Chapter 7 - A Scent of Sea Spray and Bitter AlmondsBy 4:00 AM, the storm over the Mediterranean had blown out to sea, leaving the sky washed in a brilliant, crystal-clear expanse of sapphire and silver.
The Mediterranean waters below the cliffs were calm, reflecting the brilliant crescent moon that hung over the bay of Monaco like a curved silver blade.
Matteo and Isolde stood together on the private master terrace of the chateau, seventy meters above the singing surf.
The cool night breeze rustled the sheer curtains behind them, carrying the clean scent of ocean salt, blooming wild rosemary, and the sweet warmth of the olive wood smoke from the chimneys.
Matteo held Isolde from behind, his massive, scarred arms wrapped securely around her waist, his chin resting gently against the dark silk of her hair.
Her left hand rested over his, the heavy platinum signet ring and the six-carat sapphire collar catching the silver glow of the stars.
"Are you tired, Donna Isolde?" Matteo whispered into her ear.
Isolde leaned back against the broad, solid warmth of his chest, smiling up at the starlit sky, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart against her shoulder blades.
She thought of the cold restoration benches in Genoa, the heavy silver letter opener cutting through her silk smock, the sixteen hundred euros a month in her bank account, and the moment a man with a sea-dragon tattooed across his throat had boarded the terrace and demanded a velvet wrap for his wife.
"Not anymore, Matteo," Isolde whispered back, turning in his arms to cup his rugged, handsome face in both of her hands. "Tonight, our sea is finally quiet."
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He smiled—the soft, peaceful smile of a sovereign whose wars were won and whose soul was finally whole—and kissed his wife beneath the Mediterranean stars.
THE END
