The Count of Castelfino. Christina Hollis
old medlar tree where Meg had hung her hat and shirt. Plucking them from the branches like particularly desirable fruit, he made his way over to her. He took his time. It was painfully obvious to Meg that he was making her wait for her clothes. She wasn’t in the mood to be toyed with. As soon as he got close enough she snatched her things from his hands and pulled them on. He watched with something close to amusement. Then he drew a second key from his pocket with a flourish.
‘As I said—I live here. I have a copy of every key in the place.’
Barefoot but otherwise decent, Meg rallied.
‘That doesn’t explain why you felt the need to come in here.’
‘It wasn’t a need. It was a want. I wanted to see you, Megan.’
There was a haunting look in his dark eyes. It was so delicious she could hardly meet his gaze. Nervous that he might be able to read all sorts of things from her own expression, she looked down at the coarse wiry grass at her feet. All sorts of hope were beginning to stir deep within her, but there was only one she could put into words.
‘I hope you’re feeling better, Count.’
His smile widened, bright as pearl against the golden warmth of his skin. ‘Yes, I am—but call me Gianni, please.’
Meg’s heart did a little skip—until she realised he probably gave that bonus to all his staff.
‘Part of the reason I came out here was to thank you,’ he went on. ‘You were right. I was overtired when you arrived. All I’ve done since then is sleep—and enjoy an excellent late lunch.’
‘That’s good,’ Meg said with genuine relief.
‘Afterwards I went down to the kitchens, where they told me that the meal I so enjoyed was your idea. What made you challenge Cook?’
She looked up quickly to find out exactly how much trouble she was in. In response Gianni smiled, raising his eyebrows in silent approval. It was an expression that made her shiver, despite the heat.
‘You looked so distracted. I knew eating would be way down on your list of priorities. When I saw steak on today’s menu I thought it sounded far too heavy for this weather. I decided to cater for myself, and guessed you might like something light and familiar too. I’d already discovered from chatting with the other staff that you attended boarding school in England. It just so happens my aunt is now Head Chef at the same place. I rang and asked her what dishes would be most popular at your old school on a day like today.’
Meg didn’t add that everyone loved comfort food in times of trouble, but could see he knew that already. The softening around his eyes proved it to her.
‘That shows real initiative, Megan,’ he said with conviction. ‘Especially in view of what happened when you suggested it to my cook. I’ve come straight from the kitchens. As soon as she has finished the larder inventory, she’ll be coming out to apologise to you for the things she said.’
Meg blinked at him. An apology was the very last thing she expected, in the circumstances.
‘Pardon?’
‘The staff said she tried to pull rank, but you stood your ground. Well done. You’re the first member of staff who’s done that to her.’
‘Are you saying you don’t mind?’ Meg said warily. People grand enough to employ gardeners never usually bothered to praise their staff.
‘I’m delighted, Megan.’ His voice lilted slowly over her name, trying it out for size.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ She asked uncertainly. ‘I mean, I hadn’t been here for more than two minutes before picking a blazing row with your cook. She’s an old family faithful; I’m the new arrival—and you’re taking my side?’
Gianni searched her face, mystified that she seemed incapable of taking in what he had said. ‘But of course. It’s the only stance to take. She was wrong, you were right. One of my first duties as the new count was going to be to go through all the menus. You got there before me, that’s all.’ He saw her face flush deeply. Instantly concerned, he reached out to her. His strong brown hands grasped her elbows to give support. ‘Megan? What’s the matter? It must be the sun. Here—I’ll help you to a seat.’
She looked down at his fingers. They slid over her skin and closed around her with exactly the same relish she had conjured up in all her fantasies. It was wonderful.
‘There’s no need…I’m fine.’ She gasped, barely able to raise her voice above a whisper. The sheer delight of feeling his touch was breathtaking. ‘I’ve just had a bit of a surprise, that’s all. I—I thought the only men who weren’t afraid of cooks were head gardeners,’ she improvised quickly.
Gianni let go of her, offended. ‘I make the rules here. All of them. And that includes whether or not we employ a female head gardener,’ he finished with slow, devastating meaning.
Meg was alert immediately. ‘What do you mean?’
She bounced the question straight at him, but could see he wasn’t fooled for a minute. Gianni wouldn’t be taking any chances with her. Anyone who could put a cook on the back foot as she had done would need to be watched carefully.
He looked down at her for a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary before giving her a meaningful shrug.
‘That rather depends.’
‘Thank goodness for that, as my original title was Curator of Exotic Plants. I’m no Head Gardener—though I’m more than qualified to do it,’ she added quickly, ‘But when I saw how things were here, I knew the staff wouldn’t take kindly to a newcomer’s suggestions so I took a chance and borrowed the title for a minute. The whole kitchen staff fell for it.’ She finished with a nervous little laugh.
To her amazement Gianni’s devastating smile burst into life, but he was careful to quash it almost straight away.
‘That’s what I call insight. A girl who shows insight and initiative? You’ll go far, ragazza insolente!’
Tiny muscles quivered all around his lips. Meg could see he was trying not to laugh. What made it worse was that he knew she knew. It wasn’t the sort of position she wanted to put her new boss in. Especially when that boss was Gianni Bellini, a man guaranteed to have any girl he wanted.
Dutifully, she looked down at the grass again to hide her own smile, but wasn’t about to stifle her ambition.
‘I already have, signor,’ she said, careful to hide any hint of humour. ‘I graduated top of my intake, I saved my parents’ business from ruin, then I landed the top job here. And I haven’t finished yet.’
‘I’m beginning to realise that,’ he said quietly. ‘So, Miss Curator of Exotic Plants—what are your plans for my new garden?’
Meg sensed he was trying to lighten the tone. Despite the twinkle in his eyes, she decided to tread carefully until she was certain where she stood with him.
‘I’m here to implement the old count’s plans, not my own,’ she said carefully. ‘At the moment, his collection of tropical plants is restricted to that old lemon house at the far end of the kitchen garden. They were all going to be moved and the collection expanded into this new glasshouse range as soon as it was finished.’
She began walking off toward a long, low building set against a distant wall. Gianni did not follow her immediately. When he did, he lingered a few steps behind.
‘Am I walking too fast for you, Gianni?’
‘Not at all,’ he said airily. ‘It’s a beautiful day, and I have a beautiful view. Why hurry?’
She looked back over her shoulder and realised what he was watching.
‘Signor!’
‘I’ve told you before—my