Dante's Unexpected Legacy(10)

                ‘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.’

                ‘Dante,’ she said awkwardly, ‘could I pay, please?’

                He stared at her in blank astonishment. ‘Cosa?’

                She felt her colour rise. ‘You’ve given up your time to show me round. I can’t expect you to feed me as well.’

                ‘It is my privilege,’ he said, looking down his nose. ‘Also a great pleasure.’

                ‘But I feel I’m imposing.’

                Dante shook his head. ‘You are not.’ He took her hand and stayed close enough to make himself heard as they threaded their way through the crowds in the Piazza. ‘I was forced to rush away from you last time, Rose, with only a brief apology. This time perhaps you will think better of me after we say goodbye tomorrow.’

                Less likely to murder him, certainly. ‘When you’ve been so kind, how could I not?’ she said lightly. She stood looking up in wonder as they reached Perseus and his grisly trophy. ‘Wow! I’ve seen Renaissance art in books but the bronze reality is something else entirely.’

                ‘Cellini was a master,’ he agreed, and moved on to the next, graphic sculpture. ‘So was Giambologna, yes? You like his Rape of the Sabine Women? It is carved from a single block of marble, but it is flawed, as you see.’

                Rose wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m not so keen on that one.’

                ‘Then let us go to the Bargello, which was once a prison, but now houses sculpture. Donatello’s bronze David from a century earlier is there. You will like that, I think. Then you cannot leave Firenze without a visit to the Accademia to gaze in wonder at the greatest statue of all—the marble David by Michelangelo.’

                Rose found that Dante was right when they arrived at the rather forbidding Bargello. On the upper loggia, it needed only one look at Donatello’s jaunty David, nude except for stylish hat and boots, for Rose to fall madly in love. She turned to Dante, her eyes bright with recognition. ‘I’ve seen him before on a television programme.’ She grinned. ‘The handsome lady in charge of his restoration couldn’t help smoothing his bottom!’

                He laughed, his eyes alight as he squeezed her hand. ‘You have not changed so much after all, bella. But now you must have a tramezzini and a drink. We may have to wait for some time in the Accademia.’

                She shook her head. ‘I don’t need anything yet after all that breakfast, Dante. Let’s go now.’