Alicia moved away slightly to look up at him, her eyes alight with pure joy at his confession. ‘I thought you were put off by my freckles.’
Francesco’s eyes softened as he stroked a finger across her cheekbones. ‘I adore your freckles. I adore you, Alicia, so much that although I desire it desperately I will not take this precious gift you offer me. At least,’ he said, in a tone which made her tremble, ‘not tonight.’
‘But I’m going home tomorrow,’ she said forlornly.
He led her to the sofa again. ‘So let us sit down and enjoy this last time for a while together.’
‘For a while?’
Francesco took her hand. ‘I must go home to Montedaluca first, but very soon I will fly to visit you in your home.’
Alicia’s eyes widened to dark saucers as she stared at him. ‘Are you serious?’
‘You do not wish me to come?’ he demanded.
‘You know I do!’ She swallowed hard. ‘I just never imagined in my wildest dreams that I’d see you again once I left.’
‘Ah, carina,’ he said caressingly, and kissed her fingers one by one. ‘I told you I wanted you from that first moment. Did you feel the same for me?’
‘Oh yes.’ She dimpled at him so mischievously he caught his breath, so obviously wanting to kiss her that she touched a hand to his cheek. ‘So I think it’s time I told you a little story, Francesco da Luca.’
He kissed her nose and sat back, holding her hand. ‘Talk then, diletta mia.’
‘Once upon a time a girl found a picture in a rugby magazine, with a feature and a shot of a Treviso winger scoring a spectacular try. The girl was so impressed she cut the picture out and added it to the gallery of Welsh rugby stars on her bedroom wall.’
Francesco looked down at her in astonishment. ‘This is true?’
‘We convent-educated girls don’t tell lies,’ she said sternly, and smiled up at him. ‘Every night since then your face has been the last thing I see before going to sleep. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I bumped into you out there in the piazza.’
‘Un miraculo!’ He kissed her swiftly. ‘I was too restless to concentrate on paperwork that afternoon, and suddenly felt a great need to be part of life out there. Fate sent me to catch you when you fell.’ Francesco put a finger under her chin. ‘And I will never let you go. Ti amo, Alicia Cross. Must I translate?’
She shook her head, smiling radiantly. ‘I love you too, Francesco da Luca.’
His answering smile took her breath away. ‘Do you love me enough to live with me in Montedaluca one day as my wife?’
‘Yes,’ she said without hesitation.
This time his kiss was not gentle, and she responded to it with joy, then trembled as his hands caressed her through the thin fabric of her dress.
He buried his face in her hair. ‘I want you so much.’
She pulled his mouth down to hers. ‘Make love to me, Francesco. Now. But you’ll have to teach me what to do.’
He gave a stifled groan and crushed her to him. ‘I will take much, much pleasure in teaching you the art of love, tesoro, but not until our wedding night.’
‘Why not now?’
‘Because I want our first time together to be perfect, with all the time in the world to love each other.’ He smoothed the tumbled curls back from her forehead. ‘I shall come next week to ask your mother for her daughter’s hand. Will she be willing to give you to me?’
Alicia bit her lip. ‘She probably won’t be, Francesco. She expects me to go to college.’
‘For the love of God, do not ask me to wait that long for you, Alicia.’ He kissed her with mounting urgency. ‘Life is short, carissima,’ he said against her lips. ‘Let us not waste any of it apart. Fate meant us to be together. Do you not believe this?’
Alicia did believe it, utterly. But trying to make her mother believe it would be another matter. ‘Bron will take some persuading,’ she warned.
‘You call her by her name?’ he said, diverted.
‘Yes.’ Alicia hesitated. ‘You’ll probably be surprised when you meet her. She looks too young to be my mother.’ She took in a deep breath. ‘Francesco, if we really are going to be married—’
‘You doubt this?’ he demanded, and kissed her hard. ‘Believe it, amore. You will be my wife as soon as it can be arranged.’
‘You’d better learn a bit more about me first.’
‘Nothing you could tell me would change my mind,’ he assured her.
CHAPTER THREE
TO HIS credit it had not, Alicia conceded now as she reached the hotel chosen as the venue for the party. She handed her raincoat in, then hurried off to the flower-banked function room overlooking Cardiff Bay. She checked with the catering manager, to be told the waitresses were ready to serve the canapés, and the waiters were lined up at the bar, champagne bottles at the ready. At her signal the pianist began to play, and she returned to the entrance to smile in welcome as the first batch of guests arrived.
‘Looking good, Alicia,’ said the managing director jovially. ‘Excellent job.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled, pleased.
For the next hour Alicia’s entire attention was focussed on making sure that everything ran to plan, and that the press had access not only to the sponsor’s management but to all the celebrities, rugby and otherwise, who were present. Satisfied that drinks were circulating fast enough, she checked that dinner would be served on time—welcome news, since her only meal that day had been a sketchy breakfast. As she rejoined the party the marketing director, who had once played at centre for Cardiff, caught her by the arm.
‘Come with me, my fair Alicia,’ said David Rees-Jones. ‘A guy’s just arrived who says he knows you. I played against him once in a game against Italy.’
She stiffened, alarm bells ringing as David relentlessly towed her through the crowd to join the man at one of the great windows looking down on the water. ‘You remember Francesco da Luca? How come you two know each other?’
Alicia’s eyes narrowed in fierce warning at Francesco.
‘We met years ago in Florence,’ he said smoothly, and took her hand to kiss it. ‘Com’esta, Alicia? You look very beautiful tonight.’
‘She looks beautiful every night, friend,’ said David cheerfully, and with a wink atAlicia excused himself to greet some late arrivals.
‘What are you doing here?’ she hissed, pinning on a bright, social smile.
Francesco’s triumphant answering smile set her teeth on edge. ‘I was invited.’
‘By David?’
‘No.’ He manoeuvred her nearer the window, neatly isolating her from the rest of the room. ‘Last night I dined with some old rugby friends who introduced me to John Griffiths. He was most kind to invite me here tonight.’
Alicia stared, seething, through the window. If his invitation had come from the managing director, she had to grin and bear it. Even if it choked her. ‘Are you here long?’ she asked politely, as though they were strangers.
‘For as long as necessary,’ said Francesco with emphasis, and moved closer. ‘I insist that we talk tonight, Alicia.’
She turned narrowed, hostile eyes on him. ‘Insist?’
He laid a hand on his heart. ‘Mi dispiace. Request is better?’
‘No. As far as I’m concerned, we have nothing to talk about.’
‘But we do, Alicia.’ He took her hand. ‘I will take you home when the party is over.’
She shook her head. ‘The party was over for us a long time ago, Francesco.’
His grasp tightened. ‘Ah no, contessa, you are mistaken.’
‘Neither mistaken nor interested, Francesco. And don’t call me that! Now, let me go, please. Dinner is about to be served.’ Not that she felt hungry any more.
‘Wait,’ he commanded. ‘Why did your mother move from Blake Street?’
Conscious of curious eyes turned in their direction, Alicia kept her smile pinned in place as though they were just indulging in party chat. ‘She got married.’
