‘I meant,’ she said wearily, ‘that you needn’t ring for room service. There’s a tea tray with a kettle and so on over on the table by the sofa. You can make the tea for me.’
The relief in Dante’s eyes was so gratifying she warmed towards him slightly.
‘You will trust me to make it correctly, Rose?’
‘Yes. But not yet. I’ll have a glass of water first, please.’
Dante helped her to sit up, then piled pillows behind her and settled her against them with care. ‘You feel better now?’
Rose nodded. ‘Yes, thank you.’
His lips tightened. ‘You need not thank me so politely. I am happy to do anything to help you.’
Except tell her he loved her. ‘I’ll have that water now, then.’
‘Subito!’ Dante said promptly. He filled a glass with mineral water and sat on the bed beside her, watching her sip very slowly. ‘You have been suffering much with la nausea, Rose?’
‘No. This is the first time tonight.’ She pulled a face and put the half-empty glass on the bedside table. ‘Bad move to get morning sickness on our wedding night.’
Dante winced. ‘I think perhaps it was I who made you ill, not our baby.’
Slightly mollified when he said ‘our baby’, Rose shrugged. ‘Possibly. Your reaction to my news wasn’t quite the one I expected.’
‘Mi dispiace!’ he said and took her hand. ‘Coming so soon after experiencing such rapture together, I was not thinking clearly.’
‘You sounded pretty clear on the subject to me. But let’s not talk about it any more. Perhaps you could make that tea for me now?’
Dante got up at once and crossed the room to switch on the kettle. ‘Allora,’ he said, ‘I pour the boiling water on the tea bag, leave it for a little while, then remove the bag and add a little milk. Yes?’
Rose nodded. ‘Exactly right.’
‘Bene.’ Dante went through the process with care and finally brought a steaming cup over to Rose.
‘Thank you.’ She eyed him over it. ‘Not quite the wedding night you’d hoped for, is it?’
He gestured towards the sofa under the window. ‘You would prefer me to sleep there tonight?’
‘Of course not,’ she retorted. ‘I assume you intend me to share your room at the Villa Castiglione?’
Dante’s eyes locked on hers. ‘My room and my bed,’ he stated in tones which left her in no doubt.
‘Then we may as well start as we mean to go on. Besides,’ she added, eyeing the sofa, ‘you’ll never fit on that.’
‘Davvero! But I was happy to make the attempt tonight to let you rest.’
‘Very noble, but no sacrifice required.’ Rose slid carefully out of bed, stood for a moment to make sure she was steady on her feet, then made for the bathroom. ‘Just give me five minutes to brush my teeth.’
When she got back Dante had tidied the bed and left only one lamp burning. He looked at her searchingly. ‘Were you ill again?’