The Italian Count's Defiant Bride. CATHERINE GEORGE
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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