‘Yes.’
His voice was still tight. Lana knew why perfectly well. It seemed strange that both of them should have lost their parents in such similarly tragic and untimely ways. It seemed to link them, when in fact there was nothing linking them at all. Nothing personal.
Setting down her wine glass, she resumed eating. So did Salvatore. Was the silence between them awkward, or the opposite? She wasn’t sure—knew only that it was safer to return to easier subjects.
‘So, how old is the palazzo?’ she heard herself asking. Her tone was conversational now, and that seemed safer, too.
He answered in kind, and that was better. ‘Nearly three hundred years old,’ he said. ‘The family who originally built it sold it after the Napoleonic wars, and it changed hands again before my own family bought it.’
‘May I explore?’ she asked.
He frowned, as if her question were out of place. ‘Of course. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to show you around this afternoon—I must get some work done after my week of socialising in Rome. If you consider the weather warm enough, you might like to sit out by the pool—it’s heated at this time of year, until summer arrives in full strength.’
‘Thank you—that sounds very inviting,’ Lana replied. ‘What is our schedule for the time we’ll spend here?’ she asked. He’d set their schedule out in Rome, so she might as well discover what was expected of her here.
‘As I say, I have a great deal of work to catch up with, but I see no reason why I should not show you something of the area. Would you like that? You mentioned you had never been to Florence, for example. Would that be of interest to you?’
‘Well, yes,’ she agreed, ‘but I can easily visit on my own. Please do not feel obliged to—’
‘Lana.’ He cut across her. ‘We are supposed to be on our honeymoon—newlyweds! What new bride goes off sightseeing on her own?’
‘I simply don’t want to make demands on you,’ she replied.
‘You won’t,’ he assured. ‘I’ll show you Florence, and there is so much more, of course. Pisa, Lucca, Sienna—the list goes on and on! Even after a year you won’t have seen all that Tuscany offers.’
His mood seemed to lighten again, and he started to talk about Tuscany. Lana asked appropriate questions about its geography and history, just as if she were an invited guest, and it made the meal pass pleasantly.
As the staff emerged to clear the table, he got to his feet. ‘I must go and get some work done,’ he said. ‘Have coffee out here, or down by the pool if you prefer. Feel free to do as you please this afternoon—pool, gardens, house, whatever. Dinner is at eight, but we’ll gather at half-seven for drinks. Dress code is informal—I want to be comfortable after a week of tuxedos!’
He strode off back indoors, and Lana’s eyes followed him. Moments later the two manservants had gone too, taking her request for coffee with them, and she was left sitting on her own. There was no sound except birdsong. It was very peaceful. Very beautiful. She looked out over the sunken garden with the stone fountain, its water playing gently, bathed in warm sunlight.
I could get used to this....
And not just to the lifestyle. Her thoughts flickered. She found herself wishing, as she had before, that the man she had married to lift the crushing burden of debt off her shoulders had been short, fat and old. It would have made things a lot, lot easier...
Her gaze flicked to the chair Salvatore had just been occupying. She saw him there again, his powerful frame dominating her vision, the chiselled planes of his face, the dark glance of his gaze on her.
She felt sudden heat beat up into her.
Heat that should not be there. That had no place being there.
Salvatore clicked off his computer and pushed the keyboard away. He was done for today. Time for something much more enjoyable.
An enquiry of Giuseppe confirmed that Lana was out by the pool. Ideal...
He headed out.
The warm air after the cool of his office was welcome. Though it was still spring, summer was on its way. He strode across the terrace, making his way past the rear of the palazzo where, to the right, the pool court was situated, sheltered in a walled garden that mirrored the sunken fountain garden on the other side of the palazzo.
He vaulted lightly down the steps, through the archway towards the aqua of the pool’s water, sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine.
And stopped dead.
He’d known Lana would be there, but—
She was lying spreadeagled, face-down on a lounger, completely naked apart from a skimpy bikini bottom, her glorious hair like a swathe of shining gold waving over one shoulder. His eyes swept over her—over her long, bare body, the fabulous moulding of her shoulders and back, the soft round of her barely covered derriere and the long, slightly parted length of her thighs and legs.
Desire, strong and insistent, swept instantly over him.