Page 158 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

They came across a petrol station with a shop attached. Having picked up a toothbrush and toothpaste and some face cream, she spotted there was a clothes section, including a small selection of swimwear. Unfortunately, the female swimwear was all bikinis. She hesitated a moment, then picked one in her size, impulsively adding a cotton skirt and fresh tee. Sanzio, armed with a razor and shaving cream, helped himself to a pair of trunks. They were blue, with a dolphin theme.

She laughed. ‘Snap!’ she said, holding up her blue bikini. ‘Minus dolphins though.’

He gave an answering laugh, and they went to the checkout. Eleanora made a point of paying for them both.

‘You’ve paid out so much for me,’ she told him. ‘All those gorgeous clothes. The least I can do is treat you to those swim shorts and a shaving set! Oh—’ a thought struck her ‘—and the agriturismo is on me—definitely!’

He looked at her. ‘You don’t have to prove you’re not like your sister,’ he said.

She shook her head. ‘I know, but—’

But I know I’m not like her in other ways, too. Ways I envy her for—when it comes to you…

She put the thought aside. She would not spoil this time with Sanzio. He wanted her company, she was easy with him and he with her, and if all there was between them was this comfortable companionship…

Then I shall be glad, and grateful. And make the very, very most of it.

And not yearn hopelessly for what could not be.

* * *

Sanzio gunned the engine. His mood was good. Today he’d achieved exactly what he’d wanted. It had given Eleanora the time and the space she’d needed. In Rome, he’d turned her image of herself upside down and inside out, and though that was wonderful, she needed to reconcile the two images she had of herself.

Not that he had any problem with reconciling them. From the first he’d realised that Eleanora was using her down-dressing as camouflage, was incapable, thanks to Tonia’s lifelong malign condemnation, of understanding that her slender figure, her fine-boned features, her luminous Oloroso eyes, had a beauty of their own utterly unlike her sister’s. It had taken dressing her up in fashion-house finery and having the stylist’s ministrations lavished on her to convince her—finally—that she was beautiful in her own right.

As for himself, his reaction to that radiantly revealed beauty had overwhelmed him—testing his self-control to the limit.

But now—now he was calling off the fight. The resolve he’d come to last night out on the terrace filled him. He wasn’t going to hold back any longer. There was no reason to do so—and every reason not to.

His glance went to her again as he drove on, making for the agriturismo. He doubted she would…could…believe it, but she was as lovely to him now, with her casual style, her hair loosely plaited, falling softly around her face, her honeyed, sun-kissed complexion…as lovely to him as she had been when dressed up to the nines, poised and glamorous.

But tonight, oh, tonight, he would convince her of it.

Convince her of so, so much.

* * *

The agriturismo proved charming. An old farmhouse, carefully renovated, the guest accommodation converted outhouses with exposed beams and white plaster walls, simple but tastefully done, with solid furniture and as much rustic character as any tourist could possibly want. Their little cottage comprised two modestly sized bedrooms separated by a linked bathroom, with a small seating area leading onto a secluded terrace overlooking a sloping lawn that led down to the pool. In her newly purchased bikini, so much skimpier than the one-piece she wore at the Palazzo, Eleanora felt self-conscious, but Sanzio, already in the water, was focusing on clocking his lengths. She contented herself with a gentle breaststroke, the water feeling like silk on her near-naked body, and was out of the pool and enveloped in a towel before Sanzio emerged. As they did when he swam at the Palazzo, her eyes went automatically to his strong, muscled torso, his slicked-back dark hair and diamond-laden lashes. Hurriedly, she looked away.

‘Let’s shower, dress and find the bar,’ he said, reaching for his towel, looping it around his neck. The lowering sun turned his body to gold. Eleanora looked away again.

A skein of sadness plucked at her. All day she had focused only on how good it was to spend this enjoyable, relaxed time with him, wanting nothing more than his easygoing company. But now, as evening loomed, she felt emotion stir she must not allow. Emotion she had worked to keep at bay.

Must always keep at bay.

Even today. Especially today.

* * *

The bar turned out to be a corner of the dining room in the main farmhouse, which was as tastefully rustic in style as their own accommodation. There was a wide terrace set with tables opening off, and Sanzio took their drinks out there. There were only two other guests, a middle-aged Dutch couple who spoke excellent English. They were touring the area and this was their second night at the agriturismo.

‘We went cycling today—bikes are provided here—and though it was hot, and hillier of course than we are used to at home, we do recommend it,’ said the husband.

Their host breezed out, asking if they would like to eat out on the terrace or indoors. They opted for the former, and tacitly made a quartet with the Dutch couple. It was pleasant and convivial and conversation flowed easily. Dinner too was delicious, nothing formal, but specialising in local cuisine, the wines excellent. By the time the dessert arrived the Dutch couple were yawning and, citing their early departure the next day, bade Eleanora and Sanzio goodnight, and took their leave.

‘Shall we do likewise? Have our coffee on our own terrace, and let our hosts clear up and shut down here?’ Sanzio posed. He’d been glad of the other couple’s company over dinner, helping to keep things relaxed with Eleanora.

But now—