All in all it seemed to Jenny that the family had grasped her and Dante’s wedding as an affirmation of life moving on after the sadness of losing Marco. Even on the day he died the revelation of her real identity and the news of her engagement to Dante had been a distraction from their grief, and there had also been some solace in knowing that Marco had given his blessing to the marriage and had gone to his final rest in a happy, peaceful state of mind.
He’d seen Isabella’s ring on her finger and smiled…his last smile. She and Dante had been with him at the end, Dante holding his hand. She could imagine him smiling in spirit today as Dante took her hand in marriage, and she silently promised him her love for his grandson would be as unwavering as Isabella’s had been for him.
The blood-red heart of the ruby glowed at her.
A priceless love.
Dante stood in the grand foyer of the palazzo, waiting for his bride to come down the staircase, which was festooned with white ribbons and roses. Roberto and Jonathon were fussing around, assuring themselves that all the floral arrangements in the foyer were as stunning as they should be for when the guests would arrive.
They had already passed approval on the flotilla of black-and-gold gondolas outside, saying that they looked magnificent and the gondoliers splendid in their matching uniforms. The musicians in the lead gondola had also pleased them, perfectly attired in formal black dinner suits and white ties. They had reported that the tenor was in fine voice, entertaining the crowd of spectators lining the canal with love songs while they waited to see the bride and groom.
None of this really mattered to Dante, except in so far as he wanted Jenny to be happy with everything on their wedding day. He loved seeing her glow with pleasure, her lovely amber eyes lit with joy and love for him. She was so different to all the other women he’d known, so very special. Uniquely special.
He was glad his grandfather had seen that she was the right wife for him, pushing him into realising it before he’d thought of it himself. Though he would have come to it. All along, he had wanted to keep Jenny with him, sharing with her what he could not imagine sharing with anyone else. Not once had he looked ahead to her walking out of his life. She was there for him. Always would be now.
We’ll have what you had with your Isabella, Nonno, he thought, a little stab of sadness in his heart that his grandfather couldn’t be here to see them wed. But they had his blessing and he’d died content with the outcome of the mission to Australia, not getting to know a grand-daughter but a grand-daughter-in-law who had won his approval in every sense…Jenny, who had done so much good.
Even with Lucia, who seemed to have given up mischief-making these past few months in favour of being Jenny’s chief advisor on how to fit in with what was expected of a Rossini in any public arena. He gave her an appreciative smile as she came prancing down the staircase, Sophia in tow, both of them looking fabulous in frilly, fuchsia pink designer gowns and wearing happy grins on their faces.
‘We’re coming down to get the full effect of the bride making her first appearance,’ Lucia announced. ‘You only have to cool your heels for another minute or two, Dante.’
‘Thank you, production manager,’ he said, grinning back at her.
She preened. ‘I happen to be good at it.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘I think you would make a brilliant special events organiser in our hotels, if you ever have a mind to take on such a position.’
One eyebrow arched in surprise. ‘You’d let me do that?’
‘If you really want it, yes. I can’t imagine you not making a great success of it.’
Lucia hated failure as much as he did, and if she did seize this opportunity, it might give her a sense of power that would be constructive instead of destructive.
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said, looking immensely pleased. ‘We need to get this wedding right first.’ She cast a critical eye over him. ‘I have to concede you are star material, Dante, but you are about to be outshone by the bride.’
‘As it should be,’ he replied.
She laughed and turned to stand beside him, Sophia next to her, Roberto and Jonathon arranging themselves on his other side, all faces uplifted as they watched for Jenny to appear.
His bride…
Love and pride swelled his heart as she came floating down the stairs, a vision of such ethereal beauty in her glorious gown and veil, the need to touch her, to assure himself she was real powered through him. He had to force himself to remain still, let her enjoy this moment in the spotlight—his Jenny, who had struggled to survive with so little in her life. He wanted to give her everything.
As she reached the last stair, he did step forward, holding out his hand to take hers.
‘Will I do?’ she asked, her lovely eyes twinkling with happy confidence, but if she needed some vocal assurance from him, Dante was not about to fail her.
‘Beautifully,’ he declared, his voice a husky throb of emotion.
She gave him her hand.
And so much more, Dante thought.
A love that filled his life with a deeper pleasure than he had ever known.
A love that cared about everything he did.
A love that had no price on it.
True love.
And he was absolutely committed to giving it right back to her.