‘Let’s dance, Isadora.’
Issy’s head turned at the deep, commanding voice as strong fingers gripped her elbow. ‘Oh, hi, Gio.’ Her lips tilted up in an instant smile.
He looked confused, harassed and exhausted.
‘So you finally escaped from your uncle?’ she said brightly.
‘Don’t you dare laugh.’ He skewered her with a quelling look. ‘The man has been talking my ear
off for two solid hours. And he’s introduced me to more people in one afternoon than I’ve met in my entire life. All of whom he insists I’m related to.’
He treated Sophia and the other women to a quick greeting in Italian, but before any of them could reply, he clamped his hand round Issy’s arm and directed her towards the wooden dance floor that had been constructed in the middle of the olive grove.
Dusk was falling, but fairy lights had been hung from the heavily burdened olive trees, casting a magical glow on the couples already slow-dancing in the twilight.
‘I’ve had my cheek pinched by not one but two grannies,’ he continued, his voice pained as they stepped onto the uneven boards and he swung her into his arms. ‘I’ve been made to recite my life story about twenty times.’ He wrapped his arm round her waist and pulled her flush against his lean, hard body. ‘I’ve been force-fed my Aunt Donatella’s fusilli ortolana and my second cousin Elisabetta’s rabbit cacciatore.’ He twirled her round in time to the slow, seductive beat of the music before holding her close in his arms. ‘And come within a hair’s breadth of getting peed on by the guest of honour.’
Issy stifled a laugh as her heart kicked in her chest. Beneath the confusion and the fatigue she could see the creases around his eyes crinkling and hear the amusement in his voice.
The day had been a success. He looked tired, but happy.
She rested her cheek on his chest, gripped his hand. There had been no need to panic. All the questions she’d been fielding from Sophia and her family had unsettled her, but coming to the christening had been an unqualified success.
‘I’m shattered,’ he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear, his hands flattening on the bare skin of her back. ‘And the only thing that’s kept me going is the thought of all the ways I’m going to make you pay for this later tonight.’
Issy pulled away to lay a palm on his cheek. ‘Poor Gio. It’s tough being loved, isn’t it?’
He stopped in the middle of the dance floor. ‘What did you say?’ His face was masked by the lights behind him, but she could hear his wariness, his sharpness.
‘I said it’s tough being loved,’ she said, wishing she hadn’t seen him tense. The emotional stability she’d been working so hard on in the last few hours started to wobble again.
‘They don’t love me. They’re just good people doing what they consider to be their duty.’
They did love him. How could he not see it?
She wanted to argue the point, but knew from the rigid line of his jaw he would refuse to believe it. The ripple of disappointment had her shivering, despite the sultry evening air.
‘My father wants me to translate for him.’ Sophia stood beside Carlo as the old man clasped Issy’s hands. ‘Because Giovanni has told him your Italian is not so good. Yet.’
‘Oh, has he now?’ Issy joked, although her emotions felt perilously close to the surface.
Sophia smiled back as Carlo began to speak in a sober, steady voice, before lifting Issy’s hand to his lips and giving it a chivalrous kiss.
Sophia translated. ‘My father says that his heart is full with gratitude to you for making Giovanni come today, after being lost to his family for so many years. He says that you are a beautiful woman both inside and out and he hopes that Giovanni can see this too.’
Issy felt herself blush, dismayed by the old man’s words.
Carlo turned to Gio and took his hand. Issy felt Gio tense beside her as his uncle spoke. He dipped his head, spots of colour rising on his cheeks beneath his tan as Carlo patted his cheek, his voice rough with pride.
Tears pricked the back of Issy’s eyes as Sophia translated.
‘My father says that the Lorenzo family is very proud of Giovanni.’ Even Sophia’s voice sounded more sober than Issy had ever heard it before. ‘For all he has made of his life, despite a mother who did not know how to be a mother. Carlo says that Giovanni has made strong, important and beautiful buildings that will stand for a long time.’ Sophia swallowed, her voice as thick with emotion as Issy felt. ‘But he must not forget that the only thing that lasts forever is a man’s family.’ Sophia gave a half-laugh as Carlo finished his speech. ‘And that Giovanni is getting older and shouldn’t waste any more time getting started.’
Issy laughed too, at the old man’s audacity and the roguish sparkle in his eyes. As Gio replied in Italian Issy noticed the measured tone, devoid of his usual cynicism, and felt her heart lift. He wasn’t completely blind to what these people had to offer, whatever he might think.
As they said their goodbyes to everyone, Issy’s hand strayed automatically to her belly.
What if their mistake ended in a pregnancy?