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‘Here.’ She would have dumped the precious package in his arms if it hadn’t been worth a small fortune. As it was she laid it there as tenderly as if it were a newborn infant, and just for a moment their hands brushed and she felt the unwelcome sizzle of longing. ‘I’ll bring the rest of the stuff inside,’ she said, hoping that he hadn’t noticed.
He had, of course. It had happened too often in his past for him not to. Desire could strike inappropriately and randomly; he accepted that. And sometimes, though not often, he was tempted as any man would be tempted—but he had never yet succumbed to the lures of fleeting desire. His sense of honour was too deeply ingrained in him to ever do that.
But Giovanni could never recall a temptation as potent as the one he was experiencing now. He turned his back on her and without another word began to walk back towards the house.
Lady St John was still in the Blue Drawing Room and she turned around with a smile as Giovanni brought the heavy package into the room and placed it on a table.
‘Would you like us to leave you alone now, Kate?’ she asked. ‘I know you prefer to work undisturbed.’
‘Oh, yes, please!’ answered Kate gratefully, trying to imagine hanging heavy brocade under the scrutiny of that critical blue gaze. Why, she would probably break the habit of a lifetime and drop the curtains all over the floor!
‘And afterwards you’ll join us for lunch, I hope?’
Usually, of course, she did. But today? With this moody-looking godson? Thanks, but no, thanks! ‘Well, it’s very sweet of you, but I think I might run over time, and I’d hate to delay you—’
‘No trouble at all,’ said Lady St John immediately. ‘Giovanni has expressed a wish to see the gardens—and I can’t wait to show him how many exotic plants we have acquired in the conservatory!’
‘But perhaps Miss Connors has lost her…appetite?’ he murmured, and his eyes darkened in predatory challenge.
She most certainly had—and he knew it, too! Kate met a mocking blue gaze and knew that this was something she could not refuse—and when she thought about it, why ever should she? Why let this contemptuous individual put her off, when during every other visit she had enjoyed a congenial and delicious meal with Lady St John before setting off back to London? Surely she was accomplished enough in the ways of the world to be able to act indifferently when she wanted to?
‘I haven’t eaten since six this morning,’ she said truthfully. ‘I’d love lunch!’
Giovanni looked at her, and wondered if she was one of those women who could eat with genuine appetite and remain as slim as a blade of grass. Or would a hearty lunch mean that she would exist on nothing but water and fresh air for the next three days?
‘Good! Come on, Giovanni,’ said Lady St John resolutely. ‘Let me show you colours that could rival your Sicilian flora!’
He gave a benign but disbelieving laugh. ‘I do not think so!’
Once they had gone, Kate took out the heavy brocade curtains, and set about pinning them up, running her fingertips down their shiny pleats. When she worked she was focused, seeing nothing more than colour and texture taking shape before her eyes, and she put the dark-haired Sicilian out of her mind.
She had just finished when she heard a soft footfall behind her, and she turned on her stepladder to find Giovanni standing there, his gaze arrested by the brilliant glimmer of deep blue and gold.
And then the gaze was lifted almost reluctantly to her face, and Kate felt herself imprisoned—impaled, almost—by a shaft of blinding sapphire light.
‘You look surprised,’ she observed in a low voice.
He was. He had expected…what? That she was too modern, too up-to-the-minute, and that the fabric she chose would look shockingly out of place in this beautiful old house.
‘A little,’ he conceded, with a very Sicilian shrug of his shoulders.
‘You thought I would have poor taste?’
He looked at her. She had perception, he noted. And such green eyes. And hair like fire. He felt some unknown and unwanted sensation washing over his skin. ‘You should not ask questions to which you do not wish to hear the answers.’
How ridiculously old-fashioned he sounded! ‘I’m a big girl, Mr Calverri—’
‘Signor Calverri,’ he corrected softly.
How could he possibly make his own name sound so beguiling? ‘And?’ she challenged in a husky voice she didn’t quite recognise as her own. ‘On the question of taste?’
He saw the quickening of her breath, and felt it fire a rapid response in his heart. ‘Your taste is quite exquisite,’ he said quietly.
Kate let her eyelids flutter down before he read the unwelcome hunger in her eyes. She didn’t like him! So why did she want to keep running his compliment round and round in her head like an old-fashioned record?
‘Thank you,’ she said breathlessly, feeling as uncoordinated as a giraffe as she slowly stepped down off the ladder, unspeakably relieved to see his godmother appear, her face one of delight as she surveyed the finished effect.
‘Oh, Kate! It’s perfect!’
