‘I like this,’ she murmured huskily.
‘Good.’ His hand slid over her hip and heat built low in his body. ‘But it’s not enough.’
He didn’t give a damn that they were being observed. He wanted her. He wanted a lot more than he could do in this public place. Nevertheless, he found his gaze turning towards the darker corners of the manicured gardens.
Ida slanted him a look that stoked the glowing heat in his belly. ‘Maybe we should leave soon. Though Francesco will guess why.’
‘Cheeky pup. What did he whisper to you?’
Cesare’s voice growled across Ida’s sensitive flesh, making her nipples peak. Just as well few guests were clustered in among the lights in this part of the garden.
‘Nothing important,’ she murmured. ‘You know he can’t resist teasing.’
‘I’m glad you’re back with him, Ida. You’re good for him.’
That was what Francesco had said, and heaven help her, but the words had struck home.
Because that was how she felt. That Cesare was good forher.
She’d blossomed. Not just sexually, though that was a major and wonderful part of what they shared. Ida felt more comfortable in herself, less at odds with the world. At first, she’d thought it was because she wasn’t focused on scraping a living or in fear of being found and punished by her grandfather.
But it was more than that.
In Tuscany, with Cesare, she’d begun to feel whole in a way she couldn’t remember feeling, except as a child when the world had been simple and happy.
When she’d felt cared for and valued.
Her time with the man who’d all but kidnapped her in London, the man she’d once hoped never to see again, had grown into something unexpected. Something that excited and terrified her in equal measure.
She didn’t want to think about it. Whatever this was, however magical it felt, it wouldn’t last.
It wouldn’t do to get attached.
‘We can’t leave yet. I’m giving a speech.’ Impatience radiated from him as he shot a look at his watch. ‘But I’ll keep it short, then we can go home.’
Cesare didn’t try to conceal the hungry glint in his eyes as his mouth curled into a slow grin.
Home with Cesare. It sounded perfect.
Except it’s not your home, is it? You’re living in a fool’s paradise, letting a couple of days turn into a fortnight. A fortnight into a month. It’s six weeks since you arrived, and you’ve done nothing concrete about moving on.
Because she didn’twantto move on.
‘Ida? What is it?’
Damn the man for being so acutely observant. Sometimes it felt as if he read her as easily as a book.
Ida searched for a distraction, something to break the spell of Francesco’s words and Cesare’s magnetism. She looked around, noting there was no one within earshot.
‘Will you marry again, Cesare? When this is over?’
His head jerked back, and long fingers dug into her hip. ‘Marry?’
‘I don’t mean straight away.’
Looking into his dark eyes, Ida wished she hadn’t asked. Because she’d seen a flash of something unsettling there.
Guilt.