Lucy Gordon - Rinaldo’s Inherited Bride

‘The place has changed hands several times. My grandfather bought it and worked himself into the grave to make it prosper. My father gave his whole life to it as well.’

‘And you live in that beautiful house?’

‘Part of it. The rest is shut up. Teresa, who looks after us, complains about how hard it is to keep even a small part clean.’

A door at ground level was pulled open from the inside, but, instead of Teresa, Alex saw a vast dog, of miscellaneous parentage, come lumbering out.

He might have been part Great Dane, part Alsatian. He might have been a St Bernard crossed with a lurcher. He might have been anything.

He ambled towards them obviously so excited to see them that he was getting dangerously near the vehicle. Rinaldo was forced to brake sharply.

A stream of fierce words came from him. The dog either didn’t understand or didn’t care because he reared up to put his head through Rinaldo’s window and cover him with eager licks.

‘That’s enough,’ Rinaldo growled, but he didn’t push the animal away. ‘This ridiculous object is Brutus,’ he informed Alex. ‘He thinks he’s mine. Or I’m his. One of the two.’

He tweaked the animal’s ears and said, ‘Vai via!’ pointing into the distance.

Reluctantly Brutus moved back. But as soon as they were out of the car he surged forward again, this time at Alex.

She gave a yell of alarm. The next moment she was looking down at her elegant pants, now displaying a large, dirty paw print.

She opened her mouth, but her exclamation was checked by the sight of the dog, beaming at her, clearly convinced that he had done something brilliant.

‘It would be a waste of time saying anything to you, wouldn’t it?’ she demanded, pointing to the smudge.

He woofed agreement.

‘Then I won’t bother,’ she said, smiling despite herself. ‘But if you do it again-’

He waited, grinning foolishly.

‘If you do it again-’ she sighed, recognising defeat ‘-then I guess I’ll just have to forgive you again.’

Ecstatic at this appreciation, Brutus reared up and placed another mark next to the first.

‘My apologies,’ Rinaldo said, sounding strained. ‘Brutus!’

‘Oh, don’t be mad at him,’ Alex said. ‘He was only being friendly. I suppose he’s made that way.’

‘No, he doesn’t usually take to strangers. He’s never done that before. Naturally I’ll pay the cost of cleaning.’

Alex shook her head. The sight of Rinaldo at a disadvantage was improving her mood.

‘I shouldn’t bother,’ she said. ‘It won’t clean.’

‘Then I will pay for a replacement,’ he said stiffly.

Alex began to laugh. ‘Don’t force me to tell you how much it cost,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to spoil your supper.’

He regarded her oddly. ‘You’re being very nice about it.’

‘And that’s really got you puzzled, hasn’t it? If I’m being nice, it must be for an evil purpose. Forget it for heaven’s sake! A dog is a dog is a dog. Making a mess is what dogs do.’

Now she had really wrong-footed him, she saw with pleasure. He was no longer quite so certain what to think of her, and that confused him.

Good! The longer she could keep him confused the better.

Teresa appeared. She was elderly, with white hair and sharp blue eyes that flickered quickly over Alex.

‘Teresa, this is Signorina Dacre, from England. Enrico Mori was her great-uncle.’

‘Buon giorno, signorina.’

‘Buon giorno, Teresa,’ Alex responded.

He introduced Alex, who saw the briefest reaction flicker across the housekeeper’s face. She wondered how freely the brothers had discussed her, and what Teresa had overheard.

‘Let’s go inside,’ Rinaldo said. ‘The signorina has been out in the heat for too long. Show her to the guest room, please, Teresa.’

The walls of the house were thick enough to keep out the heat. The old-fashioned room was blessedly cool, and half an hour was enough to restore Alex to herself. She was feeling cheerful as she went downstairs to be shown into a room at the back of the house.

At the far end were tall windows that opened onto a veranda. A table stood just outside the room, laden with small snacks. Rinaldo was there. He looked up as she entered.

‘Are you feeling better?’ he asked pleasantly.

‘Yes thank you. Mind you, I never did feel actually bad, just-a little overwhelmed. It was suddenly so-’

She found that she couldn’t finish. No words were adequate.

Rinaldo nodded without speaking, and she knew that he understood everything she was trying to say.

He poured her a glass of light prosecco wine, and she sipped, glad to find it ice-cold.

Now the weather was cooling and they could sit on the veranda, while Teresa served them a sweet, crusted pie with macaroni and meat sauce, which he told her was called Pasticcio alla Fiorentina .

‘Are you wise to treat me like this?’ she teased. ‘You might make me want to stay.’

‘What about the man who called you? Isn’t he yearning for you to return?’

She gave a choke of laughter. There was something about the idea of David yearning that was irresistibly comic.

‘What is it?’ he asked, watching her.

‘David isn’t like that. Yearning isn’t his way.’

‘What is his way?’

‘Well-I don’t know-’

‘But you’re in love with him?’

‘Yes-no-it’s none of your business.’

‘As long as I’m in your power, everything about you is my business.’

‘I see no need to discuss David.’

‘Is he a painful subject?’

‘No, he isn’t. It’s just that our relationship is-difficult to describe-’

‘You mean it isn’t passionate,’ he said calmly.

‘I mean nothing of the kind.’

‘Then it is passionate? His kisses inflame you, your body aches for him when you are apart?’

Alex’s lips twitched. Her sense of humour was coming to her rescue.

‘You forget,’ she said, ‘that I’m a cold-blooded northerner. We don’t “do” passion. It gets in the way of business.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘A remark like that is pure provocation.’

‘You can take it any way you like. David is the man I’m going to marry, and I refuse to discuss our relationship any further.’

He was silent for a long moment after that. Alex knew that the announcement of her impending marriage was like a glove thrown down in defiance, warning him that she had her own agenda. But his face was slightly averted, and she couldn’t discern what effect it had had on him.

At last he raised his head and spoke.

‘Teresa is ready to serve the next course. I hope you’re hungry.’

T ERESAserved game bird cooked with Marsala wine and juniper berries. It was delicious and Alex soon persuaded herself that arguments could wait.

Sitting on the veranda they could see the light fade from the land and the sun turn deep red before sliding down the sky. Here and there a cloud seemed lit by crimson from behind.

Brutus moved between them, begging. To Alex’s surprise Rinaldo showed no impatience, but fed the old dog patiently, although he advised her, ‘Don’t let him pester you.’

‘I don’t mind being pestered,’ Alex said with perfect truth. ‘He’s beautiful.’

‘He’s a dog,’ Rinaldo said with a touch of curtness. ‘Come on, boy.’

He pushed his chair back abruptly and went into the house, calling Brutus, who followed docilely. Alex wondered about his sudden change of mood, as though she had offended him by petting his dog.

But when he returned a few moments later he seemed to have forgotten the matter.