The Italian's Blushing Gardener. Christina Hollis

      Kira shot him a look of pure disbelief. ‘You can have exactly what you like, signore. You don’t need anyone to advise you, let alone me!’

      ‘There are times when everyone can do with a little help,’ he slung straight back at her. ‘By employing skilled people, I can spend my time and effort on all the things I really want to do. In this instance, it gives me plenty of time to plan for Christmas.’ He stopped inspecting the paintwork and turned an acute gaze on her. ‘I know—you must have a good eye for colour. How would you like the task of co-ordinating all the decorations?’

      Kira nearly laughed out loud. It felt truly bizarre to be standing in a vast Tuscan villa in the heat of summer, talking about something that was months away.

      ‘Why on earth would you want someone else to decorate your Christmas tree? It’s something I’ve looked forward to every year for as long as I can remember! It’s the chance to be a child again, I suppose, without all the pressure.’

      It was Stefano’s turn to look askance. ‘I know all about pressure.’ His voice darkened with meaning.

      Kira groaned under the weight of memory. ‘That’s why it’s so good to get away from it all, to a place like this. I can enjoy Christmas my way. No rehearsing recitals in Gloucester cathedral, dashing between carol services and amateur dramatics, torturing tons of holly, ivy and mistletoe into wreaths and swags. When I was a child, it was never ending.’

      He pursed his lips, and then said drily, ‘It’s a wonder you had any time to yourself.’

      ‘I didn’t. That’s the penalty you pay for being a trophy child, isn’t it?’

      ‘I wouldn’t know. I missed out on all that. I skipped it, and went straight from sleeping in a box under the table, to earning a living.’

      ‘Gosh, you must have had a deprived childhood!’ she joked.

      He stared at her, unimpressed. His eyes were suddenly chill with all the hidden feelings she recognised from her own reflection. She stopped laughing.

      ‘Yes. Yes, I did.’ He grazed his lower lip with his teeth for a moment, and then added, ‘But that’s behind me now. The future is all that matters.’

      There was iron-hard determination in his voice. His eyes were everywhere. She wondered what havoc he would wreak on this beautiful old house when he took possession of it. The thought worried her. A few moments ago, she had been annoyed by the way he talked as though the villa was already his. Now she was thinking about it in the same way. He was checking every inch of the building like the rightful owner. If ever a man was made to lord it over the Bella Terra valley, it’s Stefano Albani, she thought, with a shiver of apprehension.

      ‘You’re cold. Why don’t you step outside into the evening sun and warm up?’ he murmured.

      His words surprised her. She thought all his attention was riveted on the villa’s sales brochure, and hadn’t expected him to notice.

      ‘No, I’m fine,’ she said quickly, unwilling to miss this chance to look over the grand villa she gazed at every day from her favourite viewpoint on the other side of the valley.

      His eyes glittered with sudden fire. ‘As long as you’re sure.’

      Kira began to feel uneasy. Every time he looked at her, he smiled as he spoke. It was an unusual expression, caressing the most secret parts of her. As she tried not to shrink beneath his gaze, she felt the peaks of her nipples push against the smooth profile of her thin shirt. They stiffened still more to know he was looking at her. It was no longer the chill of the cool marble hall affecting her body. He must have realised it, too, but looked away sharply as obvious appreciation flared for a moment in his eyes.

      Kira didn’t know what to do. Putting her head down, she scuttled off towards the nearest door.

      ‘Let’s see what’s through here, shall we?’ she said, bursting into the first room beyond the entrance hall. Within half a step she stopped. It was the reception room that time forgot. Sunlight streamed through tall, graceful windows but its beams danced with dust motes. The design of the room was in a typically grand Italian style, although its furnishings wouldn’t have been out of place in an English country house.

      ‘Oh, my goodness!’ Kira exclaimed. ‘A little bit of England overseas!’

      Following close behind her, Stefano clicked his tongue when he saw her shudder.

      ‘My stepparents have spent a lifetime collecting stuff like this. Cane-back chairs, chintz upholstery and Goss china. Sir Ivan must have shipped everything over here from England. Why on earth would you move to Italy, then recreate England in your new home?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ Stefano was equally put out at the sight. His mouth was a stern line of disapproval. ‘Some foreigners buy up these properties claiming to love Italy. In reality, Toscana is nothing more to them than England with better weather. They are more interested in worshipping their own land from a safe distance.’

      ‘I’m not. I love it here,’ Kira told him. ‘I couldn’t wait to leave England behind, decorations and all…’ She paused, wondering whether to push her luck, and decided she had nothing to lose.

      ‘If we’re going to be neighbours, I’d feel happier if I knew you were going to treat this old place well,’ she went on. ‘It would be such a shame to see it spoilt.’

      ‘It won’t matter to you for a few weeks a year, surely?’ He shrugged.

      Kira was puzzled. ‘So you’re going to be away a lot?’

      ‘No, but you’ll be leaving with the summer, won’t you?’

      Kira coloured up angrily. ‘Why should I?’

      ‘So you won’t be flitting between here and your home in England?’ He looked surprised.

      She shook her head defiantly. ‘No! I thought I’d made it clear—I don’t have a home in England any more. In any case, I couldn’t bear to leave at the end of summer, as the holiday-home owners do. How could I abandon my home here? The Bella Terra valley is everything I want—peace and beauty.’

      Stefano’s dark brows lightened a little. ‘I assume that means you could find no peace in England, so you brought your beauty here?’

      His voice was low and melodious but his eyes shone with mischief. Drawn to look straight at him again, Kira could not help lifting her lips in the ghost of a smile, but she said nothing.

      ‘I don’t know of many people who would willingly hide away in such an isolated spot,’ he murmured. ‘You’re not afraid to stand up for yourself, you work for your living and you love this place as much as I intend to. How could anything make such a forthright, independent woman leave England under a cloud?’

      Kira lifted one hand and began to fiddle with a skein of her dark auburn hair.

      ‘It was a combination of things,’ she said, hoping to stop him asking any more awkward questions.

      He lifted his brows still higher, encouraging her to unburden herself. She shifted from foot to foot. Her fingers moved from her hair to toy with the thin gold chain around her neck. Stefano watched her. He seemed genuinely interested, and ready to listen. Suddenly she was tired of bottling everything up, and keeping herself to herself. She wanted to talk. She needed someone who might sympathise, or at least answer back. It hardly mattered about the words. She had never seen Stefano Albani before today, and might never see him again. He had already proved himself to be sympathetic. If she explained the whole miserable business to him, as an impartial third party, it might make her feel better.

      It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him the whole sorry story. She pushed the guilty words against her teeth, trying to force them out. It was no good. She had kept silent for so long, she didn’t know where to begin. Finally, she shook her head.

      ‘It’s nothing.’

      He