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She sank back in her seat. It was a tough life Nicolo Sabatini led. No wonder he couldn’t understand anyone who worked for a living. A man like this would not rise at dawn, hurry off to work, and return home hours later, weary and exhausted.
Well, tomorrow he’d get a taste of reality. A self-satisfied smile curled over her lips. He had promised to return her to Milan in the morning. She could just see his face when she told him her mornings began at six. The great Prince Sabatini would not relish starting his day at such an hour.
Prince Sabatini. Caroline lifted her hand to her mouth and tapped her index finger lightly against her lips. How she hated calling him that, not just because she had an American’s disdain for such outdated nonsense but because Nicolo obviously relished his title. Why else would he use it?
Well, he would not hear it from her again. He’d suggested she use his first name and she would, even if there was an unwelcome hint of intimacy in it. Anything was better than having to choke out another “Your Highness.”
Nicolo, she thought, tasting the name on her tongue. Much as she hated to admit it, it was a nice name, masculine, strong, yet soft and pleasant to the ear. But “soft” wasn’t the word to describe the man himself. Caroline threw him a quick glance. No, certainly not. The finely tailored clothing he wore did nothing to hide the granitelike hardness of the body beneath. If anything, it enhanced it, made you aware of the broadness of his shoulders, the firmness of his muscles, the long, lean power of his legs…
“I can almost hear your brain working, Caroline.”
Color raced along her skin. She looked at him. He was intent on the road, but there was a cool smile playing across his mouth.
“You are figuring how many minutes and hours you will have to endure in my company.”
She let out her breath. “Oh, I’ve already done that,” she said with cool nonchalance. “And it’s far too many.” For the first time, she turned her attention to the road. A sign flashed by. “Via Appia Nuovo.” She felt a little surge of disappointment. “This is a highway,” she said, almost to herself.
Nicolo glanced at her. “Indeed,” he said dryly. “What did you expect?”
Caroline flushed. “I only meant…” She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“A dirt path? A ditch?” He glanced at her again, his expression even cooler than before. “Why do Americans always think theirs is the only country that’s part of the modern world?”
She swung toward him. “What I expected,” she snapped, “was that Italians might show some reverence for the past. But I’m sure it was much more important to pave over history and build this—this autostrada than to worry about preserving something like the Appian Way!”
“The Appian Way? But this is not—”
“No. Not anymore, it isn’t!”
Nicolo looked at her. “What do you know of such things as the Via Appia?”
“Much more than you’d imagine,” she said in frigid tones, “despite my being an American. And female. And a model.”
“I only meant—”
“I know what you meant,” she said angrily. “You’re all the same. You think, just because a woman is attractive—”
He laughed softly. “But you are not attractive, Caroline.” His eyes met hers. “You are beautiful.”
She flushed. “The point I’m trying to make is—”
“That I am guilty of making wholesale judgments about women such as you. Yes?”
Caroline nodded. “Yes.”
A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Ah, carina, but you are equally guilty.”
“I am not!”
His smile widened. “‘You are all the same,’” he said, imitating not her voice but its angry cadence. “‘You think, just because a woman is attractive—’”
“It’s not the same thing at all! Men like you…”
Her words drifted away. Men like you never give women like me a chance to prove we’re real, she thought. But what did it matter? Nicolo Sabatini could think what he liked; after today, she’d never see him again.
“Yes?” he prompted.
Caroline shook her head. “Nothing.” She swung around and stared straight ahead. “How long will it take us to get to Rome, anyway?”
“To the real Rome?” He laughed softly as he turned off the autostrada. “We are almost there. Just be patient and look around you.”
She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But the road they were on now was different; it was much narrower, lined on both sides with cypresses and pines. Nicolo slowed the car; now she could see that they were passing monuments made of stone and marble.
Ruins, she thought, with a flicker of excitement. Those were ruins, standing for heaven knew how many centuries beside this road—this road of ancient paving stones…
This was the Appian Way!
“Sì,” Nicolo said quietly.
Caroline turned to him, at first unaware she’d spoken aloud.
“But—the sign, on the other road…”
He nodded. “A newer Via Appia, yes. But we Italians were not foolish enough to bury our past completely.” He looked at her. “Would you like to stop for a moment?”
She wanted to say no, to go on treating him and everything that surrounded him with the same nonchalant air she’d managed thus far. But how could she, when what she longed to do was feel the timeless beauty of this place?
“All right,” she said, as casually as she could manage.
He pulled to the side of the road and she swung her door open and stepped out. It was very quiet; except for the sigh of the wind, they might have been alone on the planet. Ahead rose a cylindrical stone-and-brick ruin faced with sculptured columns.
“What is that?” Caroline asked softly.
“The tomb of Cecilia Metella, a Roman noblewoman.” Nicolo walked forward, with Caroline at his side. “She was buried here in the first century B.C.”
“But why here, outside the walls of the city? Had she done something wrong?”
He smiled. “No one could be buried inside Rome in the ancient times, Caroline. It was—how would you say it?—for reasons of public health. That is why many of the most beautiful ruins along the Via Appia Antica are tombs.”
“You mean, like the catacombs?”
“Sì. But there are other sorts of ruins along the via, as well.” He paused. “There is a place just off the road that is especially lovely, and very, very old. Would you like to see it?”
She didn’t hesitate this time. “Yes,” she said, “please.”
They got back into the car and drove slowly along the rutted, narrow turnoff, until finally Nicolo pointed to a low rise.
“There it is,” he said softly.
He shut off the engine and silence enfolded them. Ahead, a handful of broken Ionic columns rose against the pale blue sky. Other columns lay scattered on the grass, and yet there was still such perfect grace and beauty to the place that Caroline felt her throat constrict.
“Would you like to go closer?” She nodded, and Nicolo stepped from the car and helped her out. “We are on ancient ground,” he said softly, “a sacred place. This was a temple to Diana, the goddess of—”
“The moon.”
“Yes. That’s right. She was in love with—”
“Endymion. She came down from Olympus and made love to him while he slept. And she wove a spell over him, so that he slept forever and never grew old.”
A little smile angled across his mouth. “How did you know that?”
Caroline flushed. “Why wouldn’t I know it? Just because you have these—these stereotyped ideas about—”
“I only meant that not many people know anything about the old gods these days.”
“Oh.” She hesitated. “Well, I—I’ve heard some of the myths.”
“Backstage, at the House of Fabbiano?”
She started to bristle, but then she looked at him and saw that his smile was open and good-humored. A little of the stiffness eased from her
spine.
“No, not quite,” she said, giving him a little smile in return. “My grandmother had a passion for legends and fables. She used to tuck me in at night and tell me the most wonderful stories.”
“Ah. She lived with you, then?”
“She raised me. That’s why…”
Caroline fell silent. That’s why I agreed to visit la Principessa, she’d almost said, but what business was that of his? Her private life had nothing to do with him.
The wind sighed again as it swept through the ruined temple, and a little shudder went through Caroline. Suddenly, she wished she’d never agreed to come to Rome, she wished—
“Are you cold?”
She started. “Cold?”
“Yes. You are shivering.” Nicolo swept his arm around her. “Here, let me shield you from the wind.”
“It’s not necessary,” she said quickly.
