there in the vineyard, I had almost believed it too.
When we reached the back entrance of the villa, I hoped we could slip up to our room unseen. But as we entered the kitchen, Lucy was at the stove preparing something.
She turned at the sound of our footsteps and froze for an instant, her eyes sweeping from me-hair mussed, wearing only Christian’s shirt-to him, shirtless, the marks from my nails still visible across his shoulders.
A wide smile lit her lined face, followed by a cascade of animated Valentian words that made Christian laugh out loud. It was a rare, genuine sound that, even through my embarrassment, I cherished.
“What did she say?” I whispered, mortified.
“She said it’s good to see that some Kensington traditions haven’t been lost,” Christian translated, amusement clear in his voice. “Apparently, my grandparents also had a habit of ‘exploring the vineyards’ on summer nights.
My face went up in flames instantly. Lucy kept bustling around the kitchen, speaking animatedly and gesturing between us in ways that felt far too suggestive.
“And now?” I asked, hiding my face against Christian’s shoulder.
“Now she’s saying that the passion of young people is a beautiful sight for older eyes-and that she was worried we’d gotten lost in the vineyards.” He smirked. “She also wants to know if it was the branches or me that tore your dress.”
“Christian!” I cried, absolutely horrified. “You didn’t answer that, did you?”
“Of course I did, like the good Valentian that I am,” he teased, earning a light smack on the arm. “I’m joking, Zoey.”
Lucy came over, pressing a mug of something warm and fragrant into my hands, her tone softening now.
“Herbal tea,” Christian translated. “To restore your energy.””
I accepted the mug, murmuring a timid thank you while fighting the urge to crawl under the table. The liquid was sweet and soothing, with hints of honey and cinnamon.
Lucy then turned to Christian, speaking animatedly again while pointing toward the stairs. He replied fluently in Valentían, and she nodded with a mischievous smile that made me wonder what kind of conversation they were really having
“What was that?” I asked once she finally left.
“She told me to take you upstairs and take good care of you,” he answered with a wicked smile. “According to her, women like you should never be left… unsatisfied.”
My face, which had just begun to cool down, immediately flamed again.
“She did not say that!”
“Lucy is a very direct woman,” he said with a shrug “Seventy years in Castoria have given her her own philosophy on relationships.”
I shook my head, unable to stop a smile despite my embarrassment. There was something strangely comforting in the way Lucy had welcomed us, as though we really were a couple on their honeymoon
After we finished the tea, Christian guided me toward the stairs, his hand resting lightly at the small of my back. When we reached the hallway leading to our room, he turned to me, his gaze intense in the soft glow of the sconces.
He studied my face for a moment, and I realized he could read the shift in me, the retreat that had happened out in the vineyards. Something in his eyes softened, as though he understood even what I hadn’t yet sorted our myself.
“Our honeymoon is just beginning.” he murmured, his fingers brushing delicately along my jawline. “And I fully intend to pick up where we left off… when you’re ready.”
It wasn’t a move-it was a promise. Patient, steady. A quiet acknowledgment that something between us had changed, something that needed time.
And for some reason, that scared me more than any physical desire ever could-the thought that Christian Kensington might actually be willing to wait for me.
The Valentian sun was already high when I opened my eyes, golden rays streaming through the half-drawn curtains. My hand instinctively searched the other side of the bed, finding only cool sheets. Christian was gone.
On the nightstand, a neatly folded piece of paper caught my eye. I recognized Christian’s precise handwriting immediately.
‘Had to take care of some matters at the vineyard. I’ll be back for lunch. Feel free to explore the property. Lucy will help with anything you need. – C.’
I sighed, caught somewhere between relief and disappointment. The almost-intimacy in the vineyards last night, the awkwardness in the kitchen, and that quiet promise was a lot to process.
I took a long shower, letting the hot water loosen the tension in my muscles. Then I slipped into a light cotton dress. Thankfully, I had plenty of those from Virelia, and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
Lucy was humming a Valentian tune I didn’t recognize while preparing something that smelled divine. Her face lit up when she saw me.
“Buongiorno, ma’am!” she exclaimed, gesturing for me to sit. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please. Grazie,” I answered with my limited Valentian.
She placed a strong cup of coffee in front of me along with fresh rolls, butter, and homemade jam. As I ate, she chatted away in Valentian, not minding at all that I couldn’t follow. Her presence was strangely comforting.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.