Dante's Unexpected Legacy Page 2

‘But do you have a place here in Florence these days? I vaguely remember that you lived in the family home at the Fortinari vineyards.’

  ‘I did at one time, but now I own a house a few kilometres from our vineyards at Fortino. Now my father is retired I help run the business with my brother, Leo. He is maestro of production; I am good at the selling,’ Dante said without conceit.

  No need to tell her that. ‘You came a long way just to deliver a letter.’

  ‘A trip to Firenze is always a pleasure,’ he assured her, and held her eyes very deliberately. ‘Also, I wanted very much to see you again.’

  ‘I’m surprised you even remembered me after all this time,’ she said tartly.

  ‘I have never forgotten you, Rose,’ he assured her, and for the first time gave her the bone-melting smile that had caused all the trouble in the first place. ‘Allora, what do you like to eat?’

  ‘Practically anything I don’t have to cook myself!’

  He eyed her over the top of his menu. ‘You live alone?’

  ‘No. I share a house not far from my mother.’

  ‘I remember her well—a very lovely lady who looks much too young to be your mother.’

  ‘That she does.’ Rose returned to her menu. ‘What do you recommend?’

  ‘If you like fish the salmon will be good here. Or there is the bistecca alla Fiorentina, the famous steak of the region. You have travelled a long way today, Rose; you must be hungry.’

  ‘I am, but not enough to attempt a steak. I’ll have the salmon.’ Her stomach was in such knots that she was sure she’d only be able to manage a bite or two at the most.

  Rose listened as he gave the order to the waiter, wishing she could understand the rapid, melodious interchange. She had once fancied learning Italian to add to her schoolgirl French, but studies of a different kind had taken up all her time.

  Later, experiencing the effortless service Charlotte had described, Rose was glad of Dante’s company among the elegantly dressed diners. She would have felt uncomfortable dining alone. Instead, now she was over the first shock of meeting up with him again, she enjoyed the ravioli in sage-fragrant butter sauce Dante insisted she try for a first course, and ate her share of the exquisite little vegetables served with their main course. But she kept firmly to water instead of the wine he offered.

  ‘You drank champagne the first time we met,’ Dante reminded her. ‘You were such a delight in that charming dress.’

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ she said coolly.

  ‘You do not remember the occasion with pleasure?’

  Her eyes clashed with his. ‘Of course I do. It was Charlotte’s wedding day. She was on cloud nine and I had just left university with a respectable degree. Euphoria all round.’

  He held the look in silence for a moment then got up to escort her to the bar. ‘Will you take a little cognac with your coffee?’

  ‘Since I abstained over dinner, I will, please.’ Rose needed some kind of stimulant for once. A sip of the fiery spirit helped her to relax a little as she looked across at her companion. Now she could study him objectively without wanting to hit him, he looked a lot older and harder-edged than the effervescent charmer who’d made Charlotte’s wedding so memorable for the bridesmaid. There had been other young Italian men among Fabio’s relatives and friends at the wedding, but Dante had monopolised Rose so completely she’d had no eyes for anyone else.

  ‘You are very quiet,’ he observed.

  ‘It’s been a very eventful day.’

  ‘So tell me all about your life, Rose.’

  ‘I run a bookkeeping business from home.’

  His eyebrows rose. ‘You did not take up your career in accountancy?’

  ‘No, though the qualifications come in very handy in my line of business.’ She changed the subject. ‘Dante, I know it’s a bit late to say this, but I was very sorry about your grandmother.’

  ‘Grazie. I miss her very much.’

  ‘Do you miss your wife, too?’

  ‘No. Not at all.’ His eyes hardened. ‘The marriage was a bad mistake. When Elsa soon left me for another man my brother said I should thank God for such good fortune. Leo was right.’

  Rose looked him in the eye. ‘Odd you forgot to mention Elsa when we first met.’

  His mouth twisted. ‘I did not forget. I refused to let thoughts of her spoil my time with you. I was very angry because she refused to cancel a fashion shoot to accompany me to Fabio’s wedding.’

  ‘So you made do with me.’

  ‘No! This is not true, Rose. I took great delight in your company.’ His eyes held hers. ‘Am I too late to apologise for leaving you so suddenly?’

  ‘I completely understood when I heard that your grandmother had died.’ She held the brilliant blue gaze steadily. ‘Not so much when I was told about Elsa.’

  His jaw clenched as he beckoned to a waiter. ‘I need more cognac. Will you join me?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ She got up. ‘I’m a bit tired, Dante, so—’

  ‘No!’ He sprang up. ‘It is early yet. Stay a little longer with me, Rose, per favore.’

  Since only sheer pride had forced her to make the first move, she nodded graciously and sat down again, eyeing Dante’s glass. ‘Should you be drinking that before a long drive?’

  ‘I am not driving. I have reserved a room here at the hotel tonight so that I can be your guide to the city tomorrow.’

  Rose stiffened. ‘Charlotte asked you to do this?’

  ‘No, she did not. It was my idea.’ He lifted a shoulder, his eyes cold again. ‘Non importa, if you do not desire my company I will leave in the morning.’

  That would be the best move all round, as Rose knew only too well. But she was a stranger in a city foreign to her and didn’t speak a word of Italian, so it was only practical to take advantage of someone native to the place. After all the trouble he’d caused her, he might as well make himself useful.

  ‘I’d appreciate your services as guide, Dante. Thank you.’

  ‘It is my great pleasure, Rose!’ He reached across the table to touch her hand, eyes warm again. ‘I will try to make your stay memorable.’

  He wouldn’t have to try hard. In spite of her initial rage at the sight of him, it had taken only a minute in Dante’s company again to remember how easy it had been to fall in love with him all those years ago. He’d been a charming, attentive companion who’d shown unmistakable signs of returning her feelings on Charlotte’s wedding day, which had made it all the more devastating when she’d learned about his missing fiancée after he’d gone. In sick, outraged reaction to the blow, she had immediately blanked him out of her mind and pretended she’d never met him. And because she’d flatly refused to listen whenever his name came up, Charlotte had eventually given up mentioning him. Yet Charlotte had sent Dante to the hotel with her letter. Rose made a note to have words with Signora Vilari on the subject next time they spoke.

  She took her hand away. ‘Won’t it be boring for you, Dante, showing me round a city you know so well?’

  He shook his head. ‘Firenze will seem new to me, seen through your eyes. But why have you not been here before, Rose? I had hoped so much to see you again when you visited Charlotte, but you never came.’

  ‘Too much work to get away. And I see her regularly when she comes to visit her father.’

  ‘She told me Signor Morley shares his life with your mother. You are happy with this?’

  Rose nodded. ‘It’s a happy arrangement all round.’

  ‘It was plain that you were all close at the wedding. I am fortunate to possess both my parents, but no longer, alas, my grandmother. I adored her and miss her still.’ Dante’s eyes lit with sudden heat. ‘Only the message telling me she was dying could have torn me away from you so suddenly that night, you understand? But
, grazie a Dio, because I left immediately I arrived at the Villa Castiglione in good time to say goodbye to Nonna and hold her hand in mine before she...she left us.’

  ‘I’m glad of that,’ said Rose quietly. Though at the time she hadn’t believed a word of it, convinced the call had been from some girlfriend—a theory which had seemed proved beyond all doubt next morning when she found out about Elsa.

  ‘Nonna left her house to me.’ Dante’s eyes darkened. ‘At first I did not want the Villa Castiglione, afraid I would miss her there too much. But because it was Nonna’s greatest wish my parents persuaded me to live there.’

  ‘Alone? You’ve found no replacement for Elsa yet?’

  ‘No.’ He arched a wry black eyebrow. ‘You think such a thing is easy for me?’

  ‘I don’t think about you at all.’ She shrugged. ‘After all, I only met you once.’

  His eyes narrowed to an unsettling gleam. ‘And you did not look back with pleasure on that meeting!’

  ‘Oh, yes, most of it. I had a great time with you all day. But once I knew you were spoken for I never gave you another thought.’ She smiled sweetly and got to her feet. ‘Now I really must go to bed.’

  He walked with her to the ornate lift. ‘I shall take much pleasure in our tour of Firenze, Rose.’

  ‘You must tell me what to see.’

  ‘When do you fly home?’

  ‘Thursday morning.’

  ‘So soon!’ He frowned. ‘But that gives you only one day for the sightseeing. We must meet early for breakfast.’

  ‘I thought I’d have it sent up—’

  ‘No, no.’ Dante shook his head imperiously. ‘I will take you to breakfast in the Piazza della Signora to begin on the sightseeing as we eat. We shall meet down here at nine, d’accordo?’

  Rose nodded. ‘I’ll enjoy the luxury of a lie-in for once.’

  ‘You rise early for your work?’

  ‘Much too early.’ She smiled politely as the lift glided to a halt and pressed the button for her floor. ‘Which one for you?’

  ‘The same.’ He showed her his room number. ‘So if you are nervous in the night you can call me and I will come.’

  Rose shot him an arctic look. ‘Not going to happen, Dante.’

  ‘Che peccato!’ When they reached her room, Dante opened the door and stood aside with a bow. ‘Now lock your door to show me you are safe.’

  Rose nodded formally. ‘Thank you for your company this evening, Dante.’

  His lips twitched. ‘Because it was better than none?’

  Rose let her silence speak for her as she closed and locked the door.

  Dante made for his room and went out onto his balcony, deep in thought as he stared down at the Arno. Rose Palmer was very different now from the girl he’d fallen more and more in love with as the hours passed during that memorable day. Even in the rush to reach his grandmother’s side, and the searing grief that followed, it had been impossible to stop thinking of the girl he’d been forced to abandon so suddenly that night. He had made a vow to apologise to Rose in person when she first visited the Vilaris. But she never came and the apologies were never made.

  It was no surprise that she had been hostile at first tonight. Whereas he had felt a great leap of his heart at the first sight of her, and an urgent need to offer comfort when she found Charlotte wasn’t joining her. He had seized the chance to propose his own company instead. He smiled sardonically, well aware that Rose had accepted the offer only because it was marginally preferable to spending her brief time in Florence alone. Tomorrow, therefore, he must do everything in his power to make her stay pleasurable before she went back to her bookkeeping. He shook his head in wonder. Could she not do something more interesting with her life?

  * * *

  Convinced, for a variety of reasons, that she’d lie awake all night, Rose fell asleep the instant she closed her eyes. When she opened them again the room was bright with early sunshine, and with a gasp she shot upright to grab her phone, and smiled in relief when she saw a message from her mother. Grace Palmer had come late to the skills of texting, and the message was brief:

  Everything fine. Have lovely day.

  Reassured, Rose sent off a grateful response and then stretched out in the comfortable bed, feeling rested after the surprise of the best night’s sleep she’d had for ages. Eventually, she wrapped herself in the hotel robe and went out on the balcony, face uplifted to the sunshine. Since she was here at last, doing the last thing she’d expected to do, pride urged her to make herself as presentable as possible now Dante Fortinari was to be her guide.

  In the years since she’d last seen him she’d persuaded herself he couldn’t possibly be as gorgeous as she remembered. And she was right. Now Dante was in his early thirties maturity had added an extra dimension to his dark good looks—something her wilful hormones responded to even while the rest of her disapproved. So since a capricious fate—or Charlotte—had brought them together again, she would make use of his escort for a day and then tomorrow, back home in the real world, erase him from her life. Once again.

  Dante had worn a suit cut by some Italian master of the craft the evening before, so if he’d decided to stay on the spur of the moment it seemed likely he’d have to wear the same thing again today. With that in mind, Rose went for pink cotton jeans instead of the denims worn for travelling. With a plain white cotton tee, small gold hoops in her ears and her hair caught back with a big tortoiseshell barrette, she slid her feet into the flats brought for sightseeing with Charlotte and felt ready to take on the day.

  Dante was waiting in the foyer when she went downstairs shortly before nine, his look of gleaming appreciation worth all her effort. ‘Buongiorno, Rose. You look delightful!’

  So did Dante. She raised an eyebrow at his pale linen trousers and crisp blue shirt. ‘Thank you. You’ve been shopping?’

  He shook his head. ‘It is my custom to keep a packed bag in the car.’

  Her lips twitched. ‘Ready for unexpected sleepovers?’

  He grinned, looking suddenly more like the youthful Dante she remembered. ‘You are thinking the wrong thing, cara. I do this to impress the clients. Here in Italy, image is everything.’ He looked at her feet with approval. ‘Bene, you are prepared for walking.’

  ‘Always.’ As they left the hotel she looked at the sparkling river in delight. ‘Though my daily walks at home are in rather different surroundings from these.’

  ‘But the town you live in is a pleasant place, yes?’

  She nodded. ‘Still, it’s good to take a short break from it. My only time away from home before was in university.’

  ‘I remember your pleasure at doing well in your final exams, and the celebrations which followed them.’ He frowned as they began to walk. ‘But you did not continue with the accountancy.’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’ She waved a hand at the beautiful buildings they were passing. ‘So talk, Signor Guide. Give me names to go with all this architecture.’

  Dante obliged in detail as they walked with the river on one side and tall, beautiful old buildings on the other. But eventually he steered Rose away from the Arno to make for the Piazza della Signora with its dominant fifteenth century Palazzo Veccio that still, Dante informed her, served as Town Hall to Florence. He steered her past the queues for the famous Uffizi Gallery and the statues in the Loggia dei Lanzi on their way to the Caffe Rivoire. ‘You may look at all the sculpture you wish later,’ he said firmly and seated her at an outdoor table with a view of the entire Piazza. ‘But now we eat.’

  Rose nodded. ‘Whatever you say. Breakfast is a rushed affair at home, so I shall enjoy this.’ In the buzz of this sunlit square packed with people—and pigeons—she could hardly fail. She sat drinking it all in to report on later.

  ‘I will buy you a guidebook so that you may show you
r mother what you have seen,’ said Dante as the waiter brought their meal. ‘You will take orange juice?’

  ‘Thank you.’ As she sipped, her eyes roved over the statuary she could see everywhere, and felt a sudden stab of envy for the man sitting so relaxed beside her.

  ‘That is a very cold look you give me,’ commented Dante, offering a plate of warm rolls.

  ‘I was thinking how privileged you are to live in a place like this. You probably take all this wonderful sculpture for granted.’

  ‘Not so. I do not live in the city,’ he reminded her. ‘Therefore, I marvel at it every time I return. And, Signorina Tourist, these statues were erected for more than decoration. The big white Neptune in the fountain with his water nymphs commemorates ancient Tuscan naval victories.’

  ‘How about the sexy Perseus brandishing Medusa’s severed head over there? Just look at those muscles!’

  Dante laughed, his eyes dancing at the look on her face. ‘He is a Medici warning to enemies, while the replica of Michelangelo’s David represents Republican triumph over tyranny.’ He shook his head. ‘Enough of the lessons. What would you like to do next?’

  ‘Could we just sit here for a while, Dante?’ Rose refused to feel guilty because she was enjoying herself so much. She could go back to resentment and hostility later.

  ‘Whatever you wish.’ He beckoned to a waiter for more coffee.

  Rose tensed as her phone beeped; she read the text, replied to it quickly and put the phone away. ‘Sorry about that—one of my clients.’ She smiled radiantly at the waiter who topped up her cup. ‘Grazie.’

  ‘Prego!’ The man returned her smile with such fervour Dante frowned.

  ‘It is good I am here with you,’ he said darkly when they were alone.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To keep my beautiful companion safe from admirers.’

  Rose shook her head impatiently. ‘Hardly beautiful—I’m just reasonably attractive when I make the effort.’ But sometimes the effort was hard.

  ‘You are far more than just attractive, Rose,’ he said with emphasis, and signalled to the offending waiter. ‘I will pay, and then we shall see more of Firenze.’