She padded into the bathroom and turned on the spray. She wanted to see Anna, make her goodbyes in privacy, before she had to confront Nicolo and the scene she was certain he’d cause.
She dressed quickly in a white canvas skirt and navy cotton T-shirt. Her gaze flew to the clock again. Should she pack now or after she’d faced Nicolo?
After. Definitely after. She was running out of time and courage as it was, she admitted as she leaned into the wardrobe, searching for a pair of navy espadrilles. If she delayed another moment—
A knock sounded at the door. “Avanti” she called over her shoulder. The door snicked open. “Grazie, Lucia. Sul tavolo, per favore.”
Strong arms closed around her. “Nicolo?” she whispered. Her heart swelled as he turned her toward him. He was so handsome, and dressed as casually as she was, in trim-fitting chino pants and tweed jacket worn open over a cotton-knit shirt. She smiled a little. “I—I thought you were Lucia.”
“Parli l’Italiano molto bene, cara.”
Caroline shook her head. “Not really. I’ve just picked up some words and phrases.”
“Ah.” His expression turned serious, although there was a hint of laughter in his eyes. “It is a command of idioms that makes the difference. Shall I teach you some?”
“Nicolo.” Her smile faded. “Nicolo, we have to talk.”
“Sì. We will—once you’ve bid me a proper good morning, the sort a woman gives a man after she’s spent the night in his arms.” He gathered her closer. “Like this,” he murmured.
He kissed her with a slow, all-consuming sweetness that she could not resist. Her hands stole up his chest, then to his shoulders, and finally she clasped them behind his neck and gave herself up to the pleasure of the kiss.
After a long while, he smiled against her mouth, then drew back just enough so he was looking into her eyes.
“Now. Is there a better way to say good morning in your language, carissima?”
Caroline shook her head, then rested her forehead against his chin. “No,” she admitted. “I guess that way is pretty universal.”
“Caroline.” Nicolo put his hand under her chin and lifted her face to his. “Why did you leave me, bellissima? I thought I would awaken with you in my arms this morning.”
She drew a breath. “I know.” Her hands slid to his forearms, and she stepped out of his embrace. “That’s what I want to talk to you about, Nicolo.” She turned away and busied herself straightening the bed. “I’ve thought things over, and—and I decided it would be best if—”
His arms closed around her. “Lucia will do that.”
“It only takes a minute. I—”
“Caroline.” He drew her back against him and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You didn’t want to risk meeting one of the servants in the hall as you returned to your room, yes?”
She hesitated. That had certainly been part of her reason for slipping away.
“Yes, but—”
“I should have thought of it.” He sighed. “But I was selfish. I could think only of how badly I wanted to make love to you again, with the sunshine on your beautiful face.” His breath ruffled her hair as he kissed her ear lobe. “I missed you,” he said softly.
Caroline closed her eyes. Tell him you’re leaving, she thought. Tell him now.
“I—I missed you, too,” she murmured.
He slid his hands up her midriff and cupped her breasts lightly while he nuzzled her hair aside and kissed her throat.
“Now, I will have to wait until tonight to make you mine again.” He turned her in his arms. “What shall I do to keep my mind off that thought while the day passes?” He put his hands into her hair, lifting it from her shoulders, letting it sift through his fingers. “It will be hours before we can be together again.” He laughed and swooped her into his arms. “Unless I do this—”
“Nicolo! Put me down!”
“—and carry you off to my bed.”
She had to laugh. “Straight past Lucia, and Signora Brescia, the cook, the housekeeper, the gardener—”
“And Anna.” He grinned. “You’re right—and that’s why I’ve decided on a different plan, one that will keep us safely out of temptation’s way.”
There was only one plan that would do that, Caroline thought, and it was hers. But Nicolo’s smile was infectious, the feel of his arms wonderful. What harm could it do to play this little game another few minutes?
“And what is that, Your Highness?” she asked, looping her arms around his neck.
“I thought I would show you some more of my Roma. Mine,” he said, with all possible emphasis on the word, “not the one in the guidebooks. The fountains in the Piazza Navona, and then the Fontana di Trevi, and the Campo de’Fiori where we can buy what we’ll need for our picnic—”
“A picnic? Here, in Rome?”
“It would be possible. We could picnic on the grounds of the Villa Borghese.” He bent and kissed her mouth until her lips softened beneath his. “But I know a special place, in the campagna—in the country—where you will see vineyards and ancient castles and rolling hills, where we can drink wine that the gods would have kept for themselves if they could.” He smiled. “How does that sound, cara?”
“Wonderful. But—”
“There is a place where we can watch the setting sun paint the Tolfa Hills with scarlet. Then we’ll drive back to the city and dine in a little ristorante in Trastevere where you’ll eat the best carciofi alla giudia in all of Roma.”
“Eat what?” she said, laughing.
“Artichokes, made in the style of Roman Jews.”
Caroline made a face. “I don’t like artichokes.”
“You will like these,” he said, with that absolute certitude she had once found so infuriating. “They are famous all over the world, not just in Trastevere.” He paused, his eyebrows raised. “Well? What do you think?”
“I think it sounds like a perfect day. But—”
“Yes. I think so, too.” Nicolo gathered her close and kissed her, his lips so soft, so sweet against hers that she feared her heart might stop beating. Then he smiled into her eyes and lowered her slowly to her feet. “Would you like to spend this day with me, Caroline?”
She hesitated. There was only one answer to give, and she gave it.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I would love to.”
* * *
THE PIAZZA NAVONA was incredible, with its three exquisite fountains all vying for attention.
“But I like the Fontana dei Fiumi best,” Caroline admitted as they watched the water stream from the carved figures that represented the rivers of four continents.
“Of
course,” Nicolo said with a grin. “That’s because it’s the only one made by Bernini himself. The others were done by his students.”
The Trevi Fountain was magnificent, too, although Nicolo was almost apologetic when he showed it to Caroline.
“It is big, and showy, and, perhaps, too large for the piazza,” he said as they stood looking at its massive sculpted rocks and fanciful mythological figures. “But there is something very special about it, all the same.”
“Who is that driving the chariot? The king of the sea? What was his name—Poseidon?”
“Only in Greece.” Nicolo smiled. “He is Neptune to us here, in Italy. Do you know what they say about the Fontana di Trevi?”
Caroline nodded. “I think so. You’re supposed to toss a coin into the water so—so you’ll return to Rome someday.”
“Cara.” His arm tightened around her. “Why do you suddenly tremble? Are you cold?”
I trembled because I’ll never return to Rome, she thought, because when I leave tomorrow—and I will leave tomorrow—it will be forever.
“No. No, I’m fine.” She gave him a quick smile. “Some of the spray splashed me, that’s all. The water’s chilly.”
Nicolo let go of her and dug into his pockets. “Here.”
She looked at the coins glinting against his palm, then at him. “Don’t be silly,” she said with nervous laugh. “It’s just a myth.”
“Of course. But a pleasant one, based on a custom that is rooted in history. In the old days, Romans tossed coins into fountains to placate the gods. Even the early Christians are said to have thrown coins onto Peter’s tomb for good fortune.”
Caroline smiled. “It must be universal. Back home, people toss coins into fountains for good luck, too.”
“You see?” Nicolo pressed one of the coins into her hand. “Who are we to defy the gods? Go on, Caroline. You must turn your back, shut your eyes, and toss it over your shoulder.”
She hesitated a moment, and then she turned, and shut her eyes tightly, and wished for the impossible.
Please, she thought, oh, please, let Nicolo tell me he’s fallen in love with me. I don’t want to return to Rome—I never want to leave it. I want to stay here, with him, forever.