THE LARKVILLE LEGACY

A secret letter… two families changed for ever

Welcome to the small town of Larkville, Texas, where the Calhoun family has been ranching for generations.

Meanwhile, in New York, the Patterson family rules America’s highest echelons of society.

Both families are totally unprepared for the news that they are linked by a shocking secret.

For hidden on the Calhoun ranch is a letter that’s been lying unopened and unread—until now!

Meet the two families in all eight books of this brand-new series:

THE COWBOY COMES HOME

by Patricia Thayer

SLOW DANCE WITH THE SHERIFF

by Nikki Logan

TAMING THE BROODING CATTLEMAN

by Marion Lennox

THE RANCHER’S UNEXPECTED FAMILY

by Myrna Mackenzie

HIS LARKVILLE CINDERELLA

by Melissa McClone

THE SECRET THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING

by Lucy Gordon

THE SOLDIER’S SWEETHEART

by Soraya Lane

THE BILLIONAIRE’S BABY SOS

by Susan Meier

Dear Reader,

Writing a book as part of a series about a whole family is particularly fascinating because we come to know so much of the heroine’s background.

As we grow up the influences that shape us are so many and so varied that it’s hard to see the real person without knowing about them. Much of Charlotte’s life has been one thing while seeming to be another. She comes from a happy, loving family with two parents, two sisters and a brother. What could be better?

But she’s tormented by the feeling of being the odd one out, less attractive and talented than the others, and her adventurous spirit has sometimes led her to act rebelliously. Seeking escape, she takes off for a year in Italy. But in Rome she learns of a shattering family secret, and finds that she’s the last to know.

Devastated, she falls into the arms of Lucio, a fiercely attractive Italian. But their night together results in a baby. Lucio is glad—but is it her that he wants or only the child? And how much is he driven by a past even more troubled than her own? Surely loving him is too great a risk? Won’t she, once again, be the odd one out?

Perhaps she will never know his true feelings for her. Or perhaps a family reunion will unexpectedly give her the answer she can only dream of.

With best wishes,

Lucy Gordon

About the Author

LUCY GORDON cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men, including Warren Beatty, Charlton Heston and Sir Roger Moore. She also camped out with lions in Africa, and had many other unusual experiences, which have often provided the background for her books. Several years ago, while staying in Venice, she met a Venetian who proposed to her after two days. They have been married ever since. Naturally this has affected her writing, where romantic Italian men tend to feature strongly.

Two of her books have won a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award.

You can visit her website, www.lucy-gordon.com.

The Secret
That Changed
Everything
Lucy Gordon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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PROLOGUE

HE WAS there!

After such an anxious search it was hard to be sure at first; aged about thirty, tall, lean, fit, with black hair. Was it really him? But then he made a quick movement and Charlotte knew.

This was the man she’d come to find.

He’d looked different last time, elegantly dressed, smooth, sophisticated, perfectly at home in one of the most fashionable bars in Rome. Now, in the Tuscan countryside, he was equally at home in jeans and casual shirt, absorbed in the vines that streamed in long lines under the setting sun. So absorbed that he didn’t look up to see her watching him from a distance.

Lucio Constello.

Quickly she pulled out a scrap of paper and checked his name. At the back of her mind a wry voice murmured that if you’d sought out a man to tell him devastating news it was useful to get his name right. On the other hand, if you’d only exchanged first names, and he’d left while you were still asleep, who could he blame but himself?

She tried to silence that voice. It spoke to her too often these days.

She began to walk the long path between the vines, trying to calm her thoughts. But they refused to be calmed. They lingered rebelliously on the memory of his naked body against hers, the heat of his breath, the way he’d murmured her name.

There had been almost a question in his voice, as though he was asking her if she were certain. But there was no certainty left in her life. Her family, her boyfriend—these were the things she had clung to. But her boyfriend had rejected her and the foundations of her family had been shaken. So she’d invited Lucio to her bed because—what did it matter? What did anything matter?

He was looking up, suddenly very still as he saw her. What did that stillness mean? That he recognised her and guessed why she was here? Or that he’d forgotten a woman he’d known for a few hours several weeks ago?

When Lucio first looked up the sun was in his eyes, blinding him, so that for a moment he could make out no details. A woman was approaching him down the long avenue of vines, her attention fixed on him as though only he mattered in all the world.

That had happened so many times before. So often he’d seen Maria coming towards him from a great distance.

But Maria was dead.

The woman approaching him now was a stranger and yet mysteriously familiar. Her eyes were fixed on him even at a distance.

And he knew that nothing in the world was ever going to be the same again.

CHAPTER ONE

GOING to Italy had seemed a brilliant move for a language expert. She could improve her Italian, study the country and generally avoid recognising that she wasn’t just leaving New York; she was fleeing it.

But the truth was still the truth. Charlotte knew she had to flee memories of an emotion that had once felt like love, but which had revealed itself as disappointingly hollow, casting a negative light on almost everything in her life. It was like wandering in a desert. She belonged to nobody and nobody belonged to her. Perhaps it was this thought that made her leave her laptop computer behind. It pleased her to be beyond the reach of anyone unless she herself decided otherwise.

For two months she wandered around Italy, seeking something she couldn’t define. She made a point of visiting Naples, fascinated by the legendary Mount Vesuvius, whose eruptions had destroyed cities in the past. Disappointingly it was now considered so safe that she could wander up to the summit and stand there listening hopefully for a growl.

Silence.

Which was a bit like her life, she thought wryly. Waiting for something significant to happen. But nothing did. At twenty-seven, an age when many people had chosen their path in life, she still had no clue where hers was leading.

On the train from Naples to Rome she thought of Don, the man she’d briefly thought she loved. She’d wanted commitment and when Don didn’t offer it she’d demanded to know where they were headed. His helpless shrug had told her the worst, and she’d hastened to put distance between them.

She had no regrets. Briefly she’d wondered if she might have been cleverer and perhaps drawn him closer instead of driving him away. But in her heart she knew things had never been quite right between them. It was time to move on.

But where?

As the train pulled into Roma Termini she reckoned it might be interesting to find the answer to that question.

She took a taxi to the Hotel Geranno on the Via Vittorio Veneto, one of the most elegant and expensive streets in Rome. The hotel boasted every facility, including its own internet café. She found it easily and slipped into a booth, full of plans to contact family and friends. She might even get in touch with Don on her social networking site, just to let him know there were no hard feelings, and they could be friends.

But the words that greeted her on Don’s page were ‘Thanks to everyone for your kind wishes on my engagement. Jenny and I want our wedding to be—’

She shut the file down.

Jenny! Charlotte remembered her always hanging around making eyes at Don. And he’d noticed her. Pretty, sexy, slightly voluptuous—she was made to be noticed.

Not like me, she thought.

Some women would have envied Charlotte’s appearance. Tall, slender, dark-haired, dark-eyed; she wasn’t a woman who faded into the background. She’d always had her share of male admiration; not the kind of gawping leer that Jenny could inspire, but satisfying enough. Or so she’d thought.

But Don hadn’t wasted any time mourning her and that was just fine. The past was the past.

She touched a few more keys to access her email, and immediately saw one from her sister Alex, headlined, You’ll never believe this!

Alex liked to make things sound exciting so, although mildly intrigued, Charlotte wasn’t alarmed. But, reading the email, she grew still again as a family catastrophe unfolded before her eyes.

‘Mom—’ she murmured. ‘You couldn’t have—it’s not possible!’

She had always known that her father, Cedric Patterson, was her mother’s second husband. Before him Fenella had been married to Clay Calhoun, a Texas rancher. Only after their divorce had she married Cedric and lived with him in New York. There she’d borne four children—the twins Matt and Ellie, Charlotte and her younger sister Alexandra. Now it seems that Mom was already carrying Matt and Ellie when she left Clay, Alex wrote. She wrote and told him she was pregnant, but by that time he was with Sandra, who seems to have hidden the letter but, oddly enough, kept it. Nobody knew about it until both she and Clay were dead. He died last year, and the letter was found unopened, so I guess he never knew about Matt and Ellie.

What do you think of that? All these years we’ve thought they were our brother and sister, but now it seems we’re only half-siblings! Same mother, different father. When Ellie told me what had happened I couldn’t get my head around it, and I’m still in a spin.

Quickly Charlotte ran through her other emails, seeking one from Ellie that she was sure would be there. But she found nothing. Disbelieving, she ran through them again, but there was no word from Ellie.

Which meant that everyone in the family knew except her. Ellie hadn’t bothered to tell her something so momentous. It had been left to Alex to send her the news as an afterthought, as though she was no more than a fringe member of the family. Which, right now, was how she felt.

Returning to the lobby she again knew the sensation of being lost in a desert. But this desert had doors, one leading to a restaurant known for its haute cuisine, the other leading to a bar. Right this minute a drink was what she needed.

The barman smiled as she approached. ‘What can I get you?’

‘A tequila,’ she told him.

When it was served she looked around for a place to sit, but could see only one seat free, at the far end of the bar. She slipped into it and found that she could lean back comfortably against the wall, surveying her surroundings.

The room was divided into alcoves, some small, some large. The small ones were all taken up by couples, gazing at each other, revelling in the illusion of privacy. The larger ones were crowded with ‘beautiful people’ as though the cream of Roman society had gathered here tonight.

In the nearest alcove six people focused their attention on one man. He was king of all he surveyed, Charlotte thought with a touch of amusement. And with reason. In his early thirties, handsome, lean, athletic, he held centre-stage without effort. When he laughed, they laughed. When he spoke they listened.

Nice if you can get it, Charlotte thought with a little sigh. I’ll bet his volcano never falls silent.

Just then he glanced up and saw her watching him. For the briefest moment he turned his head to one side, a question in his eyes. Then one of the women claimed his attention and he turned to her with a perfectly calculated smile.

An expert, she thought. He knows exactly what he’s doing to them, and what they can do for him.

Such certainly seemed enviable. Her own future looked depressing. Returning to New York smacked of defeat. She could stay in Italy for the year she’d promised herself, but that was less inviting now that things were happening at home; things from which she was excluded.

She thought of Don and Jenny, revelling in their love. All around her she saw people happy in each other’s company, smiling, reaching out. And suddenly it seemed unbearable that there was nobody reaching out to her. She finished her drink and sat staring at the empty glass.

‘Excuse me, can I just—?’

It was the man from the alcove, easing himself into the slight space between her and the next bar stool. She leaned back to make space for him but a slight unevenness in the floor made him wobble and slew to the side, colliding with her.

‘Mi dispiace,’ he apologised in Italian, steadying her with his hand.

‘Va tutto bene,’ she reassured him. ‘Niente di male.’ All is well. No harm done.

Still in Italian he said, ‘But you’ll let me buy you a drink to say sorry.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Another tequila?’ asked the barman.

‘Certainly not,’ said the newcomer. ‘Serve this lady a glass of the very best Chianti, then bring another round of drinks to me and my friends over there.’

He retreated and the barman placed a glass of red wine in front of Charlotte. It was the most delicious she had ever tasted. Sipping it she glanced over at him, and it was no surprise to find him watching her. She raised her glass in salute and he raised his back. This seemed to disconcert the women sitting on either side of him, who asserted themselves to reclaim him, Charlotte was amused to notice.

Despite being in the heart of Rome they were speaking English. She was sitting close enough to overhear some of the remarks passing back and forth, half sentences, words that floated into the distance, but all telling the tale of people who lived expensive lives.

‘You were on that cruise, weren’t you? Wasn’t it a gorgeous ship? Everything you wanted on demand…’

‘I knew I’d met you before… you were at the opening of that new…’

‘Look at her. If she’s not wearing the latest fashion she thinks…’

Leaning back, Charlotte observed the little gathering with eyes that saw everything. Two of the women were watching Lucio like lions studying prey, but they were in alliance. She could have sworn that one murmured to the other, ‘Me first’. She couldn’t hear the words, but she could read their expressions: watchful, confident that each would have their turn with him.

She could understand their desires. It wasn’t merely his striking looks and costly clothes, but his air of being in charge, directing his own life and that of others. This was a man who’d never known doubt or fear.

She envied him. It must be good to know so certainly who you were, what you were, how others saw you and where you belonged in the world, instead of being that saddest of creatures—a woman who drank alone.

As if to emphasise the point the seat beside her was occupied by a woman gazing devotedly at her male companion, who returned the compliment with interest, then slid an arm about her shoulders, drew her close and said fervently, ‘Let’s go now.’

‘Yes, let’s,’ she breathed. And they were gone.

At once the man in the alcove rose, excused himself to his companions and swiftly claimed the empty seat before anyone else could try.

‘Can I get you another drink?’ he asked Charlotte.

‘Well, just a small one. I should be leaving.’

‘Going somewhere special?’

‘No,’ she said softly. ‘Nowhere special.’

After a moment he said, ‘Are you alone?’

‘Yes.’

He grinned. ‘Perhaps you’d be better off with someone to protect you from clumsy guys like me.’

‘No need. I can protect myself.’

‘I see. No man necessary, eh?’

‘Absolutely.’

A voice called, ‘Hey, Lucio! Let’s get going!’

His companions in the alcove were preparing to leave, beckoning him towards the door.

‘Afraid I can’t,’ he said. ‘I’m meeting someone here in half an hour. It was nice to meet you.’

Reluctantly they bid him goodbye and drifted away. When the door was safely closed he breathed out in obvious relief.

‘Hey, your friends are crazy about you,’ she reproved him lightly. ‘You might at least return the compliment.’

‘They’re not my friends. I only know them casually, and two I never met before today.’

‘But you were dousing them with charm.’

‘Of course. I’m planning to make money out of them.’

‘Ah! Hence the charm!’

‘What else is charm for?’

‘So now you’re girding up for your next “victim” in half an hour.’

He gave a slow smile. ‘There’s no one coming. That was just to get rid of them.’

She looked down into her glass, lest her face reveal how much this pleased her. He would be a welcome companion for a little while.

He read her exactly, offering his hand and saying, ‘Lucio—’

His last name was drowned by a merry shout from further along the bar. She raised her voice to say, ‘Charlotte.’

‘Buona sera, Charlotte.’

‘Buona sera, Lucio.’

‘Are you really Italian?’ he asked, his head slightly to one side.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because I can’t quite pinpoint your accent. Venice? No, I don’t think so. Milan? Hmm. Rome—Naples?’

‘Sicily?’ Charlotte teased.

‘No, not Sicily. You sound nothing like.’

‘You said that very quickly. You must know Sicily well.’

‘Fairly well. But we were talking about you. Where do you come from?’

His bright smile was like a visor behind which he’d retreated at the mention of Sicily. Though intrigued, she was too wise to pursue the matter just yet. Later would be more interesting.

‘I’m not Italian at all,’ she said. ‘I’m American.’

‘You’re kidding me!’

‘No, I’m not. I come from New York.’

‘And you speak my language like a native. I’m impressed.’ Someone squeezed by them, forcing them to draw back uncomfortably. ‘There’s no room for us here,’ he said, taking her arm and drawing her towards the door.

Several pairs of female eyes regarded her with frank envy. It was clear that the watching women had their own ideas about how the evening would end.

Well, you’re wrong, Charlotte thought, slightly irritated. He’s a nice guy and I’ll enjoy talking to him, but that’s all. Not everything has to end in amore, even in Italy. OK, so he’s suave, sophisticated, expensively dressed and fantastically good-looking, but I won’t hold that against him.

‘So why Italian?’ he asked as they began to stroll along the Via Vittorio Veneto.

‘I was always fascinated by foreign languages. I studied several at school, but somehow it was always Italian that stood out and attracted me more than the others. So I learned it through and through. It’s such a lovely language.’

‘And in the end you got a job here, probably working at the U.S. Embassy, just up the street.’

‘No, I don’t work here. I’m a translator in New York. I do Italian editions of books, sometimes universities hire me to look over old manuscripts. And I suddenly thought, it’s about time I actually saw the country and drank in what it’s really like. So I caught the next plane out.’

‘Literally?’

‘Well, it took a couple of days to make arrangements, but that’s all. Then I was free to go.’

‘No ties? Family?’

‘I’ve got parents, siblings, but nobody who can constrain my freedom.’

‘Freedom,’ he mused. ‘That’s what it’s really about, huh?’

‘One of the things. I’ve done some mad, stupid things in my life, and most of them have been about staying free.’ She gave a wry laugh. ‘It’s practically my family nickname. Ellie’s the beautiful one, Alex is the lovable one and I’m the crazy one.’

‘That sounds fascinating. I’d really like to hear about your craziness.’

‘Well, there’s the time I set my heart on marrying this guy and my parents said no. We were only seventeen, which they thought was too young.’

He considered this with an air of seriousness that had a touch of humour. ‘They could have had a point.’

‘The way I saw it they were denying me my own way. Hell would freeze over before I admitted they could be right. So we eloped.’

‘You married at seventeen?’

‘No way. By the time we’d covered a few miles I could see what a juvenile twerp he was. To be fair I think he’d spotted the same about me. Anyway, I got all set to make a run for it, and bumped into him because he was making a run for it, too.’

Lucio roared with laughter. ‘What happened when you got home?’

‘My mother’s a very clever woman. She knew better than to make a fuss. When she caught me sidling in she glanced up and said, “Oh, there you are. Don’t make a noise, your father’s asleep.” We had a talk later but there were no hysterics. By then she was used to me doing stupid things.’

‘But would getting married be the path to freedom? Husbands can be very restrictive.’

She chuckled. ‘I didn’t think of that at the time. I just pictured him doing things my way. Luckily I saw the truth before too late.’

‘Yes, husbands have this maddening habit of wanting their own way.’

‘Oh, I learnt the lesson.’

‘So you still don’t have a husband?’

‘No husband, no nothing.’ She added casually, ‘These days it’s the way to be.’

‘You’re a true woman of your age. At one time an unmarried girl would wonder why no man wanted her. Now she wonders what’s the best way to keep them off.’

‘Right,’ she responded in the same teasing voice. ‘Sometimes you have to be really ingenious. And sometimes just ruthless.’

‘You talk like an expert. Or like a woman who’s been kicked in the teeth and is going to do some kicking back.’ He saw her wry face and said quickly, ‘I’m sorry, I had no right to say that. None of my business.’

‘It’s all right. If we all minded our own business there’d be precious little of interest to talk about.’

‘I’ve got a feeling I should be nervous about what you’re going to say next.’

‘I could ask about Sicily, couldn’t I? Is that where you keep a secret wife, or perhaps two secret wives? Now that would really be interesting.’

‘Sorry to disappoint you but there’s no wife, secret or otherwise. I was born in Sicily, but I left it years ago, and I’ve never been back. The life just didn’t suit me. Like you, I went exploring the world, and I ended up with a family who owned vineyards. Vines, wine-making, I loved it from the start. They were wonderful to me, practically adopted me, and finally left the vineyards to me.’

And he’d turned them into a top money-making business, she thought. That was clear from the way he dressed and the way others reacted to him.

They were reaching the end of the street. As they turned the corner Charlotte stopped, astonished and thrilled by the sight that met her eyes.

‘The Trevi Fountain,’ she breathed. ‘I’ve always wanted to see it. It’s so huge, so magnificent….’

This was no mere fountain. A highly decorated palace wall rose behind it, at the centre of which was a triumphal arch, framing the magnificent, half-naked figure of Oceanus, mythical god of water, ruling over the showers that cascaded into the pool below. Everywhere was flooded with light, giving the water a dazzling glitter against the night.

‘I’ve read about it,’ she murmured, ‘and seen pictures, but—’

‘But nothing prepares you,’ he agreed. ‘Some things have to be experienced before they become real.’

Nearby was a café with tables out on the street. Here they could sit and watch the humming life about them.

‘Nice to see people having a good time,’ she murmured.

‘Does that mean your life is unhappy now?’

‘Oh, no,’ she said quickly. ‘But it does tend to be a bit too serious. Legal documents, history books. Not exactly filled with fun. And sometimes you need to remind yourself about fun.’

He regarded her curiously, thinking that a woman with her looks could have all the fun she wanted with all the men she wanted. So there was a mystery here. But he was too astute to voice the thought.

‘But Italy should remind you of fun,’ he said. ‘It’s not all cathedrals and sober history.’

‘I know. You’ve only got to stroll the streets of Rome in the twilight, and see—well, lots of things.’

His grin and the way he nodded spoke volumes about his own life. Doubtless it was full of ‘twilight activities’, she thought. And they would be fun. She didn’t doubt that either.

‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘my favourite Italian was—’

She named a historical character with a legendary reputation for wickedness.

‘He wasn’t as bad as people think,’ Lucio observed. ‘He was actually quite a serious man who—’

‘Don’t say that,’ she interrupted him quickly. ‘You’ll spoil him for me. If he’s not wicked he’s not interesting.’

He regarded her curiously. ‘There aren’t many people who’d see it that way.’

‘But it’s true.’

‘Certainly it’s true, but we’re not supposed to say so.’

‘Well, I’m always doing things I’m not supposed to. That’s why I’m the black sheep of the family.’

‘Because you eloped at seventeen?’

She chuckled. ‘There were a few more things than that. There was the politician who came to hold a meeting in New York, all virtue and pomposity, except that he’d spent the previous night in a place where he shouldn’t have been. I’d seen him leaving and I couldn’t resist getting up at the meeting and asking him about it.’

‘Shame on you!’ he said theatrically.

‘Yes, I have no sense of propriety, so I’m told.’

‘So you’re wicked and interesting, eh?’

‘Certainly wicked. You know, everyone has their own talents. My sister Ellie is a talented dancer, my sister Alex is a talented vet—’

‘And you’re a talented linguist.’

‘Oh, that! That’s just earning a living. No, my real talent, the thing at which I’m practically a genius, is getting my own way.’

‘Now you really interest me.’

‘It can always be done, if you know how to go about it.’

‘Cunning?’

‘Certainly. Cunning, devious, manipulative, wicked—whatever it takes.’

‘Is that the real reason you broke off your career to go travelling?’

‘In one sense. I wanted to find another world, and I’m finding it. That’s the way to live. Know what you want, and don’t stop until you get it.’ She raised her glass to him. ‘I guess there’s probably a lot of interesting wickedness in your own life.’

He assumed a shocked air.

‘Me? No time for it. I’m far too busy earning a respectable living, I assure you.’

‘Right. I’ll believe you. Thousands wouldn’t.’

He grinned. ‘You do me an injustice.’

‘No, I don’t. Any man who proclaims himself respectable needs to be treated with suspicion.’

‘I protest—’

‘Don’t bother because I won’t believe a word you say.’

They plunged into a light-hearted argument with much vigour on both sides, but also much laughter. When she looked at her watch she was amazed to see how much time had passed. She had a strange sense of being mentally at one with him. Almost like a brother.

But the next moment he turned his head so that she saw his profile against the glittering light from the fountain. Not brotherly, she thought. Disconcertingly attractive in a way that eclipsed other men, even Don. Or perhaps especially Don. But definitely not brotherly.

She remembered the first time she and Don had ventured beyond kisses, both eager to explore. But something had been missing, she knew that now.

‘Are you all right?’ Lucio asked.

‘Yes, fine.’

‘Sure? You seemed as if something had disturbed you.’

‘No, I guess I’m just a bit hungry.’

‘They do great snacks here. I’ll get the menu.’

‘I’ll just have whatever you’re having.’

He ordered spicy rolls and they sat eating contentedly.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she asked.

‘Just trying to solve the mystery. You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who goes along with whatever the man orders.’

‘Dead right, I’m not. But this is new territory for me, and I’m learning something fresh all the time.’

‘So I’m part of the exploration?’

‘Definitely. I like to find something unexpected. Don’t you?’

‘I sometimes think my life has had too much that’s unexpected. You need time to get used to things.’

She hoped he would expand on that. She was beginning to be intrigued by everything he said. But before she could speak there was an excited cry as more crowds surged into the piazza, eager to toss coins into the water. For a while they both sat watching them.

‘It’s the age of science,’ she reflected. ‘We’re all supposed to be so reasonable. Yet people still come here to toss coins and make wishes.’

‘Perhaps they’re right,’ he said. ‘Being too reasonable can be dangerous. Making a wish might free you from that danger.’

‘But there are always other dangers lurking,’ she mused. ‘What to do about them?’

‘Then you have to decide which ones to confront and which to flee,’ he said.

She nodded. ‘That way lies wisdom. And freedom.’

‘And freedom matters to you more than anything, doesn’t it?’ he asked.

‘Yes, but you must know what it really means. You think you’re free, but then something happens, and suddenly it looks more like isolation.’

A sudden bleakness in her voice on the last word caught his attention.

‘Tell me,’ he said gently.

‘I thought I knew my family. An older brother and sister who were twins, a younger sister, but then it turns out that there’s been a big family secret all along. It began to come out and—’ she gave a sigh ‘—I was the last one to know. I’ve always been closest to Matt, even though he can be so distant sometimes, but now it’s like I’m not really part of the family. Just an outsider, in nobody’s confidence.’

‘You spoke of nobody caring. Nobody at all? What about outside the family?’

She grimaced. ‘Yes, there was someone. We were moving slowly but I thought we’d get there in time. Well, I’m an outsider there, too. It feels like wandering in a desert.’

She checked herself there. She hadn’t meant to confide her desert fantasy, for fear of sounding paranoid, but he seemed to understand so much that it had come out naturally.

‘I know the feeling,’ he said, ‘but a desert can be a friendly place. There’s no one there to hurt you.’

‘It’s true there are no enemies there,’ she said. ‘But no friends either, nobody who cares about you.’

‘You wouldn’t want to be there for ever,’ he agreed. ‘But for a while it can be a place to rest and recruit your strength. Then one day you can come back and sock ‘em on the jaw.’

She longed to ask him what events and instincts lay behind that thought. All around her doors and windows seemed to be flying open, revealing mysterious roads leading to mists and beyond, to more mysteries, tempting her forward.

But could it be right to indulge her confusions with a stranger?

Then she saw him looking at her, and something in his eyes was like a hand held out in understanding.

Why not?

What harm could come of it?

‘I guess my real problem is that I’m no longer quite sure who I am,’ she said.

He nodded. ‘That can happen easily, and it’s scary.’

‘Yes, it is. With Don I always felt that I was the one in charge of our relationship, but then I found I wasn’t. Oh, dear, I suppose that makes me sound like a managing female.’

‘Sometimes that’s what a man needs to bring out the best of him,’ he said.

‘Did that happen to you?’

‘No, she wasn’t “managing” enough. If she had been, she might have bound me to her in time to save us both.’ He added quickly, ‘Go on telling me about you.’

Now a connection had been established it was easy to talk. Neither of them went into much detail, but the sense of being two souls adrift was a bond. It was a good feeling and she was happy to yield to it.

‘What happened to your gift for getting your own way?’ he asked at last.

‘I guess it failed me. I didn’t say it worked all the time. You have to seize the chance, but sometimes the chance can’t be seized.’

A cheer that went up from the fountain made them both look there.

‘More coins, more wishes,’ he said.

‘Aren’t they supposed to wish for a return to Rome?’ she asked.

‘Yes, but they always add another one, usually about a lover.’

‘I’d like to go closer.’

As they neared the water they could see a man tossing in coins by the dozen, then closing his eyes and muttering fiercely.

‘What’s he wishing for?’ Charlotte asked.

‘My guess is he wants his lady-love to appear out of the blue, and tell him he’s forgiven. When a guy’s as desperate as that it’s pretty bad.’

Then the incredible happened. A female hand tapped the young man on the shoulder, he turned, gave a shout of joy and embraced her.

‘You came,’ he bellowed. ‘She came, everyone. She’s here.’

‘You see, it works,’ someone shouted. ‘Everyone toss a coin and make a wish.’

Laughing, Charlotte took two coins from her bag and threw one in, crying, ‘Bring me back to Rome.’

‘That’s not enough,’ Lucio said. ‘Now you must wish that Don will come back.’

‘Too late for that. We’re not right for each other. I know that now. But what about you? Your lady might arrive and decide to “manage” you, after all, since it’s so obviously what you want.’

But he shook his head. ‘She’s gone to a place from which she’ll never return.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Did it happen very recently?’

‘No,’ he said softly. ‘It was a hundred thousand years ago.’

She nodded, understanding that time, whether long or short, could make no difference to some situations. But another thought danced through her mind so fleetingly that she was barely aware of it. Another woman had stood between them, but no longer. Suddenly she had vanished, leaving only questions behind.

Impulsively she reached out and laid a hand on his cheek.

‘Hey, you two, that’s not good enough,’ came an exultant cry from nearby. ‘This is the fountain of love. Look around you.’

Everywhere couples were in each other’s arms, some hugging fondly, some kissing passionately. Lucio gazed into her face for only a moment before drawing her close.

‘I guess they feel we’re letting the side down,’ he said.

‘And we can’t have that, can we?’ she agreed.

The feel of his lips on hers was passionate yet comforting, confirming her sensation that she was in the right place with the right person.

‘I’m glad I met you,’ he whispered against her mouth.

‘I’m glad, too.’

They walked slowly back along the Via Vittorio Veneto. Neither spoke until they reached the hotel and he said, ‘Let me take you up to your room.’

She could have bid him goodnight there and then, but she didn’t. She knew now that as the evening passed the decision had been slowly building inside her. What she was going to do was right, and whatever might come of it, she was resolved.

When they reached her room he waited while she opened the door. Then he took a step back, allowing her time to change her mind. But she had passed that point, and so had he. When she held out her hand he took it, followed her inside and closed the door, shutting out the world.

In the morning she awoke to find herself alone. By her bed was a scrap of paper, on which was written, ‘Thank you with all my heart. Lucio.’

At breakfast she looked around but didn’t see him. She realised that she didn’t even know his last name.

Strangely the situation did not distress her. They had been ships that passed in the night because that was what both of them had chosen, both of them needed. He’d been passionate and at the same time a gentle, considerate lover, with a mysterious gift for making her feel as though her troubles were falling away. She could go on to whatever the future held, stronger and more confident.

But gradually, a few weeks later, she discovered what the future did hold, and she realised that nothing would ever be the same. Now it mattered that she didn’t know his full name. It took several hours’ online research to discover that he was Lucio Constello, one of the most notable men in the business, with vineyards all over the country. But the most famous one was in Tuscany.

She’d set out to confront him, wondering how this business could possibly end, and soon she would know.

There he was, far ahead. The moment of truth had arrived, and she had no choice but to go forward.

CHAPTER TWO

‘I’M NOT imagining this, am I?’ he asked slowly. ‘It’s really you?’

‘Sure it’s me,’ she said lightly.

‘You… here? In Tuscany? It’s great but I can hardly believe it.’

‘Why? There was always a chance we’d bump into each other again.’

The reference to chance was deliberate. She was determined to play it casual. There must be no hint of how frantically she’d searched for him, how much it mattered. She, who prided herself on fearing nothing, had been dreading this meeting, dreading the sight of his face when she told him her news.

She covered her feelings with a smile, a cheerful shrug. He mustn’t suspect before she was ready.

‘I’m flattered you even remember me,’ she said.

‘Oh, yes,’ he murmured. ‘I remember. We had a great evening. You made me laugh.’

She stayed calm, although it was hard. Was laughter all he remembered about that night?

‘As you did me,’ she returned brightly.

‘Yes, we had a wonderful time. I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly the next morning. You were deeply asleep and I didn’t want to awaken you.’

That wasn’t quite the truth. He’d been overtaken by a desire to keep that perfect night apart, separate from all other contacts, like a picture in a frame. It had made him slip silently out of the room, leaving behind only the note that gave no clue to his identity or whereabouts. Perhaps he should be ashamed of that, but he couldn’t think of it now.

The sight of her approaching had filled him with an overwhelming gladness. The awareness of that night was there again, spectacular, intense. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, and for a moment he felt nothing but pleasure.

Then she destroyed it.

‘I had to find you,’ she said. ‘There’s something you need to know.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m pregnant.’

‘Wh-what?’

‘I’m pregnant. I’m carrying your child.’

To his own horror his mind went blank. The pleasure at seeing her, the joy at the beautiful memories, everything vanished. He had the sensation of being punched in the face.

‘Are you… sure?’ he asked, barely knowing what he said.

‘Quite sure. And in case you’re wondering, I don’t make a habit of doing what I did that night, so there hasn’t been anyone else. You’re the father.’

‘Look, I didn’t mean…’

He could have cursed himself for his clumsiness but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t mean—what? And what did he mean? If anything.

Watching him intently, Charlotte saw the last thing in the world she’d wanted to see. Confusion. Blank. Nothing.

A desert.

In a blinding flash her courage collapsed. Don had rejected her, and although her heart hadn’t been broken, rejection was still rejection. Now Lucio was working himself up to reject her, and she wasn’t going to hang around for it.

‘It’s OK, it’s OK,’ she said with a good imitation of a cheerful laugh. ‘There’s no need to panic.’

‘I’m not—’

‘Oh, yes, you are. You’re on the verge of a panic attack. Oh, poor Lucio! Did you think I was trying to trap you into marriage? Not a chance! You and me? Get real! It would never work. We’d always—well, never mind that. Just don’t panic. You’re completely safe from me, I promise you. I’m only here because you have the right to know. Fulfilling my citizenly duty. How about that?’

She even managed a teasing note in the last words, and had the bitter satisfaction of seeing uncertainty in his face. He was floundering. Good. Serve him right!

‘So there it is,’ she said. ‘Now you know. If you want to talk about it you’ll find me here.’ She thrust a piece of paper into his hand. ‘But if you don’t want to, that’s just fine. Goodbye, Lucio. It was nice knowing you.’

Turning on her heel she walked swiftly away, determined to escape before he could insult her with any more blank-faced confusion.

But she gave him a last chance. That was only fair. After hurrying a few hundred yards she looked back, expecting to find him watching her, even perhaps stretching out a hand. That would have made her pause to see if he followed.

But he was frozen where she’d left him, immobile, staring down at the paper in his hand. She waited for him to look up, see her, call her name.

Nothing! Damn him!

There was only one thing to do, and that was vanish. She managed this by moving sideways between the vines so that she slipped into the next alley. This she did again, then again and again until she was several alleys away from the one where she’d started. Then she began to run, and didn’t stop until she reached her car. A few moments later she was speeding away from the estate.

As she fled she asked herself ironically what else she’d expected. A man who shared a woman’s bed and vanished without a goodbye had sent her an unmistakable message. The woman who chose to ignore that message had nobody to blame but herself if she suffered rejection.

And it certainly was rejection. Lucio hadn’t said the actual words, but only because he’d been trying to phrase them tactfully. She wouldn’t hear from him again but it didn’t matter. She’d told him what he had a right to know and her conscience was clear.

She thought of her family back home in the States. She’d known of her pregnancy for several weeks, but so far hadn’t told them. How would they react?

Or did she know the answer, only too well? They would accept it as no more than you’d expect from Charlotte—the difficult one, unpredictable, awkward, never quite fitting in.

And the one-night stand? Well, that was just like her, wasn’t it? Always ready to explore new territory, even if it might have been best left unexplored. Not that she was exactly a bad girl…

But then again, maybe she was.

She wished her brother, Matt, was here right now. Strange that they should be so close, when he was Ellie’s twin, not hers. But there was something in their natures that clicked. She knew that he, too, sometimes felt adrift in a desert, and he fought it the way she did herself, with humour that was ironic and sometimes bitter. She could almost hear him now. ‘Why did you bother finding this guy? He didn’t even give you his last name. Doesn’t that tell you something?’

Perhaps he did tell me the name, she thought, I just can’t remember it. It didn’t matter. It was that sort of evening. All about having fun.

But it hadn’t been fun trying to track him down afterwards. The thought of applying to the hotel for information had made her shiver with shame. Instead she’d gone to an internet café and then ransacked the internet for Italian vintners until she found no less than five of them called ‘Lucio.’ Luckily there was a photograph that identified him, but the search had made her feel like some abandoned serving girl from a bygone era. Which didn’t improve her temper any.

She’d finally identified him as Lucio Constello, one of the most successful men in the business. His wine was famous throughout the world, and he seemed to live a glamorous life, enjoying yacht trips, rubbing shoulders with celebrities, making money at every point. There were pictures of him with beautiful women, one of whom had recently ended a romance with a film producer.

‘And perhaps we know why,’ enthused the text. ‘Just look at the way they’re gazing at each other.’

But after that the starlet was never seen with him again.

One article declared that he was ‘a man who really knew how to enjoy himself.’ Which meant, Charlotte thought wryly, that one-night stands were a normal part of his life. Hence his disappearance and her feeling that he wouldn’t be pleased to see her.

His vineyards were many, spread out over Italy, and all subject to his personal supervision. Crisis! He could be anywhere. But an article revealed that he usually spent May in Tuscany at the Vigneto Constanza. There was time to catch him.

At the same time a perverse inner voice argued that there was no need to contact him at all. What did this baby really have to do with Lucio? Forget him. He belonged in the past.

But her mother’s voice seemed to flit through her mind. It was weeks since she’d learned the truth of how Fenella had led Cedric Patterson into accepting Clay Calhoun’s twins as his own, yet still the deception haunted her. No matter how much she tried to defend her mother she knew that she herself must be honest. So she would write to Lucio.

But somehow the letter wouldn’t get itself written. Whatever tone she adopted was the wrong one. Too needy. Too hopeful. Too chilly. Too indifferent.

So she’d headed for Tuscany, checking into a hotel in the picturesque old city of Florence, and hiring a car from the hotel for the rest of the journey. For part of the way a map was useful, but when she grew nearer she asked directions. Everyone could point the way. The Vigneto Constanza was known and respected for miles around, clearly a source of welcome employment which was probably why they called the house a palazzo, she thought.

But she changed her mind when she saw the building, which was certainly a palace, rearing up three floors, with an air of magnificence that suggested nobility rather than business.

As she approached a middle-aged woman came out and stood waiting on the step.

‘Good morning,’ she said as Charlotte got out of the car. ‘I’m Elizabetta, the housekeeper. Can I help you?’

‘I’m here to see Signor Constello.’

‘I’m afraid he’s not here,’ Elizabetta said.

Charlotte gave a sharp breath. He’d vanished. She’d pursued him for nothing. Suddenly she was in the desert again.

But then Elizabetta added, ‘Not just now anyway. He’s gone out inspecting the vines on the far side of the estate.’

‘But he is… coming back?’

‘Well, it’s a big estate. He won’t be home until very late, and sometimes he stays the night with one of his workers who lives on the far side.’

‘I need to see him today. Can you tell me where he’ll be?’

A few minutes later she headed off in what she hoped was the right direction. The sheer size of the grape fields was stunning—acre after acre, filled with long straight lines that seemed to stretch into infinity. She wouldn’t have been surprised to discover that she’d arrived on a strange planet, and Lucio wasn’t here at all.

‘Stop being fanciful,’ she told herself sternly. ‘There he is in the distance. Everything’s going to be all right.’

Instead nothing was all right. His response had been so bleak that she’d fled after a few minutes, and was now back in Florence, pacing the floor of her hotel room.

The paper she’d left him had contained both the hotel details and the number of her cell phone. He would call her soon, and they would settle it. But as time passed with no call, she faced the fact that she was alone again.

Another desert.

As the light faded she sat at the window, looking out at the old city. Her room overlooked the beautiful river Arno, with a clear view of the Ponte Vecchio, ‘the old bridge,’ which had stood there for over a thousand years. It was lined with shops on both sides, at one time a common Italian habit. But that convention had faded, and now the Ponte Vecchio was almost unique in still having them. They were lit up, dazzling and golden against the night air, flooding the water with light.

On impulse she determined to go down and explore the bridge. She would take her cell phone. Lucio could call that number if he wanted to contact her. But if he didn’t, he needn’t think she was going to languish here waiting for him to deign to give her his attention.

In a moment she was downstairs and out of the door, heading for the street that ran along the river. Despite the lateness of the hour she was far from alone. Couples strolled slowly, absorbed in each other or leaning over the wall to gaze at the water before turning to meet each other’s eyes.

At last she reached the bridge and walked halfway across to where there was a gap in the shops and she could look out over the dazzling water. On either side of her couples murmured, pleading, suggesting, happy.

Happy, she thought. Was it really possible to be happy in love?

And what was love anyway?

Briefly she’d thought she’d discovered the answer with Don, but she knew differently now. Not just because he’d let her down, but because in one devastating night with Lucio she’d discovered something that had reduced all other experiences to nothing.

Gazing down into the shimmering water, she seemed to be back in the hotel room, hearing the sound of the door close, feeling him move close. How warm his breath had been on her face, how gladly she had drawn closer to him, raising her head to receive his kiss.

She could still feel his mouth on hers, silencing the last of her doubts. Until then the voice of reason had whispered that she mustn’t do this with a man she’d only just met. It wasn’t proper behaviour. But the gentle, skilful movements of his lips had conquered her. Propriety had never meant much to her. In his arms it meant nothing at all.

It was obvious that he was a ladies’ man, but he’d undressed her with an air of reverent discovery that made her feel special. Of course this was merely part of his expertise, she’d guessed, but it was hard to be realistic when his eyes on her were full of astonished worship.

He’d removed her dress, but before stripping her completely he’d tossed aside his jacket and shirt. There were no lights on in the room but enough came through the window to reveal his smooth, well-shaped chest and arms. Lying beside her on the bed, he’d drawn away her slip and bra, leaving only her briefs.

Then he’d smiled.

Something in that smile had made her reach for him and begin pulling at his clothes until he wore no more than she did. Now she, too, was smiling. This man was going to prove a skilful lover. Every instinct she had told her that was true.

His body was marvellous, muscular but lean and taut, hinting at strength that could bring a woman joy. Almost tentatively she slipped her fingers beneath the edge of his briefs.

Incredibly there was a question in his eyes, almost as though he was asking her even now if she had any doubts. Her reply was to tighten her grip, silently ordering him to strip naked. He obeyed and did the same for her, then stayed looking down at her, letting his fingertips drift across her breasts.

His caress was so light that he could barely be said to be touching her at all, yet the thunderous pleasure that went through her was like a storm. How could so much result from so little? she wondered frantically. Then all thought was forgotten in the delight that possessed her.

No man touched a woman so subtly without first understanding her, not just her body but traces of her heart and mind. Instinct from deep inside told her so, and everything in her responded to him. She couldn’t have prevented that response even if she’d wanted to, but she didn’t want to. Nothing was further from her desire than to resist him. In that magical moment she was all his, and all she wanted was to make him all hers.

Afterwards, he kissed her tenderly, stroking her hair as sleep began to claim her, and she felt herself drifting away into the sweet, warm darkness.

At the very last moment he whispered, ‘You’re wonderful.’

The night descended totally before she could respond, but that soft tribute lingered with her in the mysterious other universe where there was rest, peace and joy.

But when she awoke, he was gone.

The memory of the murmured words tormented her. Had she imagined them, or had he really said such a thing before abandoning her? Again and again she went over the moment, racking her brain to know whether it was true memory or only fantasy born of wishful thinking. The search nearly drove her crazy, but she found no answer.

In the weeks that followed she’d known that she could have loved him if he’d given any sign of wanting her love. Instead he’d rejected her so brutally that she’d come close to hating him.

It was cruelly ironic that her two encounters with Lucio had both been under circumstances that suggested romance. First the Trevi Fountain where lovers laughingly gambled on their love, and where she’d been tempted to gamble beyond the boundaries of both love and sense. Now she was in another city so enchanting that it might have been designed for lovers. But instead of revelling in the company of a chosen man she was alone again. Unwanted. Looking in from the outside, as so many times before in her life.

But enough was enough. This was the last time she would stand outside the magic circle, longing for a signal from within; the last time she would wait for a man to make up his mind. Her mind was made up, and he could live with it.

She almost ran back to the hotel. At the desk she stopped just long enough to ask, ‘Any message for me? No? Right. I’m checking out in half an hour. Kindly have my bill ready.’

In her room she hurled things into the suitcase, anxious to lose no time now the decision was made. Her next step was vague. A taxi from the hotel to the railway station, and jump on the next train to—? Anywhere would do, as long as it was away from here.

At the desk the bill was ready. It took only a moment to pay it, seize up her baggage and head for the door. Outside she raised her hand to a taxi on the far side of the road, which immediately headed for her.

‘Where to?’ the driver called.

‘Railway station,’ she called back.

‘No,’ said a voice close by. Then a hand came out of the darkness to take her arm, and the same voice said, ‘Thank goodness I arrived in time.’

She jerked her head up to see Lucio.

‘Let me go,’ she demanded.

‘Not yet. First we must talk. Charlotte, neither of us should make hasty decisions. Can’t you see that?’ He laid his other hand on her shoulder. His touch was gentle but firm. ‘You’re not being fair, vanishing like this,’ he said. ‘I trusted you. Perhaps I shouldn’t have done.’

‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have trusted you. I gave you the chance. I told you what had happened. You could have done anything but you chose to do nothing. Fine! I get the message.’

‘There’s no message. I was confused, that’s all. It took me a while to get my head around it, but I thought at least you’d stay one night—give me a few hours to think.’

‘What is there to think about?’ she demanded passionately. ‘The baby’s here, inside me, waiting to be born and change everything. You’re either for that or against it.’

He made a wry face. ‘You really don’t understand much about human weakness, do you? I didn’t jump to your command at once, so you thought you’d make me sorry.’

‘That’s nonsense,’ she said, but she knew a moment’s discomfort at how close he’d come.

‘I don’t think so. Look, let’s put this behind us. We have too much at stake to risk it with a quarrel.’ He addressed the driver. ‘Leave the bags. Here.’

He held out a wad of cash which the driver pocketed and fled.

‘You’ve got a cheek,’ she said indignantly.

‘Not really. I’m taking a big gamble. I didn’t anticipate you leaving without giving me a fair chance. I thought you’d wait for me to pull my thoughts together.’

‘All right, maybe I was a bit hasty,’ she said reluctantly.

‘I wonder if it will always be like that with us, each of us going in opposite directions.’

‘I think that sounds an excellent idea,’ she said. ‘If I had any sense I’d go in another direction right this minute.’

‘But if you had any sense,’ he replied wryly, ‘you wouldn’t have wasted time on me in the first place.’

‘I guess you’re right.’

‘But since you did, and since the world has changed, isn’t it time we talked to each other properly. There’s a little café just along there where we can have peace. Will you come with me?’

She hesitated only a moment before taking his hand and saying, ‘Yes. I think perhaps I will.’

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