LAURA finished applying sun lotion to her arms and legs, and lay back in the shade of the big striped umbrella with a little sigh of contentment. Contrary to her own expectations, she was enjoying her solitude. The pool area occupied an extended hollow at the foot of the gardens, offering a welcome haven of tranquillity, with its marble tiles surrounding a large rectangle of turquoise water, and overlooked by terraced banks of flowering shrubs.
It was sheltered and very private, and, apart from birdsong and the hum of insects, it was also wonderfully quiet.
She put on her sunglasses and applied herself to taking an intelligent interest in her book, but the heroine’s ill-starred attempts to pursue entirely the wrong man struggled to hold her attention, and at last she put the thing down, sighing impatiently.
In view of her current circumstances, it wasn’t the ideal plot to engage her, she thought ruefully. In fact, War and Peace might have been a more appropriate choice. Especially as she’d just been totally routed by the enemy.
She’d managed to waylay a harassed Emilia, asking politely if she’d find out when it would be convenient for her to visit Paolo. But the reply conveyed back from the Signora was unequivocal. Paolo had a high fever but was now sleeping, so could not be disturbed.
If I were genuinely in love with him, I’d be chewing my nails to the quick by now, Laura thought indignantly.
But it was clear she had to start practising patience, and hope that, when his temperature eventually went down, Paolo would demand to see her instead.
She sighed. God, what a situation to be in, and all her own stupid doing, too. Why hadn’t she remembered there was no such thing as a free lunch?
But the deep indolent heat was already soothing her, encouraging her to close her eyes and relax. Reminding her that it was pointless to fret, because, for the time being at least, she was no longer in control of her own destiny.
Che sera, sera, she thought drowsily, removing her sunglasses and nestling further into the soft cushions of the lounger. Whatever will be, will be. Isn’t that what they say? So I may as well go with the flow. Especially as I don’t seem to have much of a choice.
She closed her eyes. Oh, Paolo. She sent the silent plea winging passionately to the villa. For heaven’s sake get well quickly, and get me out of here.
Alessio parked the Jeep in front of the house, and swung himself out of the driving seat. He needed, he thought as he strode indoors, a long cold drink, and a swim.
What he did not require was the sudden appearance of his aunt, as if she’d been lying in wait for him.
‘Where have you been?’ she demanded, and he checked resignedly.
‘Down to the village. Luca Donini asked me to talk to his father—persuade him not to spend another winter in that hut of his.’
‘He asked you?’ Her brows lifted haughtily. ‘But how can this concern you? Sometimes, Alessio, I think you forget your position.’
He gave her a long, hard look. ‘Yes, Zia Lucrezia,’ he drawled. ‘Sometimes, I do, as the events of the past few weeks have unhappily proved. But Besavoro is my village, and the concerns of my friends there are mine too.’
She snorted impatiently. ‘You did not take the girl with you?’
He shrugged. ‘I invited her, but she refused me.’
She glared at him. ‘That is bad. You cannot be trying.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘It is better than I expected after such a short time.’ His smile was cold. ‘But do not ask me to explain.’
She changed tack. ‘You should have told me you were going to the village. You could have gone to the pharmacy for my poor boy. Last night he was delirious—talking nonsense in his sleep.’
‘It is probably a habit of his,’ Alessio commented curtly. ‘Why not ask his innamorata?’
She gave him a furious look, and swept back to her nursing duties.
Alessio proceeded moodily to his room. The jibe had been almost irresistible, but he regretted it. There’d been no need to remind himself that Laura and Paolo had been enjoying an intimate relationship prior to their arrival in Italy. Because he knew it only too well already.
But what he could not explain was why he found it so galling. After all, he thought, he had never felt jealous or possessive about any of his previous involvements. For him, sex was usually just another appetite to be enjoyably and mutually satisfied. And there was nothing to be gained by jealousy or speculation over other lovers.
He’d awaited Laura’s arrival at the villa with a sense of blazing resentment, even though he knew he had only himself to blame for his predicament, and, instead, found himself instantly intrigued by her. From that, it had only been a brief step to desire. And he strongly suspected this would have happened if he’d met her somewhere far from his aunt’s interference.
He remembered, with distaste, icily promising to send her home with a beautiful memory. Now he wasn’t sure he’d send her back at all. Certainly not immediately, he thought, frowning as he stripped and found a pair of brief black swimming trunks.
Maybe he’d whisk her away somewhere—the Seychelles or the Maldives, perhaps, or the Bahamas—for a few weeks of exotic pampering, with a quick trip to Milan first, of course, to reinvent her wardrobe. Buy her the kind of clothes he would enjoy removing.
And on that enticing thought he collected a towel and his sunglasses, and went down to the pool to find her.
He found her peacefully asleep, the long lashes curling on her cheek, her head turned slightly to one side. The sun had moved round, leaving one ankle and foot out in the open, vulnerable to its direct rays, and he reached up to make a slight adjustment to the parasol.
Having done so, he did not move away immediately, but stood for a moment, looking down at her. In the simple dark green one-piece swimsuit, her slender body looked like the stem of a flower, her hair crowning it like an exotic corolla of russet petals.
A single strand lay across her cheek, and he was tempted to smooth it back, but knew he could not risk so intimate a gesture.
Because he wanted her so fiercely, so unequivocally, it was like a blow in the guts. However, now was not yet the moment, so he would have to practise unaccustomed restraint, he reminded himself grimly.
Swallowing, he turned away, tossing his towel and sunglasses onto an adjoining lounger, then walked to the edge of the pool and dived in, his body cutting the water as cleanly as a knife.
Dimly, Laura heard the splash and came awake, lifting herself onto one elbow as she looked around her, faintly disorientated.
Then her eyes went to the pool, and the tanned body sliding with powerful grace through the water, and her mind cleared, with an instantaneous nervous lurch of the stomach.
Stealthily, she watched him complete another two lengths of the pool, then turn towards the side. She retrieved her sunglasses and slid them on, then grabbed her book, holding it in front of her like a barrier as Alessio lifted himself lithely out of the water and walked towards her, his body gleaming, sleek as a seal, in the sunlight.
‘Ciao.’ His smile was casual as he began to blot the moisture from his skin with his towel.
‘Hello,’ she responded hesitantly, not looking at him directly. Those trunks, she thought, her mouth drying, were even briefer than his shorts had been. She hurried into speech. ‘You—you’re back early. Did you settle all your business?’
‘Not as I wished.’ He grimaced. ‘I had a battle of wills with a stubborn old man and lost.’
‘Well,’ she said. ‘That can’t happen too often.’
‘It does with Fredo.’ His face relaxed into a grin. ‘He cannot forget that his son and I grew up together, and that he was almost a second father to me when my parents were away. He even took his belt to Luca and myself with complete impartiality when we behaved badly, and likes to remind me of it when he can.’
He shrugged. ‘But he also showed us every track and trail in the forest, and taught us to use them safely. He even took me on my first wild boar hunt.’
‘So why are you disagreeing now? Not that it’s any of my business,’ she added hastily.
‘It’s no secret. Even when his wife was alive, he did not like life in town, so when she died he moved up to a hut on the mountain to look after his goats there. He has been there ever since, and Luca worries that he is getting too old for such a life. He wants his father to live with him, but Fredo says his daughter-in-law is a bad cook, and has a tongue as sharp as a viper’s bite, and I could not argue with that.’
‘Absolutely not,’ she agreed solemnly. ‘A double whammy, no less.’
He laughed. ‘As you say, bella mia. But the campaign is not over yet.’
‘You don’t give up easily.’
‘I do not give up at all.’
He spread his towel on the lounger and stretched out, nodding at the book she was still clutching. ‘Is it good?’
‘The jacket says it’s a best-seller.’
‘Ah,’ he said, softly. ‘But what does Laura say?’
‘That the jury’s still out, but the verdict will probably be guilty. Murder by cliché.’ She sighed. ‘However, it’s all I brought with me, so I have to make it last.’
‘There are English books in my library up at the villa,’ he said. ‘Some classics, and some modern. You are welcome to borrow them. Ask Emilia to show you where they are.’
‘Thank you, that’s—very kind.’ Her brows lifted in surprise. ‘Is that why your English is so incredibly good—because you read a lot?’
‘I learned English as a second language at school,’ he said. ‘And attended university in Britain and America.’ His grin teased her. ‘And it is fortunate that I did, as your Italian is so minimal.’
‘But my French isn’t bad,’ she defended herself. ‘If I’d gone on the holiday I originally planned, I’d have shone.’
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘And what holiday was that?’
She was suddenly still, cursing herself under her breath. She’d let her tongue run away with her again. ‘I thought of the Riviera,’ she said. ‘But then I met Paolo—and changed my mind, of course.’
‘Of course.’ She thought she detected a note of irony in his voice.
‘Perhaps you should have stuck to plan A,’ he went on. ‘Then you would have avoided a meeting with Zia Lucrezia.’
‘Indeed,’ she said lightly. ‘And Paolo might not have caught a cold.’
‘Not with you to keep him warm, I am sure,’ he said softly, and watched with satisfaction as the inevitable blush rose in her face. ‘Have you been to see him?’
‘I tried,’ she admitted. ‘But his mother wouldn’t allow it. Apparently he’s running a temperature.’
‘Which you might raise to lethal limits.’ He paused. ‘And she may have a point,’ he added silkily. ‘But would you like me to speak to her for you—persuade her to see reason?’
‘Would you?’ she asked doubtfully. ‘But why?’
‘Who am I to stand in the way of love?’ He shrugged a negligent shoulder, and Laura tried to ignore the resultant ripple of muscle.
Abruptly, she said, ‘Do you know Beatrice Manzone?’
‘I have met her,’ he said. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I was wondering what she was like.’
The dark gaze narrowed. ‘What does Paolo say?’
She bit her lip. ‘That she’s rich.’
‘A little harsh,’ he said. ‘She is also pretty and docile.’ He grinned faintly. ‘And cloying, like an overdose of honey. Quite unlike you, mia cara.’
She bit her lip. ‘I wasn’t looking for comparisons.’
‘Then what do you want? Reassurance?’ There was a sudden crispness in his tone. ‘You should look to Paolo for that. And according to him, the Manzone girl is history.’
‘His mother doesn’t seem to think so.’
There was an odd silence, then he said, ‘Mia bella, if you and Paolo want each other, then what else matters?’ He swung himself off the lounger, as if suddenly impatient. ‘And now it is time we went up to the house for some lunch.’
Once again only two places had been set for the meal, which, this time, was being served in the coolness of the dining room. And her seat, Laura observed uneasily, had been moved up the table to within touching distance of his. It made serving the food more convenient, but at the same time it seemed as if she was constantly being thrust into close proximity with him—suddenly an honoured guest rather than an unwanted visitor—and she found this disturbing for all kinds of reasons.
But in spite of her mental reservations, her morning in the fresh air had certainly sharpened her appetite, and she ate her way through a bowl of vegetable soup, and a substantial helping of pasta. But her eyes widened in genuine shock when Guillermo carried the next course—a dish of cod baked with potatoes and parmesan—to the table.
‘More food?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe it.’
Alessio looked amused. ‘And there is still cheese and dessert to follow. You are going to be an Italian’s wife, Laura. You must learn to eat well in the middle of the day.’
‘But how can anyone do any work after all this?’
‘No one does.’ Alessio handed her a plate of food. ‘Has Paolo not introduced you to the charms of the siesta?’ He kept his voice light with an effort, knowing fiercely that he wanted to be the one to share with her those quiet, shuttered afternoon hours. To sleep with her wrapped in his arms, then wake to make slow, lazy love.
‘We rest and work later when it is cooler,’ he added, refilling her glass with wine.
‘I think Paolo is used to London hours now,’ she said, looking down at her plate.
‘But he will not always work there, you understand.’ He gave her a meditative look. ‘How would you like living in Turin—or Milan?’
‘I haven’t thought about it.’
‘Or,’ he said slowly, ‘it might even be Rome.’
She said, ‘Oh, I expect I’d adjust—somehow.’
Except, she thought, that it will never happen, and began to make herself eat.
She wished with sudden desperation that she could confide in him. Tell him exactly why she was here, and how Paolo had persuaded her into this charade.
But there was no guarantee that he would understand, and he might not appreciate being made a fool of, and having his hospitality abused in such a way.
And although he and his aunt were plainly not on the best of terms, he might disapprove of the older woman being deliberately deceived.
Besides, and more importantly, thought Laura, it would render her even more vulnerable where he was concerned, and she could not afford that.
She’d come this far, she told herself rather wanly. She might as well go on to the bitter end—whenever that might be.
His voice broke across her reverie. ‘What are you thinking?’
Quickly she forced a smile. Spoke eagerly. ‘Oh, just how good it will be to see Paolo again. We don’t seem to have been alone together for ages.’ She managed a note of anxiety. ‘You really do think you’ll be able to persuade your aunt?’
‘Yes,’ Alessio said quietly, after a pause. ‘Yes, I do.’
And they ate the rest of the meal in silence.
Siestas were probably fine in theory, thought Laura. In practice, they didn’t seem to work quite so well. Or not for her, anyway.
She lay staring up at the ceiling fan, listening to its soft swish as it rotated, and decided she had never felt so wide awake. She needed something to occupy her.
Her book was finished, its ending as predictable as the rest of the story, and she had no wish to lie about thinking. Because her mind only seemed to drift in one direction—towards the emotional minefield presided over by the Count Alessio Ramontella.
And it was ludicrous—pathetic—to allow herself to think about a man who, a week ago, had been only a name on the paperwork from the Arleschi Bank’s head office. A distant figurehead, and nothing more.
And no matter how attractive he might be, that was how he would always remain—remote. No part of any world that she lived in, except for these few dreamlike, unforgettable days.
Except that she had to forget them—and pretty damned quickly too—as soon as she returned to England, if not before.
She slid off the bed. She’d have a shower, she decided, and wash her hair. She’d brought no dryer with her, but twenty minutes or so with a hairbrush in the courtyard’s afternoon sun would serve the same purpose.
Ten minutes later, demurely wrapped in the primly pretty white cotton robe she’d brought with her, and her hair swathed into a towel, she opened the shutters and stepped outside into the heated shimmer of the day.
She was greeted immediately with a torrent of yapping as Caio, who was lying in the shade of the stone bench, rose to condemn her intrusion.
Laura halted in faint dismay. Up to now, although he was in the adjoining room, he hadn’t disturbed her too much with his barking. But she’d assumed that the Signora had taken him with her to the other end of the house to share her sick room vigil. She certainly hadn’t bargained for finding him here in sole and aggressive occupation.
‘Good dog,’ she said without conviction. ‘Look, I just want to get my hair dry. There’s enough room for us both. Don’t give me a hard time, now.’
Still barking, he advanced towards her, then almost jerked to a halt, and she realised he was actually tied to the bench. And, next to where he’d been lying, there was a dish with some dry-looking food on it, and, what was worse, an empty water bowl.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ She spoke aloud in real anger. Caio would never feature on any ‘favourite pets’ list of hers, but he deserved better than to be left tied up and thirsty.
She moved round to the other end of the bench, out of the range of his display of sharp teeth, and grabbed the bowl. She took it back to her bathroom, and filled it to the brim with cold water.
When she reappeared, Caio had retreated back under the bench. He growled at her approach, but his heart clearly wasn’t in it, and the beady, suspicious eyes were fixed on the bowl. She put it on the ground, then, to demonstrate that the suspicion was mutual, used her hairbrush to push the water near enough for the tethered dog to reach it. He gave a slight whimper, then plunged his muzzle into the bowl, filling the silence with the sound of his frantic lapping.
When he’d finished every drop, he raised his head and looked at her in unmistakable appeal.
I could lose a hand here, Laura thought, but Caio made no attempt to snap as she retrieved the bowl and refilled it for him.
‘You poor little devil,’ she said gently as he drank again. ‘I bet she’s forgotten all about you.’
The leash used to tie him was a long one, but Laura realised that it had become twined round the leg of the bench, reducing his freedom considerably.
She could, she thought, untangle it, if he’d let her. But would he allow her close enough to unclip the leash from his collar, without doing her some damage?
Well, she could but try. She certainly couldn’t leave him here like this. She could remember hearing once that looking dogs in the eye made them more aggressive, so she seated herself at the far end of the bench, and moved towards him by degrees. When she was in his space, she clenched her hand into a fist and offered it to him, trying to be confident about it, and talking to him quietly at the same time. His initial sniff was reluctant, but he didn’t bite, and she tried stroking his head, which he permitted warily.
‘You may be spoiled and obnoxious,’ she told him, ‘but I don’t think you have much of a life.’
She slid her fingers down to the ruff of hair round his neck and found his collar. As she released the clip Caio made a sound between a bark and a whimper, and was gone, making for the open space of the garden beyond the courtyard. And after that, presumably, the world.
‘Oh, God,’ Laura muttered, jumping to her feet and running after him, stumbling a little over the hem of her robe.
What the hell would she do if she couldn’t find him? And what was she going to say to the Signora, anyway? She’d be accused of interfering, which was true, and coming back with a counter-accusation of animal negligence, however justified, wouldn’t remedy the situation.
She had no idea how extensive the villa’s grounds were, or if they were even secure. Supposing he got out onto the mountain itself, and a wolf found him before she could?
This is what happens when you try to be a canine Samaritan, she thought breathlessly as she reached the courtyard entrance, only to find herself almost cannoning into Alessio, who was approaching from the opposite direction with a squirming Caio tucked firmly under his arm.
‘Oh, you found him,’ she exclaimed. ‘Thank heaven for that.’
‘I almost fell over him,’ he told her tersely. ‘Where has he come from?’
‘He was tied to the bench over there. I was trying to make him more comfortable, and he just—took off. I was terrified that I wouldn’t be able to find him.’
‘He was out here—in this heat?’ Alessio’s tone was incredulous, with the beginnings of anger. He glanced at the bench. ‘At least he had water.’ He looked at Laura again, more closely. ‘Or did he?’
She sighed. ‘Well, he has now, and that’s what matters.’ She was suddenly searingly conscious of the fact that she was wearing nothing but a thin robe, and that her damp hair was hanging on her shoulders. ‘I—I’ll leave him with you, shall I?’ she added, beginning to back away.
‘One moment,’ he said. ‘What made you come out here at this time?’
‘I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d wash my hair, and dry it in the sun.’ She forced a smile. ‘As you see.’
His brows lifted. ‘A rather primitive solution, don’t you think? Why didn’t you ring the bell for Emilia? She would have found you an electric dryer.’
‘I felt she had enough on her plate without running around after me. And it is siesta time, after all.’ She paused. ‘So, why are you here, come to that?’
‘I could not sleep either.’ He glanced down at Caio, who returned him a baleful look. ‘Under the circumstances, that was fortunate.’
‘Just in time to spoil his bid for freedom, poor little mutt.’ She offered the dog her hand again, and found her fingers being licked by his small rough tongue.
‘You seem to have made a friend, bella mia.’ Alessio sounded amused. ‘My aunt will have another reason for jealousy.’ He scratched the top of Caio’s head. ‘And I thought the whole world was his enemy.’
‘He’ll think so too, if we tie him up to that bench again,’ Laura said ruefully.
‘Then we will not do so. I will put him in my aunt’s room instead, with his water. His basket is there, anyway, and he will be cooler,’ he added, frowning. ‘I cannot imagine why she would leave him anywhere else.’ He sighed. ‘Another topic for discussion that will displease her.’
‘Another?’
‘I have yet to raise the subject of your visit to Paolo.’
‘Oh, please,’ Laura said awkwardly. ‘I’ve been thinking about that, and maybe I shouldn’t persist. If she’s so adamant, it will only cause problems.’
He said gently, ‘But that is nonsense, Laura mia. Of course you must see your lover. Your visit can do nothing but good, I am sure.’ His gaze travelled over her, from the high, frilled neck of her robe, down to her bare insteps, and she felt every inch of concealed skin tingle under his lingering regard. Felt an odd heat burgeoning inside her, which had nothing to do with the warmth of the day.
He smiled at her. ‘And I will ask Emilia to bring you the hair-dryer,’ he added softly, then turned away.
Laura regained the sanctuary of her room, aware that her breathing had quickened out of all proportion.
She closed the shutters behind her, then, on impulse, decided to fasten the small iron bar that locked them. It had clearly not been used for some time because it resisted, finally falling into place with a bang that resounded in the quiet of the afternoon like a pistol shot.
She could only hope Alessio hadn’t heard it, because he’d be bound to put two and two together. And the last thing she needed was for him to think that he made her nervous in any way.
Because she had nothing to fear from him, and she was flattering herself to think otherwise.
Someone like Alessio Ramontella would live on a diet of film stars and heiresses, she told herself, pushing her damp hair back from her face with despondent fingers. And if he’s kind to me, it’s because he recognises I’m out of my depth, and feels sorry for me.
And as long as I remember that, I’m in no danger. No danger at all.
Her reunion with the dying Paolo was scheduled to take place before dinner. A note signed ‘Ramontella’ informing her of the arrangement had been brought to her by Emilia, along with the promised hair-dryer.
He’d certainly wasted no time over the matter, Laura thought as she followed Guillermo over to the other side of the villa. All she had to do now was pretend to be suitably eager.
She’d dressed for the occasion, putting on her other decent dress, a slim fitting blue shift, sleeveless and scoop-necked. Trying to upgrade it with a handful of silver chains and a matching bracelet.
She’d painted her fingernails and toenails a soft coral, and used a toning lustre on her mouth, emphasising her grey eyes with shadow and kohl.
The kind of effort a girl would make for her lover, she hoped.
She found herself in a long passageway, looking out onto yet another courtyard. The fountain here was larger, she saw, pausing, and a much more elaborate affair, crowned by the statue of a woman crafted in marble. She stood on tiptoe, as if about to take flight, hair and scanty draperies flying behind her, and a bow in her hand, gazing out across the tumbling water that fell from the rock at her feet.
‘The goddess Diana for whom the villa is named, signorina,’ Guillermo, who had halted too, told her in his halting English. ‘Very beautiful, sì?’
‘Very,’ Laura agreed with less than total certainty as she studied the remote, almost inhuman face. The virgin huntress, she thought, who unleashed her hounds on any man unwise enough to look at her, and who had the cold moon as her symbol.
And not the obvious choice of deity for someone as overtly warm-blooded as Alessio Ramontella. Her dogs would have torn him to pieces on sight.
She looked down the passage to the tall double doors at the end. ‘Is that Signor Paolo’s room?’
‘But no, signorina.’ He sounded almost shocked. ‘That is the suite of His Excellency. The signore, his cousin, is here.’ He turned briskly to the left, down another much shorter corridor, and halted, knocking at a door.
It was flung open immediately, and the Signora swept out, her eyes raking Laura with an expression of pure malevolence.
‘You may have ten minutes,’ she snapped. ‘No more. My son needs rest.’
What does she think? Laura asked herself ironically as she entered. That I’m planning to jump his bones?
The shutters were closed and the drapes were drawn too, so the room, which smelled strongly of something like camphorated oil, was lit only by a lamp at the side of the bed.
Paolo was lying, eyes closed, propped up by pillows. He was wearing maroon pyjamas, which made him look sallow, Laura thought. Or maybe it was the effect of the lamplight.
She pulled up a chair, and sat beside the bed. ‘Hi,’ she said gently. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Terrible.’ His voice was hoarse and pettish, and the eyes he turned on her were bloodshot and watering. ‘Not well enough to talk, but Alessio insisted. I had to listen to him arguing with my mother, and my headache returned. What is it you want?’
‘I don’t want anything.’ She bit her lip. ‘Paolo, we’re supposed to be crazy about each other, remember? It would seem really weird if I didn’t ask for you.’ She hesitated. ‘I think your cousin feels that I’m stuck here in a kind of vacuum, and feels sorry for me.’
‘He would do better to concentrate his compassion on me,’ Paolo said sullenly. ‘He refuses to call a doctor, although he knows that I have had a weak chest since childhood, and my mother fears this cold may settle there.’ He gave a hollow cough as if to prove his point. ‘He said he would prefer to summon a vet to examine Caio, and he and my mother quarrelled again.’
Laura sighed. ‘I’m sorry if you’re having a difficult time, but you’re not the only one.’ She leaned forward. ‘Paolo, I’m finding it really hard to cope with being the uninvited guest round here. I need you to support me—take off some of the pressure.’ She paused. ‘How long, do you think, before you’re well enough to get up and join the real world again?’
‘When Mamma considers I am out of danger, and not before,’ he said, with something of a snap. ‘She alone knows how ill I am. She has been wonderful to me—a saint in her patience and care.’ He sneezed violently, and lay back, dabbing his nose with a bunch of tissues. ‘And my health is more important than your convenience,’ he added in a muffled voice.
She got to her feet. She said crisply, ‘Actually, it’s your own convenience that’s being served here. You seem to be overlooking that. But if you’d rather I kept my distance, that’s fine with me.’
‘I did not mean that,’ he said, his tone marginally more conciliatory. ‘Of course I wish you to continue to play your part, now more than ever. I shall tell Mamma that you must visit me each day—to aid my recovery. That I cannot live without you,’ he added with sudden inspiration.
Her mouth tightened. ‘No need to go to those lengths, perhaps. But at least it will give me a purpose for staying on.’
‘And you can go sightseeing, even if I am not with you,’ he went on. ‘I shall tell Mamma to put Giacomo and the car at your service at once.’ He coughed again. ‘But now I have talked enough, and my throat is hurting. I need to sleep to become well, you understand.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Of course.’ She moved to the door. ‘Well—I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Outside, she leaned against the wall and drew a deep breath. The daily visits would be a rod for her back, but, to balance that, being able to use the car was an unexpected lifeline.
It offered her a means of escape from the enclosed world of the villa, she thought, and, more vitally, meant that she would no longer be thrown into the company of Alessio Ramontella.
And that was just what she wanted, she told herself. Wasn’t it?