His Virgin Bride

He drew in a deep uneven breath as he looked at the house. ‘I am going to make a start on clearing out Giovanni’s room in the next day or so. It should have been done years ago.’

‘Would you like me to help you?’ she asked.

He turned back to look at her again. ‘No, thank you all the same. This is one job I probably need to do alone.’

A little silence crept from the shadows of the garden towards them.

Rafaele got to his feet. ‘I am going to take a walk around the gardens,’ he said. ‘Do not wait up. I will see you in the morning.’

She stepped up on tiptoe and pressed a soft-as-air kiss to his cheek. ‘Goodnight, Rafaele,’ she whispered.

Rafaele stood and watched as she made her way back to the house, the soft, ghost-like tread of her bare feet making no sound on the dew-kissed, spongy grass.

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