From Florence With Love: Valtieri's Bride / Lorenzo's Reward / The Secret That Changed Everything. CATHERINE GEORGE
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‘Very good. Maybe the best I can remember. It’ll be a vintage year for our Brunello.’
‘Brunello? I thought that was only from Montalcino?’
‘It is. Part of the estate is in the Montalcino territory. It’s very strictly regulated, but it’s a very important part of our revenue.’
‘I’m sure.’ She was. During the course of her training and apprenticeships she’d learned a lot about wines, and she knew that Brunellos were always expensive, some of them extremely so. Expensive, and exclusive. Definitely niche market.
Her father would be interested. He’d like Massimo, she realised. They had a lot in common, in so many ways, for all the gulf between them.
Deep in thought, she ate the hearty meal, swiped the last off the sauce from her plate with a chunk of bread and licked her lips, glancing up to see him watching her with a smile on his face.
‘What?’
‘You. You really appreciate food.’
‘I do. Carlotta’s a good cook. That was delicious.’
‘Are you making notes?’
She laughed. ‘Only mental ones.’
He glanced over her head, and a smile touched his face. ‘My parents are back. They’re looking forward to meeting you.’
Really? Like this, covered in tomato sauce and reeking of chopped onions? She probably had an orange tide-line round her mouth, and her hair was dragged back into an elastic band, and—
‘Mamma, Pàpa, this is Lydia.’
She scrambled to her feet, wincing as her sore ankle took her weight, and looked up into the eyes of an elegant, beautiful, immaculately groomed woman with clear, searching eyes.
‘Lydia. How nice to meet you. Welcome to our home. I’m Elisa Valtieri, and this is my husband, Vittorio.’
‘Hello. It’s lovely to meet you, too.’ Even if she did look a fright.
She shook their hands, Elisa’s warm and gentle, Vittorio’s rougher, his fingers strong and hard, a hand that wasn’t afraid of work. He was an older version of his son, and his eyes were kind. He reminded her of her father.
‘My son tells me you’ve had an accident?’ Elisa said, her eyes concerned.
‘Yes, I was really stupid, and he’s been unbelievably kind.’
‘And so, I think, have you. Carlotta is singing your praises.’
‘Oh.’ She felt herself colour, and laughed a little awkwardly. ‘I didn’t have anything else to do.’
‘Except rest,’ Massimo said drily, but his smile was gentle and warmed her right down to her toes.
And then she glanced back and found his mother looking at her, curiosity and interest in those lively brown eyes, and she excused herself, mumbling some comment about them having a lot to catch up on, and hobbled quickly back to Carlotta to see if there was anything she could do to help.
Anything, other than stand there while his mother eyed her speculatively, her eyes asking questions Lydia had no intention of answering.
If she even knew the answers …
‘YOU ran away.’
She was sitting outside her room on a bench with her foot up, flicking through a magazine she’d found, and she looked up guiltily into his thoughtful eyes.
‘I had to help Carlotta.’
‘And it was easier than dealing with my mother,’ he said softly, a fleeting smile in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, she can be a little …’
‘A little …?’
He grinned slightly crookedly. ‘She doesn’t like me being on my own. Every time I speak to a woman under fifty, her radar picks it up. She’s been interrogating me for the last three hours.’
Lydia laughed, and she put the magazine down, swung her foot to the ground and patted the bench. ‘Want to hide here for a while?’
His mouth twitched. ‘How did you guess? Give me a moment.’
He vanished, then reappeared with a bottle of wine and two glasses. ‘Prosecco?’
‘Lovely. Thanks.’ She took a glass from him, sniffing the bubbles and wrinkling her nose as she sipped. ‘Mmm, that’s really nice. So, how was the baby?’
‘Beautiful, perfect, amazing, the best baby in the world—
oh, apart from all their other grandchildren. This is the sixth, and Luca and Isabelle are about to make it seven. Their second is due any time now.’
‘Wow. Lots of babies.’
‘Yes, and she loves it. Nothing makes her happier. Luca and Isabelle and my brother Gio are coming over tomorrow for dinner with some neighbours, by the way. I’d like you to join us, if you can tolerate it.’
She stared at him. ‘Really? I’m only here by default, and I feel such a fraud. I really ought to go home.’
‘How’s your head now?’
She pulled a face. ‘Better. I’m still getting the odd headache, but nothing to worry about. It’s my ankle and the other bruises and scrapes that are sorest. I think I hit every step.’
He frowned. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t really think about the things I can’t see.’
Well, that was a lie. He thought about them all the time, but there was no way he was confessing that to Lydia. ‘So—will you join us?’
She bit her lip, worrying it for a moment with her teeth, which made him want to kiss her just to stop her hurting that soft, full mouth that had been taunting him for days. Dio, the whole damn woman had been taunting him for days—
‘Can I think about it?’
A kiss? No. No! Not a kiss!
‘Of course,’ he said, finally managing to unravel his tongue long enough to speak. ‘Of course you may. It won’t be anything impressive, Carlotta’s got enough to do as it is, but my mother wanted to see Isabelle and Luca before the baby comes, and Gio’s coming, and so my mother’s invited Anita and her parents, and so it gets bigger—you know how it is.’
She laughed softly. ‘I can imagine. Who’s Anita?’
‘The daughter of our neighbours. She and Gio had a thing a while back, and my mother keeps trying to get them together again. Can’t see it working, really, but she likes to try.’
‘And how do they feel?’
He laughed abruptly. ‘I wouldn’t dare ask Gio. He has a fairly bitter and twisted attitude to love. Comes from being a lawyer, I suppose. His first line of defence is always a prenuptial agreement.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Trust issues, then. I can understand that. I have a few of my own after Russell.’
‘I’m sure. People like that can take away something precious, a sort of innocence, a naivety, and once it’s gone you can never get it back. Although I have no idea what happened to Gio. He won’t talk about it.’
‘What about Anita? What’s she like?’
His low chuckle made her smile. ‘Anita’s a wedding planner. What do you think?’
‘I think she might like to plan her own?’
‘Indeed. But Gio can’t see what’s under his nose, even if Mamma keeps putting her there.’ He tipped his head on one side. ‘It