she would put a stop to right away! Savannah’s sensible inner voice commanded. It was one thing to fantasise about sexual encounters with Ethan, but quite another to consider the reality of it when she was saving her virginity for some sensible, ‘steady Eddie’ type of bloke, and then only when they were married.
‘Are you too warm?’ Ethan asked, misreading the flush that rose to her cheeks as she moved restlessly on the seat. ‘I can easily adjust the temperature for you.’
Savannah bit her lip to hide her smile.
‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded suspiciously.
What was so funny? Ethan was the man most women had voted to go to bed with, and she was the woman most men had decided not to go to bed with—that was funny, wasn’t it?
‘I asked you a question, Savannah.’
The easy atmosphere that had so briefly existed between them had suddenly gained an edge.
‘Is it my scars?’ he pressed. ‘Do they make you nervous?’
Ethan had read her all wrong, Savannah realised. He was so far off the mark, she shook her head in shock. ‘Of course they don’t.’ It was no use, because Ethan wasn’t listening.
‘Is that why you’re trying so hard not to laugh?’ he demanded.
‘I’ve told you, no!’ She held his gaze. There must be no doubt over this. She would be the first to admit she was overawed by Ethan, and that he even frightened her a little, but those feelings were all tied up in his worldliness contrasted with her own inexperienced sexual-self, and had not the slightest connection with his scars. If he thought she was shallow enough to be intimidated by them … Savannah shook her head with disgust at the thought. As far as she was concerned, Ethan’s terrible scars were just a reminder that even the strongest tree could be felled. ‘I see the man, not the scars,’ she told him bluntly.
In the confines of the limousine his short, disbelieving laugh sounded cruel and hard.
That had to come from some memory in his past, Savannah reassured herself, refusing to rise to the bait. Sometimes it was better to say nothing, she was learning, and to persuade Ethan she was more than the fluffy girl he thought her would take action, not words. She had been raised on a working farm and knew the value of hard work. She was used to getting her hands dirty and wasn’t frightened of much.
Just as well, Savannah reflected as Ethan turned away with a face like thunder to continue his conversation with the driver, because there was nothing easy about Ethan Alexander. But whatever Ethan’s opinion of her, she would stand up for herself. Perhaps he had learned that much about her. If nothing else this journey was giving them both the opportunity to learn a little more about each other. What she’d learned might not be reassuring, but it hadn’t put her off Ethan either—in fact, quite the reverse.
CHAPTER SIX
AS THEY approached the end of the journey they sat in silence, and Ethan could sense Savannah’s unease. For all her excitement at the thought of seeing his palazzo, she was wondering what she had got herself into. He had always been intuitive. His mother had told him he was keenly tuned, close to the earth and all its mystery. She’d told him that before the crystal sphere she’d kept next to her bed told her to marry for the fourth time, apparently. At seven years old he had begged her not to do it, believing it would be a disastrous move for his mother and for himself. She had ignored him and the marriage had been a disaster. So much for his mother’s belief in his special powers. The beatings had begun the day his new ‘daddy’ had arrived back from their honeymoon. He’d gone away to school that September, and had been the only boy in his class relieved to be living away from home.
And why was he remembering that now? He moved so that Savannah was no longer in his eyeline in the mirror. Was it because for the first time since his rugby career had been ended he wished he could be unblemished inside and out? Was it because Savannah Ross was too innocent to know the ugliness inside him?
Realising he was only paying attention to half the things his driver was telling him, he made some token comment and started watching Savannah again. She looked so small and vulnerable, sitting all alone on a sea of cream leather. The Bentley was the right scale for a man his size, but she was dwarfed by it. And she was a distraction he couldn’t afford, he warned himself, especially if he was going to remain aloof from her when they reached their destination.
Stately cypress groves provided a lush green counterpoint to the rolling fields of Tuscany, and with the sun burning low in a cobalt sky Savannah wondered if there might be enough beauty here to distract her from her main obsession—but her main obsession turned at that moment to speak to her.
‘We’ll be arriving at the palazzo at the perfect time.’
‘Sunset,’ Savannah guessed. A thrill of excitement overtook her fear that Ethan had not forgotten or forgiven her for the earlier misunderstanding. As the light faded his face was in shadow, so she couldn’t see his expression to gauge his mood, but there was something here that had lifted it—his palazzo, she suspected. Following the direction in which he was looking she searched hungrily for her first sight of the building. The sky was a vibrant palette of tangerine and violet so dramatic, so stunningly beautiful, she had butterflies in her stomach at the thought of what might come next. She could sense Ethan was also buzzing with expectation, and try as he might to be stern all the time, an attractive crease had appeared in his face. He’d softened just a little. Now if he could only soften a little more and smile at her that would be a gift—the only gift she wanted.
‘When we cross the river, you’ll see the palazzo in this direction.’
As Ethan pointed towards the shadowy purple hills, she sat bolt upright, tense with expectation.
‘I don’t want you to miss the approach,’ he said, seeing her interest. ‘It’s quite spectacular.’
‘I won’t,’ she assured him as anticipation fluttered in her stomach. Something told her that this was one of those precious moments that would mean something all her life and must be cherished.
She was only half right, Savannah discovered. When it came into view the palazzo exceeded her expectations so far it took her breath away. Rising like something out of a legend from the mist was a winding road and an old stone bridge, and then the towering walls. A glittering snake of water travelled beneath the bridge, and as they crossed it she thought the restless eddies were like mirrored scales carrying the sun-fire to the sea.
‘Now you understand why the palazzo got its name.’
Even Ethan couldn’t quite keep the excitement from his voice.
‘Understatement,’ she breathed. The turreted spread of the Palazzo dei Tramonti Dorati appeared framed in fire, and even her fertile imagination hadn’t come close to doing it justice. This wasn’t the Gothic horror she’d feared Ethan might inhabit, but a palace of light, built from pink stone that might have been sugar-rock. Glowing warm beneath the red-streaked sky, it couldn’t have appeared more welcoming.
‘What do you think?’ Ethan prompted.
Savannah was surprised her opinion mattered to him, and the thought touched her immensely—though she mustn’t read too much into it, she reminded herself. ‘I think it’s stunning,’ she told him honestly. ‘The colour of the stone is extraordinary.’
‘Pink?’
The touch of irony in his voice made her smile. Were they connecting at last? Just a little, maybe? But she wasn’t going to push it. ‘You must admit, it’s unusual,’ she said, trying to sound grown up about it, though the prospect of staying in a pink palace, and one as beautiful as this, would have excited anyone.
‘The stone is pink because millions of years ago this whole valley was a deep marine-gulf,’ Ethan explained. ‘The pink hue is due to the millions of tiny shells and fossils locked in the rocks.’
‘What a magical explanation.’