the downsides of being alone.'
'Some women enjoy the attention.'
Jodie closed the album and stood up. 'Well, I didn’t.'
Lorenzo could see that she meant what she was
saying.
'Why Don’t I ask Assunta to make us some lunch
and bring it up to the roof garden? You can read your
guidebooks to me if you wish — in Italian.'
Jodie was staring at him in astonishment, and
Lorenzo had to admit he was just as startled by his
own suggestion. He had intended to spend the afternoon
working, not playing at being a language tutor.
She really, really did not want to do this, Jodie realised,
hesitating in front of the entrance to the church
where their banns were to be read for the first time
this morning.
As though he sensed her reluctance, Lorenzo
stepped forward and took hold of her arm, so that she
had no option other than to step forward with him.
She had had to guess at what to wear, opting in the
end for a plain black linen skirt and a short-sleeved
chocolate-brown tee-shirt, over which she had draped
one of the beautiful multicoloured silk squares she
had found tucked away with her new clothes as a
small gift from the store, thinking that if necessary
she could adjust the square and cover her head.
She had been glad she had opted for dark colours
when she had seen Lorenzo, wearing a formal dark
suit complete with a crisp white shirt and a tie. Now,
unable to stop herself looking slightly anxiously towards
him, she stepped with him into a world that
was totally unfamiliar to her. She recognised how forbidding
and arrogant he looked. Take away the suit
and clothe him in the costume of a Medici warlord,
and he could have been a Renaissance soldier prince,
she decided with a small shudder.
The huge emerald on her ring finger flashed green
fire in the sunlight, and someone in the small congregation
filing in through the narrow door gasped — although
whether in awe or shock, Jodie didn’t know.
Although no one spoke, it was obvious from the looks
that were exchanged that the other worshippers knew
Lorenzo, and Jodie could feel the sharp weight of
their speculation resting almost as heavily on her as
the betrothal ring.
People entered the dark interior of the church and
slipped into pews, kneeling immediately in prayer,
and Jodie turned towards the nearest pew herself, only
to find that Lorenzo was shaking his head and walking
past. Their footsteps echoed on the cold stone
floor, the stones themselves worn and slippery with
use. Ahead of them at the altar the priest kneeled,
head bowed in prayer, whilst smoke from the incense
drifted lazily upwards in the beam of light coming in
through the narrow stained glass windows.
They had reached the last pew, and Jodie’s eyes
widened a little when she recognised Lorenzo’s family
crest carved into the wood. A little uncomfortably
she bowed her own head in prayer. A prayer for her
parents, and for David and Andrea, for her friends
and for all those in need, and then to her own astonishment
she found herself suddenly praying fiercely
that Lorenzo might find some way of making peace
with his own past.
Even though she knew why they were here in the
church, she was still not prepared for the effect hearing
their banns read had on her — or the emotional
poignancy and turmoil she felt. Unconnected images
blurred her vision — a sunny day, and her parents
laughing down at her as they walked together; the
shock of learning of their deaths; her aunt and uncle's
unhappy faces as they struggled to explain to her what
had happened, and that she herself might still lose her
leg; the first time she stood up properly after the accident;
the first time John had asked her out, standing
awkwardly beside her desk in the small office where
she had worked for his father; the first time he had
kissed her, and the let-down feeling of disappointment
she had had because she didn’t feel more excited.
The small ceremony they had just been part of
should surely be about more than fulfilling the demands
of someone's pride, or gaining material pos-
sessions, and she should now be standing here outside
the church feeling uplifted by the promise of future
shared love — instead of which she actually felt
slightly guilty and shabby.
The priest was heading towards them, smiling
warmly as he congratulated them, his warmth increasing
Jodie’s discomfort. He was tall and unexpectedly
vigorously male, with an intent gaze.
'If there are any matters you feel you wish to discuss
with me, my child, I am at your disposal,' he
told Jodie gently, in excellent English.
'My grandmother’s will has meant that we have
had to change our plans to marry in England and
bring our wedding forward,' Lorenzo informed him,
slightly coolly. 'And we are grateful to you for your
co-operation.'
The priest inclined his head gravely, and Lorenzo
