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‘Stepping into your shoes and handling such an important event is a big responsibility to put on the shoulders of a novice, Carmela. Are you sure this friend of yours will be up to the task?’
‘She’s been a music teacher for some years now, and has also organised some local concerts where she lives, so she’s not exactly inexperienced. And she will, of course, be very familiar with the artistic aspect of the work.’
‘Does she speak Italian?’ Pressing his fingers against the tender spot between his dark gold brows again, Fabian winced, as though some medieval instrument of torture was doing its best to bring him to his knees.
‘She’s a very fast learner, and when I was at school with her in London she was always top of the class in languages. Anyway, your own English is practically perfect, so you won’t have to worry.’
‘Good…just as long as she does not expect me to hold her hand and guide her every step! Quite frankly, I will be very glad when this whole tedious affair is over and my home can return to normal.’
Tossing back her head of raven curls, Carmela took instant umbrage. ‘The concert is a wonderful event that raises a lot of money for the children’s hospice. Surely you do not regard the privilege of holding it as “tedious”, Fabian?’
‘Of course not! That is not what I meant at all!’ Now it was his turn to display offence. ‘Okay,’ he continued impatiently, ‘let us get back to your friend. I am very grateful that you have found her for us. Has she been to Tuscany before?’
‘No. I have invited her many times, but in the past few years things have been rather difficult for her, and circumstances did not allow her to make the trip. She tells me she is definitely overdue for some sunshine, and I know she will fall in love with this place and the beautiful Villa de Rosa… who could not? That reminds me… I must speak with Maria to check if Laura’s rooms are ready. That is the other positive aspect of the situation that should help make things less stressful for you, Fabian. She’ll be here on the premises whenever you need her. Shall I get you another coffee? That one looks as though it is going cold.’
‘Please.’ Pushing the cup in its matching cream saucer towards Carmela, Fabian could no longer suffer in silence. ‘And bring me a glass of water and something for a headache, will you?’
‘Perhaps you shouldn’t have any more coffee if you have a headache?’
‘So you are my mother now, as well as my assistant?’
‘I was only trying to—’
‘You should know by now I am impossible without my coffee in the morning! But take heart, Carmela… In a day or two you won’t have to think of my needs. It will be your very fortunate husband who will command all your attention!’
Yet again her boss’s wry humour prevented her from feeling too indignant, and his young assistant immediately forgave him his grouchy mood. She realised he had a lot on his plate, and that he was probably handling it a lot better than most would do in his situation.
‘I will bring what you ask and make sure you are not disturbed for an hour at least… will that help?’
‘If you can do that you are a miracle-worker!’
‘A moment ago I was your mother!’
Rolling her eyes heavenwards, Carmela hurried away, and as he watched her retreat Fabian found himself considering yet again the rather intricate subject of a wife and heir. Intricate because he was not at present in a relationship, nor intended to be. When a man had been scorched by flame once in his life he got wise to the danger, and learned never to stand so close to the fire again. But he was thirty-seven years old, and time was not standing still.
Because of his considerable wealth, and the responsibilities that came with the ownership of the palatial Villa de Rosa—the home that had been in his family for centuries—he needed a son or daughter to inherit. No…there simply had to be another way to get what he wanted other than embarking on some doomed love affair. Over the next few days he would seriously apply himself to finding the solution.
‘It’s so good to have you here at last! It’s been such a long time…too long! Of course I am looking forward to my honeymoon, but it would be so nice to be able to spend some time with you. Promise me you won’t run off straight away when I return in two weeks’ time?’
Regarding the perfectly groomed, curvaceous brunette who had been her best friend at school, Laura wondered how the intervening years since they’d last met had flown by so quickly. It had been at least ten years since they’d seen each other. Of course they’d kept in regular contact by letter and e-mail, and sometimes by phone, but it wasn’t the same as seeing someone on a regular basis and having the chance to deepen your friendship with them. But now that she was here in Tuscany Laura was determined to make the best of the opportunity that had fortuitously come her way.
Carmela’s offer of a job—albeit a temporary one— had been a Godsend, quite frankly. Laura didn’t even mind that this was to be no holiday, because music was her absolute passion. Just to be around it would do wonders for her spirit and morale, she was certain.
‘I don’t have a job to return to as yet, Carmela,’ she answered now. ‘So I have nothing to rush back to the UK for.’
‘That is good to hear. Not that you don’t have a job, of course, but that you will be able to stay and visit me properly!’
‘I’ve been looking forward to renewing our friendship for a long time.’
Laura crossed her arms over the pretty white antique lawn and lace blouse she wore with a pastel blue skirt, and her smile was genuinely heartfelt. Then, with a soft sigh, she turned her grey eyes away for a moment, drawn by the beautiful sunlit gardens she saw through the huge Palladian windows.
The white roofs of the elegant marquees glinting in the afternoon sunshine reminded her of a medieval joust, where richly dressed lords and ladies would make their entrance at any moment to take their seats for the coming performance. The sea of white made a stunning contrast against the surrounding shimmering green of the perfectly mown lawns. In the distance was an ornate white marble balustrade, with steps just beyond it leading into what was clearly a much more private section of the garden. Meanwhile, the scents of honeysuckle and wisteria drifted through the opened windows, filling the air with a soporific fusion of rare delight. It was like stepping into a dream…
‘And what do you think of your rooms?’ the dark- haired girl pressed eagerly. ‘I’ve put you near the back of the house, where it is a bit more private should Fabian have guests staying, and the views from your windows are quite spectacular!’
‘They’re lovely, Carmela—just lovely! I shall be able to indulge every girl’s fantasy of being a princess with such elegant rooms to myself, as well as sleeping in that beautiful four-poster bed!’
‘Carmela—have you spoken to the press yet? This morning they—Excuse me. I did not realise that you had company.’
At the sound of that richly voiced Italian, Laura turned. Viewing the man that was responsible for it, she saw him momentarily hesitate, his glance sweeping over her with mild surprise, before entering the room. There was a strange kind of tension immobilising her, that made her thought-processes feel as if someone had pressed a slow motion button. Was this Carmela’s boss? If it was, he was the antithesis of what she’d been expecting.
Golden-haired, blue-eyed, with a strong, lean jaw and of an imposing height, he might easily have hailed from Denmark, Sweden or even Germany. Yet the confident, slightly arrogant way he bore himself, and the way he wore