How had she got there? Why was she alone? Surely someone, somewhere, missed her? She tried to imagine people frantically searching for her. A family, boyfriend, husband even.
A sob rose in her throat and she stifled it. She couldn’t afford to give in to despair.
Doubtfully she looked down at her fingers. There was no ring and no mark from a ring. Her nails were neat and short. Nothing there to hint at her identity.
She lifted her hand to her head, then dropped it. The headache was bearable now, just a low hum, but she didn’t want to make it worse by probing.
‘What are you doing?’ The words, sharp and unexpected, lassoed her ribs, tightening her lungs so her breath caught.
Cautiously, not wanting to aggravate the pain again, she turned.
Angelo Ricci stood just inside the open doorway. She hadn’t heard him enter and he stood with his hands jammed onto his hips as if confronting some malefactor.
Ally stared straight back, refusing to be cowed when she’d done nothing wrong. ‘Looking at the view.’
Surely that was evident. Yet that frown made him look as if he’d caught her stealing the family silver. Was that what he thought? That she’d come to ransack his home?
Was he going to tell her next that she was a thief as well as a liar? Ally braced herself.
‘You shouldn’t be out of bed.’ He stalked across the room and she marvelled at the way those long legs ate up the space so quickly.
Another reminder of his sheer physicality. She’d been aware of it from the first and, despite her wariness—okay, her dislike of the man who so obviously disliked her—she kept noticing.
Her chin hiked up to keep him in view as he stopped before her. Despite pride and logic, and all her determination, it wasn’t just dislike she felt.
Something stirred deep within. A frisson of sensation that she had no name for and was glad she didn’t. Because the feeling wassoftwhen she needed to be hard and on her guard around him.
‘The doctor said I needed rest and quiet. I’ve been resting all day.’
Those black eyebrows crammed close and she was reminded again of some angry god, about to hurl a thunderbolt because his temper had got out of hand.
What would Angelo Ricci be like in a temper? Her pulse quickened but with excitement, not fear.
Was she a secret thrill-seeker? Or a blatant adrenaline junkie? What else could explain the sudden impulse to goad him?
Ally tamped it down. See? She was a sensible woman.
‘What if you’d fallen? What if you’d hit your head again?’
Surprised, she searched his grim features. Was that concern in his voice? She dismissed the idea. He was probably worried that if she hurt herself again it would look bad, as if he’d failed to care for her.
‘But I didn’t. I was perfectly fine.’
Well, not perfectly. She’d been wobbly and wondered if she’d make it to the bathroom and back, but her need had been urgent and there’d been no one around to ask for help.
Ally’s brow puckered as another thought surfaced. ‘Did I dream it or did you stay with me through the night?’
She had vague memories of a dark, broad-shouldered presence in the shadows beyond the dimmed bedside lamp. Of firm hands supporting her as she sipped thirstily at a glass of water.
Ally had assumed it was a dream but, seeing the slight smudges beneath his dark eyes, she wondered. If so, it was an unexpected kindness.
He shrugged. ‘Someone needed to keep an eye on you. Rosetta took the day shift.’
So she had. Not that Rosetta had stayed, but she’d looked in so often Ally began to wonder if that explained her dour attitude. The housekeeper would have plenty to do without checking on her every twenty minutes.
‘Thank you. That’s very kind.’
His eyes widened and she had the impression he was surprised. Because he didn’t think she had the manners to thank him for his efforts? Or because he didn’t usually do anything to elicit gratitude?