Sara Craven Tribute Collection. Sara Craven
said with sudden shyness, ‘And I for you, Marco.’
‘Then imagine that I am with you, cara.’ His voice sank huskily, intimately. ‘That I am holding you naked—touching you as you like to be touched. You remember, hmm?’
‘Marco!’ She felt the fierce charge of desire deep within her. The swift scalding heat between her thighs. Her voice pleaded with him unsteadily. ‘You’re not being fair.’
‘No,’ he conceded softly. ‘Perhaps not. But when I come back, my sweet one, there will be complete honesty between us—whatever the cost.’
She could hear the note of sadness in his voice and flinched from it, knowing what it must mean. He was warning her that their brief, rapturous idyll was drawing to an end.
She took a deep breath. She said quietly, ‘I—I can’t wait to see you.’
‘It will not be long now,’ he told her. ‘But I must go. They are waiting for me.’
She returned his murmured, ‘Arriverderci,’ and put down the telephone, standing for a moment, staring into space, realising she was going to need every scrap of emotional courage she possessed to get her through the next few days.
She heard a brief sound, and turned to see Ninetta standing in the doorway, watching her. She gasped. ‘Oh—you startled me.’
‘Scusi, signorina.’
The apology was meek enough, but Flora was certain that she’d detected a smirk in the dark eyes before they were deferentially lowered.
She said coolly, ‘Did you want something, Ninetta?’
‘I came to see if you needed me, signorina.’ The girl came further into the room. ‘You look pale. Have you had bad news?’
‘On the contrary.’ Flora met the sly glance head-on, her chin lifted. ‘The signore is coming back tomorrow. I am going to arrange a special dinner for him and I have to decide what to wear.’
Which wouldn’t be easy, she acknowledged with an inward sigh. Travelling light had its disadvantages, and Marco had already seen everything she’d brought with her.
‘Maybe it is an occasion for a new dress, signorina. Rocello has some good shops.’
It was about the first helpful remark Ninetta had ever made, and Flora sent her a surprised glance.
‘Yes,’ she agreed slowly. ‘Perhaps it is.’
She might as well go out in style, she thought, with all flags flying. And she could use the time, as well, to buy some going-home presents—although apart from Hester and Melanie she couldn’t think of many people who would welcome one from her.
She paused. ‘Is there a morning bus into the town?’
For a moment Ninetta looked genuinely shocked. ‘A car and driver will be provided for you, signorina. I shall arrange it at once. The signore would wish it,’ she added, pre-empting any further objections that Flora might have.
I only wish, Flora thought when she was alone again, that I liked her better.
‘I understand that you wish to go into town,’ Alfredo said as he served her breakfast next morning. ‘If you had consulted me, signorina, I would have escorted you myself. As it is, young Roberto will be driving you.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be fine.’ Flora placated him, aware that his normally smooth feathers were ruffled. ‘You must have far better things to do than wait while I shop.’
‘Nothing I could not have postponed.’ He was frowning slightly. ‘The signore placed you in my charge, after all.’
‘Well, Roberto will be a perfectly adequate stand-in.’ She smiled at him. ‘And I’ll only be gone an hour or so.’ She paused. ‘Have I come across Roberto before?’
‘I think not, signorina. He usually works in the grounds, but he drives the cars on occasion. He is the brother of Ninetta, who waits on you.’
Then I only hope he’s more civil, Flora thought as she finished her meal.
Roberto seemed to be a rather stolid young man, with a limited command of English, so the journey into town was completed mostly in silence. However, the views from the winding coast road were sufficiently spectacular to compensate for any lack of conversation.
Rocello was not a large town, but its central square, overlooked by a fine Gothic church, was an imposing one.
Flora arranged to meet the taciturn Roberto by the church in two hours, which would give her time to make her purchases and, hopefully, do a little sightseeing too.
Ninetta had been right about the shops, she soon discovered. There were some delectable boutiques hidden away among the winding side streets, and she soon found a dress she liked—one of her favourite slip styles, with narrow straps and a fluid drift of a skirt, in white, with a stylised flower in crystal beads on the bodice.
A few doors away she came upon a local silversmith, and bought a pair of pretty earrings for Mel, and an elegant chain with twisted links for Hes.
In a small gallery near the square there was a small framed painting of the castello, and, after some heart-searching, she decided to buy it. In the days ahead it might help convince her that this had not been all a fantastic dream, she thought wryly.
It was going to be a very hot day, and Flora was quite glad to seek shelter in the shadowy interior of the church, which was famous for its frescoes painted, it was said, by a pupil of Giotto.
But, even so, she still had some time to while away before her appointment with Roberto. She stationed herself under the striped awning of one of the pavement cafés opposite the church, so that she could spot him as soon as he arrived.
She ordered a cappuccino and sat nibbling some of the little almond biscuits that came with it, idly watching the tourists, who were milling around with their cameras.
‘Signorina Graham. I thought there could not be two women with that glorious shade of hair.’
Flora looked up in surprise to find Tonio Baressi smiling down at her.
‘Oh,’ she said slowly. ‘Good morning.’
He drew out the chair opposite with a flourish. ‘May I join you?’
‘You seem to have done so already, signore.’ Flora stole a surreptitious glance at her watch, hoping that Roberto might be early.
If Tonio noticed the tart note in her voice he gave no sign, merely signalling imperiously to the waiter.
‘So Marco has gone to Milan and left you to your own devices,’ he said, when his espresso arrived. He clicked his tongue. ‘But how unchivalrous.’
‘He has work to do,’ Flora said shortly. My first time in Rocello, she thought, and I have to run into him.
He laughed. ‘Whereas you are strictly for his leisure moments, eh? He is very fortunate to have found a woman so understanding of his—other obligations.’
Flora made a business of collecting together her packages. ‘You must excuse me,’ she said brightly. ‘I’d like to have a look inside the church before my driver comes.’
‘But surely I saw you coming out of the church a short while ago? You must find those frescoes particularly fascinating.’ He was still smiling, but his eyes had narrowed. ‘Or did Marco warn you to shun my company?’
‘Of course not. How ridiculous.’ She bit her lip in vexation, and a certain unease. How long had he been watching her, she wondered, and why?
‘I am relieved to hear it. Please—have another cappuccino. I insist.’
She thanked him with a forced smile and sat back, trying to look relaxed, while scanning the passing crowd for Roberto.
‘I