Rinaldo’s Inherited Bride

CHAPTER FOUR

ALEX had often heard of the magic of Italy, but, being a practical person, she had dismissed it as romanticising. Now she found that it was real.

Perhaps it was in the light that intensified every colour. Or perhaps it was Florence, packed with medieval buildings, where there were as many cobblestones as modern roads.

She tried not to be seduced by the beauty. She was only here to raise money, then return to London, marriage to David, the partnership: in other words, her ‘real’ life.

It was just that it seemed less real suddenly, and she could feel no hurry to push things along. David had told her to take as much time as she needed, and it might be better to stay here for a while, and broaden her mind.

So the day after her meeting with Gino, she did something she hadn’t done for years. She played hookey.

Firmly turning off her mobile phone she hired a car and left Florence, heading south. After a few miles she began to climb until she reached the tiny, ancient town of Fiesole.

After wandering its cobbled streets for an hour, she found a restaurant with tables on a balcony looking far down, and sat there, sipping coffee and gazing at the rows of cypresses, and the elegant villas that were laid out before her.

‘You’re in good company,’ said a quiet voice.

Rinaldo had appeared, seemingly from nowhere. She wondered how long he had been standing there, watching her.

But today, although his face was grave, there was no antagonism in it as he came to sit at her table.

‘Good company?’ she asked.

‘Your English writers, Shelley and Dickens, once admired this valley. Down there is the villa where Lorenzo de Medici entertained his literary friends. This little town is known as the mother of Florence. Look around and you’ll see why.’

Alex saw it at once. The whole panorama of Florence, barely five miles away, was spread out before them, glowing in the noon haze, the great Duomo rising out of a sea of roofs, dwarfing everything else.

‘What are you doing up here?’ he asked lightly.

‘Do I need your permission?’

‘Not at all, but wouldn’t you be better occupied negotiating? You’re a woman of business. There’s work to be done, and here you are, wasting time, staring into the distance.’

Alex didn’t normally quote poetry, but this time she couldn’t resist it.

‘What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare?’

Rinaldo frowned. ‘Who said that?’

‘An English poet.’

‘An Englishman?’ he demanded on an unflattering emphasis.

‘Yes,’ she said, nettled. ‘Strange as it may seem, an Englishman wrote it. Shock! Horror! Now you might have to adjust your ideas about the English.

‘You think of me holding court, receiving my financial suitors one by one, selling you out to the highest bidder. And let’s face it, that’s how you prefer to see me.’

Rinaldo hailed a passing waiter and ordered two coffees. Alex had an amused feeling that he was giving himself a breathing space to come to terms with her attack.

‘You were probably following me up here,’ she added, ‘to see if I met up with a prospective buyer behind your back.’

‘No, I’ve been visiting friends in Fiesole. This is pure chance.’

Suddenly she remembered that Gino had said his wife came from this town, and wondered if he had been to see Maria’s family.

‘Anyway, you’re wrong,’ she said in a gentler tone. ‘I have nothing to negotiate, not with Montelli or anyone else of his kind, until I’ve first talked seriously with you. Anyway, I dislike him.’

Rinaldo gave her a grin that was as harsh as it was humorous. ‘The question is, do you dislike him as much as you dislike me?’

‘I haven’t quite decided, but it makes no difference. I never allow personalities to interfere with business.’

‘Like a good accountant?’ he mocked.

‘No, like a civilised human being actually,’ she said crisply.

He gave a half nod, acknowledging a hit to her.

The coffees were served, giving them both a brief time out.

‘I wonder what your notion of “civilised” includes,’ he mused when they were alone again. ‘My brother?’

‘Your brother is a nice lad, but I told him, and I’m telling you, don’t treat me like a fool.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning that you should have been ashamed to be so obvious. You sent him out to say pretty nothings to me because you thought I was a ninny who’d faint the moment an Italian gave her the eye. Well, he’s delightful and he made my head spin-not perhaps as much as you planned, but enough for a very nice day.

‘But let me make one thing plain to you, Signor Farnese. I do not make serious decisions while my head is spinning. I hope that’s clear.’

He began to laugh, a robust, virile sound that was free from strain. He could be really attractive, she realised; a man, in contrast to his brother’s boyishness.

‘I see that Gino has been fooling himself,’ he said. ‘This isn’t the impression I got from him.’

There was a silence, during which they eyed each other. Alex smiled.

‘Signor Farnese, if you’re waiting for me to ask what he said about me, you’ll wait for ever.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re not interested in knowing?’

‘Let’s just say that I have exceptional self-control.’

He inclined his head in salute.

‘My compliments, signorina. You fight with courage and skill. Poor Gino. I’m afraid you’ll break his heart.’

‘I don’t think there’s any fear of that! He knew the nature of the duel. His heart isn’t involved any more than mine.’

‘Don’t be too sure of that. Gino is a man who gives his affections easily. In that, he is not like me, or you.’

‘You know nothing about me.’

‘Only what you’ve just told me, which is that you’re a woman who likes to be in control-’

‘Just like you.’

‘Just like me. Also like me, your head rules your heart. I respect that, but it makes me wary of you.’

‘You mean I’m not going to be the simple-minded walkover that you were expecting.’

‘I don’t think I would ever call you simple-minded,’ he said gravely. ‘May I buy you lunch?’

‘No, thank you. I’ve had a snack and it’s time for me to be going.’

‘Let me walk with you to your car.’

She led the short distance to where she had parked, and as soon as he saw her car he grimaced.

‘What’s wrong?’ she demanded.

‘I know this car. I know the firm you hired it from. Neither are reliable.’

As if to prove it, the car made forlorn choking noises and refused to budge.

‘Oh, great!’ she said, exasperated. ‘How do I start this?’

‘You don’t. You’ll have to abandon it and tell the firm to come for it later.’

Muttering, she got out and called the hire firm on her mobile phone. The ensuing conversation was terse on both sides. The firm was reluctant to accept responsibility, insisting that the car had been perfect when consigned to her, and that it was her job to get it back.

As the argument grew heated she saw, to her annoyance, that Rinaldo was observing and taking in everything. At last, with the air of a man who could endure no more, he reached over, took the phone from her and spoke into it sharply and in Tuscan.

The effect was instantaneous. As she recovered the phone and put it to her ear the man on the other end was burbling with eagerness to please. Alex couldn’t decide whether she was more relieved to have the business sorted, or exasperated at being beholden to Rinaldo. His grin told her that he understood her dilemma perfectly.

‘Thank you,’ she said crisply. ‘I’m grateful to you.’

‘No you’re not,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You’d like to murder me.’

‘I’m far too much of a lady to say so.’

The phone rang before she could switch it off. She answered, turning away slightly.

‘Alex?’ It was David’s voice.

‘Hello, darling.’

‘I got your message. Sorry I couldn’t call back before. How are you doing out there?’

‘It has its ups and downs.’

‘I take it the arrangements are problematic?’

‘Very,’ she said. ‘But I’ll get there.’

‘Are the Farnese brothers being difficult?’

‘Nothing I can’t cope with,’ she said, loud enough for Rinaldo to hear.

‘Don’t stand for it,’ David told her. ‘You hold all the cards.’

‘Well, I know that. But everything isn’t as simple as it seemed when we were talking in England.’

‘If they start making themselves unpleasant, just set the lawyers onto them.’

‘It’s sweet of you to worry about me,’ she said tenderly, ‘but honestly darling, I’m coping really well.’

‘Hm! Well, I suppose that’s true. I know how efficient you always are.’

Alex made a wry face. As a tribute ‘efficient’ lacked something. But David had never been a man for emotional pronouncements. Once she had liked that about him. Now it struck a jarring note.

‘Just leave everything to me,’ she said.

He laughed suddenly. ‘I begin to feel sorry for them. They don’t know what they’ve taken on.’

She joined in his laughter, but she would have preferred to hear it put some other way.

‘Take as long as you need,’ David said. ‘I’ve got your work here covered so you don’t need to give it another thought.’

‘Thank you, but of course I think about it all the time. And you. It’ll be lovely getting back to you.’

‘We’re going to have a lot to talk about,’ he assured her.

Rinaldo heard her laughter and it chilled him. Without consciously eavesdropping-so he told himself-he had contrived to hear enough to alarm him.

This man was a lover, in her thoughts all the time. She called him ‘darling’ and longed to return to him.

He began to appreciate the true dimensions of the threat to everything he held dear, and he called himself a fool for underestimating the danger.

His eyes narrowed as he came to a swift resolution. Alex was hanging up, turning back to him, and he swung away from her so that she shouldn’t see his thoughts reflected in his face.

When he was ready to face her again he was smiling.

‘Come,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘This way to my car.’

‘I can’t go with you. I have to stay here for the break-down truck.’

‘Nonsense. Just leave the keys in the ignition. Nobody can steal it, since the car can’t move. Now come on.’

He was making his way to a car on the far side of the parking lot.

‘Come where?’ she asked.

She tried to pull away but his grip, although light, was unbreakable.

‘There are things you need to see.’

‘Will you let me go?’

‘No, I won’t. So don’t waste time asking me.’

‘This is kidnap,’ she seethed.

‘You can call it what you like.’

It would have been easy to scream for help, and rouse some passer-by to assist her. Alex could never quite understand why she didn’t do this.

She was still considering the matter as he opened the door of his vehicle for her to get in.

The car was a heavy four-wheel drive, long past its best, but suitable for rough terrain. Swinging out of Fiesole they were soon at the bottom of the slope and heading for the great hills she could see looming ahead, waiting for them.

‘Are you going to show me Belluna?’ she asked.

‘Some of it. There’s too much to see in one go. But it’s time you saw what you’re negotiating about.’

Soon they began to climb again. Florence vanished. The land grew wild, fierce, somehow darker, yet filled with violent colour. Had there ever been such colours, she wondered?

‘Stop a moment,’ she said.

Rinaldo halted the car, and she immediately opened the door and jumped out.

‘Careful!’ he cried. ‘It’s steep here. But you picked a good place.’

They were up high, looking far out over the valley and the far hills. The sun streamed down over the scene, touching fields, full of flourishing crops. Far off there was a village, its red roofs and glinting windows also bathed in warmth and light.

Alex took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the pure fresh air, without a trace of city fumes.

She was city born and bred, and had always regarded London as her natural home. But in these wide spaces she suddenly felt free to breathe, as if for the first time.

‘Over there are the vineyards,’ Rinaldo said, coming beside her. ‘See, on that steep slope, with the vines arranged in tiers so that they all catch as much of the sun as possible.

‘We also grow wheat and olives, but I dare say the lawyers have told you all that.’

‘I’ve seen it all written down in columns,’ she agreed. ‘But this-is so different.’

‘This is just cash to you, but to us the land is a living, breathing creature that works with us to create new life. Then again, sometimes it works against us, even tries to kill us. But it belongs to us, as we belong to it.’

She mopped her brow. It was the hottest part of the day.

‘Come over here,’ he said, taking her arm and leading her to where a stream plunged downhill. There were a few trees in this spot, giving a blessed shade.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you here just now,’ he said. ‘You’re not used to this kind of heat.’

‘I’m very tough,’ she assured him.

‘You don’t look it. You look as if a breeze would blow you away.’

She laughed and made a gesture to indicate the still air. ‘What breeze?’

‘Sit down,’ he said, urging her to the water’s edge.

His own face and neck were damp with perspiration. He pulled out a clean handkerchief and dropped it into the stream, then squeezing the water over himself. Alex tried to do the same, but her handkerchief was too small to be effective.

‘Here,’ he said, soaking his again and passing it to her.

She buried her face in it, grateful for the relief, then drenched it again. When she had finished she found him looking at her.

She guessed he was watching for some sign of weakness. If so, he would be disappointed. She had her second wind now and knew that this was something she could deal with, even relish. The sheer ferocity of the elements in this country had lit a small flame of excitement in her. Go now, warned a voice in her head. Before it grows and takes you over.

She laid her hand against the earth, moving her fingers to feel it against her.

‘Not like that,’ he said quietly. ‘Dig in deep, and really feel it. Let it speak to you.’

She tried it, and knew at once what he meant. Here by the stream the earth was springy, damp and crumbling. From it came a lush, powerful odour that was not unpleasant.

Speaking almost in a daze she said, ‘You could grow anything in this.’

His answer came without words. Plunging his own hand into the ground he raised it to show her. She touched it, and at once he gripped her hand, pressing it into the rich earth that he was holding.

It felt good, and the sense of power in his hands beneath the living soil made her strangely giddy.

‘You see?’ he said intently. ‘You see?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I see.’

Something seemed to have taken possession of her. She didn’t want to open her fingers. She had the impression that the sun had darkened, but instead of blotting out her surroundings it made them more vivid.

There was a big scar on the back of his hand. She couldn’t take her eyes away from it.

Then he moved, prising her fingers open and drawing her hand gently down into the cleansing water.

‘It’s time we were going,’ he said quietly.

She nodded, rubbing the earth away, past speech.

When she was sitting beside him in the car he turned it and began the journey back down the track to where the road forked. There was a signpost, showing the way to Florence, but he swung away.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

‘I’m taking you home.’

‘Home?’

‘My home.’

She didn’t let him see how much this pleased her. She was more curious to see Rinaldo’s home than she would admit.

She had pictured a shabby, weather-beaten farmhouse, but the building that finally came into view had a touch of grandeur. It was three stories high, with a double staircase that formed two curves up the front.

But what really amazed her was that it was made of a stone that appeared pink in the red-gold of the setting sun. At that moment the sun shone directly into her eyes, making her blink, and giving the building the appearance of a frosted cake.

She blinked again and the world righted itself. It was just a house, although still more ornate than any farmhouse she had ever seen.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she breathed.

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘At one time it was what I supposed you’d call a great house, but the man who owned it two hundred years ago fell on hard times. He had to sell off some of his land, and start farming the rest.

‘The place has changed hands several times. My grandfather bought it and worked himself into the grave to make it prosper. My father gave his whole life to it as well.’

‘And you live in that beautiful house?’

‘Part of it. The rest is shut up. Teresa, who looks after us, complains about how hard it is to keep even a small part clean.’

A door at ground level was pulled open from the inside, but, instead of Teresa, Alex saw a vast dog, of miscellaneous parentage, come lumbering out.

He might have been part Great Dane, part Alsatian. He might have been a St Bernard crossed with a lurcher. He might have been anything.

He ambled towards them obviously so excited to see them that he was getting dangerously near the vehicle. Rinaldo was forced to brake sharply.

A stream of fierce words came from him. The dog either didn’t understand or didn’t care because he reared up to put his head through Rinaldo’s window and cover him with eager licks.

‘That’s enough,’ Rinaldo growled, but he didn’t push the animal away. ‘This ridiculous object is Brutus,’ he informed Alex. ‘He thinks he’s mine. Or I’m his. One of the two.’

He tweaked the animal’s ears and said, ‘Vai via!’ pointing into the distance.

Reluctantly Brutus moved back. But as soon as they were out of the car he surged forward again, this time at Alex.

She gave a yell of alarm. The next moment she was looking down at her elegant pants, now displaying a large, dirty paw print.

She opened her mouth, but her exclamation was checked by the sight of the dog, beaming at her, clearly convinced that he had done something brilliant.

‘It would be a waste of time saying anything to you, wouldn’t it?’ she demanded, pointing to the smudge.

He woofed agreement.

‘Then I won’t bother,’ she said, smiling despite herself. ‘But if you do it again-’

He waited, grinning foolishly.

‘If you do it again-’ she sighed, recognising defeat ‘-then I guess I’ll just have to forgive you again.’

Ecstatic at this appreciation, Brutus reared up and placed another mark next to the first.

‘My apologies,’ Rinaldo said, sounding strained. ‘Brutus!’

‘Oh, don’t be mad at him,’ Alex said. ‘He was only being friendly. I suppose he’s made that way.’

‘No, he doesn’t usually take to strangers. He’s never done that before. Naturally I’ll pay the cost of cleaning.’

Alex shook her head. The sight of Rinaldo at a disadvantage was improving her mood.

‘I shouldn’t bother,’ she said. ‘It won’t clean.’

‘Then I will pay for a replacement,’ he said stiffly.

Alex began to laugh. ‘Don’t force me to tell you how much it cost,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to spoil your supper.’

He regarded her oddly. ‘You’re being very nice about it.’

‘And that’s really got you puzzled, hasn’t it? If I’m being nice, it must be for an evil purpose. Forget it for heaven’s sake! A dog is a dog is a dog. Making a mess is what dogs do.’

Now she had really wrong-footed him, she saw with pleasure. He was no longer quite so certain what to think of her, and that confused him.

Good! The longer she could keep him confused the better.

Teresa appeared. She was elderly, with white hair and sharp blue eyes that flickered quickly over Alex.

‘Teresa, this is Signorina Dacre, from England. Enrico Mori was her great-uncle.’

‘Buon giorno, signorina.’

‘Buon giorno, Teresa,’ Alex responded.

He introduced Alex, who saw the briefest reaction flicker across the housekeeper’s face. She wondered how freely the brothers had discussed her, and what Teresa had overheard.

‘Let’s go inside,’ Rinaldo said. ‘The signorina has been out in the heat for too long. Show her to the guest room, please, Teresa.’

The walls of the house were thick enough to keep out the heat. The old-fashioned room was blessedly cool, and half an hour was enough to restore Alex to herself. She was feeling cheerful as she went downstairs to be shown into a room at the back of the house.

At the far end were tall windows that opened onto a veranda. A table stood just outside the room, laden with small snacks. Rinaldo was there. He looked up as she entered.

‘Are you feeling better?’ he asked pleasantly.

‘Yes thank you. Mind you, I never did feel actually bad, just-a little overwhelmed. It was suddenly so-’

She found that she couldn’t finish. No words were adequate.

Rinaldo nodded without speaking, and she knew that he understood everything she was trying to say.

He poured her a glass of light prosecco wine, and she sipped, glad to find it ice-cold.

Now the weather was cooling and they could sit on the veranda, while Teresa served them a sweet, crusted pie with macaroni and meat sauce, which he told her was called Pasticcio alla Fiorentina.

‘Are you wise to treat me like this?’ she teased. ‘You might make me want to stay.’

‘What about the man who called you? Isn’t he yearning for you to return?’

She gave a choke of laughter. There was something about the idea of David yearning that was irresistibly comic.

‘What is it?’ he asked, watching her.

‘David isn’t like that. Yearning isn’t his way.’

‘What is his way?’

‘Well-I don’t know-’

‘But you’re in love with him?’

‘Yes-no-it’s none of your business.’

‘As long as I’m in your power, everything about you is my business.’

‘I see no need to discuss David.’

‘Is he a painful subject?’

‘No, he isn’t. It’s just that our relationship is-difficult to describe-’

‘You mean it isn’t passionate,’ he said calmly.

‘I mean nothing of the kind.’

‘Then it is passionate? His kisses inflame you, your body aches for him when you are apart?’

Alex’s lips twitched. Her sense of humour was coming to her rescue.

‘You forget,’ she said, ‘that I’m a cold-blooded northerner. We don’t “do” passion. It gets in the way of business.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘A remark like that is pure provocation.’

‘You can take it any way you like. David is the man I’m going to marry, and I refuse to discuss our relationship any further.’

He was silent for a long moment after that. Alex knew that the announcement of her impending marriage was like a glove thrown down in defiance, warning him that she had her own agenda. But his face was slightly averted, and she couldn’t discern what effect it had had on him.

At last he raised his head and spoke.

‘Teresa is ready to serve the next course. I hope you’re hungry.’