The Royal House of Niroli Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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were any indication.
‘Sorry about that.’ Alex smiled at her. ‘That’s the third time that’s happened to me this week. One guy even asked if he could take a photo of me. Kind of freaky, huh?’
Amelia stared at him, her heart feeling like a pendulum that had been knocked out of its steady rhythm. ‘It’s happened before?’ She leaned forward in her chair, her voice lowering. ‘Here? On…on the island?’
‘Yeah, but I guess it’s because I look like a native,’ he said with a rueful grin. ‘I mean, it’s not like I can hide it in spite of my Aussie accent. So far I’ve been mistaken for an Antonio and a Marco. I think there was one other name but I can’t remember what it was. Perhaps I look like an Italian movie star—what do you reckon?’
Her heart gave another hard ram against her sternum.
‘So…’ she paused for a moment to moisten her suddenly bone-dry lips ‘.you are of Italian heritage?’
‘It’s on my birth certificate. I was born in Agrigento in Sicily.’
‘Sicily?’
‘Yes. That’s why I thought I’d take up this offer to visit Niroli, being so close and all.’
Amelia stared at the table for a moment as her heart gradually went back to normal.
He had been born in Sicily.
It was on his birth certificate.
He couldn’t possibly be.
‘I haven’t gone there yet but I thought I might,’ he said into the silence.
She looked up at him blankly. ‘Where?’
‘Agrigento.’
‘Why?’
‘I just thought I’d have a look around. I haven’t told my parents of my plans, but I kind of figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a wander around the churchyards, see if I recognise any names.’
‘Do you know your original Italian name?’
‘Yes. It’s a bit of a mouthful—Santocanale.’
‘It’s…nice… Very Sicilian…’
‘It’s not bad, I suppose, but of course it went once I was formally adopted. However, I absolutely refused to go by my Italian first name. I changed it as soon as I went to school,’ he said with a wry twist to his mouth.
‘What is your first name?’
‘Alessandro,’ he said, sending another shock wave through her chest. ‘Mind you, it’s kind of different now—most Australians have no trouble with pronouncing unusual names, but thirty-odd years ago I would have been asking to be singled out and bullied for having such an Italian-sounding name. I’ve been Alex ever since.’
Alex—Alessandro…
Amelia’s mind was racing along with her heart. People had stopped him in the street, telling him he looked like someone called Antonio…
Antonio Fierezza, the king’s son who had been killed two years ago in a yachting accident.
And Marco…
Her heart gave another sudden sickening lurch.
Marco Fierezza, the twin grandson of the king, Antonio’s son, the man who had recently given up his right to the Niroli throne to marry the woman he loved more than the kingdom.
The non-identical male twin.
‘Is something wrong?’ Alex leaned forward. ‘You’ve gone a little pale.’
‘I’m fine…it’s just a bit hot in here…’
‘Want to go for a walk along the shore to cool off?’ he suggested, offering her a hand as he stood up.
Amelia placed her hand in his, her stomach feeling hollow and uneasy as he led her past the table of diners who were still watching him with wide, fearful eyes.
The cooler air outside helped to clear the clutter of her mind.
It was impossible, she reassured herself as they made their way down to the gently lapping shore.
It was just a coincidence as Signora Gravano had said the other day. Alex looked as if he had been born and bred on the island, but so too did many other Italians who visited from the mainland. The olive skin and dark eyes were so commonplace it was understandable people would mistake him for someone else.
A coincidence.
That was all it was.
It couldn’t possibly be anything else…
‘Feeling better now?’ Alex asked as a salty sea breeze licked at their faces a short time later.
‘Much better.’ She tried a smile but it wasn’t entirely successful.
‘I guess I should take you home and let you get a good night’s sleep,’ he said, looking down at her, his expression still soft with concern.
‘I guess so.’
‘Can we do this again?’ His deep velvet voice was a brushlike caress against her face.
She ran her tongue across her lips and lowered her eyes. ‘You don’t have much time here.’
He nudged up her chin with his finger. ‘For you I will make the time.’
Amelia looked into his eyes, her chest filling with unexpected emotion. She didn’t want to fall in love, certainly not with a man who was only here for a month. How could she bear it when he left if she let her guard down in such a way? But something about Alex Hunter was totally captivating. Not just his sense of humour but also his sincerity. He laughed at life but he also treated it with a great deal of respect. She couldn’t help admiring that quality in him. There was a solid depth to his character that no amount of playful banter could hide. His consideration of his adoptive parents’ feelings showed his ability to put others’ needs before his own, so too did his commitment to the Free Hospital, offering his services free of charge.
It would be all too easy to fall in love with him but where would that leave her in the end?
‘Alex…can I ask you a question?’ She looked up at him, her hazel gaze troubled.
‘Sure.’
‘You said that you weren’t really interested in finding out who your biological parents were…but what if they came looking for you?’
He compressed his lips for a moment as he gave it some thought. ‘I don’t know…I hadn’t thought of it from that angle. I’d always assumed since I was given away at the age of two that my parent—or parents as the case may be—had no further interest in me. How could they? If they had developed a loving relationship with me over that time why would they have had me adopted out?’
It was a salient point, she had to admit. It would be hard enough relinquishing a newborn infant, let alone one you had reared to the age of two, watching all those tiny milestones on the way past. The first smile, the first steps, the first words. How could anyone do it without a very good reason?
‘Were you adopted from Sicily or Australia?’ she asked.
‘Australia,’ he said. ‘I guess my biological parent or parents had migrated there.’
‘What about your sister?’ she asked. ‘Has she traced her biological parents?’
‘Megan was adopted by my parents when she was twelve,’ he said in a sober tone. ‘Her biological parents were abusive. I don’t think she would ever consider seeing either of them again.’
‘How tragic. It must be very hard for her.’
‘My parents have done the very best they can to help her overcome her past, but some things are not so easily resolved.’