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Authors: Jennifer Blake
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and
tapestries, and colorful Olympian figures drifted about overhead inside an
egg-shaped dome. More of the same was revealed through a series of doors on
either side, while a double staircase of white marble mounted at the rear.
Grand though it undoubtedly was, the villa had a lived-in
feeling, a certain genteel lack of perfection that was oddly comforting. With
its obvious immunity to change or modern decorating trends, it reminded Amanda
of old Southern plantation houses she’d see on home tours.
She smiled with weary pleasure at the room she was shown
into for her stay. It was of a piece with the rest, having only a bit more
modern influence in its color scheme of golden beige highlighted with various
shades of blue. The space was cavernous, as large as her entire apartment, and
included in its furnishings a huge antique wardrobe in place of a closet. The en
suite bathroom was modern, however, with a walk-in shower and acres of
mirrors.
Erminia had brought up Amanda’s carryon bag, despite her
protests that she could get it herself. Inside it was an extra blouse, a sleep
shirt, a change or two of underclothing and minimal makeup, all she’d had time
to gather during the brief stop at her apartment for her passport. At least it would
allow her to freshen up a bit before lunch.
She stood for long moments under a warm shower, allowing it
to sluice away the faint hospital odor that clung to her, also to send some of
her tension whirling down the drain. Afterward, she ate the toast, fruit and
tea that Erminia brought and then the lay down on the cloud-soft bed with its
smooth, thousand-count sheets.
She closed her eyes but lay thinking, thinking in endless
circles. She was far too keyed up to sleep, felt as if she might never sleep
again. She gave up trying after a time, but only watched the gentle lift and
fall of the curtains at the open windows, stared at the rolling acres of olive
trees that shimmered in the sun, concealed and revealed by the movements of the
pale silk gauze.
Against her will, her thoughts went back to the kiss in the
limo. She lifted her fingers to her lips, feeling their sensitivity as she relived
the moment when Nicholas’s mouth had touched hers. Warm, sweet, electrifying,
it had been like nothing she’d ever felt before. Her heartbeat had tripled, her
breathing stopped and her brain shut down. All she had wanted was to be held
closer and closer still. Stunned by disbelief and unreasoning need, she had let
it happen without the least resistance, might have given him whatever he wanted
if he hadn’t released her.
She could still do that, or so he’d said. Surely he hadn’t
meant it. Unless special guest privileges of that kind were common among
wealthy Italians?
No, she was being ridiculous. He’d achieved exactly what he intended,
which was to stop her protests. He’d succeeded so well her face burned now to
think of it.
Fine. She was a guest at Villa de Frenza. She should be
honored, was honored, really. It was a beautiful, historic mansion in the heart
of Italy. She would probably look back on her time here with awe.
But she was still going to find a hotel the first chance she
got.
Propelling herself from the bed with determination, she
began to dress for lunch
While she brushed her hair, applied lip gloss and a few
strokes of mascara, she jotted down a few items she should have thrown into her
travel bag but missed. She also noted the essentials necessary to round out her
wardrobe. She would need several clothing changes, it seemed, whether she found
a hotel or remained at the villa. After seeing Jonathan, she could not think
she would be going home any time soon. He could not be moved because of his
injuries, but she was certain he would not leave Carita until he knew she was
going to be all right. No, and maybe not then.
She had thought the housekeeper might come to show her the
way to the terrace where the promised luncheon would be served. It was Nicholas
who stood outside
tapestries, and colorful Olympian figures drifted about overhead inside an
egg-shaped dome. More of the same was revealed through a series of doors on
either side, while a double staircase of white marble mounted at the rear.
Grand though it undoubtedly was, the villa had a lived-in
feeling, a certain genteel lack of perfection that was oddly comforting. With
its obvious immunity to change or modern decorating trends, it reminded Amanda
of old Southern plantation houses she’d see on home tours.
She smiled with weary pleasure at the room she was shown
into for her stay. It was of a piece with the rest, having only a bit more
modern influence in its color scheme of golden beige highlighted with various
shades of blue. The space was cavernous, as large as her entire apartment, and
included in its furnishings a huge antique wardrobe in place of a closet. The en
suite bathroom was modern, however, with a walk-in shower and acres of
mirrors.
Erminia had brought up Amanda’s carryon bag, despite her
protests that she could get it herself. Inside it was an extra blouse, a sleep
shirt, a change or two of underclothing and minimal makeup, all she’d had time
to gather during the brief stop at her apartment for her passport. At least it would
allow her to freshen up a bit before lunch.
She stood for long moments under a warm shower, allowing it
to sluice away the faint hospital odor that clung to her, also to send some of
her tension whirling down the drain. Afterward, she ate the toast, fruit and
tea that Erminia brought and then the lay down on the cloud-soft bed with its
smooth, thousand-count sheets.
She closed her eyes but lay thinking, thinking in endless
circles. She was far too keyed up to sleep, felt as if she might never sleep
again. She gave up trying after a time, but only watched the gentle lift and
fall of the curtains at the open windows, stared at the rolling acres of olive
trees that shimmered in the sun, concealed and revealed by the movements of the
pale silk gauze.
Against her will, her thoughts went back to the kiss in the
limo. She lifted her fingers to her lips, feeling their sensitivity as she relived
the moment when Nicholas’s mouth had touched hers. Warm, sweet, electrifying,
it had been like nothing she’d ever felt before. Her heartbeat had tripled, her
breathing stopped and her brain shut down. All she had wanted was to be held
closer and closer still. Stunned by disbelief and unreasoning need, she had let
it happen without the least resistance, might have given him whatever he wanted
if he hadn’t released her.
She could still do that, or so he’d said. Surely he hadn’t
meant it. Unless special guest privileges of that kind were common among
wealthy Italians?
No, she was being ridiculous. He’d achieved exactly what he intended,
which was to stop her protests. He’d succeeded so well her face burned now to
think of it.
Fine. She was a guest at Villa de Frenza. She should be
honored, was honored, really. It was a beautiful, historic mansion in the heart
of Italy. She would probably look back on her time here with awe.
But she was still going to find a hotel the first chance she
got.
Propelling herself from the bed with determination, she
began to dress for lunch
While she brushed her hair, applied lip gloss and a few
strokes of mascara, she jotted down a few items she should have thrown into her
travel bag but missed. She also noted the essentials necessary to round out her
wardrobe. She would need several clothing changes, it seemed, whether she found
a hotel or remained at the villa. After seeing Jonathan, she could not think
she would be going home any time soon. He could not be moved because of his
injuries, but she was certain he would not leave Carita until he knew she was
going to be all right. No, and maybe not then.
She had thought the housekeeper might come to show her the
way to the terrace where the promised luncheon would be served. It was Nicholas
who stood outside
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