The Bride of Montefalco. Rebecca Winters

breath to calm down. When she boarded her jet, she would claim to be ill and ask to be put on a later flight. Once she found a hotel room in Rome, she would figure out another plan to reach Mr. Montefalco.

      “Very well. I’m ready whenever you are.”

      The jail door swung open. Another guard stood outside in front of a white police car and held the rear door open for her. Unlike her captor, he didn’t help her with her luggage. No doubt he considered her a lowlife reporter who didn’t deserve common courtesy.

      She pushed her case across the seat and climbed in.

      When their car emerged from the alley, throngs of tourists filled the walkways. The guard wound his way through the charming streets for the short ride to the depot.

      She hated the thought of another hot train ride, but there was no help for it.

      “Come, signora.”

      The guard had parked the car in a VIP zone. He escorted her through the crowded station and out to the quay.

      After a brief talk with one of the conductors, he boarded the train with her and put her in a second class compartment already filled except for one seat in the middle. She had to put her suitcase on the shelf above without his assistance.

      “I’ll be in the corridor until we reach Rome, signora.” The warning that she shouldn’t try anything to escape was implicit.

      Her cheeks hot with anger, she sat down, trying to avoid the interested stares of the other passengers.

      No sooner had the guard stepped out of the compartment and disappeared than the train began to inch forward.

      Ally was so exhausted after spending a wretched night in that jail cell, she rested her head against the back of the seat. Dispirited by everything that had happened, she closed her eyes for a few minutes, needing sleep. The first thing she would do when she could finally be alone in a hotel room was to crash.

      Soon she lost track of time and was almost out for the count when she felt a hand on her arm.

      “Signora?” sounded a deep male voice with a vaguely familiar timbre.

      She came awake with a cry of alarm.

      When she saw her striking captor still dressed in black, standing there bigger than life carrying her suitcase, the breath rushed from her lungs. She blinked up at him, wondering if he was real, or if she was dreaming.

      “W-what’s going on?”

      His hooded eyes played over her features, awakening her senses in spite of her fatigue, or maybe because of it.

      “I relieved the other guard. We’re getting off at the next stop. Come with me.”

      Though she felt so groggy she didn’t know how she’d be able to walk, she realized this man was her only chance to get Jim’s laptop back, and maybe find an entrée to Mr. Montefalco.

      Clutching her purse, she got up and followed him out of the compartment and down the corridor. The train had already begun to slow down.

      When it came to a stop, several people were waiting to climb on board. But he stepped off the stairs first, and held out his hand to help her. Feeling distinctly light-headed from sleep deprivation, she found his strong grasp oddly reassuring.

      To her surprise he kept hold of it as he led her out of the small station to a truck parked along the road. It wasn’t anything like the black sedan from the palazzo she’d ridden in last night.

      Heavens—was it only last night? Ally felt all mixed up and confused. She had to be confused to be happy this enigmatic stranger had rescued her from that awful train.

      “Where are you taking me?” she asked once he’d turned on the engine.

      “To a place where you can eat and sleep in that order.”

      That sounded so wonderful, she wanted to cry.

      “Why would you do that for me when you had me jailed for false credentials, trespassing and impersonating someone else?” her voice trembled.

      His hands tightened on the steering wheel. She could tell because his knuckles went white.

      “I’ve found out you’re who you said you were.”

      She jerked her head away from him so he wouldn’t see her eyes smarting.

      “You mean you now believe I’m Mrs. Parker…”

      “Yes.”

      “I see. So now that you know my name, what does Mr. Montefalco call you?”

      There was a curious silence, then, “Gino.”

      She stirred restlessly in the seat.

      “Which may or may not be your real name, but at least it’s something to call you.”

      “Besides bastard you mean?” he interjected in a wry tone.

      Caught off guard, Ally laughed softly. She couldn’t help it.

      “Actually that’s what I felt like calling the guard when he wouldn’t help me with my suitcase on the train. Even at your worst, you were more of a gentleman.”

      She heard him draw in what sounded like a tortured breath. “I owe you an apology.”

      She flicked him a covert glance. “If I ever get to meet your employer, I’ll be able to vouch for your fierce loyalty to him. It’s no wonder he keeps you on his payroll. Every man who’s a target should have such a trusted bodyguard.”

      By now they’d left the little village of Remo and were driving through fields of sunflowers with a hot Italian sun shining down.

      “How do you know so much about him?”

      She studied her hands. “I know very little apart from the obvious facts.”

      “Which are?” he prodded.

      “He’s rich, titled and has lost his wife. If he loved her desperately, then my heart goes out to him.”

      “What about your heart?” he whispered.

      “If you’re asking if it was shattered by my husband’s death, then yes.” If you’re wondering if his probable infidelity has wounded me, then yes. But because she’d waited too long to try to fix what was wrong between them, Jim’s unexpected death had brought on guilt she couldn’t seem to throw off.

      Gino drove along the maze of country roads with what appeared to be long accustomed practice and expertise.

      Once upon a time she would have loved traveling through the countryside, but right now she was numb to the world around her.

      The next time he stopped, her bleary eyes took in a yellowed, three-story farmhouse that looked quite ancient.

      “Where are we?”

      “My home,” he announced before helping her from the car.

      He carried her suitcase and told her to follow him. She didn’t question him as they entered the foyer and climbed some stairs to the next floor.

      He opened a door on his left. “You’ll be comfortable in here, Mrs. Parker. The en suite bathroom is through that door. I’ll ask my housekeeper Bianca to bring you a tray. Sleep well. We’ll talk later.”

      “Yes, we will. I’d like my husband’s laptop back.”

      “All in good time.”

      As she was coming to find out, it was his favorite saying.

      He placed her suitcase on the aged hardwood floor, then left and shut the door behind him.

      Straight ahead of her was a four-poster double bed with a comfy looking white quilt. She was so tired, she removed her outer clothes and climbed under the covers. Ally didn’t remember her head touching the pillow.