The Italian's Blushing Gardener

‘No, I’m fine,’ she said quickly, unwilling to miss this chance to look over the grand villa she gazed at every day from her favourite viewpoint on the other side of the valley.

His eyes glittered with sudden fire. ‘As long as you’re sure.’

Kira began to feel uneasy. Every time he looked at her, he smiled as he spoke. It was an unusual expression, caressing the most secret parts of her. As she tried not to shrink beneath his gaze, she felt the peaks of her nipples push against the smooth profile of her thin shirt. They stiffened still more to know he was looking at her. It was no longer the chill of the cool marble hall affecting her body. He must have realised it, too, but looked away sharply as obvious appreciation flared for a moment in his eyes.

Kira didn’t know what to do. Putting her head down, she scuttled off towards the nearest door.

‘Let’s see what’s through here, shall we?’ she said, bursting into the first room beyond the entrance hall. Within half a step she stopped. It was the reception room that time forgot. Sunlight streamed through tall, graceful windows but its beams danced with dust motes. The design of the room was in a typically grand Italian style, although its furnishings wouldn’t have been out of place in an English country house.

‘Oh, my goodness!’ Kira exclaimed. ‘A little bit of England overseas!’

Following close behind her, Stefano clicked his tongue when he saw her shudder.

‘My stepparents have spent a lifetime collecting stuff like this. Cane-back chairs, chintz upholstery and Goss china. Sir Ivan must have shipped everything over here from England. Why on earth would you move to Italy, then recreate England in your new home?’

‘I don’t know.’ Stefano was equally put out at the sight. His mouth was a stern line of disapproval. ‘Some foreigners buy up these properties claiming to love Italy. In reality, Toscana is nothing more to them than England with better weather. They are more interested in worshipping their own land from a safe distance.’

‘I’m not. I love it here,’ Kira told him. ‘I couldn’t wait to leave England behind, decorations and all…’ She paused, wondering whether to push her luck, and decided she had nothing to lose.

‘If we’re going to be neighbours, I’d feel happier if I knew you were going to treat this old place well,’ she went on. ‘It would be such a shame to see it spoilt.’

‘It won’t matter to you for a few weeks a year, surely?’ He shrugged.

Kira was puzzled. ‘So you’re going to be away a lot?’

‘No, but you’ll be leaving with the summer, won’t you?’

Kira coloured up angrily. ‘Why should I?’

‘So you won’t be flitting between here and your home in England?’ He looked surprised.

She shook her head defiantly. ‘No! I thought I’d made it clear—I don’t have a home in England any more. In any case, I couldn’t bear to leave at the end of summer, as the holiday-home owners do. How could I abandon my home here? The Bella Terra valley is everything I want—peace and beauty.’

Stefano’s dark brows lightened a little. ‘I assume that means you could find no peace in England, so you brought your beauty here?’

His voice was low and melodious but his eyes shone with mischief. Drawn to look straight at him again, Kira could not help lifting her lips in the ghost of a smile, but she said nothing.

‘I don’t know of many people who would willingly hide away in such an isolated spot,’ he murmured. ‘You’re not afraid to stand up for yourself, you work for your living and you love this place as much as I intend to. How could anything make such a forthright, independent woman leave England under a cloud?’

Kira lifted one hand and began to fiddle with a skein of her dark auburn hair.

‘It was a combination of things,’ she said, hoping to stop him asking any more awkward questions.

He lifted his brows still higher, encouraging her to unburden herself. She shifted from foot to foot. Her fingers moved from her hair to toy with the thin gold chain around her neck. Stefano watched her. He seemed genuinely interested, and ready to listen. Suddenly she was tired of bottling everything up, and keeping herself to herself. She wanted to talk. She needed someone who might sympathise, or at least answer back. It hardly mattered about the words. She had never seen Stefano Albani before today, and might never see him again. He had already proved himself to be sympathetic. If she explained the whole miserable business to him, as an impartial third party, it might make her feel better.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him the whole sorry story. She pushed the guilty words against her teeth, trying to force them out. It was no good. She had kept silent for so long, she didn’t know where to begin. Finally, she shook her head.

‘It’s nothing.’

He considered her gravely. ‘I think it is. Something is obviously weighing heavily on your mind.’

He took a step towards her. Kira knew he moved almost silently, but the brush of his leather-soled shoes sounded loud in the peace of the reception room. She stared at the floor. She winced when his feet appeared in her field of view, but it was still a shock to feel the gentle touch of his hand on her shoulder.

‘There’s no need to jump. I’m only offering a little support,’ he said.

‘I don’t need it,’ she said staunchly, but he took no notice and never moved. His touch was warm, reassuring…seductive. In spite of herself, Kira relished the feeling. Then he spoiled the effect. His touch vibrated slightly. She looked up, and saw laughter in his eyes.

‘One day, I would really enjoy the chance to discuss sins with you, Miss Kira Banks. Whatever you may have done, I’m sure I can top it!’

With a sharp twist of her head, Kira looked away. She could not bear to let him see her misery. Squeezing her lids tightly closed, she battled to stop the tears falling. She was so lost in her own despair she was completely unprepared for what happened next. Stefano closed the gap between them. His arms glided around her. She was drawn into his body again, and it felt so natural she let it happen without a word. For a few heart-stopping seconds she leaned against him. The sensation of his shirt pressed against her cheek and the enveloping male fragrance of him closed her eyes.

‘Is there anything I can do?’ His voice echoed around the unloved caverns of the villa.

Kira shook her head. ‘I’d be grateful if you could just drop the subject,’ she managed, with a trace of steel showing through her muttered words.

‘Okay.’

He took his time in releasing her. Kira normally disliked physical contact, but this was different. Stefano seemed to specialise in the sort of touch she might like to experience again.

He obviously wasn’t going to give up on her. Kira sensed he couldn’t resist a challenge any more than she could. However, she also knew her fragile self-esteem couldn’t stand too many questions. Her reaction to unwarranted attention was usually to snap first, and apologise later. It appeared that this hadn’t dissuaded Stefano in the slightest. The most disconcerting thing about that was how ready she’d been to indulge in the comfort he offered. Pull yourself together! she ordered herself silently. This man was clearly used to getting his own way and she was embarrassed how easily she had mistaken his charm for anything more permanent.

A hint of her old defiance returned. It allowed her to face him calmly, but it didn’t stop her cheeks flaming red at how much she had nearly revealed. ‘I’m sorry, signore. That was a momentary lapse, but now you’ll see that I really don’t want to talk about it. So I’d be grateful if we could leave it at that. Okay?’ she finished crisply.

Stefano’s gaze ebbed away from her as she spoke. He said nothing. Instead, he tightened his lips, and bobbed his head once in silent agreement. In the pause that followed, he glanced around. His eyes, like his body, were restless.

‘Everyone has parts of their lives they’re not proud of,’ he conceded. ‘I can relate to that. So if we agree on a truce, can we continue with the tour?’

He had been almost teasing as he tried to extract her secret, but now he had retreated again behind that impenetrable mask. Kira felt a strange pang of loss. She wondered if he ever experienced the sort of social unease that tortured her. It seemed unlikely. What could ever make such a man feel inadequate?

She nodded and gave him a fleeting smile. ‘Of course.’

What would it feel like to unburden herself to him? She was certain he would listen. Really listen, and not simply humour her because he wanted something. Life would take on a different dimension. It was something she had never bothered about before, but a few seconds in Stefano’s arms had opened up a whole new world of possibilities for her. It almost tempted her out of her shell, but not quite. If he couldn’t be on time for a business appointment, he was hardly likely to treat a casual acquaintance any better. She gave up on the idea. At least when she was on the defensive, she couldn’t be hurt.

‘If you are really interested in buying the Bella Terra estate, Signor Albani, you should be making the most of your visit. You mustn’t stand around here with me.’

Without waiting for his reply, she turned her back on him and walked out of the sunlit room. The vast, gloomy hall beyond was supposed to cool her feelings.

‘There’s no need to run away from me, Kira.’

She stopped.

‘You might be surprised,’ she said finally.

Her darkening attitude didn’t bother Stefano at all. He stuck one hand casually in his pocket, and grinned at her.

‘So what are you waiting for, then? Surprise me.’

His words made her uncertain. Until a short time ago, endless surprises—none of them good—had been the story of her life. Then she had escaped, and moved to Italy. For a couple of years she had experienced wonderful freedom. And now, with the loss of Sir Ivan, her foremost client, she was faced with the threat that happiness might soon be snatched away from her again. Unconsciously, her shoulders began to sag. Then she sensed his gaze was still on her. She looked up. He was still quizzing her with his eyes.