The British Billionaire's Innocent Bride. Susanne James
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the menu, she turned her palm to hold his fingers tightly. ‘You’re right, Sam,’ she said quietly. ‘We must make some dates and stick to them. It’s not good enough to let work come first all the time—and, speaking of which, how’s the hotel going?’ she asked. ‘You look very affluent.’ She smiled, noting his well-cut trousers and designer open-neck shirt, exhibiting his tanned skin.
‘Work’s good,’ he said. ‘A bit too good. That’s why Federico and I don’t have time to go chasing girls—or sisters,’ he added.
Sitting there with her long-lost brother—two years older than her, attractively open-faced, with his brown hair bleached golden by the Italian sunshine—Lily felt her heart soar, and she felt so ridiculously light-headed she wanted to laugh out loud, to jump up and tell everyone how happy she was. Of course it had to be the wine—or was it simply Rome, with its perfect weather, its magical fountains and warm-hearted people, and the scent of jasmine in the air which had filled her nostrils as they’d wandered along the streets earlier? Or was it because at last she belonged to someone—really belonged to the good-looking man who was holding her hand?
‘Do you realise that two years ago neither of us knew of each other’s existence?’ Sam said. ‘All that wasted time when we could have been together,’ he added quietly.
Of course Lily realised it. And it was thanks to her seeking out her past—with help from the Salvation Army—that she’d eventually discovered she had a sibling. Their now-deceased mother had borne them both before she herself was seventeen years old.
Lily was honest enough to admit that her ignorance of her early life was probably her own fault… She’d been a rebellious, difficult child, passed from one home to another, one foster family to another—and she’d run away twice. It was no wonder everyone had got confused, including the agencies responsible for her welfare. Her personal details had seemed permanently lost somewhere in the system, and by the time she’d reached sixteen and gone on to train at catering college everyone had been glad to be shot of her. But Lily had an instinctive sense of survival, and had worked hard at the course, and at the jobs she’d subsequently got, finally revelling in the purchase of her tiny flat, her first very own private space, where no one could tell her what to do. At last she was in charge of her own life, her own destiny. And that was how it was going to stay. Always.
Sam, apparently, had been different. He’d told Lily how happy he’d been growing up, behaving himself and always doing as he was told by his foster carers. But he hadn’t known, either, that he had any family. When he and Lily had come face to face at last their blood tie had swallowed up those lost years and they’d fallen into each other’s arms with hardly any self-consciousness.
‘I think a coffee is all I can manage, too, Sam,’ Lily said now. ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to eat another thing for the rest of the day.’
‘Oh, you’ll make room for supper later,’ Sam assured her. ‘No one eats here until nine or ten o’clock in any case. There’ll be plenty of time for you to work up an appetite.’
After lunch they sauntered back along the sun-hot pavements, searching out the cool shade of buildings to walk beneath whenever they could.
‘I think I’ll pamper myself and have a siesta this afternoon,’ Lily said.
‘Good idea. And I’ve some paperwork to go through with Federico, so that’ll suit us both,’ Sam replied easily.
The small hotel—with a mere four bedrooms—was situated in a narrow lane just off Piazza Navona, and Lily had been allocated a chic room at the front. It was well-appointed and comfortable, and she flopped down on the bed, kicking off her sandals and laying back languidly. She’d changed out of her suit as soon as she’d arrived, and was wondering whether the small amount of clothes she’d brought was going to see her through her three-night stay. She shrugged happily. If she ran out of clothes she’d buy some more! She’d never been an extravagant shopper—she’d never had the money—but, hey, she was on holiday, and she was in Rome! There were no frontiers, nothing to hold back her glorious sense of freedom.
To her amazement, when she woke up Lily realized that she’d been asleep for nearly three hours! She hadn’t come here to sleep, she thought. She’d come here to enjoy herself, to explore Rome—as well, of course, as meeting up with her brother.
Sliding off the bed, she went into the bathroom to shower. Although Sam’s hotel was air-conditioned, there was a distinct sense of the pervading sultry heat outside, so choosing what to wear would be easy. She’d put on the cream cotton sleeveless sundress with the low neck, she decided. It wouldn’t matter if it was still a bit creased—although she’d hung it up as soon as she’d arrived—because who was going to notice her, anyway?
She dressed and brushed out her hair, tying it back in a ponytail. Then she moisturised her face, adding sunblock but no make-up. She knew she was lucky with her complexion which, although fair-skinned, seemed to have an olive under-layer which saved her from burning or freckling. She added just a touch of blusher and lipstick and went downstairs.
There was no sign of her brother, but Federico was on duty, and he came over at once to greet her with the typical approach of the Italian male when meeting a woman. He took her hand and kissed it gently, looking down at her appreciatively with his dusky, bedroom eyes.
‘Ah…Lileeeee,’ he murmured in his heavily accented English. ‘What a charming pleasure to ’ave you to stay here. You are so…beautiful.’ He paused. ‘You look—wonderful.’
‘Thank you, Federico,’ Lily said lightly. How could you take these people seriously? she thought. He’d be saying the same to every one of his female guests. Yet she automatically smiled back, responding to his compliments. At least he wasn’t pretending to be someone he wasn’t. What you saw was what you got—a red-blooded Latin male, with no nasty surprises in his temperament and a straightforward, lusty appreciation of the female sex. He made Lily feel feminine, and desirable. And because of his openness, he was totally unthreatening.
Still holding her hand to his lips, Federico said, ‘I’m so sorry…Sam is—unwell. He is lying down. Head,’ he added, touching his forehead. ‘He asks you to see him later tonight.’
‘Oh, poor Sam,’ Lily said, remembering that her brother was prone to migraines—as she herself was. ‘Tell him not to worry, Federico. I’m going off to explore, and I’m quite happy being by myself,’ she added, as he went to object. ‘Tell Sam I’ll see him in the morning.’
People were starting to mill about again in the evening sunshine as Lily wandered around. She’d only been here twice before, but it felt surprisingly familiar as she drank in the atmosphere. She stopped idly from time to time, to watch some artists at work, before buying herself a large vanilla ice-cream. She licked at it appreciatively as she sauntered along. It had to be the most delicious confection known to man, she thought, as the creamy substance coated her tongue and slid down, cooling her throat. The Italians certainly knew how to make the stuff.
Presently she came to the Trevi Fountain, and sat down on a nearby seat to watch the huge gush of water stream from its natural spring. The evening sun shone on the spectacle, lighting up the whole picture like an elaborate stage set, and Lily found herself daydreaming as she sat there, her hands clasped in her lap.
Suddenly a light tap on her arm made her turn quickly.
‘Hello, there. What are you doing here all by yourself?’
Theodore Montague was standing there, looking down at her, and Lily felt her throat constrict as she gazed up at him.
‘Oh—hello—’ she said uncertainly. Well, was it really any surprise that they should meet? she asked herself. Rome wasn’t that big a place. She moved over to make room for him to sit down.
He was wearing white trousers and a dark open-neck shirt, his bare feet thrust into strong brown sandals, and Lily felt her heart fluttering anxiously in the usual way. Yet it wasn’t exactly anxiety that she was feeling, she thought. It was something else—something