The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHIN

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      Aysha slid out from the bed and padded barefoot across the carpet to the draped window. A touch to the remote control module activated the mechanism that swept the drapes open, and she stifled a groan at the sight of heavy rain drenching the lawn.

      Her mother, she knew, would consider it an omen, and probably not a propitious one.

      Aysha selected shorts and a top, discarded her nightshirt, then quickly dressed. With a bit of celestial help she might make it downstairs to the dining room—

      Her mobile phone rang, and she reached for it.

      ‘Carlo?’

      ‘Who else were you expecting?’

      His deep voice did strange things to her senses, and the temptation to tease him a little was difficult to resist ‘Any one of my four bridesmaids, your mother, Nonna Benini, phoning from Treviso to wish me buona fortuna, Sister Maria Teresa...’ she trailed off, and was unable to suppress a light laugh. ‘Is there any particular reason you called?’

      ‘Remind me to exact retribution, cara,’ he mocked in husky promise.

      The thought of precisely how he would achieve it curled round her central core, and set her heart beating at a quickened pace.

      ‘You weren’t there when I reached out in the night,’ Carlo said gently. ‘There was no scent of you on my sheets, no drift of perfume to lend assurance to my subconscious mind.’ He paused for a few seconds. ‘I missed you.’

      She closed her eyes against the vivid picture his words evoked. She could feel her whole body begin to heat, her emotions separate and shred. ‘Don’t,’ she pleaded with a slight groan. ‘I have to get through the day.’

      ‘Didn’t sleep much, either, huh?’ he queried wryly, and she wrinkled her nose.

      ‘An hour or two, here and there,’ Aysha admitted.

      ‘Are you dressed?’

      ‘Yes.’ Her voice was almost prim, and he laughed.

      ‘Pity. If I can’t have you in the flesh, then the fantasy will have to suffice.’

      ‘And you, of course, have had a workout, showered, shaved, and are about to eat breakfast?’

      Carlo chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that sent shivers slithering down her spine. ‘Actually, no. I’m lying in bed, conserving my energy.’

      Just the thought of that long muscular body resting supine on the bed was enough to play havoc with her senses. Imagining how he might or might not be attired sent her pulse beating like a drum.

      ‘I don’t think we’d better do this.’

      ‘Do what, precisely?’

      ‘Phone sex.’

      His voice held latent laughter. ‘Is that what you think we’re doing?’

      ‘It doesn’t compensate for the real thing.’

      His soft laughter was almost her undoing. ‘I doubt Teresa will be impressed if I appear at the door and sweep you into the bedroom before breakfast.’

      A firm tattoo sounded against the panelled door. ‘Aysha?’

      The day was about to start in earnest. ‘In a moment, Mamma.’

      ‘Don’t keep me waiting too long at the church, cara,’ Carlo said gently as she crossed the room.

      ‘To be five minutes late is obligatory,’ she teased, twisting the knob and drawing back the door. ‘Ciao.’

      Teresa stood framed in the doorway. ‘Buon giorno, darling.’ Her eyes glanced at the mobile phone. ‘You were talking to Carlo?’ She didn’t wait for an answer as she walked to the expanse of plate glass window with its splendid view of the harbour and northern suburbs. ‘It’s raining.’

      ‘The service isn’t scheduled until four,’ Aysha attempted to soothe.

      ‘Antonio has spent so much time and effort on the gardens these past few weeks. It will be such a shame if we can’t assemble outside for photographs.’

      ‘The wedding organiser has a contingency plan, Mamma.’ Photographs in the conservatory, the massive entry foyer, the lounge.

      ‘Yes, I know. But the garden would be perfect.’

      Aysha sighed. The problem with a perfectionist was that rarely did anything meet their impossibly high expectations.

      ‘Mamma,’ she began gently. ‘If it’s going to rain, it will, and worrying won’t make it different.’ She crossed to the en suite bathroom. ‘Give me a few minutes, then we’ll go downstairs and share breakfast.’

      It was the antithesis of a leisurely meal. The phone rang constantly, and at nine the first of the day’s wedding gifts arrived by delivery van.

      ‘Put them in here,’ Teresa instructed, leading the way into a sitting room where a long table decorated with snowy white linen and draped tulle held a large collection of various sized wrapped and beribboned packages.

      The doorchimes sounded. ‘Aysha, get that, will you, darling? It’ll probably be Natalina or Giovanna.’

      The first in line of several friends who had offered their services to help.

      ‘Aysha, you look so calm. How is that?’

      Because Carlo loves me. And we’re already married. The words didn’t find voice, but they sang through her brain like the sweetest music she’d ever heard.

      ‘Ask me again a few hours from now,’ she said with a teasing smile.

      Organisation was the key, although as the morning progressed the order changed to relative chaos and went downhill from there.

      The florist delivered the bridal bouquets, exquisitely laid out in their boxes... except there was one missing. The men’s buttonholes arrived with the bouquets, instead of being delivered to Gianna’s home.

      Soon after that problem was satisfactorily resolved Teresa received a phone call from one of the two women who’d offered to decorate the church pews... they couldn’t get in, the church doors were locked, and no one appeared to be answering their summons.

      Lunch was hardly an issue as time suddenly appeared to be of the essence, with the arrival of Lianna, Arianne, Suzanne and Tessa.

      ‘Très chic, darling,’ Lianna teased as she appraised Aysha from head to toe and back again. ‘Bare feet, cut-off jeans and a skimpy top. The ultimate in avant-garde bridal wear. Just add the veil, and you’ll cause a sensation,’ she concluded with droll humour.

      ‘Mamma would have a heart attack.’

      ‘Not something to be countenanced,’ Lianna agreed solemnly. ‘Now,’ she demanded breezily, ‘we’re all showered and ready to roll. Command, and СКАЧАТЬ