The Italian Count's Defiant Bride

CHAPTER TWO

FRANCESCO rang early next morning, before Alicia even had time to worry whether he would or not.

‘Whatever he suggests tell him yes!’ Meg ordered, as she devoured her breakfast.

‘Buon giorno, Alicia,’ said Francesco. ‘How are you today?’

‘Good morning. I’m just fine. How are you?’

‘Waiting in great suspense,’ he said, with a caressing note in his voice. ‘Is your friend better?’

‘Fighting fit now,’ said Alicia, grinning as she pushed the last roll towards Meg.

‘Eccelente. Please give her my good wishes. So—you will both dine with me this evening?’

‘Thank you, we’d love to,’ said Alicia, rolling her eyes as Meg punched the air in triumph.

‘Bene. What will you do today?’

‘The usual tourist things.’

‘Do not tire yourself with too many such things, cara. I shall call for you at eight. Ciao.’

‘Ciao,’ she echoed and switched off the phone. ‘There, Megan Davies. We’ve got a date. Satisfied?’

‘You could have asked him to bring a friend.’

‘You don’t want much, do you? Hard luck; you’ll just have to share Francesco with me.’

‘Playing gooseberry’s not my thing, you know,’ said Meg ruefully.

‘It’s not applicable,’ said Alicia, blocking out last night’s kiss. ‘Francesco is just a very kind man taking pity on a couple of convent schoolgirls let loose in Florence for the first time.’

‘You told him about the convent?’ said Meg in disgust, then grinned wickedly. ‘I hope you said we just went to school there! Nuns we are not.’

‘I might as well be,’ said Alicia gloomily. ‘I’ve never had a boyfriend.’

‘Only because you’re picky—and Rhys Evans was already taken.’

‘Bowled over by you the first time Gareth brought him home to supper!’ Alicia laughed and hugged her friend. ‘Thank goodness you’re feeling better. Come on, we’re wasting time.’

‘Put loads of sunscreen on first—and don’t forget your hat and glasses.’

‘Yes, Mummy!’

For the rest of the holiday the girls packed in as many sights as possible during the day. In deference to the nuns, they inspected the tombs of Michelangelo and Galileo in the great church of Santa Croce, visited the vast Duomo to marvel at Brunelleschi’s dome, then after waiting in line marvelled even more at Michelangelo’s mighty David in the Accademia. They queued for hours longer to look at the paintings in the Uffizi, and after wriggling their way to the front of the crowd to look at it close up decided they liked Botticelli’s Primavera best. They bought paninis stuffed with ham before visiting the Pitti Palace to look at more paintings, then picnicked afterwards in the Boboli Gardens.

In the narrow streets of Oltrarno—literally the ‘other side’ of the River Arno—they peered into little workshops where craftsmen carved wood for mirrors and picture frames, or created elegant handbags and gloves from softest leather. They gazed in the jewellers’ shops on the Ponte Vecchio, and at designer clothes in the Via Tuornabuoni, fantasising over what they would buy if they had the money. But eventually it was agreed that their favourite place of all was the Bargello, once a prison, now a sculpture museum where Meg fell madly in love with Donatello’s nude bronze of David.

‘He looks so cute in just his jaunty hat and boots!’

‘Only you could call a fabulous work of art cute,’ said Alicia, laughing.

Each evening Francesco called for them to take them out to dinner and listen to their report on their day, and from the moment Meg first met him she had no more qualms about playing gooseberry. As she told Alicia later, he was as good looking and charming as she’d expected, but his manners were so perfect he made her feel like an asset to the evening instead of an unwanted third.

Both girls had made it plain to Francesco, the moment he arrived the first evening to take them both out, that they must be allowed to pay for their share of the meal. And to Alicia’s relief he’d taken them to a lively, packed trattoria, very different from the restaurant of the night before, and a great deal less expensive. Meg had loved everything about it, and tucked into her prawn-stuffed ravioli with unashamed gusto after her fast of the previous day. The only flaw in the evening came later when Francesco had insisted on paying the bill after all. But Meg had calculated the cost of their meals to the last euro, and the moment the three of them left the trattoria she presented Francesco with two thirds of the bill in notes.

‘Our share,’ said Meg firmly, and in the end, under protest, he had to accept.

‘But this once only,’ he said at last when they refused to budge. ‘Allora, tell me what you have planned for tomorrow.’

When they’d got back to the hotel Meg announced that it was time for her nightly phone call to her boyfriend, and after thanks to Francesco for a fabulous evening she hurried inside and left them together.

‘Your friend is not only charming, but tactful,’ he said, looking down at Alicia. ‘This boyfriend is waiting for her at home?’

‘Yes.’ She smiled affectionately. ‘Rhys thinks Meg hung the moon.’

‘He is a man of perception. She is very attractive—not just her looks, but her personality.’ Francesco’s hand caught hers. ‘Do you have a boyfriend waiting for you, Alicia?’

Wishing she could say there were several all counting the minutes until she got back, she shook her head. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘Ottimo!’ He kissed her hand, then drew her into his arms and kissed her willing mouth. ‘I will call for you both at eight tomorrow. And this time I will pay, so no more argomento!’

The dream holiday went by so fast the last day arrived all too soon. During a final shopping trip for gifts to take home, Alicia found it hard to be cheerful as they searched for bargains in San Lorenzo, because later that night she would have to say goodbye to Francesco. Once Megan left them outside the hotel after dinner, their few moments alone together would be the last time she would ever see him. And she couldn’t bear the thought of it.

Meg eyed her downcast face as they carried their modest haul up to their hotel room, then told her to ring Francesco. ‘Ask him if we can eat earlier tonight.’

Alicia eyed her suspiciously as she unlocked their door. ‘Why?’

‘When Francesco walks us back after dinner, I’ll plead packing and phone calls to my mother and Rhys and you two can enjoy an hour alone together. Don’t argue. Do it.’

Alicia looked at her friend’s vivid face in silence for a moment, then threw her arms round her and hugged her. ‘Thank you.’

Meg hugged her back. ‘You’ve done it for me and Rhys often enough, now it’s my turn.’

‘It’s hardly the same thing!’

‘It’s exactly the same thing. Go on. Ring him.’

When the unmistakeable voice said ‘Pronto,’ Alicia took in a deep breath.

‘It’s me. Alicia.’

‘Que cosa? Is something wrong?’ Francesco demanded sharply.

‘No. Nothing. It’s just that Meg—I mean we—well, we wondered if we could have dinner earlier tonight? Because we’ve got packing and so on.’

‘But of course,’ he said, with such audible relief Alicia smiled radiantly at Meg. ‘I will come for you at seven.’

‘Grazie, Francesco. Ciao.’

Meg grinned like a Cheshire cat as Alicia switched off her phone. ‘Quite the little linguist these days! So, early is good?’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘Better than Francesco knows. He’s such a star, never giving the slightest sign that I’m in the way, but he’s obviously desperate to spend time alone with you.’

‘No more desperate than I am,’ said Alicia, with heat that brought a startled look from Meg. ‘Well, it’s true. For years I was in love with a photograph, but Francesco in the flesh is a dream come true.’

‘Emotive word, “flesh”,’ said Meg uneasily. ‘Until now you’ve never shown the slightest interest in any man—unless he was covered in mud on a rugby pitch.’

‘So isn’t it about time I did?’ Alicia sucked in a deep breath. ‘Oh Meg—I’m so in love with Francesco.’

‘I know you are! It’s frightening.’

‘You feel the same about Rhys!’

‘That’s different.’

‘Why?’

‘You’ve only just met Francesco.’

‘I feel as if I’ve known him forever. Maybe I knew him in another life.’

‘You’re beginning to worry me, Lally.’

Alicia’s wistful smile brought a lump to her friend’s throat. ‘No need. We’ve had a wonderful holiday in Florence, and Francesco was part of it; an experience I can look back on and dream about.’ Her mouth drooped. ‘But it’s going to be so hard to say goodbye tonight.’

‘I know. That’s why I’m giving you time to yourselves.’ Meg wagged a stern finger. ‘Just make sure you’re in by midnight, Cinders.’

When the three of them walked back to the hotel after their early dinner that evening, Megan gave Francesco a beaming smile. ‘As a small return for the meals you’ve paid for, and the restaurants we’d never have discovered on our own, I’m giving you a goodbye present.’

He eyed her in surprise. ‘But I need no present, cara. I have enjoyed your company very much.’

‘I know that. Otherwise I wouldn’t have enjoyed myself so much. But now I’m going up to our room on my own to pack and make my phone calls, so you can have Alicia to yourself for an hour or so as a parting gift.’

Francesco leaned down and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘You are a very kind lady. This is also your wish?’ he demanded, turning to Alicia, and gave her a smile that turned her heart over when she nodded in eager consent. ‘Then it is a present I accept with gratitude, Miss Megan Davies. Mille grazie.’

When they’d seen Megan inside the hotel Francesco took Alicia’s hand to walk back to the Piazza della Signoria. ‘I am going to make a request,’ he said, oddly sombre. ‘You must say no if you do not wish to grant it, tesoro.’

By this time finding it hard to imagine saying no to Francesco, no matter what he wanted, Alicia looked up at him expectantly. ‘You’ll have to tell me what the request is first.’

‘You have not asked where I am staying.’

‘I took it for granted you were at one of the grander hotels.’

He shook his head. ‘I keep an apartment here in Firenze.’

‘For your business trips?’

Francesco’s quiet laugh was mirthless. ‘Officially, yes. But it is also my rifugio, my sanctuary, where I can relax alone occasionally away from the demands of my life in Montedaluca. My intention was to spend only two days here this time. But then, Miss Alicia Cross, I met you. And could not leave until you do.’

A statement which sent Alicia’s pulse into overdrive. She gazed up at him, starry-eyed. ‘This request, Francesco—are you asking me to have coffee in your apartment?’

His smile was answer enough. ‘Yes, carina. Will you?’

‘Of course I will,’ she said impatiently. ‘Do we have to walk far?’

‘No.’ To Alicia’s surprise he led her to a building in the piazza itself, and took her up to the top floor in a lift. ‘Allora,’ he said as he unlocked a door. ‘Welcome to my rifugio.’

The apartment was impressive, with a high, raftered ceiling. But instead of the antiques Alicia had expected the comfortable furniture was contemporary, and the colourful paintings on the walls were abstracts.

‘This is so lovely, Francesco,’ she said, impressed. ‘You could make a fortune letting it out to visitors.’

‘There are other apartments in the building for that,’ he informed her. ‘This one I keep only for myself.’

Alicia’s eyes rounded. ‘You own the building?’

‘It was part of my mother’s dowry when she married my father. But she uses it only when she comes to Florence to buy clothes. The responsibility for running it as a commercial enterprise is mine.’ He shrugged. ‘But I do this willingly, because it gives me an excuse to escape here sometimes to my—what do you say in English?—bolt hole?’

She smiled crookedly. ‘A very smart bolt-hole.’

‘But I have not shown you the best part,’ he said, and put his arm round her.

Sure he meant to rush her off to a bedroom, Alicia wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or disappointed when he led her to a window and threw back the shutters. Then she gave such a raucous, boyish whistle he hugged her close, laughing.

She beamed at him in rapture. ‘A room with a view, Francesco! And what a view.’

They were opposite the Palazzo Vecchio, with a perfect view of the Loggia dei Lanzi and most of the Piazza della Signoria.

‘You may gaze on Perseus from here as much as you like,’ he said softly, and cleared his throat. ‘I shall make coffee.’

She shook her head. ‘In the time we’ve got left, can’t we just sit and talk?’

He took off his jacket and led her to one of the sofas. ‘D’accordo. Some talk is necessary.’ He hesitated for a moment, then put his arm round her, and she leaned against him, so pliant and trusting he gave a husky little laugh. ‘So innocent, so sweet.’

She turned her head up to give him a wry look. ‘I may have gone to school in a convent, Francesco, but I didn’t take vows!’

‘For which I am passionately grateful,’ he said, and kissed her.

And this time, knowing she’d never see him again, Alicia responded with fire fuelled by despair. With a groan Francesco drew her onto his lap, and she caught her breath, thrilled to feel his heart hammering against her. Elated by the effect she was having on him, she returned his kisses with mounting fervour as she breathed in the heady scent of aroused male mingled with something she identified as Aqua di Parma cologne.

At last Francesco tore his mouth away and turned her face into his shoulder, his hand unsteady as he held her head hard against him. ‘Tesoro, forgive me.’

‘For what?’ she whispered, and pulled away to look up into the tense, handsome face. ‘I wanted you to kiss me.’

‘I know.’

‘How could you tell?’ she said, frowning.

He smiled ruefully. ‘You made it very plain, carina. But,’ he added, sobering, ‘if you kiss a man like that it is dangerous; he will want more.’

Alicia eyed him with interest. ‘Do you?’

‘Yes,’ he said starkly. ‘But I will not take it.’

‘Why not?’

He smoothed an unsteady hand over her hair. ‘For many reasons. You are young, and in a country foreign to you—and you are a virgin, no?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m a virgin, yes.’

‘You are making fun of me!’

‘No, I’m not.’ As she wriggled closer he caught his breath, and she felt his erection harden against her thighs through the thin fabric of her dress. Now what? she thought in panic. Should she stay where she was and pretend to ignore it, or should she slide tactfully from his lap and say it was time to go? But it wasn’t time yet, and she didn’t want to go. She quite desperately wanted him to make love to her, for him to be her first lover, even if this was the last time she’d ever see him. ‘Francesco,’ she whispered, and looked up into eyes which blazed as they met the invitation in hers.

To her dismay he jumped up and set her on her feet. ‘Carissima, you must not look at me like that.’ He gestured towards the window. ‘I am not marble, like the statues out there. I am flesh and blood, and you know well that I desire you.’ He gave a wry laugh and held her close. ‘When Megan gave us this last time together, I told myself I would be content just to talk to you for a while. But I am human, and a man—’

‘And I’m a woman, Francesco,’ whispered Alicia against his chest. ‘Make love to me. Please!’

‘Dio!’ he exclaimed in anguish. ‘You must not say this.’

‘Why not?’

‘You know well why not,’ he said fiercely, his accent more pronounced as he spoke rapidly into her hair. ‘I want you. You know this because a man cannot hide his desire. But I have wanted you from that first moment out there below, at the Rivoire. When you took off your hat and sunglasses I looked into those great, dark eyes and felt such an urge to kiss you I was—how do you say?—spellbound.’

Alicia moved away slightly to look up at him, her eyes alight with pure joy at his confession. ‘I thought you were put off by my freckles.’

Francesco’s eyes softened as he stroked a finger across her cheekbones. ‘I adore your freckles. I adore you, Alicia, so much that although I desire it desperately I will not take this precious gift you offer me. At least,’ he said, in a tone which made her tremble, ‘not tonight.’

‘But I’m going home tomorrow,’ she said forlornly.

He led her to the sofa again. ‘So let us sit down and enjoy this last time for a while together.’

‘For a while?’

Francesco took her hand. ‘I must go home to Montedaluca first, but very soon I will fly to visit you in your home.’

Alicia’s eyes widened to dark saucers as she stared at him. ‘Are you serious?’

‘You do not wish me to come?’ he demanded.

‘You know I do!’ She swallowed hard. ‘I just never imagined in my wildest dreams that I’d see you again once I left.’

‘Ah, carina,’ he said caressingly, and kissed her fingers one by one. ‘I told you I wanted you from that first moment. Did you feel the same for me?’

‘Oh yes.’ She dimpled at him so mischievously he caught his breath, so obviously wanting to kiss her that she touched a hand to his cheek. ‘So I think it’s time I told you a little story, Francesco da Luca.’

He kissed her nose and sat back, holding her hand. ‘Talk then, diletta mia.’

‘Once upon a time a girl found a picture in a rugby magazine, with a feature and a shot of a Treviso winger scoring a spectacular try. The girl was so impressed she cut the picture out and added it to the gallery of Welsh rugby stars on her bedroom wall.’

Francesco looked down at her in astonishment. ‘This is true?’

‘We convent-educated girls don’t tell lies,’ she said sternly, and smiled up at him. ‘Every night since then your face has been the last thing I see before going to sleep. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I bumped into you out there in the piazza.’

‘Un miraculo!’ He kissed her swiftly. ‘I was too restless to concentrate on paperwork that afternoon, and suddenly felt a great need to be part of life out there. Fate sent me to catch you when you fell.’ Francesco put a finger under her chin. ‘And I will never let you go. Ti amo, Alicia Cross. Must I translate?’

She shook her head, smiling radiantly. ‘I love you too, Francesco da Luca.’

His answering smile took her breath away. ‘Do you love me enough to live with me in Montedaluca one day as my wife?’

‘Yes,’ she said without hesitation.

This time his kiss was not gentle, and she responded to it with joy, then trembled as his hands caressed her through the thin fabric of her dress.

He buried his face in her hair. ‘I want you so much.’

She pulled his mouth down to hers. ‘Make love to me, Francesco. Now. But you’ll have to teach me what to do.’

He gave a stifled groan and crushed her to him. ‘I will take much, much pleasure in teaching you the art of love, tesoro, but not until our wedding night.’

‘Why not now?’

‘Because I want our first time together to be perfect, with all the time in the world to love each other.’ He smoothed the tumbled curls back from her forehead. ‘I shall come next week to ask your mother for her daughter’s hand. Will she be willing to give you to me?’

Alicia bit her lip. ‘She probably won’t be, Francesco. She expects me to go to college.’

‘For the love of God, do not ask me to wait that long for you, Alicia.’ He kissed her with mounting urgency. ‘Life is short, carissima,’ he said against her lips. ‘Let us not waste any of it apart. Fate meant us to be together. Do you not believe this?’

Alicia did believe it, utterly. But trying to make her mother believe it would be another matter. ‘Bron will take some persuading,’ she warned.

‘You call her by her name?’ he said, diverted.

‘Yes.’ Alicia hesitated. ‘You’ll probably be surprised when you meet her. She looks too young to be my mother.’ She took in a deep breath. ‘Francesco, if we really are going to be married—’

‘You doubt this?’ he demanded, and kissed her hard. ‘Believe it, amore. You will be my wife as soon as it can be arranged.’

‘You’d better learn a bit more about me first.’

‘Nothing you could tell me would change my mind,’ he assured her.