Someone bustled over, asking Cesare to follow. Cesare squeezed her hand, assured her he wouldn’t be long, and turned away, leaving Ida with her dazed thoughts.
When had the prospect of parting assumed such dreadful proportions?
Ida knew she’d survive without him. But she didn’t want merely to survive. Not any more. The time they’d spent together had taught her that she wanted so much more. She wanted happiness. Companionship. Caring. Waking each day to anticipation and delight. Ending each day in Cesare’s arms.
Her heart gave a mighty thump that sent shock waves through her.
When had she fallen for her husband? When he’d spirited her to safety, away from her grandfather? When he’d made gentle, passionate, blazingly beautiful love to her? When he’d listened to her story, even putting together the pieces she’d preferred not to describe in detail?
Maybe when he’d apologised for his past behaviour. Or when she’d discovered he’d taken steps to protect her friend Jo. Definitely when he’d organised for her to visit the interior-design offices of the vast Brunetti portfolio, arranging for her to spend a day there so she could ask questions and see the sort of work they did. When he’d talked about her pursuing her interest in design as if that were the most natural thing in the world. And when he’d begun introducing her to his friends.
Contrary to what she’d expected, Cesare hadn’t hidden her away. Nor had he deliberately flaunted her publicly, as if needing to prove something to the scandalmongers who’d thrived on the news of her disappearance.
He’d treated her with respect, thoughtfulness and passion.
She loved it.
She might never feel totally at ease in Cesare’s rarefied world, but she’d met enough of his friends to value them as sincere and caring. Which said a lot about the man himself. He was far from the monster she’d once thought him.
‘There you are, cousin.’ It was Francesco, his smile wide. ‘I’ve brought some people to meet you. Can’t have you standing alone while the great man speaks.’
He winked and Ida felt something roll over in her chest. Because of his kindness. Because in the distance she saw Cesare nod approvingly, making her wonder if he’d instigated this.
Because for the first time in forever Ida felt as if she reallywaswith family.
Her throat tightened, her nostrils and the backs of her eyes prickling. It was an illusion, of course. She didn’t belong here. These people weren’t her family.
It was just that here, in Cesare’s territory, with him and those around him doing so much to make her welcome, Ida’s emotions were strangely wobbly.
After her hellish experiences with her grandfather, this acceptance, this kindness, made her feel too much.
So when, just fifteen minutes later, Cesare forged his way through the applauding throng and held out his arm, she stepped close and looped hers through it. Instantly she felt better, as his warmth and lemony cedar scent enveloped her.
‘You’re sure you’re happy to leave?’ he murmured.
Ida pressed nearer, surveying him from under veiling lashes, hoping he read only invitation in her eyes.
He was so handsome, so dear, that it almost undid her just to look at him. Ida realised she was storing up memories against the time when they parted.
When the time came it would be almost impossible to leave Cesare and return to her real life far away. In the meantime, itwasimpossible to give up this fragile joy until she absolutely had to. ‘Yes, please. I want to be alone with you.’
Cesare stiffened and she saw a pulse throb at his temple. ‘Whatever you wish,tesoro.’
Then they were sweeping through the gardens, past the crowds, almost oblivious to the faces turned their way, the greetings and invitations to pause. Cesare’s pace didn’t falter, though he scattered greetings and a few promises to meet up another time, before shepherding her outside, past the clamouring paparazzi and into the car that miraculously appeared before them.
Minutes later they were driving through Florence. Even now its beauty brought a lump to Ida’s throat. Would she ever return here, or would it be out of bounds for ever because the city reminded her of Cesare?
Ida was so lost in thought she was surprised to realise the car had stopped and someone had opened the passenger door. ‘Cesare?’
But he was climbing out. Ida turned towards her open door and saw they were in front of an elegant hotel, her door held open by a smiling staff member. Then Cesare was there, holding out her hand and drawing her towards the gleaming entrance.
‘Why are we here?’
His lips brushed her ear as he drew her inside. She shivered as a ribbon of heat uncoiled within her. ‘The villa is too far away. I want younow, Ida.’
He lifted his head, his expression questioning. And something more. Something that made elation rise on gossamer wings.
You’re imagining things. This is just physical for Cesare.