Rinaldo’s Inherited Bride

From it came a lush, powerful odour that was not unpleasant.

Speaking almost in a daze she said, ‘You could grow anything in this.’

His answer came without words. Plunging his own hand into the ground he raised it to show her. She touched it, and at once he gripped her hand, pressing it into the rich earth that he was holding.

It felt good, and the sense of power in his hands beneath the living soil made her strangely giddy.

‘You see?’ he said intently. ‘You see?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I see.’

Something seemed to have taken possession of her. She didn’t want to open her fingers. She had the impression that the sun had darkened, but instead of blotting out her surroundings it made them more vivid.

There was a big scar on the back of his hand. She couldn’t take her eyes away from it.

Then he moved, prising her fingers open and drawing her hand gently down into the cleansing water.

‘It’s time we were going,’ he said quietly.

She nodded, rubbing the earth away, past speech.

When she was sitting beside him in the car he turned it and began the journey back down the track to where the road forked. There was a signpost, showing the way to Florence, but he swung away.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

‘I’m taking you home.’

‘Home?’

‘My home.’

She didn’t let him see how much this pleased her. She was more curious to see Rinaldo’s home than she would admit.

She had pictured a shabby, weather-beaten farmhouse, but the building that finally came into view had a touch of grandeur. It was three stories high, with a double staircase that formed two curves up the front.

But what really amazed her was that it was made of a stone that appeared pink in the red-gold of the setting sun. At that moment the sun shone directly into her eyes, making her blink, and giving the building the appearance of a frosted cake.

She blinked again and the world righted itself. It was just a house, although still more ornate than any farmhouse she had ever seen.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she breathed.

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘At one time it was what I supposed you’d call a great house, but the man who owned it two hundred years ago fell on hard times. He had to sell off some of his land, and start farming the rest.

‘The place has changed hands several times. My grandfather bought it and worked himself into the grave to make it prosper. My father gave his whole life to it as well.’

‘And you live in that beautiful house?’

‘Part of it. The rest is shut up. Teresa, who looks after us, complains about how hard it is to keep even a small part clean.’

A door at ground level was pulled open from the inside, but, instead of Teresa, Alex saw a vast dog, of miscellaneous parentage, come lumbering out.

He might have been part Great Dane, part Alsatian. He might have been a St Bernard crossed with a lurcher. He might have been anything.

He ambled towards them obviously so excited to see them that he was getting dangerously near the vehicle. Rinaldo was forced to brake sharply.

A stream of fierce words came from him. The dog either didn’t understand or didn’t care because he reared up to put his head through Rinaldo’s window and cover him with eager licks.

‘That’s enough,’ Rinaldo growled, but he didn’t push the animal away. ‘This ridiculous object is Brutus,’ he informed Alex. ‘He thinks he’s mine. Or I’m his. One of the two.’

He tweaked the animal’s ears and said, ‘Vai via!’ pointing into the distance.

Reluctantly Brutus moved back. But as soon as they were out of the car he surged forward again, this time at Alex.

She gave a yell of alarm. The next moment she was looking down at her elegant pants, now displaying a large, dirty paw print.

She opened her mouth, but her exclamation was checked by the sight of the dog, beaming at her, clearly convinced that he had done something brilliant.

‘It would be a waste of time saying anything to you, wouldn’t it?’ she demanded, pointing to the smudge.

He woofed agreement.

‘Then I won’t bother,’ she said, smiling despite herself. ‘But if you do it again-’

He waited, grinning foolishly.

‘If you do it again-’ she sighed, recognising defeat ‘-then I guess I’ll just have to forgive you again.’

Ecstatic at this appreciation, Brutus reared up and placed another mark next to the first.

‘My apologies,’ Rinaldo said, sounding strained. ‘Brutus!’

‘Oh, don’t be mad at him,’ Alex said. ‘He was only being friendly. I suppose he’s made that way.’

‘No, he doesn’t usually take to strangers. He’s never done that before. Naturally I’ll pay the cost of cleaning.’

Alex shook her head. The sight of Rinaldo at a disadvantage was improving her mood.

‘I shouldn’t bother,’ she said. ‘It won’t clean.’

‘Then I will pay for a replacement,’ he said stiffly.

Alex began to laugh. ‘Don’t force me to tell you how much it cost,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to spoil your supper.’

He regarded her oddly. ‘You’re being very nice about it.’

‘And that’s really got you puzzled, hasn’t it? If I’m being nice, it must be for an evil purpose. Forget it for heaven’s sake! A dog is a dog is a dog. Making a mess is what dogs do.’

Now she had really wrong-footed him, she saw with pleasure. He was no longer quite so certain what to think of her, and that confused him.

Good! The longer she could keep him confused the better.

Teresa appeared. She was elderly, with white hair and sharp blue eyes that flickered quickly over Alex.

‘Teresa, this is Signorina Dacre, from England. Enrico Mori was her great-uncle.’

‘Buon giorno, signorina.’

‘Buon giorno, Teresa,’ Alex responded.

He introduced Alex, who saw the briefest reaction flicker across the housekeeper’s face. She wondered how freely the brothers had discussed her, and what Teresa had overheard.

‘Let’s go inside,’ Rinaldo said. ‘The signorina has been out in the heat for too long. Show her to the guest room, please, Teresa.’

The walls of the house were thick enough to keep out the heat. The old-fashioned room was blessedly cool, and half an hour was enough to restore Alex to herself. She was feeling cheerful as she went downstairs to be shown into a room at the back of the house.

At the far end were tall windows that opened onto a veranda. A table stood just outside the room, laden with small snacks. Rinaldo was there. He looked up as she entered.

‘Are you feeling better?’ he asked pleasantly.

‘Yes thank you. Mind you, I never did feel actually bad, just-a little overwhelmed. It was suddenly so-’

She found that she couldn’t finish. No words were adequate.

Rinaldo nodded without speaking, and she knew that he understood everything she was trying to say.

He poured her a glass of light prosecco wine, and she sipped, glad to find it ice- cold.

Now the weather was cooling and they could sit on the veranda, while Teresa served them a sweet, crusted pie with macaroni and meat sauce, which he told her was called Pasticcio alla Fiorentina.

‘Are you wise to treat me like this?’ she teased. ‘You might make me want to stay.’

‘What about the man who called you? Isn’t he yearning for you to return?’

She gave a choke of laughter. There was something about the idea of David yearning that was irresistibly