From Florence With Love: Valtieri's Bride / Lorenzo's Reward / The Secret That Changed Everything

‘Signorina! You come back! Oh!’

She found herself engulfed in a warm and emotional hug, and when Carlotta let her go, her eyes were brimming. She blotted them, laughing at herself, and then taking Lydia by the hand, she led her through the courtyard to her old room.

This time there were flowers on the chest of drawers, and Roberto brought in her luggage and put it down and hugged her, too.

‘Grazie mille, signorina,’ he said, his voice choked. ‘Thank you for coming back to help us.’

‘Oh, Roberto, it’s my pleasure. There’s so much Carlotta can teach me, and I’m really looking forward to learning.’

‘I teach,’ she said, patting her hand. ‘I teach you everything!’

She doubted it. Carlotta’s knowledge of traditional dishes was a rich broth of inheritance, and it would take more than a few experiments to capture it, but it would still be fascinating.

They left her to settle in, and a moment later there was a tap at the French doors.

‘The children and I are going for a swim. Want to join us?’

She was so tempted. It was still warm here, much warmer than in England, although she knew the temperature would drop once it was dark. The water in the pool would be warm and inviting, though, and it would be fun playing with the children, but she felt a shiver of danger, and not just from him.

‘I don’t think so. I’m a bit tired. I might rest for a little while.’

He nodded, smiled briefly and walked away, and she closed the door and shut the curtains, just to make the point.

The children were delightful, but they weren’t why she was here, and neither was he. And the more often she reminded herself of that, the better, because she was in serious danger of forgetting.

She didn’t have time to think about it.

The harvest season was in full swing, and from first thing the following morning, she was busy. Carlotta still tried to do too much, but she just smiled and told her she was allowed to give orders and that was all, and after the first two days she seemed happy to do that.

She even started taking a siesta in the middle of the day, which gave Lydia time to make a lot of the preparations for the evening without prodding Carlotta’s conscience.

And every evening, she dished up the food to the workers and joined them for their meal.

They seemed pleased to see her, and there was a bit of flirting and whistling and nudging, but she could deal with that. And then Massimo appeared at her side, and she heard a ripple of laughter and someone said something she’d heard a few times before when he was about. She’d also heard him say it to Francesca on occasions.

‘What does bella ragazza mean?’ she asked in a quiet moment as they were finishing their food, and he gave a slightly embarrassed laugh.

‘Beautiful girl.’

She studied his face closely, unconvinced. ‘Are you sure? Because they only say it when you’re near me.’

He pulled a face. ‘OK. It’s usually used for a girlfriend.’

‘They think I’m your girlfriend?’ she squeaked, and he cleared his throat and pushed the food around his plate.

‘Ignore them. They’re just teasing us.’

Were they? Or could they see the pull between them? Because ignore it as hard as she liked, it wasn’t going away, and it was getting stronger with every day that passed.

A few days later, while she was taking a breather out on the terrace before lunch, Isabelle appeared. She was pushing a pram, and she had a little girl in tow.

‘Lydia, hi. I was hoping to find you. Mind if we join you?’

She stood up, pleased to see her again, and hugged her. ‘Of course I don’t mind. Congratulations! May I see?’

‘Sure.’

She peered into the pram, and sighed. ‘Oh, he’s gorgeous. So, so gorgeous! All that dark hair!’

‘Oh, yes, he’s his daddy’s boy. Sometimes I wonder where my genes went in all of this.’ She laughed, and Lydia smiled and reached out to touch the sleeping baby’s outstretched hand.

It clenched reflexively, closing on her fingertip, and she gave a soft sigh and swallowed hard.

He looked just like the picture of Antonino with his mother in the photo frame in the kitchen. Strong genes, indeed, she thought, and felt a sudden, shocking pang low down in her abdomen, a need so strong it was almost visceral.

She eased her finger away and straightened up. ‘Can I get you a drink? And what about your little girl?’

‘Annamaria, do you want a drink, darling?’

‘Juice!’

‘Please.’

‘P’ees.’

‘Good girl. I’d love a coffee, if you’ve got time? And anything juice-related with a big slosh of water would be great. We’ve got a feeder cup.’

They went into the kitchen, and she found some biscuits and took them out into the sun again with the drinks, and sat on the terrace under the pergola, shaded by the jasmine.

‘Are you completely better now, after your fall?’ Isabelle asked her, and she laughed and brushed it aside.

‘I’m fine. My ankle was the worst thing, really, but it’s much better now. It still twinges if I’m careless, but it’s OK. How about you? Heavens, you’ve had a baby, that’s much worse!’

Isabelle laughed and shook her head. ‘No. It was harder than when Annamaria was born, but really very straightforward, and you know Luca’s an obstetrician?’

‘Yes, I think so. I believe Massimo mentioned it. I know he’s a doctor, he met us at the hospital when I had the fall and translated everything for me. So did he deliver him? What’s he called, by the way?’

‘Maximus—Max for short, after his uncle. Maximus and Massimo both mean the greatest, and my little Max was huge, so he really earned it. And yes, Luca did help deliver him, but at home with a midwife. Not like last time. He nearly missed Annamaria’s birth, and I was at home on my own, so this time he kept a very close eye on me!’

‘I’ll bet. Wow. You’re very brave having them at home.’

‘No, I just have confidence in the process. I’m a midwife.’

‘Is that how you met?’

She laughed. ‘No. We met in Florence, in a café. We ended up together by a fluke, really.’ She tipped her head on one side. ‘So what’s the story with you and Massimo?’

She felt herself colour and pretended to rearrange the biscuits. ‘Oh, nothing, really. There is no story. He gave me a lift, I had an accident, he rescued me, and now I’m doing Carlotta’s job so she doesn’t kill herself.’

Isabelle didn’t look convinced, but there was no way Lydia was going into details about her ridiculous crush or their one-night stand! But Luca’s wife wasn’t so easily put off. She let the subject drop for a moment, but only long enough to lift the now-crying baby from the pram and cradle him in her arms as she fed him.

Spellbound, Lydia watched the baby’s tiny rosebud mouth fasten on his mother’s nipple, saw the look of utter contentment on Isabelle’s face, and felt a well of longing fill her chest.

‘He’s a good man, you know. A really decent guy. He’d be worth the emotional investment, but only if you’re serious. I’d hate to see him hurt.’

‘He won’t get hurt. We’re not getting involved,’ she said firmly. ‘Yes, there’s something there, but neither of us want it.’

Isabelle’s eyes were searching, and Lydia felt as if she could see straight through her lies.

Lies? Were they?

Oh, yes. Because she did want it, even though it was crazy, even though she’d get horribly badly hurt. And she’d thought Russell had hurt her? He didn’t even come close to what Massimo could do if she let him into her heart.

‘He’s not interested in an emotional investment,’ she said, just in case there was any misunderstanding, but Isabelle just raised a brow slightly and smiled.

‘No. He doesn’t think he is, but actually he’s ready to love again. He just hasn’t realised it.’

‘No, he isn’t. We’ve talked about it—’

‘Men don’t talk. Not really. It’s like pulling teeth. He’s telling you what he thinks he ought to feel, not what he feels.’

She glanced up, at the same time as Lydia heard crunching on the gravel.

‘Talk of the devil, here they are,’ Isabelle said, smiling at her husband and his brother, and not wanting to get involved any deeper in this conversation, Lydia excused herself and went back to the kitchen.

Seconds later Massimo was in there behind her. ‘I’ve come to tell you we’ve almost finished. The last of the vines are being stripped now and everyone’s having the afternoon off.’

‘So no lunch?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think you’ll get away with that, but no evening meal, certainly. Not today. And tomorrow we’re moving on to the chestnut woods. So tonight I’m taking you out for dinner, to thank you.’

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.