Chapter 2
We had been travelling for nearly six days, first along the coast, then over the mountains and gently rolling hills of inland Sicily, before we reached Paternò where my future husband, Don Fabrizio, was waiting. The Moncada palazzo towered above the tiny village, alongside a grim Norman fortress, on the southern slopes of Mount Etna, whose dark outline loomed in the far distance.
Fabrizio dismounted from his horse. I watched him walk towards us along the avenue, while the only thought that ran through my head was that I had imagined him to be taller. At that moment I realised that nobody had even shown me a portrait of the man and I had a moment of desolation. My heart raced as, with half closed eyes, I tried to distinguish his features, which were hidden by the sun shining beh
