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Anne Fraser
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
About the Author
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Copyright
Dear Reader
Tuscany is one of my favourite parts of the world, and some readers will know that Africa is also very close to my heart. In this book I have brought these two places together as my hero and heroine learn about themselves and each other.
Alice meets the gorgeous and dangerously sexy Dr Dante Corsi in Florence, and has a brief but intense affair with him. But Dante doesn’t know that Alice is keeping a secret from him. She is not the woman he thinks she is, but is Lady Alice Granville, daughter of one of the richest men in England.
When Dante discovers the truth, and that Alice is planning to come to work as a volunteer in Africa, where he works as one of the camp doctors, he is dismayed. Not only does he not believe she will be able to cope with the harsh conditions of camp life, but he has sworn not to let her back into his heart.
As they work together Dante learns that, despite her high heels and manicured nails, Alice is determined to make herself useful, and she is soon an essential part of the camp—and his life.
But can he trust this woman? And, even if he can, does he have the right to take her away from her privileged life? Can Alice make him believe in love again?
I hope you enjoy finding out.
Best wishes
Anne Fraser
About the Author
ANNE FRASER was born in Scotland, but brought up in South Africa. After she left school she returned to the birthplace of her parents, the remote Western Islands of Scotland. She left there to train as a nurse, before going on to university to study English Literature. After the birth of her first child she and her doctor husband travelled the world, working in rural Africa, Australia and Northern Canada. Anne still works in the health sector. To relax, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, walking and travelling.
Dedication:
To Lisa, for showing me the real Italy. Mille grazie, bella.
PROLOGUE
ALICE picked up her pencil and made a few more strokes on her pad. Somehow her depiction of Michelangelo’s David wasn’t going according to plan. In her drawing he looked more like the Incredible Hulk than one of the world’s masterpieces.
She had come to the Piazza della Signoria as soon as it was light so that she would be there before the tourists. Florence was teeming with them and it wasn’t really surprising that the Italian city was so popular, it was an art lover’s dream. Everywhere Alice looked there were statues, stunning architecture and amazing works of art that she’d only ever read about. Only yesterday she had seen the original statue of Michelangelo’s David and had been moved to tears. Now she was here in the square to sketch the copy.
Even at eight o’clock in the morning the square was filling rapidly. She decided to give it another hour before packing up.
Picking up her pencil again, she sighed with pleasure as the sun warmed her skin. This was the first time she’d been truly content for as long as she could remember. Here in Florence she could be anonymous, nobody knew or cared who she was and that suited her just fine. There were no paparazzi ready to leap out at her to snap a photograph that would be splashed all over the next day’s gossip magazines. No dinners or functions to attend. No home to run. For these, all-too-short three weeks, she was simply Alice Granville.
She held her pad at arm’s length and surveyed it critically. She wasn’t much of an artist and never would be, but she was bored with hanging about the villa and wanted to record some of the great stuff she had seen. When she’d finished here she’d go and have a coffee and one of those delicious pastries at a café. It was her daily treat. The trouble was that she liked food. Every time she passed a pastry shop, Alice would look longingly at the display in the window—and unfortunately Florence had them on practically every street corner—noticing yet another type of cake she simply had to try.
The Italians also loved their food but Alice had to be careful—just one look at all the delicious food and she felt her hips expand. Not that she was really overweight, just more curvy than she would have liked.
She was about to pack up her bag when her eyes were drawn to a figure sitting on a bench opposite her.
Dressed in a pair of thigh-hugging faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, the man was muscular without being bulky. His face was turned upwards as if he was drinking in the rays of the sun. The muscles of his arms rippled as he lifted his arms and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Alice took a deep breath. He was a real-life copy of the statue of Michelangelo she had been attempting to draw. His chest and arms were tanned and fine dark hair formed a V down to the top button of his jeans.
She started to sketch his face. Dark, almost black hair flopped across a broad forehead. He had a long Roman nose and a strong jawline.
She moved to the mouth: full lips, the edges turned up at the corner as if he was a man who was used to laughing. As if he could read her mind, he smiled, stretched and opened eyes framed by eyelashes that were longer than hers. His eyes were not quite brown with a glint that made them almost amber. Perfectly straight white teeth. Of course. This man couldn’t possibly have an imperfection. He was without a doubt the most beautiful man she had seen in real life—and that was saying something.
As she ran her eyes over his chest, her pencil scribbling furiously on the paper, she saw that he wasn’t perfect. Across his chest was a scar. A few inches long, it ran in a diagonal line from his shoulder down towards his abdomen.
Alice took a long swig of tepid water. For some reason her mouth was dry.
The man shifted slightly before lifting his T-shirt from the bench beside him. As he raised his arms to put it back on, his muscles bunched.
Alice fanned herself with a piece of paper from her pad. Florence was hot in midsummer.
Ten more days and she’d be going back to her life in London. She sighed. Why did the thought fill her with dread? Most women would give their eye teeth to live her life. But to her it felt empty, almost pointless. On the other hand, since she’d come to Italy she’d had the strange sense of coming home. It was crazy. She could barely speak the language and as far as she knew there were no Italians in her ancestry. Perhaps it was because here she could be anonymous Alice instead of Lady Alice Granville, daughter of one of the richest men in London.
For once in her life, Alice wasn’t on show and she intended to make the most of it. Every morning she left the villa and wandered around Florence, drinking in the art and architecture, craning her neck lest she miss another breathtaking sculpture or carving. She’d promised Peter that she would think about his proposal. In every way he should be the right man for her. He was perfect husband material—wealthy, sophisticated, aristocratic and, even more importantly as far as her father was concerned, he had a bright future with her father’s company. But, and this was a big but, he did nothing to set Alice’s heart racing. In fact, ‘boring’ was the word that sprang to mind. She had come to Florence to give herself time and space to think about his proposal and already she knew she could never marry him. Telling him would be awful, but she would do it as soon as she got home.
This last week and a half, Alice had allowed herself to daydream that she was Italian, an ordinary woman living an ordinary life, and she liked the feeling. For the rest of her time in Italy she was going to be Alice Granville, university student, who had to bring her lunch into the city to save money. Even if that lunch was provided by the trained chef who worked at her father’s friend’s holiday villa.
A screech of brakes and a terror-filled scream filled the air, jerking her out of her reverie. For a moment there was silence as the world seemed to stop. Alice jumped up, abandoning her belongings on the step and hurried over to where the noise had come from.
At first it was difficult to see what had happened. A jumble of metal and clothes lay on the ground where one of the stalls selling leather handbags had been knocked over. Next to it was a moped, its wheels twisted and the metal bent and misshapen. A car had careered off to one side and as they watched a man staggered out of the car. He swayed and clutched the bonnet of his car for support.
‘Dio mio,’ he said, shocked and dazed. ‘Dio mio.‘
Horrified, Alice spotted the still form of a little girl lying on the ground. A few feet from her, a woman was moaning and struggling to sit up.
The man from the bench was running towards the victims and without thinking Alice followed him.
‘Chiamante un ambulanza!‘ he shouted to the people who had stopped to stare as he dropped to his knees beside the injured girl. A young woman instantly punched numbers into a phone. Everyone else was still staring in horrified silence. Some even began to move away.
‘Can I help?’ Alice asked, dropping to her knees beside the man she had been sketching only minutes before.
‘Go to the woman,’ he replied in accented English. ‘Make sure she stays still and that no one else tries to move her until I have examined her. I need to see to the child first.’ He must have noticed Alice’s hesitation. ‘Prego! Go!’ he said. ‘I’m a doctor. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
Her heart thumping, Alice ran across to the woman. She hoped she wasn’t badly injured. The only experience of first aid Alice had was a course she had taken at school and that had been four years ago. At least the woman was conscious and breathing. Wishing she could speak Italian, Alice spoke quietly to the grey-haired victim, hoping that the woman would at least be reassured by her presence. She mumbled something that Alice couldn’t follow. Fortunately the woman who had phoned for the ambulance stopped and translated. ‘She is asking if her grandchild is okay,’ she told Alice.
‘Tell her a doctor is looking at her now.’
The grandmother started to raise herself off the ground. Alice pressed her back, gently but firmly. ‘No, no. You mustn’t move till the doctor’s examined you. You could make any injuries you do have worse.’ While her words were hurriedly translated, Alice searched for signs of injury. She winced in sympathy as she noticed that the grandmother’s ankle looked to be broken.
‘You’ll be fine. An ambulance is on its way.’
The grandmother’s gaze was straining towards her granddaughter, who was partly obscured by the kneeling doctor. The woman muttered another stream of incomprehensible Italian.
‘A prayer,’ the bystander told Alice.
Alice stood to see if she could help the driver of the car.
His forehead was bleeding profusely, but Alice had read somewhere that even shallow head wounds tended to do that. Apart from the cut to his head and his dazed expression he didn’t seem badly hurt. ‘I didn’t see them. I was talking on my phone. I didn’t see them.’
‘Someone has phoned for an ambulance,’ Alice reassured him. ‘They will be here soon.’
‘Could you stay with this lady and this gentleman?’ Alice asked the helpful bystander. ‘I’ll be back in a minute. I must see if the doctor needs help.’
Her heart still beating painfully fast, Alice sped across to where the doctor was examining the child. Alice noticed that he’d moved the little girl into the recovery position. She was disturbingly pale but what was worse was that she had a piece of metal protruding from just below her collar bone. Horrified, Alice sucked in a breath. The man had removed his T-shirt and was using it to staunch the blood pumping from the wound.
Although his attention was focussed on his patient, he must have sensed her presence.
‘Are the other two all right?’ he asked.
‘The driver seems okay, but the grandmother seems to have broken her ankle.’
‘What is your name?’
‘Alice.’
‘I am Dante. I need you to help me so I can check the other patients, Alice,’ he said. He guided her hand towards the pumping wound. ‘Press here as firmly as you can. Don’t stop applying pressure whatever happens.’
Gingerly Alice did as she was asked. She didn’t want to hurt the child any more than necessary. The bleeding increased.
Immediately an impatient hand was on top of hers again, pressing the pad into the wound. ‘Dio mio, did I not say firmly?’ he growled. ‘We want to stop the blood, not mop it up!’
‘Okay. I get it. I get it.’
His dark gaze held hers for a split second. Then he released his hold and turned away. Over the buzzing of the audience around them, Alice heard the voice of the child’s grandmother calling out to the little girl.
Within seconds the makeshift bandage was soaked with blood. Alice was aware of the sound of the child’s grandmother’s distress above the noise of the traffic.
As if aware of her grandmother’s cries, the little girl’s eyes flickered.
Alice leaned forward and spoke softly to her. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart. Try to stay as still as you can.’ She kept her voice low and managed a smile.
Dante laid his head on the girl’s chest. ‘I wish I had my stethoscope. As far as I can make out her breathing is okay, but she needs to get to hospital.’
‘Shouldn’t we try and remove the metal from her shoulder?’ Alice asked.
‘No, absolutely not. If we did that we could make matters worse. Much worse.’
‘Really?’ The makeshift bandage was ominously soaked with blood.
‘Really,’ he repeated. ‘Stay with the little one while I check her grandmother. Keep talking to her. Whatever you do, keep the pressure on her wound. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Call me if there is any change.’
Alice could only nod. Her heart was banging so hard against her ribs it was almost painful. She didn’t want to be left in charge of the child. What if her condition changed suddenly? Alice knew she wouldn’t have a clue what to do.
‘Nonna?’ the child whispered.
‘The doctor is looking after your nonna. What’s your name?’
‘Sofia.’
‘Okay, Sofia. Can you understand English?’
‘A little bit. I am learning at school.’
‘Everything’s going to be just fine. Soon the ambulance will be here to take you to hospital. In the meantime, you have to lie as still as you can. Will you do that?’
The child nodded. Alice kept her eyes fixed on the little girl’s and made herself smile reassuringly.
‘I hurt. I want my mamma.’ The child was beginning to panic. Alice knew she had to keep her from moving. She placed a hand on the child’s shoulder and glanced around. Dante was bent over Sofia’s grandmother.
‘Where is your mamma?’ Alice asked.
‘She’s at home. Nonna and I shop for food.’
‘Where do you live?’ Alice wanted to keep the child’s attention from what was happening a few feet away.
‘Back up the road. In the mountains. I help my nonna.’
‘Your mama must be proud of you. And she’ll be even prouder when she hears what a brave girl you’ve been.’
To Alice’s relief, the wail of an approaching ambulance cut through the sound of traffic. At last help was on its way. She looked over her shoulder. Dante was still occupied with the child’s grandmother but, as if sensing her eyes on him, he looked up from whatever he was doing and raised a questioning eyebrow. Alice nodded to let him know that the child was okay.
‘Come with me. In the ambulance?’ the little girl asked. ‘I’m scared.’
Alice squeezed her hand. ‘Of course. And I’ll stay until your mamma and papà come, if you like.’
Sofia dipped her head slightly, then, to Alice’s relief, Dante was by her side again. The ambulance was getting closer but by the sound it had become snarled in traffic.
‘How is she doing?’ Dante asked. ‘Okay, under the circumstances. She’s conscious and speaking.’
Dante pulled out his mobile phone and said something to Sofia in Italian.
Sofia whispered a number and Dante punched the numbers into the phone and moved away still keeping a close eye on the injured child. Alice guessed he was calling Sofia’s parents and she didn’t envy him his task. She could only imagine how the mother would feel when she heard about the accident.
As he was speaking the ambulance drew up and a couple of paramedics jumped out. While one stayed to check over the driver of the car, the other ran towards them. Alice continued to hold the young girl’s hand as the paramedic set about putting up a drip. Dante finished the call and his shoulders slumped. He crossed back to them and updated the paramedic in rapid Italian.
Within minutes, Sofia was being loaded into the ambulance. Alice understood enough to know that another ambulance was on its way to collect the grandmother.
‘I’m going with her,’ Alice told Dante. ‘I promised I would.’
Dante nodded and helped her into the back of the ambulance. ‘Bene. She will be less frightened with a familiar face. I am coming too.’ He lowered his voice. ‘There is still a chance she could collapse. She’s lost a lot of blood.’
At the hospital, Dante went with the other doctors as they rushed Sofia away behind some doors. Left alone, Alice found a chair and sat down. She couldn’t bear to leave, not until she knew for sure that Sofia was going to be okay. When she looked at her watch she was amazed to find that only an hour and a half had passed since the accident. Although desperately worried for the little girl, Alice experienced a gratifying sense of achievement. It had felt good helping and she hadn’t been squeamish at all at the sight of blood—at least, not after her first sight of the wound. She had surprised herself by staying calm and not panicking.
Another hour passed before she looked up to find Dante standing next to her. Immersed in her thoughts she hadn’t heard him approach. He had changed out of his clothes and was wearing blue hospital scrubs. If anything he looked more handsome than when she’d first seen him on the park bench. The thin cotton material emphasised the breadth of his chest and his powerful thighs. In the hospital environment he was even more assured, as if this was where he belonged.
‘Sofia is going to be okay. The surgeons managed to remove the metal from her shoulder. Luckily it hadn’t torn any major blood vessels so she should be able to go home in a day or so.’ He smiled down at her. ‘You did a good job back there, Alice.’ She liked the way he said her name. It made her feel interesting, exotic even.
‘I was terrified at first,’ she admitted. ‘But since Sofia had much more reason to be scared than I had, I couldn’t let her see my fear. I’m so glad she’s going to be okay.
Alice shivered.
Dante picked up a blanket from one of the benches and wrapped it gently around her shoulders. ‘You have had a shock.’ He sat down next to her. ‘I am going to wait until Sofia’s parents get here, but you should go back to your hotel. Do you wish me to call you a taxi?’
‘No, that’s all right,’ Alice said. ‘I just need a moment.’
Now the adrenaline was draining away, Alice felt exhausted. She leant her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Despite everything, she was acutely conscious of Dante. The skin on her upper arms tingled where his fingertips had brushed against her skin and she could almost feel the heat of his body next to her. Although his presence was disconcerting the silence that fell between them was comfortable. She was curious to know more about this man.
It had been a huge relief to discover he was a doctor but it had also been a surprise. Out of all the jobs she’d imagined he’d do, medicine wasn’t one of them. Now if he’d been a model or a professional footballer, somehow that would have seemed more believable.
‘What kind of doctor are you?’ she asked.
‘I am a children’s doctor. How do you say it?’
‘A paediatrician.’
‘Sì, a paediatrician.’ he held out his hands as if in explanation. They were long fingered and smooth. An image of his hands on her bare skin flashed unbidden into Alice’s head and she flushed.
‘I saw you in the square,’ Dante said. ‘You were drawing. Are you an artist?’
Alice felt her face getting redder. Had he noticed she was sketching him? She hoped to hell not.
‘If you saw my pictures you would know I’m not an artist.’
‘Is that your notebook?’ He pointed to her handbag where, sure enough, her notepad was peeking out of her bag. ‘Can I see it?’ Before she could stop him he had reached in and plucked it out of bag. Resisting the impulse to grab it out of his hands, she nodded when he raised a questioning eyebrow.
Flushed with embarrassment, she waited while he flicked through her drawings. With a bit of luck he wouldn’t recognise himself. It wasn’t as if her sketch bore much relation to the real thing. It wasn’t much good and it certainly didn’t do credit to the real man.
But when he paused at the last page and grinned she knew her hopes had been in vain.
‘I didn’t know I looked like that,’ he said seriously, but she could hear the laughter in his voice.
Double damn. She peered over her shoulder. Her sketch was out of proportion, the figure listing to one side. Never mind. It wasn’t as if she wanted to make a career as an artist.
‘You don’t. You’re much better…’ Just in time, Alice bit back the rest of the words. ‘I mean I’m not very good at drawing,’ she said. ‘It’s only a hobby.’ She took the pad from him and replaced it in her bag.
‘What is it you do when you are not drawing?’ he asked her.
Now there was the rub. She was reluctant to tell him that she acted as a social secretary for her father, his hostess whenever he was between girlfriends, that apart from her studies she didn’t actually do anything except run Granville House and attend lunches and dinners. Not that any of that was easy. Moreover, she had promised herself that she would be plain Alice while she was here and she saw no need to tell this stranger who she really was.
‘I’m a student in London. Studying History of Art.’ That much she could tell him.
‘Then you are a visitor in my city. You like it so far?’ He smiled at her and her heart did a little somersault.
‘I love it. It’s so beautiful. The history, the art—’ she wasn’t going to mention the pastry shops ‘—the lifestyle. I can tell you after a pretty miserable, wet summer in England it is heaven to feel the sun.’
Dante’s eyebrows shot up and her heart did another flip-flop. She needed to get control of herself. It must be the Tuscan sun that was affecting her.