The Sicilian's Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

turned into the superb dessert wine they were famous for. If. If the woman would only be reasonable. They should win the gold this year for either a red or a white. They would be back on top, and the world would be theirs again.
    Finding that Magdalena was deceiving him was one thing, but losing his head over her so that he’d been negligent in running the vineyards was ten times worse. He blamed himself for the whole mess. He’d learned a valuable lesson. No matter how tempting, he would never fall for any woman again. His family didn’t believe that. They thought his turning into a loner this past year was only a phase. He didn’t think so.
    This year if all went well, they could be on top again with a win at the Concorso for their Ceravasuolo. Let his family call him obsessive. He didn’t care. It was better than being careless. He buried himself in his work. It was his choice andhis obligation. Someone had to worry about the wine and family’s land holdings. His father was busy in Palermo, his grandfather was sick. So that person was him. Let his sisters suggest he get out and find a girlfriend. It wasn’t going to happen. Not now. Not ever.
     
    Isabel paused to pick some grapes and licked her lips. Even as a beginner unaccustomed to tasting wine grapes off the vine, she was struck by how sweet they were. She felt a quiver of excitement. These were special grapes. She’d read about super-sweet grapes, old grapes that had been neglected. Her grapes.
    She turned to Dario, whose blue eyes were narrowed in the bright sun. “These are delicious,” she said. “Are they the same grapes that produce the famous Amarado dessert wine?”
    He hesitated. Didn’t he know or didn’t he want to tell her? Finally he nodded.
    She realized he didn’t want her to know. He wanted her to get discouraged and leave. Sell out to him. He was sorry she’d stumbled on her own high-quality grapes. She could tell by the way his mouth was set in a straight uncompromising line, and by the creases in his forehead that this was the last thing he wanted her to know.
    “I’ve tasted that wine. It’s delicious. After I did some research on the Azienda Spendora I went out and found a few bottles of old Amarado in an upscale beverage store. It’s very expensive in the States, if you can even find it,” she said thoughtfully. “A high-end wine. It could be a huge moneymaker.”
    “I wouldn’t count on it.”
    She slanted a glance in his direction. He knew. He must know how valuable it was. “No wonder you want this vineyard so much. It’s because of the Amarado. I can’t believe it. These are all mine and I’ll make this superb dessert wine.I can make a go of it. I know I can. I can make money. Live off the land and show the naysayers.”
    She paused, struck by the look on his face. What had she said to make him glare at her like that? A muscle in his temple twitched. Was she excessively bragging? Or was he just upset because they were hers and not his grapes? “You didn’t tell me about these grapes.”
    “You didn’t ask me,” he said shortly. “Don’t get too excited,” he cautioned. “It takes more than just picking and fermenting the grapes to make a decent Amarado.”
    “You don’t think I can do it. You don’t think I have what it takes.”
    “Do you?”
    Suddenly a shaft of uncertainty hit her. What made her think she could compete in a wine market where her competitors had been doing this for decades? Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she was overconfident. He was right. It wasn’t going to be easy.
    “Yes. I’ll make it work,” she insisted. “Why shouldn’t I?” She was proud of how certain she sounded when inside a small voice asked who she thought she was. How did she think she could compete as an outsider?
    “Why? Because you can’t possibly pick your own grapes,” Dario said. “You have acres of vines. It’s backbreaking work and you have to know what you’re doing. You don’t want to do work like