‘Dio,’ Dante said hoarsely at last. ‘From the moment I saw you again in Firenze I have wanted this, but I swear I did not intend it tonight, tesoro.’
Rose pushed him away and suddenly hotly aware of her nakedness, snatched up her robe. ‘My fault as much as yours, Dante.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I don’t know what to say, so please go now.’ Before she did something really insane and begged him to take her to bed and make love to her all night.
Dante pulled on his clothes at top speed and then turned to her, his blue eyes lambent with a light which sent a streak of heat right down to her toes. ‘Arrivederci, amore. But this is not goodbye. I shall return soon. Very soon.’ He took her in his arms. ‘I have no wish to leave you now, Rose, but it is late and you need your bed.’
She looked at him searchingly. ‘Why did you come back, Dante?’
‘Because nothing has changed since that first time we met,’ he said huskily, smoothing a hand down her cheek as he released her. ‘You are as irresistible to me now as you were then. Buonanotte, carissima.’
Rose watched him stride down the path to the car at the gate, wishing her heart would resume its normal beat. Dante turned to wave, and she lifted a shaking hand in return, then closed the door and went upstairs to stand under a hot shower to recover. Fool! How could she have allowed that to happen again? Allowed? She gave a mirthless laugh. She could no more have prevented it than stopped breathing.
Grace had insisted on giving Bea her breakfast and then driving her to school so Rose could enjoy the added luxury of a lie-in the next morning, but Rose was showered and dressed and ready to start work by the time her mother called in before going home.
‘I’ve made some coffee,’ she said, smiling.
‘Good. I need it.’ Grace sat down at the kitchen table and watched her daughter filling cups.
‘Was Bea all right last night, Mum?’
‘Fine. How about you? Did Dante change your mind about going out?’
‘Yes. We went to the Hermitage.’ Rose set the cups on the table, eyeing her mother narrowly. ‘What’s wrong? Are you sure Bea didn’t play up last night?’
‘She was as good as gold.’ Grace took a deep breath. ‘Look, Rose, there’s no easy way to say this, but it’s time you told me the truth. Is Dante her father?’
‘What?’ Rose went cold. ‘Why on earth should you think that?’
‘Because,’ continued Grace relentlessly, ‘yesterday when Bea smiled at him and Dante smiled back, the resemblance stared me in the face, not least the blue eyes. Your father’s eyes were dark like yours and mine. And I’d better warn you that Tom, not normally observant in such matters, commented on it first.’
‘Which doesn’t make it true.’
‘Doesn’t it? I couldn’t sleep last night as I thought back to the wedding, how Tom and I preferred to drive home once Charlotte and Fabio left on their honeymoon, but booked a room for you so you could enjoy the party with the other guests. Then Dante Fortinari had to leave in a hurry because his grandmother was ill.’
‘So you think he somehow sandwiched in a quickie with me before he took off?’ snapped Rose.
Her mother winced. ‘I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but it would certainly explain a lot.’ Her eyes remained locked with her daughter’s. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’