Page 93 of An Italian Wedding Adventure

After the main course, Lily and Roman opened the dancing on the floor below and the guests who didn’t want to dance spread out along the terrace to talk. Sophie found a space by herself for a moment, leaning on the low wall and staring out at the water that was misting as the temperature dropped.

She couldn’t help imagining Andreas at her back, his touch relaxing her body the way the view of the lake in the dimming light soothed her mind.

‘Do a toast with me.’ Lily appeared by her side, holding out a glass of prosecco.

Sophie mustered a smile for the bride as she took the glass. ‘It’s been an absolute joy, Lily. And you were right, your wishes were very unusual, even for me, but that’s made today even more special.’

‘It’s not over yet,’ she replied with a smile, holding up her glass. ‘To love?’

‘To love,’ Sophie responded with an amused smile.

In her peripheral vision, Sophie noticed a figure filling the doorway and turned, expecting Marcella needing her help, but it wasn’t the venue manager. She stilled, blinking away disbelief as her heart pounded an erratic rhythm.

Pausing to scan the courtyard, he rubbed the back of his neck as he searched the group – for her, without a doubt. As a giddy smile stretched on her lips, she took in the golden-brown hair that had grown too long again, the silver hoop in his ear, the leather braid around his wrist. Those were features she knew and loved, but she’d never seen him looking quite the way he did just then.

He wasn’t wearing a suit, but his party outfit was still a long way off his usual technical outdoor wear. A pair of buttery-soft, embroidered leather shorts extended to just above his knees and were a touch snug. Grey, chucky-knit socks with a band of green wool around the top were pulled halfway up his calves, and disappeared into a pair of rustic, brown leather shoes with the laces to one side. Instead of the leather suspenders she might have expected, he wore a grey felt waistcoat with buttons, the rough white shirt underneath rolled up to his elbows.

Sophie had no idea how he’d procured Tyrolean traditional dress at short notice, but she was immensely glad he had. She stifled a laugh – of amusement, but also of delight that he was here.

Lily followed her gaze and grinned. ‘Ah, finally. He said he might be a little late, but I was starting to worry.’

‘You knew he was coming?’

‘He asked me if it would be all right to come after dinner. But what is he wearing?’

‘Lederhosen,’ Sophie said with a giggle.

Kira appeared behind him, looking uncomfortable in a sundress she’d probably picked up from one of the shops along the waterfront.

Still studying him from head to toe, Sophie put him out of his misery by stepping out from behind Lily and raising her hand in a wave. His expression when he caught sight of her – relief, pride and a wide smile of happiness – made her knees wobble.

He approached and caught her around the waist, dipping his head to kiss her and then coming to a halt before he managed it. ‘You have lipstick on,’ he said, as though that fact confused him.

‘A quick kiss won’t rub off on you.’

He mumbled a reply and gave her a peck on the lips. ‘That will have to do for now. But you look lovely.’ Lifting his hand to her hair, he stopped and drew it away again, studying her neat chignon. ‘I’m a little worried about roughing you up.’ But he smiled as his gaze took in the soft folds of her dress and her strappy silver shoes.

‘You can rough me up later,’ she said, grinning. ‘I’m glad you came. I didn’t want to put you under pressure.’

Snatching her hand and threading his fingers with hers, he gazed at the whimsical setting: the lake, the citrus trees and the ancient stone walls. The fairy lights strung along the wooden beams glowed as the sunlight faded. ‘I wanted to come and see what you’ve achieved, and for Lily and Roman. But I also wanted to do this.’

‘Hold my hand?’ she asked doubtfully.

He nodded. ‘And this.’ Curling his other arm around her waist, he adjusted his hold and before Sophie knew what was happening, he was shuffling her along the terrace in a rather decent waltz to the music floating around the lemon grove from the speakers. He swayed with her for a few weightless moments, but she eventually trod on his foot and stumbled, sending them both barrelling into the low wall. ‘You can’t dance?’ he asked in mock outrage.

‘I can’t dance. I did not expect to find out that you could!’

‘I have the “Tiroler Walzer” in my blood – and some embarrassing teenage dance lessons in my past.’

She grinned up at him, smoothing her hand around his waist. ‘A nice pair of Lederhosen and waltzing: you are very well qualified for weddings.’

‘The outfit belongs to my father,’ he said sheepishly. ‘I asked him to bring it down this afternoon and… he’s staying overnight. He wants to meet you.’

‘I want to meet him, but I had other plans for our last night here.’

‘But it’s not our last night together. I’ll come to Bath next week and… can you work remotely sometimes if I’ve got clients here? I’ll get you the internet at my cabin.’

‘That’s real romance,’ Sophie joked. ‘No flowers or jewellery, just an internet connection. Actually, I kind of like it.’

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