“You said that it would be difficult to be alone together at the Villa Fortuna…”

Lorenzo nodded, resigned. “The moment my sister, Isabella, learns I have guests, she will come rushing to meet you.”

Jess bit her lip. “Won’t she find it odd? That you’ve invited me to stay at your house?”

Lorenzo sat in silence for some time, his eyes fixed on their entwined hands. “She will be very surprised,” he said at last, his voice deeper and more uneven than it had been. “Because I have never invited a woman there before.” He looked up again, his eyes alight with an urgency that took her breath away. “I did not mean to say this. At least, not tonight. I told myself I must wait, be patient. But, Dio, I have wasted enough of my life already.” His grasp tightened. “I knew from the first moment I saw you that I wanted you for my own. Not for a relazione—a love affair, but forever. I want you for my wife, Jessamy.”

A family with a passion for life—and for love.

Welcome to the second book in The Dysarts, a wonderful new series by bestselling author Catherine George. Lorenzo’s Reward tells the story of the second Dysart Sister, Jess, whose experiences have led her to believe that she will never enjoy intimacy with a man—until she finds herself pursued by darkly handsome Italian Lorenzo Forli. Is Lorenzo sincere when he talks about claiming Jess as his wife? Or will it be reward enough for him to seduce her into his bed?

Over the coming months, you’ll get to know each member of the Dysart family, and share in their trials and joys, their hopes and dreams, as they live their lives with passion—and for love.

Lorenzo’s Reward
Catherine George

MILLS & BOON

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CONTENTS

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 ONE

THE crowded pub was hot, smoke-filled, and full of men in suits talking business over lunch. Jess eyed her watch impatiently, willing Simon to hurry, then looked up to find a complete stranger watching her intently from the far end of the bar. Jess felt an odd plummeting sensation in the pit of her stomach when dark, heavy-lidded eyes lit with incredulous recognition as they met hers. She glanced over her shoulder, sure he must be looking at some other woman, but there was no other female in sight.

Jess looked back again, which was a mistake. This time she couldn’t look away. Heat rose in her face. Irritably she ordered herself to stop sitting there like a hypnotised rabbit, her pulse suddenly erratic as the man put down his drink and with purpose began to push his way through the crowd towards her. But before he could reach her two other men joined him, barring his way. The stranger shrugged expressively, signalling regret, and Jess finally broke eye contact. Then it dawned on her that one of his companions was Mr Jeremy Lonsdale, unrecognisable for a moment minus his barristers wig and gown. But when the third member of the trio turned his head she gasped in utter consternation. He was all too familiar, with eyes which blazed in incredulous affront when Jess panicked at the sight of him, spun around and fled from the pub, with Simon Hollister, her astonished lunch companion, in hot pursuit.

Jess dodged through honking traffic, and ran like a deer up the road to the courthouse, to subject herself to the usual security process inside. She was still gasping for breath when Simon caught up with her in the jury restaurant.

“What the hell was all that about?” he panted.

“Prosecuting—Counsel—was there. With chums.” Jess heaved in a lungful of air. “One of them was Roberto Forli, my sister’s ex-boyfriend,” she finished in a rush.

Simon whistled. “And we jurors are forbidden connection to anyone at all on the case.”

“Exactly!”

“How well do you know the man?”

“I’ve only met him once.”

“Did Lonsdale see you?”

“I don’t think so. He had his back to me.”

Simon smiled reassuringly. “Then it’s probably all right. Anyway, we’ll soon know if your friend grassed on you. Let’s grab something to eat before we’re called. I left our lunch on the bar when you took off.”

But after her mad dash in the midday heat Jess couldn’t face the thought of food. Her mind was too full of the unexpected meeting with Roberto Forli. And with the stranger in his company. The memory of those dark, intent eyes sent shivers down her spine. The man had obviously recognised her from somewhere. But where? And when? Jess forced herself back to the present with an effort, and gulped down the rest of her mineral water as the jury was called back into the court.

As she took her seat in the jury box Jess buttoned her jacket against the cold of the courtroom, which was arctic compared with the summer day outside. According to bus driver Phil, the comedian in their group, the courtroom was kept cool to keep the jury awake during the longer discourses, and at the same time prevent heatstroke for the judge and barristers in their archaic horsehair wigs and black gowns.

While they waited for the judge Jess firmly blanked the lunchtime incident from her mind by thinking back over her two weeks of jury service. She was glad, now, of the experience, but the first day had been daunting. After waiting in line to pass through an airport-style metal detector she had been directed to the jury restaurant, an airport-style cafeteria packed with people queuing for coffee, reading newspapers, or just sitting staring into space if they’d managed to find a chair. Later, in an empty courtroom with the other newcomers, she had watched a video which set out the rules, but a wait of two days had elapsed before she was called into service.

The clerk of the court had shuffled cards and read out names as usual, but this time Jessamy Dysart was among the chosen. She had been led off to a courtroom, and with eleven of her peers sworn in as a member of the jury. At first glance the dark wood and leather of the courtroom, though impressive enough, had seemed a lot smaller than on television. Jess had been rather disconcerted to find herself at such close quarters not only with the prisoner in the dock, but with the barristers and solicitors facing the judge in the well of the court.

Now there was only another day of a different trial to go, with a different batch of jurors. This time Jess was seated in the front of the jury box next to Simon Hollister. He had made a beeline for her from the first day, and frankly admitted that his original intention had been to avoid jury duty by pleading pressure of work in his marketing job in the City. But once actually there in the courthouse an unexpected sense of civic duty had made him stay.

“Added to the prospect of a fortnight coming into close contact with you, Jess,” he’d added, with a grin.

Jess had taken this with a pinch of salt. Simon was a charmer, and she liked him, but she also liked Edward, the ex-headmaster, and June, the office cleaner, and most of her fellow jurors. However, she longed for this particular trial to be over. The young woman in the dock, Prosecuting Counsel alleged, had knowingly smuggled drugs into the country in her luggage. Like Jess she was in her mid-twenties, but with eyes dark-ringed in a pale, strained face, and from the evidence there seemed little doubt that she was guilty.

Previously Jess had preferred to eat a sandwich lunch in the jury restaurant with the others. But today she had given in to Simon’s coaxing, glad to escape from the memory of the defendant’s hopeless eyes. Now Jess wished she’d stayed put as usual. The fascinating stranger’s interest had intrigued her, and in other circumstances she would have liked to meet him. But not when he came as one of a package with Roberto Forli and Prosecuting Counsel.

Jess waited in trepidation as the afternoon session began, fully expecting the judge to stop the proceedings. But to her vast relief everything went on as usual, and instead of pointing a dramatic finger at her Mr Jeremy Lonsdale merely got to his feet to make his closing speech for the prosecution. When the barrister sat down at last Simon gave a discreet thumbs-up sign. Afterwards Defence Counsel’s speech proved to be mainly a criticism of Prosecution’s case, with interminable reminders to the jury about burden of proof and miscarriages of justice. Long before he finished Jess bitterly regretted the reckless volume of water downed before coming into court. Hot with embarrassment, she was forced to raise a hand at last when the barrister paused for breath. With the judge’s permission the usher escorted all members of the jury from the box to lock them in the jury room where eleven of them waited while Jess, crimson-faced, retired to their private cloakroom. Afterwards they all filed back into the court again to hear Defence Counsel come to a conclusion. When he achieved this at long last the judge ruled that it was time to finish for the day. He would leave his summing up for the morning.

“Not to worry, love,” whispered June afterwards. “Don’t be embarrassed. Nature calls everyone—even the judge.”

The June sunshine was warm as Jess drove home through rush hour. Moving from one set of traffic lights to the next in slow progression, she was so preoccupied with the thoughts of the fascinating stranger she almost shot a red light at one point, and glued her attention to the traffic afterwards instead. The hot, crowded city streets filled Jess with sudden longing for Friars Wood, the cool house perched on the cliffs overlooking the Wye Valley, and the meal her mother would be concocting for the family at that very moment. Just one more day to go, she consoled herself, then she could go home for a break.

Jess managed to park near her flat in Bayswater, then trudged along the terrace of tall white houses, glad to get back to a home far more peaceful these days, since Fiona Todd had moved out to live with her man. Jess and her remaining flatmate, Emily Shaw, were now the only tenants, an arrangement which worked very amicably.

When Jess got in Emily was lying on the sofa, watching television. “Hi,” she said, turning the set off. “My word, you look done in. What’s up?”

Jess groaned. “Have I had a fraught day!”

“Is it desperately hush-hush, or are you allowed to tell me?”

“This bit I can! I ran into Roberto Forli in a pub at lunchtime.”

Emily’s big eyes widened. “Really? Your sister’s ex from Florence? What’s he doing here in London?”

“No idea. Whatever it was I wish he’d been doing it somewhere else,” said Jess irritably.

“Why?” said Emily, astonished.

“It’s a long story.”

“But jolly interesting, by the sound of it.”

Jess took a deep breath. “Simon Hollister, the marketing bloke on the jury with me, asked me out for a swift lunch. By sheer bad luck we hit on the same pub as Prosecuting Counsel.”

“No!”

Jess described the incident with Roberto Forli to her riveted friend. But, for reasons she wasn’t quite sure of, made no mention of the stranger. “We’re forbidden contact with anyone connected to the court, of course, so when I saw Roberto all chummy with Prosecuting Counsel I shot out of the pub like greased lightning and did a runner back to the courthouse.”

“Did Roberto see you?”

“You bet he did.” Jess collapsed into a chair, grateful for the fruit juice her friend handed over. “Wonderful. I needed this. Thank goodness you were home early today.”

Emily Shaw worked for an executive in a credit card company, and it was rare that she was home at this hour. “Mr Boss Man’s away, and I’ve been slaving like mad to get everything shipshape before I take off on my hols. I developed a nasty little headache after lunch, so I knocked off early for once.”

“I should think so.” Jess eyed her closely. “You look horribly peaky. Have you taken any painkillers?”

“Yes, Nurse. And I’m going to bed early.” Emily grinned. “You should do the same for once.”

“I probably will.” Jess smiled ruefully. “Pity I had to offend Roberto like that. You should have seen his face when I bolted!”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense—what happened when you went back into the jury box? Did the judge excommunicate you, or whatever?”

“No, thank goodness. But while Defence Counsel was droning on I realised I shouldn’t have drunk so much water.” Jess giggled as she described the trooping out of the entire jury on her account. “There’s only one loo in the jury room, and it’s not exactly soundproof. I think I’m still blushing.”

“Oh, bad luck!” Emily laughed, then eyed Jess speculatively. “I wonder why Leonie’s ex is in London?”

“No idea.” Jess sighed. “Pity he was with Prosecuting Counsel. In any other circumstances I’d have enjoyed a chat with him very much.” And, more to the point, achieved an introduction to the interesting stranger at the same time.

“Never mind,” consoled Emily. “Perhaps Leo will know when you go home for the wedding.”

Jess brightened. “Which now seems plain sailing, thank goodness. I was getting a bit tense about the way things were dragging on, in case I had to dash straight back after the wedding to go to court on Monday, but with a bit of luck the case will finish tomorrow. Lucky for me, anyway,” she added, sobering.

“Cheer up—the weekend forecast looks good.” Emily grinned. “The sun is sure to shine for Leonie on Sunday, anyway. The minute I set foot in a plane to fly away from it Britain always swelters in a heatwave.”

“Since you’re off to sunny Italy it doesn’t matter.” Jess sighed. “I wish I was going with you. After seven years apart Jonah and Leo were all for dashing off to a register office right away, of course, but when they were persuaded to wait for a conventional June wedding I hadn’t the heart to say the date clashed with my holiday.”

“You know nothing would have kept you from Leonie’s wedding! Not to worry; we’ll do a holiday together some other time. And my sister was in raptures when I suggested she stepped into the breach.”

“Who’s looking after the children?”

“My mother’s taking turns with the other grandma. And Jack gets home to supervise bathtime and bed, anyway. I told Celia to relax—they’ll all cope.”

“Of course they will. And I’ll use the time off to laze about at home.” Jess yawned widely. “I’m off for a bath.”

Jess was towelling thick layers of flaxen hair when Emily banged on the bathroom door.

“Phone call for you,” she called. “Guess who?”

“Surprise me.”

“A sexy-sounding gent by the name of Forli!”

“What? Tell me you’re pulling my leg, Em!” said Jess, throwing open the door in dismay.

“Of course I’m not,” said Emily indignantly. “He’s hanging on as we speak, dearie, so get yourself to the phone.”

Jess shook her head violently. “I still can’t talk to him.”

“What on earth shall I say?”

“Tell him I’m in the bath. Asleep. Anything. Why didn’t you say I was out?”

“I didn’t realise a phone call was taboo as well.” Emily shook her head. “Honestly, Jess, any woman in her right mind would kill to listen to that voice purring down the line. Who would know?” She flung up her hands. “All right, all right. I’ll lie through my teeth and swear you’re prostrate with a migraine.”

“Perfect. If I’m not I should be!”

When Jess joined Emily minutes later her friend grinned as she ladled cream and smoked salmon over bowls of steaming pasta.

“I’m afraid the gentleman didn’t believe a word of it. But he was much too civilised to blame the messenger.”

“Damn, damn, damn!” said Jess bitterly. “Any other time I’d have been delighted to talk to him.”

“I believe you. Is he tall, dark and handsome to match the voice?”

“Not quite.” That particular description belonged to the third man in the equation. “Roberto’s tall enough, but fairish in that olive-skinned, Latin sort of way. A bit of a star on the ski-slopes, according to Leo.”

“Smouldering blue eyes, of course,” said Emily, smacking her lips.

“What have you been reading lately? Actually his eyes are dark like mine.”

“Smouldering black eyes, then. Even better.”

Jess’s heart gave a sudden lurch at the memory of dark eyes which had smouldered so effectively she couldn’t get them out of her mind. She ground her teeth in frustration. If only she’d been able to talk to Roberto he could have introduced her. Why did this kind of thing never go right for her? She eyed Emily hopefully. “I don’t suppose Roberto gave you his number? I could happily ring him tomorrow, after the trial.”

“Sorry. A second rebuff must have been too much for the poor guy.”

“I’ll bet. Especially as it’s not long since my sister jilted him. We Dysart girls really know how to treat a man, don’t we?” Jess ate her favourite supper with less relish than it deserved. “Maybe Leo knows his number. If so I’ll ring to apologise.” And casually ask who the friend might be.

“Don’t just apologise—grovel!” advised Emily.

“You haven’t even met the man.”

“I don’t have to! Just listening to that voice was enough.”

Next day the proceedings in court were over sooner than expected. The judge reminded the jury of the exact meaning of the indictment, of what the Prosecution was obliged to prove to win its case and what the Defence must have done to persuade the jury to acquit, and concluded by telling the jury it was entirely up to them to decide. The ushers took an oath to keep the jury in a private and convenient place, and Jess and her fellow jurors were led off to the jury room and locked in to make their deliberations.

This time the facts were so conclusive that the jury members were reluctantly unanimous, and back in court later Edward, their foreman, delivered the verdict of guilty. Up to that point Jess had been very sorry for the young woman in the dock, but to her surprise Prosecuting Counsel justified the jury’s verdict by disclosing a prior conviction of a similar nature before the judge passed sentence.

Afterwards the twelve jury members went off to the pub Jess had raced from the day before. But this time there was no sign of Roberto Forli and Jeremy Lonsdale, nor, most disappointing of all, of the third member of the trio.

“Let’s keep in touch, Jess,” said Simon Hollister, as they emerged with the others into hot afternoon sunlight. “If I give you a ring soon, will you have dinner with me?”

“I’d love to,” agreed Jess. “Not yet awhile, though. I’m off home to Gloucestershire for my sister’s wedding tomorrow, and I’m staying on for a few days.”

“Lucky old you,” he said enviously. “I’m back to the City grind on Monday. I’ll ring you in a week or so, then.”

Jess nodded, then beckoned to June. “Time I went. I’m giving our friend a lift. See you, Simon.”

The moment she got back to the flat Jess rang home. “Hi, Mother, it’s me. The trial finished today after all, so I can stay on after the wedding with a light heart.”

“Thank heavens for that,” said Frances Dysart with relief. “How are you, darling? Tired?”

“Exhausted. How are things there? Mad panic on all sides?”

“Not a bit of it. The bride is floating about on a pink cloud and Fenny, needless to say, is bursting with excitement. But Kate’s a bit tense. She’s only halfway through her exams.”

“I can’t believe she’s worried about failing! Kate’s the brains of the family.” Jess chuckled ruefully. “Leo got the looks and Adam the charm, whereas poor old me—”

“Whereas poor old you,” echoed her mother dryly, “are the sexiest, according to your brother.”

Jess was astounded. “Really? When did Adam say that?”

“This morning. He arrived with a carload of laundry—in time for lunch, of course.”

Jess laughed. “How did his Finals go?”

“He refuses to commit himself. He’s going back to Edinburgh to paint it red after the wedding, but for now I think he’s just relieved the exams are over.”

“I bet he is. And how about you and Dad? Are you worn out with all the excitement?”

“Not in the least. Everything’s under control. What time are you arriving tomorrow?”

“I’ll ring when I start off. Jury work’s more tiring than I expected—I really need a lie-in tomorrow before I have my hair cut. I should be with you some time in the afternoon. And mind you take it easy, Mother, don’t work too hard. See you tomorrow. Can you float the bride towards the phone now?”

Leonie Dysart greeted her sister with such exuberance Jess felt wistful, wondering how it felt to be so much in love. And to know with such certainty that her feelings were returned.

“Sorry, Leo, what did you say?” she said quickly.

“I asked how you were feeling after your stint in court.”

“A bit tired, as we speak, but don’t worry. I’ll be firing on all cylinders on the day.” Jess paused. “Leo, this is a bit of a long shot, but I don’t suppose you’d know how to contact Roberto Forli? Here in this country, I mean? You’ll never believe this, but I bumped into him yesterday—”

“Don’t I know it! What on earth was all that about? He rang here afterwards and told me you took one look at him in a pub somewhere and ran for your life. He sounded so stroppy I was surprised when he asked for your telephone number. Did he get in touch last night?”

“Yes, he did. But I couldn’t speak to him then, either.”

“Why not?” demanded her sister in astonishment. “I thought you liked him.”

“I do.” Jess heaved a sigh, then explained the problem in detail.

“Oh, Jess, what bad luck! I knew Roberto had a barrister friend he sometimes stays with in London.”

“Unfortunately the friend was Prosecuting Counsel on the case I was sitting in on. So I thought if I could ring him to explain—”

“You don’t have to,” said Leonie, sounding rather odd. “You’ll see him on Sunday. I’ve invited him to the wedding.”

“What? And he’s actually coming?” said Jess, astonished. “How does Jonah feel about that? Doesn’t he mind having his wedding cluttered up with your former lovers?”

“Just one,” said Leonie tartly. “Not that Roberto was ever my lover, as you well know. Anyway, I invited the Ravellos, who own the school in Florence. And since it’s through them that I met Roberto when I was teaching there it seemed only polite to send him an invitation, too. Mind you, I never dreamed he’d accept.”

“Jonah’s not put out?”

“He’s all for it.”

Jess chuckled. “You mean he’s very happy for Roberto to look on, grinding his teeth, while you take Jonah Savage for your lawful wedded husband.”

“Exactly.” Leonie gave a wry little laugh. “Anyway, Jess, do try to smooth things over with Roberto. He’s a good friend of mine, remember, and I’m fond of him. Poor man. Women invariably chase after Roberto Forli, not run away from him.”

CHAPTER TWO

THE DRIVE home was long and hot, the motorway crowded with holiday traffic, and Jess felt her spirits lift when she saw the twin towers of the older Severn bridge soaring white against the blue sky. She hummed happily in tune with the car radio as she drove across the bridge, then down through Chepstow and on for the remaining miles towards home. She swept in through the gates of Friars Wood at last, gunned the car up the bends of the drive past the Stables where Adam lived, and roared past the main house to park in a crunch of gravel in her usual spot under the trees near the summerhouse at the end of the terrace.

Jess sounded her horn, indignant when no one came rushing out of the house to greet her. Then she jumped out of the car, laughing, as six-year-old Fenella came hurtling up the garden, with a large golden retriever in panting pursuit. Leonie came following behind in more leisurely fashion, attired in shrunken vest top, khaki shorts and battered old sneakers, her bronze hair bundled up in an untidy knot.

“You’re a very messy bride, Leo!” called Jess, hugging Fenny as she fended off Marzi, who was frisking around them in a frenzy of excitement. “Where is everyone?”

“Adam’s driven Kate to her friend’s house to get some books,” panted Fenny, gazing, round-eyed, at Jess’s hair.

“And Dad’s taken Mother to the hairdresser,” said Leonie. “Fenny got impatient, waiting for you, so we went off to throw a ball for the dog before he’s banished to the farm for the weekend.” She gave Jess a kiss, then stood back, grinning. “I love the hair.”

“Do you? Really?” Jess smiled, relieved. “I suppose I should have asked your approval first. It’s your wedding. But I was tired of my girly bob. I fancied something wilder for a change.”

“Dad will hate it,” said Leonie, laughing. “But I love the way it falls over one eye like that. Dead sexy. Come and have tea; you must be hot after the drive. Fen, shall I take Marzi’s lead?”

“No, I can do it,” insisted the little girl.

“You’re obviously not bothering with a hairdresser, Leo,” commented Jess, as they went into the cool house together.

“Nope. I’ll wash the flowing locks myself, as usual. I just want to look my normal self.”

“Which is exactly what Jonah requires, of course. Always has,” added Jess.

Leonie nodded, her dark eyes luminous. “I know. I’m so lucky.”

“So is Jonah,” said Jess gruffly. “Now, where’s that tea?”

“Mother said you’d probably skip lunch,” said Leonie. “So I made you some salad, and hid some of Mother’s little mushroom tarts from Adam.”

“And the coconut cake,” said Fenny, eyes gleaming as they fastened on the snowy confection under a glass dome. “Can I have some, Leo? Please?”

“So what’s happening tonight?” said Jess, helping herself to salad.

“Jonah’s having dinner with his family in Pennington tonight, at the company flat, and we’ll just have a family supper here.” Leonie cut a slice of cake for Fenny. “Roberto’s staying in Pennington too, with the Ravellos,” she said casually. “So you could ring the Chesterton tonight and have a chat with him. If you like.”

Jess choked on a crumb of pastry, her dark eyes bright with dismay as they met her sister’s. “Must I?”

“I thought you might like to. So that everything’s nice and friendly for tomorrow.”

Jess’s groan was cut off by the arrival of Tom and Frances Dysart, who came hurrying in with Adam and Kate close behind them. Jess sprang up to embrace them all, and there was general laughter when her father blenched theatrically as he noticed her hair. The kitchen filled with exuberant noise as all the Dysarts began talking at once and the dog began barking in excitement in counterpoint. Jess breathed in a deep, happy sigh. She was home.

After supper, which they ate early so that Fenny could share it with them, Adam went for a run down to the farm to hand over the dog, Kate took herself off to revise for her next exam, and Frances and Tom Dysart retired to the study for some peace and quiet while Jess admired wedding presents in Leonie’s room.

“I hope Jonah won’t be disappointed because I’m not wearing a meringue-type wedding dress and veil and so on,” said Leonie, as she repacked a Baccarat crystal vase.

“Of course he won’t!” said Jess with scorn. “The dress is perfect. What did you decide on for your hair in the end?”

“I wasn’t going to wear anything at first. But when Dad mentioned a jewellery auction he was holding at Dysart’s, Jonah bid for the most amazing pair of antique earrings for a wedding present—showers of baroque pearls on tiny gold chains, with a matching brooch. I’ve sewn the brooch to a silk barrette to fasten in my hair.” Leonie took it from its nest of tissue paper and secured a tress of bronze hair back with it. “What do you think?”

Jess eyed the result with approval. “Perfect! Now put the earrings on so I can see the full effect.”

Leonie rummaged in a drawer, then spun round, her eyes meeting her sister’s in sudden panic. “Jess, they’re not here—Jonah took them into a jeweller in Pennington to rethread some of the pearls. And it’s Saturday night! What if he’s forgotten to collect them?” Sudden tears poured down her face, astonishing her sister. “I wanted everything to be so perfect—”

“Hey, hey,” said Jess, dismayed.

“Don’t get upset. Ring him now and ask him.”

“I’m not supposed to,” sobbed Leonie. “It’s unlucky the night before the wedding!”

“Then I will.” Jess passed her sister a bunch of tissues. “Calm down, Leo. This isn’t like you!”

“Sorry.” Leonie blew her nose, then gave Jess a watery, radiant smile. “It must be hormones. Can you keep a secret? I haven’t told Mother, in case she’s worried about me tomorrow, in fact I haven’t told a soul yet—not even Jonah—but I found out today for sure that I’m pregnant.”

Jess enveloped her sister in a crushing hug. “And you’re thrilled to bits, obviously. Wonderful! When are you going to give Jonah the glad news?”

Leonie gave a wicked grin. “I thought tomorrow night, maybe? Late tomorrow night, in the honeymoon suite in our hotel in Paris. A sort of extra wedding present.”

Jess chuckled, then reached for her sister’s cellphone. “Right, then. Let’s ring the bridegroom. You want earrings, little mother, you shall have earrings—even if Jonah has to bribe the jeweller to open up again tonight.”

But when Jonah was questioned it seemed he’d collected them the day before and merely forgotten to hand them over. Jess gave him a laughing telling-off, and, when he was all for driving over right away, informed him that Leonie forbade him to set foot in the vicinity of Friars Wood that night.

“You stay put. I’ll come and collect them.” She made a face at Leonie. “But the Chesterton’s a lot nearer for me than your flat, Jonah, so be a love and save me a trip right across town on a Saturday night. Meet me in the bar there to hand them over? Right. Yes, I’ll tell her. She’s blowing a kiss as we speak. See you in half an hour or so.”

“You’re going to kill two birds with one stone?” said Leonie, eyes sparkling.

Jess sighed, resigned. “I suppose so. Anything to make your day perfect. So I’ll fetch the earrings and make my peace with your ex-lover at the same time, and if ever I get married I’ll think of something really difficult you can do for me in exchange.”

“Anything,” said Leonie fervently.

“I’ll hold you to that. Jonah sent his love, of course.” Jess glanced down at her halter top and ivory linen trousers. “If I just wear the jacket belonging to these will I do?”

“Slap some more make-up on and take those stilt-heeled strappy things to change into when you get there.” Leonie grinned and kissed her fingertips. “Before he met me Roberto was very partial to sexy blondes. He’ll melt at the sight of you.”

And in doing so impart some information about his companion at the pub, maybe. Unknown to Leonie, Jess had secretly jumped at the chance to go out. She felt oddly restless. Wedding fever, she decided, as she neared the outskirts of the town. Until recently a committed relationship of any kind had held little attraction for her, except as something far off in the future. But since Leonie and Jonah’s reunion a gradual feeling of discontent had crept up on her, a hankering after something different from the no-strings, light-hearted arrangements she’d preferred up to now. But the fleeting encounter with the dark stranger had jolted her into a sudden longing for the kind of relationship Leo had with Jonah Savage. Not that she was likely to achieve that in the foreseeable future, Jess thought irritably as she picked her way across the gravel of the Chesterton car park.

Relieved to find that Roberto Forli was nowhere in sight for the moment, Jess made for the bar, and spotted the tall figure of Jonah Savage talking to the barman.

“Jess,” exclaimed Jonah, smiling, his green eyes alight with welcome as he came forward to give her a hug. “Sexy haircut!”

“Hi, Jonah. Glad you approve.”

“You look positively edible. Shame I’m promised to Another,” he teased. “What can I get you?”

“Just some fruit juice, then I must go straight back.”

Jonah gave the order, then leaned close to Jess with a probing look. “So tell me. How is she?”

“Leo’s fine. A bit emotional when she remembered the earrings, but otherwise in perfectly good nick, I promise you.” Jess nursed her sister’s secret with hidden glee as she sipped her orange juice. “How’s the groom?”

“Nervous as hell. God knows why,” he added, “marrying Leo is all I’ve ever wanted since the day I met her.”

“I know.” Jess drained the glass, feeling edgy, for once wanting Jonah to make himself scarce so she could find Roberto and get her apologies over and done with. “Thanks, Jonah. Must dash.”

He looked surprised. “Why the rush? My parents hoped you’d come to the flat for a drink. My aunt’s with them.”

“Sorry, I must get back to Leo. The earrings were a vital necessity before the bride could go happy to bed. Give the three of them my love.”

“Jess,” said Jonah, frowning. “Are you being straight with me? You’d tell me if something was wrong?”

She laughed indulgently, and reached up to pat his cheek. “Scout’s honour, the blushing bride can’t wait to sprint down the aisle to you. But we all want an early night tonight. Ditto for you, too—you can stay up late tomorrow.”

Jonah grinned. “I seriously doubt that.”

“Spare my blushes, please!” she retorted, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Jess, I really appreciate your coming all this way for Leo’s sake,” said Jonah as they left the bar. “Drive carefully.”

“I will.” She returned his affectionate hug and kiss with warmth, took the box he gave her, and stowed it carefully in her bag. “Must make a pitstop before I go back. Don’t wait. See you tomorrow, brother-in-law.”

Jess waved Jonah off, then hurried off to the cloakroom, needing to make a few repairs as self-defence before she went in search of Roberto Forli. But no search was necessary. When she returned to the foyer, lips re-touched and hair in place, he was waiting for her. And he had company. Jess’s heart gave a great lurch, missed a couple of beats, then resumed with a force which made her feel giddy. She felt hollow, hardly able to breathe, the blood pounding through her veins at a dizzying rate as she recognised Roberto’s companion.

Like Roberto, he wore a pale linen suit, but his hair was thick and dark, and the unforgettable black eyes held hers with the look Jess had persuaded herself she’d imagined. A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth while she gazed at him mutely, for the first time in her life struck completely dumb.

“Will you not introduce us, Roberto?” said the stranger at last, his voice deep-toned and husky, with a hint of accent which accelerated Jess’s pulse to an alarming degree.

“I will do so at once, before she runs away again.” Roberto, who had been looking from one to the other with narrowed eyes, bowed formally. “Miss Jessamy Dysart, allow me to present my brother, Lorenzo Forli.”

Jess murmured an incoherent greeting, and Lorenzi Forli took her hand and raised it to his lips. Jess disengaged her hand swiftly, and forced her attention back to Roberto. She had met him only once before, when she’d played an unwanted third at dinner in this very hotel the night Leonie had informed Roberto Forli she was marrying another man. Then, they had spent a pleasant hour together after Jonah had arrived to take Leonie home, and Roberto, despite the circumstances, had been charm itself to Jess. Tonight, however, his manner was hostile. Nor did Jess blame him for it.

“I’m glad to see you again, Roberto.” She held out her hand to him. “How are you?”

He took the hand and bowed, unsmiling. “I am well. And you?”

His chill courtesy made it difficult to embark on the apology she was very conscious that he deserved. “I’m fine. I came on an errand for Leo. My sister,” she explained, turning to Lorenzo.

“I am acquainted with the beautiful Leonie,” he informed her. And Leo had never thought fit to mention him?

“How is the bride?” asked Roberto. “Radiant and beautiful as always?”

“Even more so at the moment,” Jess informed him.

Roberto’s eyes flickered for an instant. “Ah, yes. You know I am invited to the wedding?”

“Leo told me. But I was surprised you’d want to come,” she said frankly.

Roberto shrugged his shoulders in the way Jess remembered well from their first meeting. “I was coming to your country at this time for other reasons.”

“Is it a business trip?” asked Jess. “I’ve forgotten what you actually do, I’m afraid.”

“We are involved in hotels,” said Lorenzo, moving closer. “Miss Dysart, please drink a glass of wine with us.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” said Jess with deep regret. “I’m driving, I must get back.”

“We saw you with Leonie’s fidanzato.” Roberto informed her, his eyes bright with unexpected malice. “But he left before we could congratulate him.”

“I came to collect some earrings from Jonah,” said Jess. “Leo’s wearing them tomorrow, and he’d forgotten to hand them over.”

“Neither your brother nor your father could do this?”

Jess stiffened at his tone. “They wanted to,” she said shortly. “But I had my reasons for coming myself.”

“Of course you did,” said Roberto with open sarcasm.

“Enough, Roberto,” commanded Lorenzo. “Rejoin the Ravellos. I will escort Miss Dysart to her car.”

Roberto, obviously about to protest, received a quelling look from his brother, and reluctantly acquiesced. He nodded coldly to Jess. “Please give my—my regards to Leonie. Arrivederci!” And before she could embark on her apology he strode off.

“There’s something I must explain to Roberto,” began Jess in a rush, and would have gone after him, but Lorenzo Forli took her arm.

“Leave him.”

“But he’s obviously put out with me—I need to apologise for running away that day in London,” she said, ignoring the fact that Lorenzo Forli’s touch seemed to be scorching through her sleeve.

“Roberto is ‘put out’ as you say, not only because you ran away at the sight of him, but because he believes that you are in love with Leonie’s fidanzato,” he informed her, as he escorted her outside to the car park.

“What?” Jess stared up at him in disbelief.

Lorenzo shrugged. “He is sure that you came here tonight for a few stolen moments before your sister’s lover lost you tomorrow.”

Jess stopped dead, and wrenched her arm away, her eyes blazing as she glared up into the dark, imperious face. “That’s nonsense,” she snapped.

“Is it?” he demanded.

“Of course it is!” Jess looked him in the eye. “Look, Signor Forli, I came here tonight purely to please my sister, and to explain to Roberto why it was impossible to speak to him on Thursday—”

“All of which may be true. But I think Roberto can be forgiven for his mistake.” Lorenzo Forli’s eyes locked with hers. “I also saw you embrace your sister’s lover,” he informed her.

“So did several other people,” she retorted, incensed. “There was nothing furtive about it. I find Roberto’s insinuations deeply offensive. Yours, too, Goodnight, Signor Forli.” Jess stormed off blindly towards the car, in such a tearing hurry she caught one tall, slender heel in a patch of loose gravel and fell heavily on her hands and knees.

Lorenzo raced to pull her to her feet. “Dio—are you hurt?”

“Only my dignity,” she snapped, scarlet to the roots of her hair as she pulled away.

“Take care,” he said sternly, and bent to retrieve the impractical sandal. “You could have broken your ankle. Put your hand on my shoulder and give me your foot, Cenerentola.”

Jess complied unwillingly to let him slide on the offending shoe, then bit her lip when Lorenzo took her by the wrists.

He said something brief in his own tongue as he examined the grazed, bleeding palms. “I will take you inside to cleanse your wounds.”

“No, please,” she protested, in an agony of embarrassment. “I’m fine.”

Lorenzo shook his head firmly. “You cannot drive with hands which bleed. How far is it to your home?”

“Twenty miles or so—”

“Then I shall drive you. Leave your car here.”

“Certainly not,” she snapped, then spread her hands wide suddenly as blood threatened to drip on her jacket.

Lorenzi handed her an immaculate handkerchief. “You cannot control a car in this condition. And if you have an accident it will spoil the day for your sister tomorrow.”

Unexpectedly hurt by his thought for Leonie rather than herself, Jess mopped blood and dirt from her grazed palms without looking at him.

“Come,” he said imperiously. “I will ask the receptionist for dressings.”

Twenty minutes later Lorenzo Forli was driving his mutinous passenger towards Stavely in the car he’d hired for his stay in Britain. “Your hands are still hurting?”

“A little,” she muttered, still hot with embarrassment over the fuss made by the assistant manager, who’d been in the foyer when they went back into the hotel. In short order she’d been presented with plasters and antiseptic, offered brandy, and Roberto had been sent for to explain his brother’s proposed absence. Roberto’s prompt offer to drive Jess to Stavely himself had been summarily dismissed by his brother, and Jess hustled off with only a brief goodnight.

“Perhaps you should have rung Leonie to explain the delay,” said Roberto, as he followed her directions to Stavely.

“No need.” She said stiffly. “Leo won’t be expecting me just yet.”

Jess fixed her eyes on the road, cursing the fate which had actually allowed her a meeting with the charismatic stranger, only to find he believed her capable of lusting after her sister’s bridegroom. Jess seethed in silence while Lorenzo Forli drove smoothly along the winding road which hugged the river. The scene was very peaceful in the fading light. Later the traffic would increase as Saturday night revellers made for home, but at this hour the journey would have been restful in almost any other circumstances. With Lorenzo Forli at the wheel, however, expert driver though he was, Jess felt anything but restful, consumed with a volcanic mixture of resentment and excitement which made it hard for her to sit still in her seat.

“Why did you run away from me that day?” Lorenzo asked abruptly, startling her. “I think you knew very well I wished to meet you. Was the prospect so intolerable?”

She raised her chin disdainfully.

“It was nothing to do with you, Signor Forli. It was Roberto I was running away from. Because of Jeremy Lonsdale.”

“Roberto’s friend, the avvocato?” He frowned, baffled. “I do not understand.”

With resignation Jess once again explained her dilemma as a juror. Lorenzo heard her out, then gave a long smouldering look before returning his attention to the road.

“This does not explain why you refused to speak to me when I rang that night.”

Jess shot him another startled look. “That was you?”

“Did your friend not tell you?” His expressive mouth tightened. “She said you had the migraine. Was that true?”

“No,” said Jess faintly, shaken by the discovery that Lorenzo had rung her on the strength of one fleeting, chance encounter. She cleared her throat. “Emily said it was Signor Forli, so naturally I assumed it was Roberto.” She eyed his aloof profile in appeal. “There was another day to go in court so I still couldn’t speak to him.”

“And if you had known it was I who wished to speak to you? What then?” he demanded, throwing a challenging glance at her.

Jess thought about it for a while. “I’m not sure,” she said at last.

Lorenzo’s jaw set. “I see.”

“I don’t think you do. I mean,” added Jess in desperation, “that if I had known who you were I would have—have liked to speak to you, but I’m still not sure whether I would have been breaking any rules if I had.”

He turned to her with a smile of such blatant triumph it took her breath away. “Ah! That is better. Much better.”

Jess turned away sharply, so floored by her body’s response to the smile she spent the next mile or two in pulling herself together, uncertain whether she was sorry or glad when they reached the turning which led past the church and on up to Friars Wood. In command of herself at last, she gave concise instructions as Lorenzo negotiated the steep bends of the drive, telling him to park in front of the Stables, well away from the main house.

“This is my brother’s private retreat,” Jess told him, wincing as she tried to undo the seat belt.

“Permesso,” said Lorenzo, and leaned across her to release the catch, giving her a close-up of thick black lashes and the type of profile seen on Renaissance sculptures. He turned away to get out of the car, and came round to help her out, taking her elbow very carefully. “I must not hurt your hands. Are they giving you pain?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, which was a lie. In actual fact, she felt so weirdly different from usual she was relieved when her brother emerged from the stable block to inject a note of normality.

“Hi, Jess,” said Adam, eyeing the stranger with curiosity. “Where’s your car?”

“I left it at the Chesterton,” she explained, and introduced Lorenzo.

“Nice to meet you,” said Adam as he shook hands.

“Piacere,” said Lorenzo Forli, smiling. “Your sister fell and hurt her hands, so I drove her home.”

“How the devil did you manage that, Jess?” demanded Adam. “Don’t tell me,” he added, resigned, noticing her feet. “Life-threatening heels, as usual.”

“I tripped on some gravel,” said Jess tersely. “So you’ll have to drive me back to Pennington after the wedding, to collect my car.”

“No problem,” said Adam cheerfully. “Right then, Jess, bring Lorenzo in to meet the family. I was just going to ask Mother to make me a snack.”

“You are most kind,” said Lorenzo, after a questioning look at Jess’s face. “But I will not intrude on this special night.”

When it became clear that Lorenzo had no immediate intention of getting back in the car, Adam threw his sister a bright, knowing look, said goodnight, and loped off in search of food.

“Thank you for driving me home,” said Jess at last, desperate to break the silence once Adam had gone.

“It was my pleasure.” Lorenzo reached out a hand to touch hers. “Jessamy, I can tell that you are angry.”

“How perceptive,” she snapped, backing away.

“Why?” he asked, advancing on her.

Her head went up. “I would have thought it was obvious. I object to wild accusations about my morals, especially from strangers,” she added coldly.

“Ah!” His eyes held hers relentlessly. “We return to the subject of your sister’s fidanzato. You insist you do not love him?”

“On the contrary, I do,” she assured him airily, gratified when his dark eyes blazed with anger.

“You admit this?” he said incredulously.

“Only to you,” she said sweetly. “They say it’s easier to confide in strangers. So I can share my little secret, Signor Forli.”

“Then Roberto was right,” said Lorenzo grimly. “He suspected this when he first met you. No matter. You will be made to change your mind.” His smile was so arrogant it raised every hackle Jess possessed. “I swore this the first moment I saw you.”

“But you didn’t know who I was.”

He moved closer. “Ah, but I did.”

Jess stared at him wildly. “I don’t understand.”

“You lie, Jessamy.” He held her wrists loosely, one finger on her tell-tale pulse.

“I’m not lying,” she retorted, and pulled her hands away. “So explain. Had you seen me somewhere before?”

“Only in my dreams,” he said, routing her completely. He smiled into her eyes. “But now I’ve met you in the alluring flesh, Jessamy Dysart, you will forget all other men in your life from this day on, including your sister’s husband. I forbid you to gaze at him with longing tomorrow.”

“What? You can’t forbid me to do anything,” she said, incensed, desperate to hide the tumult of delight beneath her outrage. “We’re complete strangers. I don’t know what you think gives you the right to talk to me like this—”

“Why did you cut off your beautiful hair?” he interrupted, changing the subject with an abruptness which knocked her off balance again.

Jess blinked. “Not—not quite all of it.”

“Far too much. Almost you look like a boy, now.”

“Do I really!”

“I said almost!” Lorenzo gave her a slow smile, his eyes lingering on the place where her jacket hung open. “You are all contradiction, tesoro. You wear trousers and cut off your hair, yet choose feminine shoes and a camicetta which clings to your breasts. Why can you not glory in the fact that you are a desirable woman? A woman,” he added relentlessly, his eyes clashing with hers, “who must no longer yearn for a man forbidden to her.”

Jess gave an exclamation of pure frustration, afraid that at any moment the entire Dysart clan would come pouring from the house to press the stranger at their gates to whatever hospitality he would accept. “I don’t know why I’m saying this to a man who I’d never met until an hour ago, but I do not yearn for Jonah. Nevertheless I’ve known him for a long time, and it’s true that I love him. But like a brother. Or a brother-in-law.” She looked him in the eye. “So let’s forget all this nonsense, shall we? I’d give you my hand to shake on it, but both of them hurt rather a lot at the moment.”

He nodded, his face relaxing visibly. “Very well, we shall talk no more of this.” He smiled down at her. “And since we cannot shake hands, English style, we shall say goodnight Italian style—like this.” He took her by the shoulders and planted a kiss on both her flushed cheeks. He raised his head to look down at her, no longer smiling, then with an oddly helpless shrug he bent to kiss her mouth, his hands tightening on her shoulders when the kiss went on for a considerable time. He raised his head at last, his eyes slitted. “Mi scusi! That was unfair,” he said unevenly.

“Unfair?” managed Jess.

“To take advantage when you are injured. But I could not resist.” Lorenzo smiled into her dazed eyes, dropped his hands and stood back. “Now, since I cannot see you tomorrow, tell me when you return to London.”

“Not for a while.”

He moved nearer. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here.”

“Then I shall also.”

Jess stared at him disbelief.

“You would not like it if I did?” he demanded.

“That’s not the point. I don’t know you. I just can’t believe that you took one look at me that day and decided—”

“That I wanted you,” he finished for her.

Jess felt her face flame. “Are you always this direct with women?” she demanded. “Or is this approach commonplace in Florence?”

He shrugged negligently. “I am not concerned with how the other men behave, either in Florence or London. So, Jessamy. When will you be free? Or am I not asking correctly? Should I entreat? Implore? Forgive my lack of English vocabulary. Tell me what to say.” He took her by the shoulders again. “Or are you saying you have no wish to see me again?”

Jess looked down. “No,” she said gruffly. “I’m not saying that.”

He put a finger under her chin and smiled down at her in triumph. “Tomorrow, then, after the wedding. You will dine with me.”

She shook her head reluctantly. “I can’t. I must stay with my family.”

“Then Monday.”

“Are you staying on that long?”

He bent nearer. “Do you doubt it?” he whispered, and kissed her gently. He raised his head to look into her eyes, muttered something inaudible in his own language and pulled her close, crushing her to him as he kissed her again, no longer gentle, his lips parting hers, his tongue invading, and she responded, shaking, her body curving into his as she answered the demand of the skilful, passionate mouth. For a while Jess was lost to everything other than the engulfing pleasure of Lorenzo Forli’s kiss. Then she came back to earth abruptly at the sound of footsteps on the terrace, and pulled away, her face burning.

Breathing a little rapidly Lorenzo looked up to smile in greeting when Leonie came hurrying towards them. “Buona sera, Leonie. Please forgive my intrusion.”

“Lorenzo, how nice to see you! I couldn’t believe it when Adam said you’d driven Jess home. Roberto didn’t tell me you were here in England with him.” Leonie held up her face and Lorenzo kissed her on both cheeks, sending shamed little pang of jealousy through Jess.

“I joined him only a short time ago. Roberto is here to visit his friend, but he will return to Florence after your wedding. I shall stay awhile, and explore your beautiful countryside.” Lorenzo glanced at Jess, sending the colour rushing to her face again. “I was most fortunate, Leonie, to meet your sister tonight.”

“Come and meet the rest of my family as well, Lorenzo,” she said promptly, but he shook his head.

“I must not keep the bride from her beauty sleep.” He smiled at her. “Not, of course, that you need this, Leonie.”

“Thank you, kind sir.” She exchanged a look with Jess, then gave him a cajoling smile. “Lorenzo, feel free to say no, of course, but since Roberto and Ravellos are coming to my wedding why don’t you come too? It’s a very informal affair. Just a garden party after the church ceremony tomorrow afternoon. My family would be delighted to welcome you. Wouldn’t they, Jess?”

Jess nodded mutely.

Lorenzo’s eyes searched her face for a moment, then, apparently satisfied she approved the idea, he smiled at Leonie. “You are very kind. I am most happy to accept. Until tomorrow. Buona notte!” He gave them both a graceful little bow, got back in the car and drove off down the winding drive.

Leonie put an arm round her sister’s shoulders and drew her slowly along the terrace to the house. “Well, well, what have you been up to, sister dear?” she teased gently. “I was sent out to invite Lorenzo in, but I beat a hasty retreat when I saw him kiss you. I waited for a bit, but then he started kissing you again, and it seemed unlikely that he was about to stop for the foreseeable future, so I decided to interrupt. Sorry!”

“I tripped and fell in the Chesterton car park and hurt my hands, so he volunteered to drive me home,” said Jess, flushing.

“With the greatest of pleasure, by the look of it. I don’t know Lorenzo as well as Roberto, of course—”

“Obviously,” retorted Jess. “You never mentioned him.”

“I haven’t met him often. He doesn’t socialise much. In fact, Roberto told me that Lorenzo’s marriage changed his brother into something of a recluse.”

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