Page 33 of A Winter Wedding Adventure (Adventure Weddings #2)

‘It is so quiet here; we must make more noise!’ Signor Martinelli declared, tapping his spoon against his glass.

Kira thought this Neapolitan New Year, snowed in at the Kitzingalm Hütte, had certainly been a noisy affair so far, despite the lack of electricity.

Conversation never stopped, between Alessandra – perhaps a little desperately gregarious tonight – and her lively parents, who drew everyone into the conversation in a mix of Italian and halting English.

There were rousing serenades with a percussion accompaniment of knocking on the table.

Mattia had allowed himself to be imposed upon for an occasional tune which at least gave Kira a breather from the whirlwind of conversation, even though it brought on the familiar ache in her chest when his voice wrapped around her heart.

He’d taken the seat next to her and her evening had been pleasantly punctuated by nudges from his elbow and the occasional brush of his fingers on her arm.

Kira was less worried about the eyes on them, because everyone was carefully tiptoeing around Alessandra and Joe, sitting together at the other end of the table.

Ever since the disaster on the ski slopes, Joe had been subdued. He joined in with the conversation, but he only perked up on the occasions when Alessandra leaned close and said something softly just for him.

Francesca had found a single tin of mountain lentils and warmed it on the stove once more as the hour ticked towards midnight, setting the dish in the middle of the table with a flourish and the tangy scent of bay leaves.

‘For good luck,’ she explained to Nadine. ‘I only wish we had more.’ With a glance at the bride and groom, her meaning was clear.

‘We have some grapes,’ Yolanda added, moving the bowl nearer to the bridal couple. ‘There is a big clock in the hallway that will chime. You should feed each other one grape for each chime of the clock. That’s what we do in Spain.’

‘Some people at home do that too,’ Carla added.

‘I don’t think there’s enough luck for everyone this year,’ Mattia muttered with a wry smile.

‘Maybe I could find some raisins?’ Yolanda suggested apologetically.

Mattia’s melodramatic gag earned him a poke from her elbow, but Kira chuckled at him. ‘I wouldn’t eat raisins, even for luck.’

‘You know what’s strange,’ Hugh piped up. ‘Without that clock, we wouldn’t even know when it’s midnight, since all our phones are dead.’

‘And we won’t have any photos!’ Tonya lamented.

‘I could turn my phone on for a photo, I suppose,’ Kira suggested. ‘One photo won’t take too much of the battery.’

By the time she’d got the old device switched on, the numbers on the screen read 23:59 and Yolanda dashed back into the dining room from the hallway, clapping her hands excitedly.

All eyes turned to Alessandra and Joe, the not-wedded couple, and Kira was dismayed to see tears in Alessandra’s eyes. She’d never been so relieved to see a man step up, when Joe took her chin and turned her face to his, speaking urgently in a low voice.

A chime sounded from the hallway and Signor Martinelli raised his glass with a cheer. After four strikes to signal the hour, the moment stretched as they held their breath for a cue from the beleaguered bride and groom.

With a sniff, Alessandra fumbled for the bowl of grapes and at the first gong, she slipped one into Joe’s mouth.

The collective sigh of relief became rather manic amusement as the clock gonged much too quickly for the couple to eat their grapes.

Alessandra laughed and a grape tumbled out of Joe’s mouth as he joined her.

Kira groped for her phone and snapped a few hurried photos. The torchlight was dim, making the photos grainy and eerie. Candid wedding shots were hopefully on-trend.

‘?Dios mío!’ Yolanda groaned, throwing up her hands.

‘Don’t worry, cara,’ Francesca declared, coming at the couple with the bowl of lentils and dropping a spoonful into each mouth.

‘Mamma!’ Alessandra mumbled while chewing, but her mother ignored her, shovelling in another spoonful before handing the bowl to the others to share. Kira took more photos, capturing the guests passing around the bowl of humble lentils.

When it reached Mattia, he held it out to her first and she sneaked a photo of him, eyebrows up, chiselled features dramatic in the harsh light, peering at her from under those astonishing lashes.

She wondered if she’d regret that photo later when she found herself mooning over it, long after they’d all gone home.

Setting down her phone, she picked up her fork and took some lentils as he said softly, ‘Buon anno nuovo, Kira.’

‘Happy New Year,’ she whispered back.

A raucous cheer drew her attention back to the rest of the group and she saw Joe pulling Alessandra gently to her feet.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up her hand and drew her into a slow waltz.

He stumbled a few times without music, but Francesca clapped a gentle beat and her husband hummed a well-known tune.

After giving her a twirl, he pressed his forehead to hers and whispered something that made her smile through the tears tumbling down her cheeks.

‘I promise we’ll have an amazing wedding, with every detail perfect, because that’s what you deserve, Alessandra.’

Carla snorted a sob and Nadine was dabbing at her eyes.

‘Oh look, mistletoe!’ Joe said in mock surprise. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss onto Alessandra’s lips to a chorus of cheering and raised glasses.

It appeared they would have a wedding after all, as soon as the snow cleared. Alessandra wouldn’t be jilted at the altar. Kira would have to stand there awkwardly in her dress and face Christian while trying to keep it together.

Then the next day, they’d all go home, as though nothing had changed. Nothing had changed. She had her crags and her adventures, friends who couldn’t hurt her. She’d only held hands with him – that was all.

She stood with a huff, trying to clear her self-pity, and mumbled something about checking on the wood-burning stoves. She could feel Mattia behind her, narrowly evaded the touch of his hand on her arm. What was she even doing, leaning on him?

Trying to squeeze past Alessandra and Joe surreptitiously, she was appalled to hear Carla’s voice.

‘Kira, wait!’

‘Hmm?’ was all she managed in reply.

The bridesmaid’s tentative smile only confused Kira. ‘You’re standing under the mistletoe.’

Her throat clogged. Her shoulder brushed something – or rather someone – standing equally still just behind her and she heard his gulp.

Alessandra laughed. ‘Yes, go on, Matty. The two of you have been wonderful today, making all of this happen.’

Kira’s cheeks were unbearably hot, her chest tight. What would Reshma say about this, given that the bride had now dictated a kiss? Glancing warily up at Mattia, she found his head already ducked towards her.

‘Okay?’ he whispered.

She nodded curtly and squeezed her eyes shut. They’d done this before. He only had to give her a quick peck?—

Her eyes flew open, wondering if she should have offered her cheek, whether he was embarrassed to kiss her in front of his friends.

He was very close, his eyelids heavy, the sharp lines of his face as familiar as the citrus-and-honey scent of him.

Catching the alarm in her expression, he paused, then lifted a hand to her cheek.

It was that touch she couldn’t resist. Her eyes falling closed again, she lifted her chin and met him in the middle.

* * *

Mattia felt as though he could power the house, his nerves were crackling so rigorously through his body.

He’d been thinking about kissing Kira all day, nearly done it on several occasions.

Alessandra’s family was watching, expecting, but he was mainly thinking about Kira, about the emotions that she didn’t realise flickered on her face and in her voice, her layers of strength and softness – and the dismay on her face when she started questioning herself.

So he soothed her with his thumb on her cheek and honoured her with a slow kiss. He’d worked it out now, the way he could steal her breath with a hint of pressure, the perfect angle to seal his open mouth to hers so she melted with him.

Her fingers fisted in his sleeves. The softest noise of frustrated restraint reached his ears and his thoughts blurred. Kissing her brought something to life, something he hadn’t known he needed.

His hand slipped from her cheek to her neck, his thumb finding a pulse point that made his own heart leap. Following blind instinct, he opened his mouth further against hers and sparks ignited under his skin as he flicked his tongue along her lip.

She jerked back with a breathy, ‘Whoa,’ steadying him – or herself – with her hands on his waist. Risking a glance at the wedding party, he glimpsed Alessandra’s frozen, slack-jawed incredulity and wished he hadn’t.

Kira turned, tripping over her own feet. ‘I was— Fireplace lighting. Stoves. Night – not cold.’ Lifting her chin, she took off out the door.

Alessandra snapped out of her shocked stupor more quickly than Mattia was prepared for. ‘What was?—?’

He pointed firmly at the door Kira had disappeared through. ‘I’m going to—’ He pointed again when no words came, then dashed out after her, refusing to imagine what the others would say when he was gone.

‘Kira!’ he called after her.

She didn’t stop, so he followed her onto the stairs. ‘Unless you want them to think we’re jumping into bed together, you should go back down,’ she said gruffly.

At the top of the stairs, he reached for her hand and tugged her to a stop. She didn’t turn. ‘I don’t want to go back down. But I will if that’s what you want – I mean if you don’t want…’

‘Mattia,’ she began with a huff, her voice thick, ‘are you suggesting we actually …’ She shook herself and tugged him along the hallway to his room, barging inside, since he hadn’t bothered locking the door.

As she leaned on the wall studying him warily, he was reminded of the night in Salzburg, when her uneven features had intrigued him, woken something in him, but he’d had no idea he would be here with her like this, just four days later.

‘You don’t do casual,’ she reminded him steadily.

‘With you, I could.’ There was a lot more he could say, but he didn’t want to spook her.

Her indrawn breath echoed in his ears. ‘I don’t—’ She bit her lip against a wobble in her voice. ‘I won’t be your soulmate.’

‘I know.’ She had her feet too firmly on the ground to believe in that.

‘Are you sure I won’t… hurt your feelings?’ She grimaced at her own word choice.

He took a step closer, enjoying the way she couldn’t hide her reaction when they were near each other. He shook his head. ‘I can take responsibility for my own feelings.’

Her faint smile made him stand a little straighter. His blood coursed through his veins as though pressurised, as though he were on stage – except he was playing himself , a version of himself, anyway. One he liked.

Holding her gaze while a giddy smile contorted his features and adrenaline surged, he marvelled at the absence of worries or embarrassment or insecurity.

And then she said the sweetest word he’d heard all day. ‘Okay.’