From Florence With Love. Lucy Gordon

      So she swirled it, sniffed it, rolled it round on her tongue and gave a glorious sigh. ‘That is the most gorgeous wine I have ever tasted,’ she told him, and he inclined his head and smiled.

      ‘Thank you. We’re very proud of it, and it’s a perfect complement to the lamb. It’s beautifully cooked. Well done.’

      ‘Thank you. Thank you for trusting me with it.’ She smiled back, suddenly ridiculously happy, and then the men started to talk about farming, and Jen quizzed her about the palazzo, because she’d hardly said anything about it since she’d come home.

      ‘It sounds amazing,’ Jen said, wide-eyed. ‘We’ll have to look at that video.’

      ‘You will. It’s great. The frescoes are incredible, and the view is to die for, especially at night, when all you can see is the twinkling lights in the distance. It’s just gorgeous, and really peaceful. I know it’ll sound ridiculous, but it reminded me of home, in a way.’

      ‘I don’t think that’s ridiculous,’ Massimo said, cutting in with a smile. ‘It’s a home, that’s all, just in a beautiful setting, and that’s what you have here—a warm and loving family home in a peaceful setting. I’m flattered that you felt like that about mine.’

      The conversation drifted on, with him telling them more about the farm, about the harvest and the soil and the weather patterns, and she could have sat there for hours just listening to his voice, but she had so much to do before they left in the morning, not least gathering together her clothes, so she left them all talking and went up to her room.

      Bearing in mind she’d be flying back after the harvest was over, she tried to be sensible about the amount she took, but she’d need winter clothes as well as lighter garments, and walking boots so she could explore the countryside, and something respectable in case he sprang another dinner on her—

      ‘You look lost.’

      She looked up from her suitcase and sighed. ‘I don’t know what to take.’

      ‘Your passport?’

      ‘Got that,’ she said, waggling it at him with a smile. ‘It’s clothes. I want enough, but not too much. I don’t know what the weather will be like.’

      ‘It can get cold. Bring warm things for later, but don’t worry. You can buy anything you don’t have.’

      ‘I’m trying to stick to a sensible baggage allowance for when I come back.’

      ‘Don’t bother. I’ll pay the excess. Just bring what you need.’

      ‘What time are we leaving?’

      ‘Seven.’

      ‘Seven?’ she squeaked, and he laughed.

      ‘That’s a concession. I would have left at five, or maybe six.’

      ‘I’ll be ready whenever you tell me. Have you been shown to your room?’

      ‘Si. And the bathroom is opposite?’

      ‘Yes. I’m sorry it doesn’t have an en suite bathroom—’

      ‘Lydia, stop apologising for your home,’ he said gently. ‘I’m perfectly capable of crossing a corridor. I’ll see you at six for breakfast, OK?’

      ‘OK,’ she said, and for a heartbeat she wondered if he’d kiss her goodnight.

      He didn’t, and she spent a good half-hour trying to convince herself she was glad.

      They set off in the morning shortly before seven, leaving Jen and Andy still slightly stunned and busy planning their wedding, and she settled back in the soft leather seat and wondered if she’d completely lost her mind.

      ‘Which way are we going?’ she asked as they headed down to Kent.

      ‘The quickest route—northern France, across the Alps in Switzerland, past Lake Como and onto the A1 to Siena. We’ll stay somewhere on the way. I don’t want to drive through the Alps when I’m tired, the mountain roads can be a little tricky.’

      Her heart thudded. They were staying somewhere overnight?

      Well, of course they were, he couldn’t possibly drive whatever distance it was from Suffolk to Tuscany in one day, but somehow she hadn’t factored an overnight stop into her calculations, and the journey, which until now had seemed simple and straightforward, suddenly seemed fraught with the danger of derailing their best intentions.