‘Then don’t be. I like my battle trophy—and its memories.’
‘Is that how you see making love—as a war?’ She laughed, but she felt faintly troubled too. ‘Then who is the victor and who the vanquished?’
He kissed her, his mouth moving on hers with tender warmth. ‘At a moment like this,’ he murmured, ‘it hardly seems to matter.’ He paused, stroking the hair back from her face. ‘And don’t look at me like that, Flora mia,’ he added softly. ‘Or lunch might become dinner.’
Her glance didn’t waver. ‘I wouldn’t mind.’
‘Then let me be wise for us both.’ His smile was rueful. ‘I think it is time I also put on some clothes.’
He kissed her again, and went soft-footed back to the bedroom.
It was a quiet lunch. Marco seemed lost in thought more than once. Or perhaps, thought Flora, he was just exhausted…
‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.
‘Nothing in particular.’ She took a hasty swig of wine. ‘Why?’
‘Because you are blushing again. I thought it might be—significant.’
‘Not really.’ Flora fanned herself with her napkin. ‘It’s probably the heat. It’s such a beautiful day.’ She paused. ‘Would you like some more wine?’
‘No, I thank you.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I must get back to my cousin’s house. And I shall be driving later.’
Oh, Flora thought flatly. So—that was that, after all. And she couldn’t pretend it was a surprise.
‘It would be good to get out of the city,’ he went on. ‘I thought I would hire a car.’ He smiled at her. ‘Perhaps you could suggest a suitable destination.’
She sat rather straighter. ‘I really couldn’t advise you.’
‘No? You disappoint me.’
‘I don’t really know your tastes.’ She hesitated. ‘Do you like—looking at things?’
‘I like to look at you.’ The green eyes met hers with cool directness. ‘As for the rest, I am not a sightseer, but I thought we might find a pleasant hotel in some beautiful part of England and spend the remainder of the weekend together there.’
He paused, running a hand over his chin. ‘I need to shave, and we both have bags to pack. When I return you can tell me where you would like me to take you.’
She said quietly, ‘After paradise, anywhere else will seem rather tame.’
There was an odd silence. Flora saw his mouth tighten, and the green eyes become suddenly remote. It was as if she had made him angry, she thought in bewilderment.
But when he spoke his voice was light. ‘You flatter me, carissima. But you should beware of paradise. It can so often conceal a serpent.’ He rose to his feet. ‘I should not be longer than an hour or two.’ He came round the table and dropped a kiss on her hair. ‘Have our route planned.’
There was a nightgown in her drawer, a sheer, lacy thing wrapped in tissue, that she had bought for her honeymoon with Chris.
The betrayal was complete now, she thought, as she put it carefully into her weekend case. And the wretchedness of telling Chris would be her punishment.
She thought of phoning Hes. You’re a witch, she’d say lightly. You wished it on me and it’s happened. Passion to die for. And then loneliness to last a lifetime. Only she wouldn’t say that.
Nor did she make the call. There would be plenty of time for confession in the weeks to come, she thought without joy.
But she did not have time to brood because, surprisingly, Marco was back within the hour, driving a low, sleek open-topped sports car.
Flora gaped at it. ‘Someone let you hire that?’ she asked incredulously.
‘It belongs to Vittoria,’ he said. ‘She has lent it to me.’ He paused. ‘She also suggested somewhere we might go—unless, of course, you have thought of a place.’
She spread her hands. ‘I’ve been racking my brains, but I so rarely go out of London—except to Surrey, to stay with my mother and stepfather.’ And very occasionally to Essex and Chris’s family, she thought with a pang of guilt.
‘It is called the Aldleigh Manor Hotel,’ he said. ‘Vittoria says it is very comfortable, with beautiful grounds, and wonderful food.’
‘It sounds perfect,’ she said. ‘Like a dream.’
His brows drew together. ‘You would prefer somewhere else? That’s not a problem. We could tour around, maybe? Take our chances?’
‘Oh, no,’ Flora said swiftly. ‘Aldleigh Manor sounds really wonderful. But it might be fully booked.’
‘They have a room for us,’ he said quietly. ‘Overlooking the lake. I must confess I already made the reservation. Although it can always be cancelled if you wish?’
‘Certainly not.’ Flora threw him a wicked grin. ‘I can’t wait to see it. And if it’s anything short of paradise I shall know who to complain to.’
‘You’re very quiet,’ she commented as they edged their way out of London.
‘I am concentrating on my driving,’ Marco returned after a pause. ‘Remember that for me the gear shift—the road—everything is on the wrong side. And if I scratch Vittoria’s darling—Madonna!—I’ll be a dead man. And I have people depending on me back in Milan.’
‘Are accountants really that important?’ she teased.
‘Only when they are as good as I am, mia bella.’ He slanted a grin at her.
He really had no need to worry, she thought. He was a marvellous driver, considerate with other traffic, and not using the powerful car as an extension of his virility.
All she had to do was sit back and admire his profile, and bask in the envious glances of people toiling along hot pavements.
The hotel was important enough to be signposted.
‘Oh,’ Flora said. ‘It has a golf course.’
‘Well, that need not concern us,’ Marco said, turning the car between tall stone gateposts. ‘Unless you wish to hire clubs and play?’
‘No, thanks,’ she said hastily. It was just a reminder of Chris that she didn’t need, she thought, guilt piling in again. Well, perhaps she could find some reason to tell Marco she didn’t like the place, and persuade him to drive somewhere else.
But it was difficult to know what she could possibly object to, she thought, as the building itself came into view from the long curving drive. It was three storeys high, its grey stones lit by the late afternoon sun which gave the mullioned windows a diamond sparkle. The commanding entrance was made more welcoming by the urns of bright flowers which flanked it.
As Marco drew into one of the parking spaces allotted to hotel guests a porter instantly emerged to take their bags.
They were shown into a vast foyer, made cool by arrangements of tall green plants and dominated by a massive central staircase.
Through an open door Flora could see people sitting in a pretty lounge, enjoying afternoon tea.
She touched Marco’s arm. ‘That looks nice.’
He smiled at her. ‘I’ll have some sent up to our room. Wait for me here, cara, while I register.’
As he went to the desk Flora took off the scarf she’d been wearing and shook her hair free. She looked around her, noting where the lifts were and spotting discreet signs indicating the cocktail