His Lost-And-Found Bride. Scarlet Wilson

everything else unsaid. If things had turned out differently there was a good chance that she would never have taken the job in Venice. It would have been too far away from the life they had planned together in Florence.

      Something inside her cringed. It was almost as if she’d wanted things to turn out this way and that just wasn’t what she’d meant at all.

      But Logan didn’t seem to notice. He just seemed more concerned with filling the silent space between them. ‘And how do you like living in Venice, compared to Florence?’ It was his first acknowledgement of anything between them. They’d lived together in Florence for just over a year.

      Louisa came back out of the kitchen holding a glass of water. ‘You’ve lived in Florence and now Venice? How wonderful. What’s it like?’

      Lucia took the water gratefully. Her throat was achingly dry. For the first time since she’d got here she felt on comfortable ground—questions about Venice were always easy to answer. ‘Venice is amazing. It’s such a welcoming city and it absolutely feels like home to me now. It is, of course, permanently full of tourists, but I don’t really mind that. My apartment is on the Grand Canal so at night I can just open my doors and enjoy the world passing by on the water. Some nights it’s calming and peaceful—other nights it’s complete chaos. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

      Louisa gave a visible shudder. ‘Too many people for me. Too much of everything.’ She looked out over the vineyards. ‘I can’t imagine what this place will be like when the royal wedding takes place. There will be people everywhere.’ She gave a shake of her head. ‘All the farmhouses and outbuildings are being renovated too. Logan’s the only person staying in one right now while we still have some quiet about the place.’

      Lucia didn’t smile. Didn’t react. But her body was practically trembling with relief to know she wouldn’t be under the same roof as Logan.

      Now she might consider staying in the palazzo for the next couple of days.

      Louisa gave her a smile. ‘I intend to stay out of the way as much possible. Now, about the fresco. What happens next? You do understand that we are under an obligation to get the rest of the restoration work finished as soon as possible?’

      Lucia could hear the edge in her voice. The same strong hint that had come from Logan. She chose her words carefully. ‘It all depends on the fresco itself. Or, more importantly, the artist who created it.’

      ‘Will you know as soon as you look at it?’

      She held out her hands. ‘It would be wonderful if we could just look at something and say, “Oh, that’s by this artist...” But the heritage board requires authentication of any piece of work. Sometimes it’s by detailed comparison of brushstrokes, which can be as good an identifier as a signature—we have a specialised computer program for that. Sometimes it’s age-related by carbon dating. Sometimes we have to rely on the actual date of the construction of the building to allow us to agree a starting point for the fresco.’

      Louisa smiled and glanced over at Logan, who looked lost in his own thoughts. ‘Well, that’s easy, then. Logan has already been able to date the construction of the palazzo and chapel from the stone used and the building methods used. Isn’t that right, Logan?’

      He turned his head at the sound of his name, obviously only catching the tail end of the conversation. He took a few steps towards Lucia. ‘The buildings were constructed around 1500, towards the end of the Italian Renaissance period. The fresco could have appeared at any point from then onwards.’

      It didn’t matter how tired she was, how uncomfortable she felt around Logan—it was all she could do not to throw off her shoes and dash across the entrance courtyard right now to get in and start examining it.

      She gave a polite, cautious nod. ‘I’m keen to start work with you as soon as possible, Louisa.’

      Louisa’s eyes widened and she let out a laugh. ‘Oh, you won’t be working with me.’ She gestured towards Logan. ‘You’ll be working with Logan. I have absolutely no expertise on any of these things. I’ve started to call him Mr Restoration. Anything to do with the work has to be agreed with him.’

      Lucia eyes fell to the empty glass on the table. Where was more water when she needed it? This was the last thing she wanted to hear.

      She smiled politely once again. ‘But, as the owner, I need to agree access with you and have you sign any paperwork the heritage board may require. I also need to be able to come to and from the palazzo at my leisure. I will be staying at a nearby hotel.’

      ‘What? Oh, no. You’re staying here. Come, and I’ll show you to your room.’ She was on her feet in an instant. ‘We have renovated some parts of the palazzo, you know.’ She waved her hand. ‘And it will all be finished before the wedding.’ As she reached the door she turned, waiting for Lucia to follow her.

      The corners of Logan’s lips were turning upwards.

      ‘Ms Harrison, I really don’t want to put you to any trouble. I’m more than happy to stay in a hotel and just travel to and from the palazzo. It will only be for a few days. I don’t expect my research to take any longer than that.’

      Louisa shook her head. ‘Nonsense. You’ll stay here. I insist. As for the paperwork, Logan will need to read that first and explain it to me. My Italian is still very rusty.’

      Louisa had already started up a flight of stairs, obviously expecting Lucia to follow her. ‘You’re going to have a beautiful view over the vineyard. And you’re welcome to use the kitchen if you want.’ She paused. ‘But there’s a really nice restaurant in Monte Calanetti you should try.’

      She wanted to object. She wanted to get away from here. But it was important that she have some sort of relationship with the owner. And because of that the words were sticking in the back of her throat. Louisa hadn’t stopped talking. She was already halfway up the stairs. It obviously didn’t occur to her that Lucia might continue with her objections. ‘I’m sure you’ll love the room.’

      Lucia sucked in a breath. She wasn’t even going to look in Logan’s direction. If she saw him smile smugly she might just take off one of her shoes and throw it at him in frustration. At least she had the assurance that he wouldn’t actually be under the same roof as her.

      Just achingly close.

      ‘I’ll be back in five minutes. I want to see the fresco,’ she shot at him as she left the room.

      She walked up the stairs after Louisa and along a corridor. This palazzo had three floors—it was unusual, and had obviously survived throughout the ages. The person who’d built this had obviously had plenty of money to build such a large home in the Tuscan hills. Even transporting the stones here must have been difficult. What with the land, and the vineyard, along with all the outbuildings she’d spotted and the chapel, at one time this must have been a thriving little community.

      Louisa took her into a medium-sized room with a double bed and wooden-framed glass windows overlooking the vineyard. Everything about the room was fresh and clean. There was white linen on the bed and a small table and chair next to the window, with a classic baroque chair in the corner. A wooden wardrobe, bedside table and mirror on the wall completed the furnishings.

      A gentle breeze made the white drapes at the window flap, bringing the scents of the rich greenery, grapes and lavender inside. Her red case was presumptuously sitting next to the doorway.

      ‘I’ll bring you up a jug of water, a glass and some wine for later,’ said Louisa as she headed out the door. ‘Oh, and we don’t quite have an en suite, but the bathroom is right next door. You’ll be the only person that’s using it.’

      She disappeared quickly down the hall, leaving Lucia looking around the room. She sank down onto the bed. It felt instantly comfortable. Instantly inviting. The temperature of the room was cool, even though the breeze drifting in was warm, and she could hear the sounds of the workers in the vineyard.

      She