Her Italian Soldier. Rebecca Winters

of her job, it would ruin the surprise his father had been planning for over a year.

      Now that she thought about it, the two men had similar builds, though Guilio was shorter. She saw a vague resemblance in some of their facial features, but Lucca must have inherited his black hair from his mother. Guilio hadn’t mentioned anything about his son being injured.

      She tried to get away from him, but he held her firmly against him. “Because of you, signorina, my best laid plans have been shot to hell for tonight, as you Americans like to say.”

      “You’re right! We do like to say,” she spluttered back. “Allow me to thank you very much, signore. Your unexpected, unforetold nocturnal invasion has changed my plans, too. If you’ll let me go, I’ll phone for a taxi and be gone from here inside of a half hour.”

      To her dismay she would have to explain to Guilio why she’d suddenly decided to go to a hotel after all. She would have to think up a good excuse for leaving, but she’d worry about that later.

      “Now who’s licking wounds,” he muttered with uncanny perception.

      “That’s none of your business.”

      “I’m afraid it is. But uprooting you tonight won’t be necessary, provided you’re willing to cooperate with me and keep my presence here a secret until tomorrow.”

      Cooperate? For the second time that night she was suffering fresh shock after learning his identity. “You ask a lot of your prisoners.” She’d been trying to wiggle free from his viselike grip, but it was no use. He might be injured, but he was incredibly strong and fit.

      “I’m a desperate man.”

      Annabelle moaned. “So I’ve noticed. Why don’t you want your father to know you’re back?”

      “Back from where, signorina?”

      His condescending tone told her that no matter what she said, he wasn’t going to like it. “He mentioned that you’re in the military.” She moistened her lips nervously. “Did you arrange for a special leave or something?”

      “That’s not your affair, either.”

      She supposed it wasn’t. “You’re right, but I can tell you’re in pain. You should be in bed.”

      “I was on my way there.” He’d come from the other part of the house, probably the kitchen. His speech had slowed, leading her to believe he’d drugged himself with something strong.

      “Your bed isn’t made up. You’ll have to use mine.”

      “As long as you don’t leave my sight. For the rest of the night we’ll lie on the same bed to ensure you don’t play the informer before morning.”

      Annabelle had no illusions. That was a command, not an invitation. She refused to react. “Fine. If you’ll let me stand, I’ll help you get up, then you can lean on me. My bedroom isn’t far.”

      He let her go with one hand, using it to brace himself against the wall while he clung to her arm with the other. She sensed he would have cried out if he’d been alone. Together they moved to her bedroom with him leaning on her. Undoubtedly she would have collapsed from his weight if they’d had to go much farther.

      By some miracle they made it to the bed. He fell on his side, taking her with him. She ended up on her back and felt his hand curl around her wrist, making certain she wouldn’t get away. As he settled against the pillows, his sigh of relief echoed off the walls of the room.

      When she’d helped him up moments ago, the dark stubble on his jaw had brushed against her cheek by accident, reminding her of his undeniable masculinity. No doubt he’d been traveling a long time without stopping to freshen up. Between fatigue and the medication he’d taken for his pain, she assumed he’d be asleep before long.

      She, on the other hand, lay next to him, wide-awake. There’d been no man since she’d divorced Ryan. With Guilio’s son facing her inches away, her senses were in chaos. The situation was so surreal she wondered if she were dreaming.

      “Don’t be afraid,” Lucca murmured, thinking he’d read her mind. “I couldn’t take advantage of you if I wanted to, which I don’t.”

      His words might have pricked her if she hadn’t already been through a hell she never wanted to repeat. “Then we’re both in luck because I can assure you that a rude, brooding, unshaven male slithering home under cover of darkness is no woman’s idea of joy beyond measure.” His earlier remarks still smarted.

      He made a sound that bordered on angry laughter, but none of it mattered. In another few minutes he’d be dead to the world. Once his hand released her, she would find some clean bedding in the hall closet and make up the other bed.

      “Your pillow smells of strawberries.”

      The observation came as a surprise. In fact everything he said and did had knocked her off balance. “It’s probably still damp, too. I’ll get you another one.”

      His hand restrained her from moving. “After the places I’ve been, I like it.” The words came out in a slur.

      “You can let go of me. I’m not going to reveal your secret.”

      “Why not?” came the unexpected question “It’s the kind of thing a woman can’t wait to do.”

      If he could still try to rile her, then he wasn’t as close to sleep as she’d supposed. Probably because of his pain. She fought an unwanted rush of sympathy for him. “That kind of assumption comes from knowing too many females on a superficial basis.”

      “You’re an authority on my love life now?” he growled.

      “Italian men have a certain reputation, signore. As we American women understand it, the Italian male is a jack of all trades, but master of none. I think it’s one of the personal casualties in your particular line of work.”

      To his credit he let her baiting go before he said in a raspy voice, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

      For the most important of reasons. She happened to know that Lucca’s next furlough wasn’t scheduled until August when he visited with his father in Milan. The big surprise Guilio was planning for him would take place at the largest Amalfi showroom in Italy. From there the cars were manufactured and exported around the world.

      Annabelle remembered the look in Guilio’s eyes as he’d talked about wanting to honor Lucca when they met at the end of the summer. She would never spoil that reunion by revealing ahead of time what she knew he had in store for his son.

      Exhausted over the stunning events of the last hour, her eyelids closed. “If I haven’t responded, it’s because anyone who has gone to your lengths to sneak back under the radar in the dead of night must have the kind of baggage he wouldn’t want anyone to know about.”

      She felt his body stiffen.

      “What do you say we both try to get some sleep, signore? I don’t know about you, but I have a big day tomorrow.”

      “You’ve got me intrigued about the nature of the work you do for my father. It must be beyond classified, otherwise he wouldn’t be treating you like a princess. Nor would he have installed you in a house that is sacrosanct to me.” His voice suddenly sounded as if it had come from a deep cavern.

      The blood started pounding in her ears. “Sacrosanct?” she whispered.

      “You mean he didn’t tell you I was born here? Would it surprise you to know my mother died in this house?”

      Oh, no.

      To think she’d called him the intruder. “Your father only told me your mother willed this farm to you. I didn’t realize about the house.”

      “Let’s just say he has kept an eye on it for me.”

      CHAPTER