The Italian's Christmas Miracle. Lucy Gordon

go now?’

      But suddenly Alysa’s alarm bells were ringing. This man was dangerous to her precarious peace. How dared he take her consent for granted? She should run away fast, take the next plane back to England and safety.

      ‘Look, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But I never agreed to this. I have to go home.’

      ‘Not before we’ve talked,’ he said firmly.

      Her anger rose.

      ‘Don’t try to give me orders,’ she flashed. ‘We’ve only just met, and you think you can dictate to me? Well, you can’t. I’m going.’

      She tried to turn away but he gripped her arm.

      ‘How dare you?’ she snapped. ‘Let me go at once.’

      He gave no sign of obeying her demand.

      ‘Only just met,’ he scoffed. ‘You know better than that.’

      She did, and it was like a blow to the heart. They had known each other only a few minutes, yet their shared knowledge gave them a painful intimacy, isolating them together, facing the whole world on the far side of a glass barrier.

      ‘When you saw me across the water,’ he grated, ‘you knew who I was, didn’t you?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘How?’

      ‘I researched your wife on the internet, and you were part of what I found. Somehow I just had to find out about the woman James left me for.’

      ‘Yes, you had to find out. I felt the same, but for me there was no way to do it. I knew nothing about the man she went away with, except his name, and that led nowhere. You’ve been able to answer some of your questions, but can you begin to imagine what it’s like for me, never to be able to find a single answer?

      ‘In there—’ he stabbed his own forehead ‘—there’s a black hole that I’ve lived with for a year. It’s been like standing at the entrance to the pit of hell, but I can’t see what’s there.’

      ‘Do you think I don’t know what that’s like?’

      ‘No, you don’t know what it’s like,’ he raged. ‘Because the torment springs from ignorance, and you’ve managed to deal with your ignorance. But I’ve lived with mine for a year and it’s driving me crazy.’ He shuddered then seemed to control himself by force. ‘You’re the one person who can free me from that horror, and if you imagine that I’m going to let you go without—without—’

      It was harsh, almost bullying, but beneath the surface she could feel the desperate anguish that possessed him, and her anger died. So he was illmannered—so what? When a man saw his last hope fading, he would do anything to prevent it.

      Slowly his hold on her arm was released. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Please! You and I must talk. You know that, don’t you? You know that we must?’

      She’d fought his bullying, but his plea softened her.

      ‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘We must.’

      Why should she flee? There was no safety anywhere, and in her heart she knew that this was why she had come here—to meet this man, and learn from him all the things she didn’t really want to know.

      ‘Come on, then.’

      ‘Only if you let me go. I’ve said I’ll come with you, and I’ll keep my word, but if you continue to try to push me the deal’s off.’

      Reluctantly he released her, but he watched closely, as though ready to pounce if she made a wrong move. His nervous tension reached her as nothing else could have, softening her anger. Wasn’t his state as desperate as her own?

      His limousine was waiting for them, chauffeur in the driving seat. But Tina and her grandmother were standing outside, watching for his return, the little girl bouncing as soon as she saw him.

      ‘I suggest you sit in the front,’ Drago told the woman, and she did as he wanted, leaving him to open the rear door for Alysa and join her with Tina.

      ‘The drive will take about an hour,’ Drago said. ‘We live just outside Florence. Where are you staying?’

      She named a hotel in the centre of town, and he nodded. ‘I know it. I’ll drive you back there later tonight.’

      She spent most of the journey looking out of the window as the land flattened out and Florence came into view. Once she glanced at Drago, but he didn’t see her. All his attention was for the little girl nestling contentedly against him, as though he was all her world. Which was true, Alysa thought. She wondered how he coped with the child’s heartbreaking resemblance to her dead mother.

      At that moment Tina opened her eyes and smiled up at her father. His answering smile made Alysa look away. She had no right to see that unguarded look. It was for his child alone.

      But it was the little girl’s adoring face that lingered in her mind, and instinctively she laid a hand over her stomach, thinking of what might have been.

      Now they were driving through the city and out again, taking a country road leading to a village, then turning into a lane lined with poplar trees. After half a mile the house came into view, a huge, gracious three-storeyed villa stretching wide, surrounded by elegant grounds.

      She knew little of Italian architecture, but even so she could tell that the building was several-hundred years old and in fine condition, as though Drago, the builder and restorer, had lavished his best gifts on his home.

      The entrance to the house lay through an arched corridor where the walls were inlaid with mosaics, and the ceiling adorned with paintings. At first sight it was so impressive as to be almost forbidding, but as they went deeper inside the atmosphere became more homely, until finally they came to a large drawing-room where Alysa gasped.

      Everywhere she saw Carlotta’s face. On one table stood a huge picture of her alone, while on the next table another picture showed her with Tina in her arms. The next one showed mother, father and child together. Various other pictures were dotted around the room, plus souvenirs, as Tina eagerly explained to her.

      ‘That was Mamma’s medal for winning a race at school,’ she said.

      ‘My wife was a fast runner,’ Drago explained. ‘We always used to say that she could have been an athlete if she hadn’t preferred to be a lawyer.’

      ‘She could run faster than anyone, couldn’t she, Poppa?’

      Alysa saw Drago’s suddenly tense face, and realised how cruelly double-edged this remark would seem to him. But he gave his child a broad smile, saying, ‘That’s true. Mamma was better at everything,’ he said with a fair pretence of heartiness. ‘Now, we must entertain our guest.’

      Tina set herself to do this, the perfect little hostess. If she hadn’t been functioning on automatic, Alysa knew she would have found her enchanting, for Tina was intelligent and gentle. When supper was served she conducted her guest to the table, and in her honour she spoke English, of which she had a good grasp.

      ‘How do you speak my language so well?’ Alysa asked, for something to say.

      ‘Mamma taught me. She was bi—bi—’

      ‘Bilingual,’ Drago supplied. ‘Some of her clients were English, as are some of mine. We’re all bilingual in this family. Tina learned both languages side by side.’

      ‘Do you speak Italian?’ Tina asked her.

      ‘Not really,’ Alysa said, concentrating on her food so that she didn’t have to meet the innocent eyes that were turned on her. ‘I learned a little when I was researching someone on the internet.’

      ‘An Italian someone?’

      ‘Er—yes.’

      ‘Was that someone there today?’

      ‘No.’