pushing back her chair, stood up.
‘I will,’ she said. ‘Unlike you, I don’t like deceiving your mother, and this can’t be over quickly enough for me.’ She turned towards the door, adding quietly, ‘if you don’t mind, I’ll forgo the coffee.’
He moved quickly, his hand catching hers, and kissed her palm. ‘I don’t mind anything you want, cara,’ he husked, and her eyes widened in shock.
Her hand trembled in his grasp—and then she realised it was for the benefit of the butler, who had entered the room with the coffee tray. Pulling her hand free, she patted Lorenzo’s cheek with more force than necessary and saw his lips tighten. ‘You enjoy your coffee.’
Swiftly an arm closed around her waist, his dark head dipped, and he kissed her cheek, his warm breath caressing her ear. ‘Not an option,’ he murmured. ‘Remember our deal? Everyone has to be convinced.’ And, raising his head, he said, ‘Take the coffee to the lounge, please, Gianni.’
Then his head bent again and his mouth closed possessively over hers, parting her lips. The prolonged assault on her senses swept away all her resistance. His hand moved sensually over her back to press her closer and she arched into him, her eyes closing in abandon.
Suddenly he lifted his head. ‘Gianni has gone.’
Her eyes flew open as his comment registered. ‘What did you do that for?’
‘I saw the way Gianni looked at you, laughed with you when you entered the dining room with your body blatantly on display in that dress. He is a red-blooded man and he is not going to believe for a minute that holding your hand or a kiss on the cheek would satisfy me or any man. Now he will be convinced, and if he is the rest of the staff will be also.’
For a moment Lucy had the odd idea he was jealous of the butler. ‘Does your brain ever stop working and planning your next move?’
‘I’ve never really thought about it, but probably not—except perhaps in a moment of intense sexual relief,’ he drawled, and ushered her out of the dining room and into the lounge, where the coffee was set on a low table in front of a sofa.
Lucy twisted out of his arm and sat down on the sofa, the colour in her face matching the pink satin, and leant forward to pour out a cup of coffee she did not want simply to hide her blush.
Lorenzo laughed and sat down beside her. ‘You know, Lucy, for an experienced woman it never ceases to amaze me how easily you blush—how do you do it?’
She was tempted to tell him then how little experience she really had, but bit her lip and drank the coffee. He would never believe her. He had formed his opinion of her, coloured by his distorted perception of her brother and the ease with which she had fallen into bed with him the first time. By accepting his deal she had reinforced that low opinion, and nothing she could do would ever make him change his mind.
‘Practice—just practice,’ she said, telling Lorenzo what he wanted to hear.
‘Did you practise with Antonio?’ he asked. ‘You have painted him with a happy smile on his face—did you sleep with him?’
Lucy’s eyes widened to their fullest extent on his unsmiling countenance. He couldn’t be serious, she thought. But he was, she realised—and suddenly she was furious.
Before she said something she knew she would regret, she got to her feet. ‘No,’ she said coldly. ‘Unlike you, he was a gentleman. Now, if you are satisfied I have played my part as required, I am going to bed. And before you get up—don’t bother. There is no one here to see you playing the gentleman.’
And she turned away and walked to the door, leaving him to follow her or not … amazed by his cruel insensitivity.
She looked around the bedroom; someone had laid her nightdress on the bed and turned down the covers. Service at its best, she thought with a wry smile twisting her lips as she entered the bathroom, stripped off her clothes and put them away. She washed her face, cleaned her teeth and, naked, returned to the bedroom. Picking the nightdress off the bed, she slipped it over her head and crawled into the big bed.
She didn’t expect to sleep, but surprisingly she did … She stirred once, at the tail-end of a dream of a shadowy figure of a man standing over her, but went straight back to sleep.
The next morning she awoke to the overpowering smell of strong coffee, and, easing herself up the bed, saw the maid approach with a tray which she placed on the bedside table.
‘Buongiorno, signorina. The Signora say to bring coffee,’ she said in fractured English, ‘Breakfast in one hour.’
‘Grazie!’ Lucy said. ‘Scusi—’ She sprang out of bed and dashed to the bathroom. When she returned, after having been sick, the maid was still there.
‘Signorina? Come stai?’
Lucy saw the worried frown on her face and knew enough Italian to reassure her she was fine. The maid left.
It was probably the wine she’d drunk last night, Lucy thought. She was not accustomed to fine red wine—or any wine, for that matter. She poured out a cup of hot milk, with the merest dash of coffee, and standing looking out of the window sipped it slowly.
The view really was breathtaking … And then she saw the yellow sports car shoot off down the drive. Good—Lorenzo had gone out. With no fear of him appearing, she relaxed a little.
She took a leisurely shower and wondered what to wear. It was a sunny day, and she wanted to have a look around the gardens. With that in mind she decided on a pair of soft denim jeans and bright flowing top. She tied her hair back in a ponytail and finally ventured out of the bedroom.
She did not need to look for the breakfast room. As soon as she reached the foot of the grand staircase Gianni appeared as if by magic and showed her to yet another room—not as large as the others she had seen, but just as elegant, and somehow more homely. Anna was already seated at the table, and looked up as she entered.
‘How are you, Lucy? Maria told me you were a little unwell.’ She frowned. ‘Please sit down, my dear. My doctor calls to see me most days at noon—if you like you could see him as well.’
Lucy smiled and took a seat. ‘No, that is not necessary. I am fine—just too much wine, I think,’ she said with a rueful smile. ‘But I wouldn’t mind a walk in the gardens after breakfast. The fresh air will do me good.’
‘Well, if you are sure, I will give you a guided tour,’ Anna offered. ‘Really it should be Lorenzo, but he has gone to the bank. I told him to take the day off, but he takes no notice of me. He works far too hard—always has. When my husband died—good man though he was—the bank was left in a poor condition. Lorenzo took over and soon put everything right, expanding all over the world, but sometimes I do wish he would slow down a little. Which is why I am so pleased he has found you, Lucy—you are just what he needs.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’ Lucy finally got a word in. ‘We are close friends, but realistically we have very little in common.’ And with a quick change of subject she added, ‘Before I forget, I must call Elaine and tell her of the change of plan.’
Elaine was surprised but happy to agree to the new arrangement of taking Thursday off while the shop was looked after by a temp.
Lucy, on the other hand, was stressed to bits.
Oddly enough, once outside, with the scent of pine trees and perfumed flowers mingling in the warm morning air, Lucy felt better. Meandering with Anna along the paths and terraces of the glorious garden was relaxing. She learnt from Anna the names of dozens of plants, and when they got to the lake learnt the sailing boat had been Lorenzo’s when he was a teenager, and he still used it occasionally.
According to Anna he was still a keen sailor, and spent most of his leisure time at Santa Margherita, where he had a villa. He kept a larger racing yacht at the marina, and sailed it very