“Likewise,” Ian agreed.
The rain clouds hovering over the Tyrrhenian Sea were so beautiful, it made Diana wish she knew how to paint.
Through the view of the French doors in San Genaro's dining room, she detected whitecaps on the waves. The storm would arrive within the hour. She tried not to interpret it as an omen of the day to come.
“There you are.”
Ian padded into the room in his stocking feet. He’d bathed and dressed but had foregone a necktie. A splash of his ink peeked through his open collar.
He’d returned from the showdown with Costa and Titus in the middle of the night, and after kissing Diana and telling her the plot she’d hatched had succeeded, he’d collapsed onto the bed in a fatigued stupor. And slept for the better part of the day.
Diana bid him a good afternoon. The brush of his lips silenced her for several moments while their mouths and tongues became reacquainted. He kissed her as if they’d been apart for years, instead of days.
“You look so much better,” he murmured.
“Iambetter. And your color is much improved.”
“Who knew sleep could be so restorative.”
She laughed and gave him a playful shove. “It’s almost time for luncheon, but I’ll ring for coffee andcoronetto.”
“No need, I’ve already had both.” He lifted her up from the chair, sat down in it and pulled her into his lap. “I thought I might convince you to return to bed.”
“Maybe later.”
He stroked a hand down her back. “What has your clever brain been fixating on that’s made your shoulders so tight?” His hand brushed against her forehead. “Are you feeling poorly?”
Truthfully, her stomach was in knots. “I have something I need to tell you. And I’m worried it’s going to upset you. Itwillupset you, and I hate it.”
To her immense horror, tears pricked her eyes.
“Oh, love.” He dabbed them away with his handkerchief. “It can’t be that horrible.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She gave a shaky laugh. “All I do these days is wobble.”
“You’re making up for all those years of perfect composure.” His hand massaged her neck, and at the utter of her soft moan, he whispered in her ear, “I prefer you undone.”
“Remember precisely how much, with what I’m about to tell you.”
He nipped her earlobe. “Tesora mia, I came dangerously close to losing you. I’m still not convinced you’re out of the woods yet, and that terrifies me more than any secret you could be keeping.”
She drew a breath. “Do youlike the villa?”
He blinked at the abrupt turn in the conversation. “This is the first I’ve seen of it, beyond our suite.”
“I want to give you a tour.”
He stroked a finger down her cheek. “I’d rather stay here.”
“Stop indulging me.”
“Actually, I’m indulging myself right now.”
“Ask me why.”
He sighed. “Why do you want me to tour the villa?”
“Because it’s yours,” she whispered. “You own San Genaro, Ian.”
