The Italian's Blushing Gardener

She shrugged. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing more to me than you see here, signore.’

His face was totally impassive but he went on watching her as he said quietly, ‘Then it’s a good job I came here to see the Bella Terra estate, rather than anything else. My journey won’t have been entirely wasted,’ he announced before setting off across the hall again. ‘Now, down to business. I want to look around this house. Would you like to come with me?’

Chapter Three

TOGETHER, they began to walk.

‘Why did Bella Terra’s owner—the English gentleman—leave you alone here?’ Stefano was looking at her in a new way. Kira preferred the old one, but still felt her cheeks flare.

‘He died.’

For the first time, the smile left Stefano’s eyes. ‘Then I’m sorry.’

His sympathy looked genuine. Kira decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. ‘He was eighty-five, signore, so it was hardly unexpected.’

He shrugged. ‘But it must have been a shock, all the same. Deaths are always tragic.’ His last words grated uncomfortably in the marble-lined hall. Kira recognised a dangerous flash in his eyes. She couldn’t help noticing the length and thickness of his soot-dark lashes. He probably knows they are one of his best features, she warned herself abruptly. It can be the only reason he keeps looking at me like that.

‘I’m sorry you lost a friend, Kira. I know what that is like.’ His voice was distant and regretful. Something about the tone hinted that he had his own secrets.

He shook his head suddenly, as if discarding old memories and turned to her, a playful smile again curving the corners of his mouth, taking refuge in flirtation.

‘Kira—that is a beautiful name for a lovely woman. Coupled with your shining auburn hair, jade-green eyes and magnolia skin, what more could any man want?’

That broke the spell.

‘Nothing—until his wife finds out.’ Sidestepping him smartly, Kira headed back across the shady hall towards the only parts of the house she had seen before. That way she could put a little distance between them, without losing contact entirely. People made her uneasy, and that feeling fed on itself. Every time she began to warm towards Stefano, she felt bound to pull herself back into line. Yet increasingly, his every move held her hypnotised. When he started sweet talking her, it was too tender a reminder of how things could turn sour all too soon.

‘I have no worries on that score, Kira. I don’t have a wife.’

She heard his footsteps fall in beside her, but did not look at him.

‘That’s what they all say—to begin with, Signor Albani.’

‘Call me Stefano.’

‘They all say that, too.’

Walking over to the glazed door at the rear of the building, she unlocked it. When open, it would give him a view into the courtyard garden beyond. The fresh air and perfume of flowers always soothed her. Kira had designed this entire quadrangle garden. Originally, it was nothing more than cracked concrete and stagnant slime. Now it was one of her triumphs. Stefano was sure to be distracted once he got out there. She was looking forward to seeing what he thought of her work. It would be good to get an unbiased opinion. She knew that would help take her mind off her troubles, more than anything else.

It had always been a struggle to free the warped woodwork of the garden door. Although the interior paintwork was smart brown gloss, Kira knew it was a different story on the other side. The Tuscan sun had roasted away the shine within months. Now sunburnt flakes speckled the steps and sills. She tugged at the door, but it was only when Stefano came to help that it could finally be dragged back over the uneven tiles.

The large rectangular courtyard was paved with local cream-coloured stone. Around its boundary ran a deep, shady colonnade. In the centre was a raised fish pool. The air beyond the hall was still and hot. It hung over the threshold like a heavy curtain. Kira stepped outside, and Stefano followed her into the stormy sunshine. His hair glittered like jet as he looked around the garden. A large ceanothus had been planted in one corner. It hummed with bees, their sound joining the quiet splash of water trickling over wet stones. Ornamental ferns grew in the shadiest areas. The ones with smooth, satiny leaves enjoyed the damp soil and mosses in deepest shadow. Those with leaflets like lace rippled in the slightest breeze, patterning the old riven flagstones with light and shade. The coping stones around the pool were wide and warm. Stefano strolled over, and sat down. Leaning on one hand, he looked into the water.

‘This is spectacular. Come and join me,’ he drawled, his voice languorous in the heat.

Kira took her time. She didn’t want to seem too eager; being close to him seemed to rob her of her usual self-composure. She walked over and perched on the opposite side of the pool.

‘I love this place already. What a beautiful oasis!’ For the first time since she’d met him, Stefano seemed to relax completely, breathing in the fragrant air and gazing around with unaffected pleasure.

‘Thank you. I wanted to give old Sir Ivan somewhere on the ground floor that he could enjoy, whatever the weather.’

‘You are responsible for this?’ His brows lifted appreciatively.

‘Yes—and all the other recent work you’ll see when you inspect the grounds. Sir Ivan saw one of my garden designs on display at the Chelsea Flower Show, several years ago. He commissioned me to create a roof garden for his town house in London. After that, I did more and more projects for him and his friends, before relocating here permanently two years ago.’

Stefano’s beautiful mouth twitched in appreciation. ‘So you’re a self-made woman? Congratulations.’

‘I’m only doing my job.’ Kira shrugged.

‘Don’t be so modest! Word of mouth may have brought you a long way in business so far, but with the death of your friend Sir Ivan, you must have lost a major client. You’ll need to find a replacement. Have you got anyone lined up?’ he asked suddenly.

Kira shook her head. She had been trying not to think about that. She really hated having to publicise her business. The more people who contacted her because they had seen and enjoyed her work through their friends, the better.

‘If I’m honest, all I enjoy is the work. Dealing with people is a nightmare I wish I could avoid for ever.’

Stefano cleared his throat. Kira wondered if he was as surprised as she was by how honest she was being with him. At least he liked her garden, which was a good sign. Standing, she brushed off her memories of working in this peaceful sanctuary. Once Stefano Albani came to live here, she might never see inside this place again. She ought to make the most of this tour.

It was a poignant moment. As Stefano stepped out of the stark sunlight and back into the shadows, Kira hesitated. The shade should have been a wonderful relief from the hot afternoon. Instead, she felt the chill of abandonment, and not for the first time. It was the story of her life. She had been given up as a lost cause by her stepparents. Then her place on the sidelines of their life became permanent when their unexpected natural child arrived. Now she was doing much the same to the garden she had cherished. In a few weeks or months, she would have to turn her back on this place and leave it in the hands of others. She shuddered.

Stefano noticed, and smiled at her in a way calculated to immediately warm her up.

‘It sounds as though you will be my perfect neighbour.’

Kira shot him a look that said she didn’t share his view.

‘I promise the experience will be an unforgettable one,’ he added quietly.

She ignored that, and told him the simple truth. ‘I’m afraid anyone who buys this house automatically gets on the wrong side of me. Sir Ivan and I used to co-exist in this valley very well. I can’t imagine anyone else being a better neighbour than he was.’

She thought it would be safer to warn Stefano what she was like, right from the beginning. Instead of sympathising, he laughed.

‘I’ll try,’ he said mischievously. ‘Let’s hope I can play the part as well as you act the role of estate agent!’

His refusal to take her statement seriously was infuriating. ‘I’m not acting. I’m here to make sure nothing happens to the villa keys,’ she said stiffly. ‘You’re here to view the place. We’ve got nothing in common, and we’re never going to see each other again after today.’

Stefano said nothing, but smiled at her with an assessing look in his meltingly dark eyes. The dappled sunshine played on his clean, beautiful features and suddenly the thought of never seeing him again wasn’t quite as comforting as she had expected.

As they continued their tour of the house, Kira began to wonder if she had misjudged the captivating Signor Stefano Albani. They did have one thing in common. It was obvious the moment they reached the first floor. He strode straight to the nearest window and looked out. Only when he had inspected the vista with its avenue of sweetly scented lime trees did he begin his careful study of the floors, walls and furnishings. Watching him, she noticed he carried out the same ritual with each new room they entered. He paid no attention to the high ceilings and airily beautiful rooms until he had studied what was on show outside. Finally, she couldn’t stay silent any longer.

‘I see you like the view,’ she said with satisfaction.

There was a pause before he answered. It gave her strange pleasure to see that he carried on drinking in the scenery before he replied. ‘Is it so obvious?’

‘You make a beeline for the windows each time we enter a room.’

He frowned, seeming uncomfortable that she had noticed his simple enjoyment of their beautiful surroundings.

‘I’m simply checking to see where the nearest neighbours are. I value my privacy.’