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‘Cherry.’ Vittorio turned to her, his eyes dancing. ‘This man has a wife and a houseful of little ones. Do not be fooled by his velvet tongue. He is the Casanova.’
They left Federico still objecting, and once in the Range Rover Vittorio slid one arm along the back of her seat as he turned to her. ‘There is no rush to get back.’ His eyes lingered on her hair and he murmured, almost to himself, ‘Such colours when the light catches it. Red, gold—like the flames of a fire. It shimmers like silk in the sun, do you know this? It is a crime to imprison such loveliness.’
She felt his fingers release the clip holding her hair, and as it fell about her shoulders Cherry jerked away. ‘Don’t,’ she said sharply, holding out her hand for the fastener. ‘It’s too hot to wear it down today.’
‘And is this the only reason you hide such beauty from me?’ he said, ignoring her outstretched fingers.
She stared at him, wondering if he was making fun of her. Her hair was ordinary. She was ordinary. OK, so she wouldn’t exactly shatter mirrors, and when she took the time to dress up and do her hair and make-up with more care than usual she could pass for averagely attractive, but that was all. She had no illusions about herself, and if she had had, Angela and her mother would have set her right years ago.
‘My hair is nothing special.’ She fixed him with her most severe look. ‘And how I choose to wear it has absolutely nothing to do with you.’
He smiled faintly, which Cherry found incredibly irritating. ‘Have you always been so defensive or is it a barrier erected since the disappointment in love?’ he asked with unforgivable audacity. ‘And do not deny once again there is not a man behind your sojourn in my country. Sophia has told me otherwise.’
Whether the quick stab of hurt at Sophia’s betrayal was evident in her face Cherry didn’t know, but in the next breath Vittorio said, ‘That is all she said. No details. Not one. And she only told me that because she was anxious I did not… What is that English phrase? Ah, si. Put my foot in it in some way.’
She had recovered enough to glare at him. ‘Your sister clearly doesn’t know you as well as she thinks she does,’ she bit out, ‘if she imagines a little thing like knowing someone has been hurt would stop you barging in where angels fear to tread.’
‘But I am no angel, mia piccola.’ To add insult to injury, he tucked the hairclip away in the pocket on his side of the vehicle as he added, ‘And a man who is stupid enough to let you slip through his fingers does not deserve you anyway. Now, I am going to take you to lunch in Locorotondo, and afterwards we will visit the Baroque cathedral. Sophia will sleep for most of the day, I am sure. Now the secret she had been worrying about for weeks is out in the open she is feeling something of a reaction, I think. But tomorrow she will have to begin to consider all the preparations for the wedding, and you will be needed.’
Fighting the urge to scream at him, Cherry drew on all her considerable will-power to stay cool and composed. ‘I have no intention of having lunch with you. I agreed to stay to help Sophia.’
‘Which I have no doubt you will do admirably.’ He started the engine. ‘But today I show you the città del vino bianco, Locorotondo—the city of white wine—while you are still the tourist sightseeing rather than Sophia’s aide. This will be a pleasant and relaxing interlude before your hard word, si?’
No. Definitely not relaxing, and with her jangled nerves, probably not pleasant either. She would far rather go back to the house and spend the time by the pool with just a book for company. She opened her mouth to argue further, glanced at Vittorio’s imperturbable profile, and shut it again. He’d made up his mind, and although she might not have known him very long she knew once made up it wouldn’t change. Short of throwing herself out of the Range Rover she had no choice but to accompany him.
That wouldn’t be so bad if a secret part of her didn’t want it so badly. Which was dangerous. Very dangerous. And foolish. Vittorio must have had lots of women, and would continue to have them; he was experienced, worldly-wise and devastatingly charismatic—and if love ever featured in his life in the future the woman concerned would have to be super-special, like him, for it to work.
And then she caught her thoughts in alarm. What on earth was she thinking about love for? Her cheeks burned. Thank goodness he couldn’t read her mind. She had to pull herself together. The sexual attraction she felt for this man was controllable, it had to be, and that was all it was. Once the next few weeks were over and Sophia was settled, life would go on for Vittorio and his sister and they probably wouldn’t think of her when she was out of their lives. Vittorio was a man. He could sleep with a woman and move on without emotional difficulty. That was just the way it was. She had to remember that. She had to remember that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHERRY found one of the charms of Locorotondo was the approach to the town as they drove through the Valle d’Itria, a striking Italian landscape of luxuriant vineyards sleeping in the hot sun and traditional trulli houses, where the sweet aroma of the mint growing by the roadside filled the car with its perfume.
Vittorio told her that the dry white spumante wine which was a speciality of the area had given the town its nickname and was of the highest quality, but as they got nearer, and she could see the domes of the cathedral, she realised it was an outstandingly beautiful town too. Blindingly white limestone houses and narrow alleyways bedecked with geraniums and citrus plants wound in true Italian style around squares and tiny palm-sheltered courtyards, and by the time Vittorio had parked the Range Rover and they’d wandered on foot deeper into the town and made their way to the cathedral Cherry was smitten.
The cathedral was as magnificent as she had expected, but when they left its confines and Vittorio casually took her hand as she stumbled over some ancient cobbles all she could think about was his fingers holding hers. And he didn’t seem inclined to let go. She felt dwarfed by his solid maleness as they walked, but it was an intoxicating feeling, and just for a while—she told herself—she’d enjoy the sensation. It didn’t mean anything, she was fully aware of that, so no harm done.
They found a small trattoria—an informal restaurant serving simple meat and pasta dishes—and ate sitting outside under a large umbrella, sipping glasses of spumante wine. Cherry kept darting quick glances at Vittorio from under her eyelashes, unable to believe she was sitting in the sunshine enjoying a meal with one of the most gorgeous men she had ever seen in her life when just a couple of days before she had been very much on her own. This was the sort of thing that happened to other people, not to her. And it wasn’t as if Puglia was a beach resort type of place, where romances were more likely to occur.
Not that this was a romance, she reminded herself firmly. Not remotely. She’d made up her mind before leaving England that it would be a very long time before she made the mistake of trusting a man again. It had been one of the reasons she’d decided to spend some months exploring archaeological sites and museums on the continent—places that recalled days of Greek and Roman inhabitants, medieval castles and fortresses, the breathtaking artistry of eighteenth-century Baroque architecture and the rest of the wealth of history countries like Italy, Greece and Turkey contained. She’d wanted to immerse herself in the past and forget the disappointments of the present and the uncertainty of the future, and definitely—definitely—steer clear of the male of the species.
She suddenly became aware that Vittorio was sitting gazing at her, having finished his meal, his grey eyes thoughtful. ‘You are thinking of this man again.’ It was a statement, not a question. ‘There is sadness in your face.’
Taken aback, she spoke without thinking. ‘I wasn’t thinking of Liam. Not specifically.’
‘Liam.’ A hardness came into his voice. ‘I do not like this name.’
It was such a ridiculous thing to say she found herself smiling. ‘In spite of what you think, I am actually over him,’ she said firmly. ‘It was a salutary lesson in being foolish enough to place one’s trust in a man if nothing else.’
Vittorio finished the last of the wine in his glass before speaking. ‘And this is the woman who took me to task for my observations of the female sex yesterday?’ he said silkily. ‘Such hypocrisy.’
‘Not at all.’ Hell, she’d walked into that one. ‘You were saying women are driven by a man’s wealth first and foremost and marry for money, and that’s just not true.’
‘Forgive me if I misunderstood,’ he went on, in the same tone as before, ‘but did you not just condemn men as being intrinsically undependable and untrustwor
thy? Speaking purely for myself, I think it is fair to say you have a limited knowledge of me, and I fail to see how you can make an accurate observation of my character—not to mention all the millions of men out there you have not met.’ Black eyebrows rose mockingly. ‘Is this not true?’
‘Oh…’ She was furious with him for catching her out so expertly, and knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on in this particular altercation. ‘You don’t understand what I meant.’
