Read Online The Tuscan's Revenge Wedding by Jennifer Blake - Free Book Online Page A

a weathered crest.
    She had seen the mansion and its perfect reflection a
thousand times on supermarket shelves and in her own kitchen cabinet. It was
featured on colorful metallic labels attached to millions upon millions of
bottles.
    “Villa De Frenza Olive Oil,” she murmured.
    The brand was august indeed, even historic, a recognized
standard of quality the world over. It was no wonder Nicholas de Frenza had
far-flung business contacts, a private jet, personal assistants at his beck and
call and shining limousines that slid to a stop in front of him the moment he
appeared. Also no mystery why the paparazzi were drawn to any hint of scandal
or catastrophe attached to one who without doubt mingled with the rich, famous
and titled of Europe.
    It wasn’t at all surprising that he had the influence to see
to it Jonathan was charged with negligence, if not worse, in the accident that
injured his sister.
    “ Si? ” Nicholas lifted a brow, his gaze intent and
brooding as he studied her.
    “I didn’t realize,” she said, her voice defensive yet
bemused. “Not until this moment.”
    “Evidently.”
    “I suppose the name — but it never occurred to me. I must
not have been thinking straight. Besides, you can’t be the only de Frenza in
Italy.”
    “By no means. Nor am I the only one that matters,” he answered,
his voice dry. “I’d thought your brother would have made the connection for
you.”
    “I told you it’s been weeks since I spoke to him. Apparently
he was too caught up in getting to know your sister to have the time.”
    “As you say,” he agreed before turning his gaze to the
window again.
    The car approached the house and pulled up on the graveled
court that fronted it. The heavy entrance door swung open before the vehicle came
to a complete stop. A large woman wearing a pristine white apron over her
simple black dress hurried down the stone steps. She burst into speech before
the driver could come around to open the door. Amanda feared for an instant
that she was delivering bad new, but her eyes were bright and her voice carried
nothing but pleasure at the return of Il Signor .
    Nicholas answered with composure as he left the car then
turned to give Amanda his hand. She would have liked to refuse his offer of
help, but had not quite mastered the art of climbing from a limousine with
grace. Besides, she was oddly reluctant to embarrass him in front of what must
be his housekeeper.
    “This is Erminia,” he said. “I called ahead to tell her you
would be joining us. She will show you to the room she has made ready for you.”
He turned to the housekeeper, continuing in Italian that had the sound of
detailed instruction. The woman nodded her understand. Then her face dimmed
with concern as she spoke again.
    “Erminia offers her condolences on the injury of your
brother,” Nicholas translated. “Jonathan was here often while I was away, and
seems to have earned a place in her good graces. He was even allowed to call
her Minnie Mouse as a play upon her name. She will bring something to drink and
a light snack, if it pleases you.”
    Minnie Mouse. That was so Jonathan, Amanda thought, even if
the teasing name didn’t quite match the Italian housekeeper’s as Nicholas had
given it. Scornful of formality when it seemed most required, effortlessly
charming, her brother would have taken great pains to earn the approval of
those important to the woman he loved.
    Amanda’s throat closed, making it impossible to speak,
though she smiled at the housekeeper.
    “You will have time to rest before lunch is served on the
terrace,” Nicholas continued. “ Allora , you will go with her now.”
    What else was there to do? Amanda thanked him politely and
entered Villa de Frenza in Erminia’s wake.
    The house was dim and cool inside, smelling faintly of
ancient wood and antique carpets, lemon oil furniture polish and the ghosts of
a thousand bouquets. Walls of cream plaster were hung with portraits