It was safer that way.
‘I will need the car again tomorrow,’ Rico said as he took the turn to their run-down cottage in the foothills. ‘I have some business to attend to. I can give you a lift to the hospital but I think I should warn you I am leaving before sunrise and I might not be back until midnight.’
‘I’ll take the pushbike,’ she said, her heart sinking at the thought of the long ride into town. At least most of the journey was downhill, but the return trip after a day on the ward was no picnic.
‘Maybe you could ask Dr Hunter to give you a lift home tomorrow,’ Rico suggested. ‘That way you can kill two birds with one stone.’
‘I hardly think Dr Hunter is going to make a house call way up here,’ she said. ‘I’ll try and convince Papà to see him at the hospital or even the community clinic.’
‘He won’t go. You’ll have to get the doctor to come here. I am sure he won’t mind. Perhaps you could offer to show him around the island as a return favour—he probably won’t expect payment.’
Oh, yes, he will, Amelia thought as she brought that sensual smiling mouth to mind. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not making any promises,’ she said.
Rico sent her one of his rare smiles. ‘You’re a good sister, Ammie. I don’t know what we would do without you.’
She smiled back at him shyly. It was indeed a rarity to receive a compliment from either of her brothers and certainly never from her father. ‘Thank you, Rico. I just want us all to be happy and free of the past.’
The smile instantly faded from her brother’s face. ‘We can never be free of the past. It has cast a shadow over us that will not go away.’
Amelia followed him into the cottage with a despondent sigh. She hated to admit it but her brother was right.
What the nuns had taught her was true: the sins of the fathers were revisited on the next generation.
All her life she had lived with the burden of being a Vialli, the most scorned and hated family on the island of Niroli for what they had done to the king’s little grandson.
She suppressed a little shudder at the thought of that tiny broken body buried in the palace grounds, the Fierezza coat of arms emblazoned on his headstone, the family motto inscribed below.
Sempre Appassionato, Sempre Fiero.
Always passionate, always proud.
She had stood in respectful silence that day, comforting herself that at least the little prince was now at rest with his parents in heaven.
But what if he was still alive as her brother had suggested, but totally unaware of his royal heritage?
And if he was indeed alive, then who was the little boy who now lay in the Fierezza family vault…and why hadn’t his real parents come forward to claim him?
CHAPTER THREE
‘THERE’s a parcel for you in the third drawer of the filing cabinet,’ Lucia said on Amelia’s arrival at the hospital the next morning.
‘A parcel?’ Amelia wiped her damp face with a tissue. ‘For me?’
Lucia looked up from the notes she was writing. ‘You look like you’ve just run a marathon. Has Rico taken your car again?’
Amelia nodded and tossed the tissue in the bin under the desk. ‘His is still in the workshop. They won’t release it until he pays the bill, but I can’t see that happening too soon now he’s out of work. I had to use the pushbike.’
‘You should have called me. I could have taken a detour to pick you up.’
‘And add to your already frantic morning getting the children off to school and your husband off to work? No, the exercise will do me good. I quite enjoyed it actually.’
‘I’d offer to run you home but I’ve already promised the girls I’d take them swimming at the beach after school.’ Lucia gave her an apologetic look.
‘I’ll be fine,’ Amelia assured her. ‘Anyway, Rico might make it in time to pick me up.’ She opened the drawer and took out the neatly wrapped parcel and stared at it for a moment.
‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ Lucia asked.
She turned the package over in her hands and frowned. ‘It doesn’t say who it’s from.’
‘Go on, open it. It’s addressed to you.’
Amelia undid the slim ribbon before unpicking the tape holding the brightly coloured wrapping in place. The paper fell open to reveal a beautiful summer dress in three bright shades of pink, the skirt soft and voluminous, the fabric exquisite to touch.
‘Wow!’ Lucia breathed a sigh of wonder. ‘Someone has very good taste. If I’m not mistaken, that looks like a Mardi D’Avanzo original.’
Amelia checked the label on the collar of the dress, her heart giving a sudden lurch as she saw the famous Italian designer’s name printed there. ‘It is.’
Lucia’s eyes twinkled. ‘So who is your admirer? It’s not your birthday for months.’
Amelia carefully rewrapped the dress, scrunching up the little card she’d found inside the wrapping. ‘Is Dr Hunter in yet?’ she asked.
Lucia leaned forward in her chair, her eyes going wide. ‘Did Dr Hunter buy that for you?’
Amelia straightened her spine resolutely. ‘Yes, and I am giving it back to him right now.’
Lucia looked confused. ‘How come he bought you a dress?’
‘I’ll tell you later. Where is he?’
‘I think he’s in the office Dr Morani organised for him. But aren’t you being a bit hasty? I mean, that’s a designer outfit!’
Amelia gave her a determined look. ‘I can buy my own clothes. I am not going to accept his or anyone else’s charity.’
She strode down the corridor and gave the office door a couple of hard raps with her knuckles.
‘Come in,’ Alex called out cheerily.
She opened the door and closed it behind her with a little snap and locked gazes with him where he was sitting behind his desk.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ she bit out, thrusting the parcel at him.
He got to his feet and smiled. ‘Did you like it? I kind of had to guess your size but you’re about the same size as my younger sister Megan.’
Amelia slapped the parcel on the top of his desk. ‘I cannot accept this from you,’ she said, her tone crisp with pride.
‘If you don’t like the colour I can always change it,’ he offered.
‘It’s got nothing to do with the colour!’ she said, only just resisting the urge to stamp her foot at him.
‘Then what’s the problem?’ he asked.
‘You had no right to buy me this.’
‘On the contrary, I thought I had a perfect right to do so,’ he said, his dark eyes running over her lazily before returning to her fiery gaze. ‘I was partly responsible for you ruining your dress the other day, so I thought it was the very least I could do to replace it.’
‘With this?’ She pointed to the parcel on his desk.
He rubbed at his cleanly shaven jaw for a moment, his eyes still holding hers. ‘Mmm…now what did I get wrong? It must be the size. I know women absolutely hate it when the men in their lives get their size wrong.’
‘You