Dante's Unexpected Legacy

When Rose opened her door Dante smiled at her denim jeans and casual jacket. ‘You look so young, like a student again.’ He took her suitcase. ‘I will put this in the car, which is waiting outside. Forgive me if I stay there with it until you are ready to leave.’

‘Of course. I’ll join you as quickly as I can.’ Armed with her credit card, Rose approached the suave receptionist to ask for her bill.

‘All was settled in advance; there is nothing to pay.’ He handed her a receipted bill. ‘Signor Fortinari waits outside in the car,’ he added. ‘I trust you enjoyed your stay?’

She smiled. ‘I did. Very much. Goodbye and thank you.’

‘Arrivederci and safe journey, Miss Palmer.’

Rose felt uneasy as she left the hotel, wondering if she should have asked for an itemised version of the bill for Fabio, but forgot her worries when she saw the car waiting at the foot of the steps. It was sleek and scarlet and as handsome as the man who jumped out of the driver’s seat as she approached.

‘Wow, Dante, great car!’

He laughed as he handed her inside. ‘This is my one indulgence—she’s a sports car but also practical. She has four doors, also four-wheel drive, which is of much use to me in some parts of the country. You like her?’

‘What’s not to like? She’s obviously the love of your life.’

‘Davvero—see how she responds to me?’

Rose laughed and sank back in the seat, feeling the power vibrate through her body when Dante switched on the ignition. ‘What more can a man ask?’

He shot her a sidelong glance as he drove away from the hotel. ‘Those things a machine cannot do for a man.’

Annoyed to feel her face flush, Rose made no response as she settled down to enjoy the drive, content just to look at the passing landscape as they left the city. She relaxed as she breathed in the aroma of expensive new car, and whatever Dante had used in the shower. ‘This is a big improvement on the train journey,’ she commented when they were speeding along the autostrada. ‘I tried to look at the scenery I was passing through on the way here in the train, but I couldn’t concentrate.’

‘Why not?’

‘I was tired after all the effort it took to juggle appointments and so on before getting away.’ Plus her worries that Bea might be unhappy without her, and the strain of wondering what was wrong with Charlotte.

‘If your mother is looking after your business while you are away she will be pleased to see you back, Rose.’

‘Unless she’s cross with me for buying presents.’

Dante laughed. ‘If so, you may blame me for encouraging your extravagance. But you are very close to your mother, yes?’

Rose nodded, smiling. ‘But we have clashes of temperament sometimes.’

‘My mother had many with my sister Mirella in the past, but now she is Nonna to several grandchildren the clashes happen only when she spoils them too much.’

‘How many nieces and nephews do you have?’

‘Five. Mirella and Franco have two sons and a daughter, and Leo and Harriet one of each.’

‘Harriet?’

Dante nodded. ‘My brother’s wife is English. You would like her.’

Rose was intrigued. ‘How did they meet?’

‘It is such a strange story I shall leave it until next time I see you. I must concentrate now as the traffic is heavy.’

Dante insisted on waiting at Galileo Galilei Airport with Rose until she was ready to board the plane, and took note of her telephone numbers and her address while passengers surged around them as constant announcements filled the air. ‘I will be in London next month to meet an old friend of mine, Luke Armytage,’ he told her. ‘He is a master of wine and owner of a chain of wine stores which retail our best vintages. I shall come to see you then, Rose, but I will consult you first to make sure you are free.’

‘Goodbye then, Dante.’ Rose smiled at him brightly as her flight was called. ‘And thank you yet again.’

‘Prego.’ Without warning, he seized her in his arms and kissed her full on the mouth. He raised his head to stare down into her startled eyes and then kissed her again at such length they were both breathless when he released her. ‘Arrivederci, Rose.’

Afraid to trust her voice, she managed a shaky smile and hurried away after the other passengers.

Dante stood watching as his heartbeat slowed, his smile wry when it became obvious that Rose had no intention of looking back.

* * *

The flight home was tiring. Rose spent most of it convincing herself that there was no danger of falling in love with Dante Fortinari again, even after the electrifying effect of his goodbye kiss, which, from the look on his face, had affected Dante in pretty much the same way. She was human and female enough to find this deeply gratifying, but she would make sure it never happened again. No way could she let him back into her life. She would have to tell him about Bea, and then she would be forced to tell her mother the truth at last, that Dante Fortinari was her child’s father. And then Tom would know, and so would Charlotte, and Fabio, and everyone else involved once she started the ball rolling. By the time Rose boarded the Pennington coach at Birmingham Airport, she had decided against any such dramatic upheaval in her tidy little life. If Dante did ring to ask to see her again she would take the coward’s way out and refuse to see him.

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN THE CAB stopped outside Willow House the front door flew open while Rose was paying the driver, and a little girl dressed in jeans and T-shirt hurtled down the garden path with the tall figure of Tom Morley in hot pursuit. Rose abandoned her suitcase and swept her child up in her arms, kissing her all over her rosy, indignant face.

‘Where you been, Mummy?’ demanded Bea, struggling to get down. ‘You didn’t sleep in your bed for lots of nights!’

‘Only two nights, darling. Have you been a good girl?’

Beatrice Grace Palmer nodded happily. ‘Lots of times.’ She tugged on her mother’s hand. ‘Come on. Me and Gramma did baking.’

‘The cakes smell delicious, too,’ said Tom, taking charge of the suitcase. He kissed Rose’s cheek. ‘You look tired, pet.’

‘Only from travelling.’ Rose smiled as Grace Palmer appeared in the doorway, looking too youthful in jeans and jersey to be anyone’s grandmother. ‘Talking of tired, how’s Gramma?’

Grace hugged her daughter. ‘I’m just fine.’ She grinned triumphantly at Tom. ‘We coped very well, if I do say so myself.’

Rose allowed herself to be towed straight to the kitchen, where little iced cakes sat on a wire tray. ‘Look, Mummy,’ said Bea, bouncing in her little pink sneakers. ‘Fairy cakes!’

‘They look gorgeous. Let’s have them for pudding after our lunch, which is something delicious from the yummy smell coming from the oven.’

‘Nothing fancy, darling,’ said Grace. ‘I offered several menu suggestions to celebrate your return from foreign parts, but cottage pie won the majority vote. So come on, Bea. Let’s put the cakes away in the tin so we can lay the table, and we all need to wash before we eat.’

‘Bea and I will lay the table,’ said Tom, ‘and let Mummy wash first.’

‘Hurry up, Mummy,’ ordered Bea. ‘I’m hungry.’

‘I need another kiss,’ said Rose huskily, and picked her daughter up to hug her.

Bea obliged her with a smacking kiss. ‘I cried for you last night, so Gramma cuddled me.’

Rose blinked hard. ‘Then you were a lucky girl. Gramma’s the best at cuddling.’

Tom nodded in vigorous agreement over the curly fair head, winning a flushed, sparkling look from Grace as he took Bea from her mother. ‘Come on, Honey Bea. Let’s wash those paws.’