The limousine trip to the airport and the flight to Pisa went just as smoothly as the first time with Dante in charge. Worried beforehand that the nausea would return en route at some stage, Rose survived the entire flight without a qualm, and to reassure Dante even ate some of the meal.
As before, Tullio was waiting at the airport and had taken time out of his Sunday to help them collect their luggage and hand over the car keys.
‘Congratulazione, Signora Fortinari,’ he said to Rose and kissed her hand then shook Dante’s and congratulated him in turn.
‘Grazie, Tullio,’ she said, secretly thrilled to bits with her new title.
After a quick exchange with Tullio while he helped load their luggage into the waiting car, Dante helped Rose into the car and, with a quick wave for his assistant, joined the traffic leaving the airport.
‘I will not drive fast,’ Dante assured her, smiling, and Rose laughed.
‘Unlike my—our—daughter, I don’t mind fast!’
‘Nevertheless, I have no wish to make you ill again, carina.’ He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘I asked Silvia to prepare the house and leave food for us, but then take a little holiday so we can begin our new life in peace together. But,’ he added when Rose made no response, ‘if you want her to come as usual I shall call her back.’
‘Of course I don’t. When Mum and Tom bring Bea to join us, peace will be hard to come by.’ She shot him a wry glance. ‘Though I know you can hardly wait!’
He shook his head. ‘Much as I love Bea, it will be good for us to have time alone together for a little while, Rose, yes?’
Yes, she rejoiced silently.
‘And after a while perhaps you will not feel so awkward with me,’ he said with a wry twist to his mouth.
‘I’ll do my best, Dante.’
‘I do not doubt this,’ he assured her, and smiled as he saw her eyelids droop.
‘Sorry,’ she said, yawning.
‘Take the little nap, bella. I will wake you when we are near home.’
Home, thought Rose, closing her eyes. Not Willow House any more, but the Villa Castiglione. Her lips curved. It would be good to be alone there with Dante for a while...
She woke with a start to a screeching, crunching sound, her heart pounding as something hit the car. Cursing violently, Dante stood on the brakes and her head hit the side window with a crack that knocked her out for an instant.
Rose came round almost at once because Dante was crushing her hand as he called her name in anguish, along with a flood of impassioned enquiries she couldn’t understand.
‘Answer me, Rose!’ he demanded frantically. ‘Where are you hurt?’
‘Only my head,’ she said groggily. ‘What happened?’
‘Some bastardo took a bend too fast and made contact with our front wing, then drove off like a maniac.’ Dante leaned over her, his face haggard. ‘Dio, your head is bleeding. I must get you to a doctor immediately.’
‘I don’t need a doctor!’
‘You do,’ said Dante inexorably, and wiped her forehead with a handkerchief. ‘Stay very still now while I arrange this.’ He took out his phone and after a pause spoke to someone at length.