The Doctor and
the Debutante

Anne Fraser

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Copyright

Dear Reader

Tuscany is one of my favourite parts of the world, and some readers will know that Africa is also very close to my heart. In this book I have brought these two places together as my hero and heroine learn about themselves and each other.

Alice meets the gorgeous and dangerously sexy Dr Dante Corsi in Florence, and has a brief but intense affair with him. But Dante doesn’t know that Alice is keeping a secret from him. She is not the woman he thinks she is, but is Lady Alice Granville, daughter of one of the richest men in England.

When Dante discovers the truth, and that Alice is planning to come to work as a volunteer in Africa, where he works as one of the camp doctors, he is dismayed. Not only does he not believe she will be able to cope with the harsh conditions of camp life, but he has sworn not to let her back into his heart.

As they work together Dante learns that, despite her high heels and manicured nails, Alice is determined to make herself useful, and she is soon an essential part of the camp—and his life.

But can he trust this woman? And, even if he can, does he have the right to take her away from her privileged life? Can Alice make him believe in love again?

I hope you enjoy finding out.

Best wishes

Anne Fraser

About the Author

ANNE FRASER was born in Scotland, but brought up in South Africa. After she left school she returned to the birthplace of her parents, the remote Western Islands of Scotland. She left there to train as a nurse, before going on to university to study English Literature. After the birth of her first child she and her doctor husband travelled the world, working in rural Africa, Australia and Northern Canada. Anne still works in the health sector. To relax, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, walking and travelling.

Dedication:

To Lisa, for showing me the real Italy. Mille grazie, bella.

PROLOGUE

ALICE picked up her pencil and made a few more strokes on her pad. Somehow her depiction of Michelangelo’s David wasn’t going according to plan. In her drawing he looked more like the Incredible Hulk than one of the world’s masterpieces.

She had come to the Piazza della Signoria as soon as it was light so that she would be there before the tourists. Florence was teeming with them and it wasn’t really surprising that the Italian city was so popular, it was an art lover’s dream. Everywhere Alice looked there were statues, stunning architecture and amazing works of art that she’d only ever read about. Only yesterday she had seen the original statue of Michelangelo’s David and had been moved to tears. Now she was here in the square to sketch the copy.

Even at eight o’clock in the morning the square was filling rapidly. She decided to give it another hour before packing up.

Picking up her pencil again, she sighed with pleasure as the sun warmed her skin. This was the first time she’d been truly content for as long as she could remember. Here in Florence she could be anonymous, nobody knew or cared who she was and that suited her just fine. There were no paparazzi ready to leap out at her to snap a photograph that would be splashed all over the next day’s gossip magazines. No dinners or functions to attend. No home to run. For these, all-too-short three weeks, she was simply Alice Granville.

She held her pad at arm’s length and surveyed it critically. She wasn’t much of an artist and never would be, but she was bored with hanging about the villa and wanted to record some of the great stuff she had seen. When she’d finished here she’d go and have a coffee and one of those delicious pastries at a café. It was her daily treat. The trouble was that she liked food. Every time she passed a pastry shop, Alice would look longingly at the display in the window—and unfortunately Florence had them on practically every street corner—noticing yet another type of cake she simply had to try.

The Italians also loved their food but Alice had to be careful—just one look at all the delicious food and she felt her hips expand. Not that she was really overweight, just more curvy than she would have liked.

She was about to pack up her bag when her eyes were drawn to a figure sitting on a bench opposite her.

Dressed in a pair of thigh-hugging faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, the man was muscular without being bulky. His face was turned upwards as if he was drinking in the rays of the sun. The muscles of his arms rippled as he lifted his arms and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Alice took a deep breath. He was a real-life copy of the statue of Michelangelo she had been attempting to draw. His chest and arms were tanned and fine dark hair formed a V down to the top button of his jeans.

She started to sketch his face. Dark, almost black hair flopped across a broad forehead. He had a long Roman nose and a strong jawline.

She moved to the mouth: full lips, the edges turned up at the corner as if he was a man who was used to laughing. As if he could read her mind, he smiled, stretched and opened eyes framed by eyelashes that were longer than hers. His eyes were not quite brown with a glint that made them almost amber. Perfectly straight white teeth. Of course. This man couldn’t possibly have an imperfection. He was without a doubt the most beautiful man she had seen in real life—and that was saying something.

As she ran her eyes over his chest, her pencil scribbling furiously on the paper, she saw that he wasn’t perfect. Across his chest was a scar. A few inches long, it ran in a diagonal line from his shoulder down towards his abdomen.

Alice took a long swig of tepid water. For some reason her mouth was dry.

The man shifted slightly before lifting his T-shirt from the bench beside him. As he raised his arms to put it back on, his muscles bunched.

Alice fanned herself with a piece of paper from her pad. Florence was hot in midsummer.

Ten more days and she’d be going back to her life in London. She sighed. Why did the thought fill her with dread? Most women would give their eye teeth to live her life. But to her it felt empty, almost pointless. On the other hand, since she’d come to Italy she’d had the strange sense of coming home. It was crazy. She could barely speak the language and as far as she knew there were no Italians in her ancestry. Perhaps it was because here she could be anonymous Alice instead of Lady Alice Granville, daughter of one of the richest men in London.

For once in her life, Alice wasn’t on show and she intended to make the most of it. Every morning she left the villa and wandered around Florence, drinking in the art and architecture, craning her neck lest she miss another breathtaking sculpture or carving. She’d promised Peter that she would think about his proposal. In every way he should be the right man for her. He was perfect husband material—wealthy, sophisticated, aristocratic and, even more importantly as far as her father was concerned, he had a bright future with her father’s company. But, and this was a big but, he did nothing to set Alice’s heart racing. In fact, ‘boring’ was the word that sprang to mind. She had come to Florence to give herself time and space to think about his proposal and already she knew she could never marry him. Telling him would be awful, but she would do it as soon as she got home.

This last week and a half, Alice had allowed herself to daydream that she was Italian, an ordinary woman living an ordinary life, and she liked the feeling. For the rest of her time in Italy she was going to be Alice Granville, university student, who had to bring her lunch into the city to save money. Even if that lunch was provided by the trained chef who worked at her father’s friend’s holiday villa.

A screech of brakes and a terror-filled scream filled the air, jerking her out of her reverie. For a moment there was silence as the world seemed to stop. Alice jumped up, abandoning her belongings on the step and hurried over to where the noise had come from.

At first it was difficult to see what had happened. A jumble of metal and clothes lay on the ground where one of the stalls selling leather handbags had been knocked over. Next to it was a moped, its wheels twisted and the metal bent and misshapen. A car had careered off to one side and as they watched a man staggered out of the car. He swayed and clutched the bonnet of his car for support.

‘Dio mio,’ he said, shocked and dazed. ‘Dio mio.‘

Horrified, Alice spotted the still form of a little girl lying on the ground. A few feet from her, a woman was moaning and struggling to sit up.

The man from the bench was running towards the victims and without thinking Alice followed him.

‘Chiamante un ambulanza!‘ he shouted to the people who had stopped to stare as he dropped to his knees beside the injured girl. A young woman instantly punched numbers into a phone. Everyone else was still staring in horrified silence. Some even began to move away.

‘Can I help?’ Alice asked, dropping to her knees beside the man she had been sketching only minutes before.

‘Go to the woman,’ he replied in accented English. ‘Make sure she stays still and that no one else tries to move her until I have examined her. I need to see to the child first.’ He must have noticed Alice’s hesitation. ‘Prego! Go!’ he said. ‘I’m a doctor. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

Her heart thumping, Alice ran across to the woman. She hoped she wasn’t badly injured. The only experience of first aid Alice had was a course she had taken at school and that had been four years ago. At least the woman was conscious and breathing. Wishing she could speak Italian, Alice spoke quietly to the grey-haired victim, hoping that the woman would at least be reassured by her presence. She mumbled something that Alice couldn’t follow. Fortunately the woman who had phoned for the ambulance stopped and translated. ‘She is asking if her grandchild is okay,’ she told Alice.

‘Tell her a doctor is looking at her now.’

The grandmother started to raise herself off the ground. Alice pressed her back, gently but firmly. ‘No, no. You mustn’t move till the doctor’s examined you. You could make any injuries you do have worse.’ While her words were hurriedly translated, Alice searched for signs of injury. She winced in sympathy as she noticed that the grandmother’s ankle looked to be broken.

‘You’ll be fine. An ambulance is on its way.’

The grandmother’s gaze was straining towards her granddaughter, who was partly obscured by the kneeling doctor. The woman muttered another stream of incomprehensible Italian.

‘A prayer,’ the bystander told Alice.

Alice stood to see if she could help the driver of the car.

His forehead was bleeding profusely, but Alice had read somewhere that even shallow head wounds tended to do that. Apart from the cut to his head and his dazed expression he didn’t seem badly hurt. ‘I didn’t see them. I was talking on my phone. I didn’t see them.’

‘Someone has phoned for an ambulance,’ Alice reassured him. ‘They will be here soon.’

‘Could you stay with this lady and this gentleman?’ Alice asked the helpful bystander. ‘I’ll be back in a minute. I must see if the doctor needs help.’

Her heart still beating painfully fast, Alice sped across to where the doctor was examining the child. Alice noticed that he’d moved the little girl into the recovery position. She was disturbingly pale but what was worse was that she had a piece of metal protruding from just below her collar bone. Horrified, Alice sucked in a breath. The man had removed his T-shirt and was using it to staunch the blood pumping from the wound.

Although his attention was focussed on his patient, he must have sensed her presence.

‘Are the other two all right?’ he asked.

‘The driver seems okay, but the grandmother seems to have broken her ankle.’

‘What is your name?’

‘Alice.’

‘I am Dante. I need you to help me so I can check the other patients, Alice,’ he said. He guided her hand towards the pumping wound. ‘Press here as firmly as you can. Don’t stop applying pressure whatever happens.’

Gingerly Alice did as she was asked. She didn’t want to hurt the child any more than necessary. The bleeding increased.

Immediately an impatient hand was on top of hers again, pressing the pad into the wound. ‘Dio mio, did I not say firmly?’ he growled. ‘We want to stop the blood, not mop it up!’

‘Okay. I get it. I get it.’

His dark gaze held hers for a split second. Then he released his hold and turned away. Over the buzzing of the audience around them, Alice heard the voice of the child’s grandmother calling out to the little girl.

Within seconds the makeshift bandage was soaked with blood. Alice was aware of the sound of the child’s grandmother’s distress above the noise of the traffic.

As if aware of her grandmother’s cries, the little girl’s eyes flickered.

Alice leaned forward and spoke softly to her. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart. Try to stay as still as you can.’ She kept her voice low and managed a smile.

Dante laid his head on the girl’s chest. ‘I wish I had my stethoscope. As far as I can make out her breathing is okay, but she needs to get to hospital.’

‘Shouldn’t we try and remove the metal from her shoulder?’ Alice asked.

‘No, absolutely not. If we did that we could make matters worse. Much worse.’

‘Really?’ The makeshift bandage was ominously soaked with blood.

‘Really,’ he repeated. ‘Stay with the little one while I check her grandmother. Keep talking to her. Whatever you do, keep the pressure on her wound. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Call me if there is any change.’

Alice could only nod. Her heart was banging so hard against her ribs it was almost painful. She didn’t want to be left in charge of the child. What if her condition changed suddenly? Alice knew she wouldn’t have a clue what to do.

‘Nonna?’ the child whispered.

‘The doctor is looking after your nonna. What’s your name?’

‘Sofia.’

‘Okay, Sofia. Can you understand English?’

‘A little bit. I am learning at school.’

‘Everything’s going to be just fine. Soon the ambulance will be here to take you to hospital. In the meantime, you have to lie as still as you can. Will you do that?’

The child nodded. Alice kept her eyes fixed on the little girl’s and made herself smile reassuringly.

‘I hurt. I want my mamma.’ The child was beginning to panic. Alice knew she had to keep her from moving. She placed a hand on the child’s shoulder and glanced around. Dante was bent over Sofia’s grandmother.

‘Where is your mamma?’ Alice asked.

‘She’s at home. Nonna and I shop for food.’

‘Where do you live?’ Alice wanted to keep the child’s attention from what was happening a few feet away.

‘Back up the road. In the mountains. I help my nonna.’

‘Your mama must be proud of you. And she’ll be even prouder when she hears what a brave girl you’ve been.’

To Alice’s relief, the wail of an approaching ambulance cut through the sound of traffic. At last help was on its way. She looked over her shoulder. Dante was still occupied with the child’s grandmother but, as if sensing her eyes on him, he looked up from whatever he was doing and raised a questioning eyebrow. Alice nodded to let him know that the child was okay.

‘Come with me. In the ambulance?’ the little girl asked. ‘I’m scared.’

Alice squeezed her hand. ‘Of course. And I’ll stay until your mamma and papà come, if you like.’

Sofia dipped her head slightly, then, to Alice’s relief, Dante was by her side again. The ambulance was getting closer but by the sound it had become snarled in traffic.

‘How is she doing?’ Dante asked. ‘Okay, under the circumstances. She’s conscious and speaking.’

Dante pulled out his mobile phone and said something to Sofia in Italian.

Sofia whispered a number and Dante punched the numbers into the phone and moved away still keeping a close eye on the injured child. Alice guessed he was calling Sofia’s parents and she didn’t envy him his task. She could only imagine how the mother would feel when she heard about the accident.

As he was speaking the ambulance drew up and a couple of paramedics jumped out. While one stayed to check over the driver of the car, the other ran towards them. Alice continued to hold the young girl’s hand as the paramedic set about putting up a drip. Dante finished the call and his shoulders slumped. He crossed back to them and updated the paramedic in rapid Italian.

Within minutes, Sofia was being loaded into the ambulance. Alice understood enough to know that another ambulance was on its way to collect the grandmother.

‘I’m going with her,’ Alice told Dante. ‘I promised I would.’

Dante nodded and helped her into the back of the ambulance. ‘Bene. She will be less frightened with a familiar face. I am coming too.’ He lowered his voice. ‘There is still a chance she could collapse. She’s lost a lot of blood.’

At the hospital, Dante went with the other doctors as they rushed Sofia away behind some doors. Left alone, Alice found a chair and sat down. She couldn’t bear to leave, not until she knew for sure that Sofia was going to be okay. When she looked at her watch she was amazed to find that only an hour and a half had passed since the accident. Although desperately worried for the little girl, Alice experienced a gratifying sense of achievement. It had felt good helping and she hadn’t been squeamish at all at the sight of blood—at least, not after her first sight of the wound. She had surprised herself by staying calm and not panicking.

Another hour passed before she looked up to find Dante standing next to her. Immersed in her thoughts she hadn’t heard him approach. He had changed out of his clothes and was wearing blue hospital scrubs. If anything he looked more handsome than when she’d first seen him on the park bench. The thin cotton material emphasised the breadth of his chest and his powerful thighs. In the hospital environment he was even more assured, as if this was where he belonged.

‘Sofia is going to be okay. The surgeons managed to remove the metal from her shoulder. Luckily it hadn’t torn any major blood vessels so she should be able to go home in a day or so.’ He smiled down at her. ‘You did a good job back there, Alice.’ She liked the way he said her name. It made her feel interesting, exotic even.

‘I was terrified at first,’ she admitted. ‘But since Sofia had much more reason to be scared than I had, I couldn’t let her see my fear. I’m so glad she’s going to be okay.

Alice shivered.

Dante picked up a blanket from one of the benches and wrapped it gently around her shoulders. ‘You have had a shock.’ He sat down next to her. ‘I am going to wait until Sofia’s parents get here, but you should go back to your hotel. Do you wish me to call you a taxi?’

‘No, that’s all right,’ Alice said. ‘I just need a moment.’

Now the adrenaline was draining away, Alice felt exhausted. She leant her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Despite everything, she was acutely conscious of Dante. The skin on her upper arms tingled where his fingertips had brushed against her skin and she could almost feel the heat of his body next to her. Although his presence was disconcerting the silence that fell between them was comfortable. She was curious to know more about this man.

It had been a huge relief to discover he was a doctor but it had also been a surprise. Out of all the jobs she’d imagined he’d do, medicine wasn’t one of them. Now if he’d been a model or a professional footballer, somehow that would have seemed more believable.

‘What kind of doctor are you?’ she asked.

‘I am a children’s doctor. How do you say it?’

‘A paediatrician.’

‘Sì, a paediatrician.’ he held out his hands as if in explanation. They were long fingered and smooth. An image of his hands on her bare skin flashed unbidden into Alice’s head and she flushed.

‘I saw you in the square,’ Dante said. ‘You were drawing. Are you an artist?’

Alice felt her face getting redder. Had he noticed she was sketching him? She hoped to hell not.

‘If you saw my pictures you would know I’m not an artist.’

‘Is that your notebook?’ He pointed to her handbag where, sure enough, her notepad was peeking out of her bag. ‘Can I see it?’ Before she could stop him he had reached in and plucked it out of bag. Resisting the impulse to grab it out of his hands, she nodded when he raised a questioning eyebrow.

Flushed with embarrassment, she waited while he flicked through her drawings. With a bit of luck he wouldn’t recognise himself. It wasn’t as if her sketch bore much relation to the real thing. It wasn’t much good and it certainly didn’t do credit to the real man.

But when he paused at the last page and grinned she knew her hopes had been in vain.

‘I didn’t know I looked like that,’ he said seriously, but she could hear the laughter in his voice.

Double damn. She peered over her shoulder. Her sketch was out of proportion, the figure listing to one side. Never mind. It wasn’t as if she wanted to make a career as an artist.

‘You don’t. You’re much better…’ Just in time, Alice bit back the rest of the words. ‘I mean I’m not very good at drawing,’ she said. ‘It’s only a hobby.’ She took the pad from him and replaced it in her bag.

‘What is it you do when you are not drawing?’ he asked her.

Now there was the rub. She was reluctant to tell him that she acted as a social secretary for her father, his hostess whenever he was between girlfriends, that apart from her studies she didn’t actually do anything except run Granville House and attend lunches and dinners. Not that any of that was easy. Moreover, she had promised herself that she would be plain Alice while she was here and she saw no need to tell this stranger who she really was.

‘I’m a student in London. Studying History of Art.’ That much she could tell him.

‘Then you are a visitor in my city. You like it so far?’ He smiled at her and her heart did a little somersault.

‘I love it. It’s so beautiful. The history, the art—’ she wasn’t going to mention the pastry shops ‘—the lifestyle. I can tell you after a pretty miserable, wet summer in England it is heaven to feel the sun.’

Dante’s eyebrows shot up and her heart did another flip-flop. She needed to get control of herself. It must be the Tuscan sun that was affecting her.

‘What did you see?’

‘Everything in the tourist guide. The Ponte Vecchio, the Uffizi, the church of Santa Maria Novella. I’ve walked until my feet ache.’

‘What is this History of Art that you are studying?’ He crossed his long legs in front of him and settled back against his seat.

‘Oh, you kind of learn about the history of art.’ She flushed again. Talk about stating the obvious. But this man was addling her brain and making her tongue-tied. ‘I mean it’s learning about artists—like Michelangelo, for example, how he became a sculptor, all the art he did and why that’s considered important.’

There was a pause and Dante frowned. ‘What do you do with this degree when you are finished studying?’

Good question and not one that she wanted to answer. People in her position weren’t expected to do proper jobs. Modelling was okay, as long as it wasn’t glamour, so was PR, as was fundraising. Even these were considered to be ways of passing the time until marriage and children came along. Her role was to run her father’s house and carry out all the duties and responsibilities that went with her title.

She realised Dante was still waiting for an answer to his question.

‘Actually, when I was a little girl I dreamt of becoming a teacher.’

‘So, why didn’t you?’

Why hadn’t she? Because she’d always known that her life had been mapped out in an entirely different direction. One over which she had no control.

‘It was just a childish dream. Nothing more.’

Brown eyes locked onto hers. ‘It is good to dream, no?’ He was studying her as if she puzzled him.

No, it wasn’t good to dream. Not for her. It only made real life more difficult.

‘We all have to live in the real world, don’t we?’ she replied lightly.

‘Have you been out to the country?’ Alice was relieved when he changed the subject.

She shook her head. She had been too absorbed sightseeing and exploring all the touristy attractions Florence had to offer to venture further afield.

‘If you have not been in the countryside, then you have not seen Tuscany properly. Maybe I will show you.’

Alice wiped the palms of her hands on her trousers. He was only being polite. He would probably forget about her the moment he left her.

‘You said you live in the mountains,’ she asked. ‘But you work in Florence?’

Again that expressive shrug of the shoulders. ‘I work here, at this hospital, but my home is about forty-five kilometres that way, near where Sofia lives.’ He gestured behind him. ‘How long do you have left here in Tuscany?’ he continued.

‘Another week. I’ll be sorry to leave.’

‘You are staying in Florence?’

Alice nodded. ‘A friend of my father’s has a home here. He’s happy for me to use it while I’m visiting.’

‘You are here on your own?’ Dante seemed a little shocked.

‘Yes, but I don’t mind. In fact I kind of like it.’

Dante looked disbelieving.

‘Would you like to meet me in the Piazza della Signoria tomorrow?’ he asked. ‘You can’t leave without seeing the real Tuscany and I would like to show you more of my country.’

Alice shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. Part of her wanted to spend more time with him. Another part knew it was a crazy idea. What could she and this man possibly have in common?

‘I’m not sure. I don’t think it’s a good idea.’

He looked at her with languid eyes. ‘I think it is a very good idea.’

One thing she could say about him, he didn’t give up easily.

‘I was in London once for a month and a family there looked after me,’ he said. ‘I would like to show the same hospitality to our visitors. To you. And you helped Sofia when you didn’t need to. You could have walked away like everyone else, but you didn’t.’

Alice flushed. Despite what she had just told herself, it was disappointing that he felt it was his duty to show her around.

Whatever his reasons, seeing him again was too risky. He was different from any man she had ever met and never before had a man made her pulse race the way Dante did. The last thing she was looking for was a holiday romance. She smiled. She was getting way ahead of herself. Someone like him was bound to have a girlfriend, although she’d already noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

The doors to the department opened and a distracted couple rushed in. Instinctively Alice knew these were Sofia’s parents, not least because the little girl was almost a carbon copy of her mother.

Dante jumped to his feet. ‘Please meet me there at three o’clock tomorrow, I am working until two,’ he told Alice as he went to intercept the distressed couple. After talking to them for a few moments, he led them towards the lift. Alice guessed he was taking them to see their little girl. Alice stared after his retreating back. The arrogance of the man! He hadn’t even waited to hear her reply.

Alice was a nervous wreck by the time three o’clock the next day came. She had braided her hair, noticing that over the last week the sun had lightened it to almost the colour of corn which in turn emphasised the unusually light green colour of her eyes. She had dressed simply, in a crisp white blouse and light trousers. Apart from a slick of pale lipstick she didn’t bother with any other make-up. For the umpteenth time she wondered if Dante would come. It was entirely possible he had forgotten all about her.

But he was waiting for her on the same steps that she’d been sitting on the previous day.

‘Ciao, Alice,’ he said, and kissed her on either cheek. ‘I thought we could have a picnic down on the river then I will take you to see more of Florence. How does that sound?’

He took her to the river bank and they sat on the grass. He pointed to a woman rowing on the river. ‘It is like I do. The boat I row is for a single person, but I know where I can get one for two. Maybe tomorrow I can take you?’

Alice’s pulse skipped a beat. He was already planning their next date.

She looked down at the effort Dante had put into their picnic. There was a round of cheese, several types of cold meats, Tuscan bread and olives, as well as fresh salad leaves. This wasn’t lunch, this was a feast.

‘The olives and salad come from our smallholding and my mother bakes the bread herself. Of course, there is a trattoria not far from here. We could go there instead.’

Alice shook her head. She had had her fill of restaurants, fancy or otherwise. It was perfect here in the sun.

‘Bene, we will eat then we will have time for me to show you something.’

The food Dante had brought was so delicious she found she had eaten more than her fair share.

‘I’m sorry. I’ve eaten more than I should, but it was so delicious.’

‘You must never apologise for enjoying food.’ He leaned back on his elbows and regarded her through slitted eyes. ‘Most women, they are too thin—as if they are starving. All the men I know prefer women who have some curves. Like Botticelli’s Venus.’ He grinned at her. ‘Have you seen any statues in Florence where the women look like men? I don’t think so.’

The look in his eyes was doing all sorts of weird things to her stomach. Hastily she took another forkful of salad and nearly choked.

Dante sat up, looking concerned.

‘Are you okay?’

How attractive, Alice thought furiously. Spitting bits of lettuce leaf all over him. And right enough, to her mortification, Dante lifted his hand and very gently removed something from the corner of her mouth.

‘That’s better.’ He was laughing at her and Alice was tempted to abandon her lunch and run back to the villa. It was the first time she had ever felt gauche and awkward. Until she’d come to Italy, she had used her expensive clothes and jewellery almost like an invisible cloak to hide her natural shyness.

He stood up. ‘So you have seen the statue of David, the Uffizi and the church of Santa Maria Novella.’ Alice was pleased that he’d remembered what she’d told him.

‘Did you climb to the top of the Duomo and look down at the city?’

Alice shook her head. ‘It was too hot to stand in the queue.’

He held out a hand to her. ‘But you must see it. Come, I will take you if you like. It is a little climb but it is worth it. I have a cousin who works there. He will let us come to the front so we don’t have to wait.’

‘No, that’s not fair. We should wait our turn like everybody else.’

Dante frowned. ‘Here in Italy, we are not so polite. But if you don’t want to go to the Duomo, there is another place just a short drive from here where you can see the city. The view is as good as that from the Duomo. When I run in the afternoons after work, I like to go past it and I always have to stop and look. I have my motorbike nearby. We could drive there now.’

Alice nodded and to her surprise he took her by the hand and yet somehow it felt natural. She felt a ripple of excitement as he led her through the narrow streets until they came to a number of motorbikes, haphazardly parked next to each other. It looked to Alice as if the owners had abandoned them there. When he’d mentioned a motorbike, Alice had assumed Dante meant a moped, like every other young Italian seemed to own. She baulked at the powerful-looking Kawasaki, eyeing it with trepidation. ‘You won’t go too fast?’

He laughed. ‘Going fast is the fun of it. But don’t worry, you’ll be safe with me. I promise.’

She found herself on the back of his Kawasaki and soon he was weaving his way in and out of the traffic, gesticulating good-naturedly as cars tried to cut them up. More than once Alice thought they were going to crash and closed her eyes only to find that they had managed, at the last moment, to squeeze through a gap she hadn’t even noticed. She wound her arms tightly around his waist and pressed her face into his back so she wouldn’t have to look. He smelled faintly of olives and soap and she could feel the heat from his body through her clothes. Every part of her body was tingling where it touched him.

At first Alice kept her eyes closed. If she was going to die, she’d rather not see it coming, but after a little while she opened them again. She couldn’t spend the whole day with her eyes closed. Then she relaxed. She had never felt so free in all her life.

Dante was right; the view from the top of the hill was breathtaking. Spread beneath her, a golden red in the dying sun, were the terracotta roofs of Florence. The city didn’t look nearly as big and bewildering from up here.

They sat on a low wall as Dante pointed out the famous landmarks of the city—the Campanile, Santa Croce, the brick tower of the Palazzo Vecchio. His pride in his home city was evident.

They sat there talking, though later Alice couldn’t remember about what. It didn’t seem to matter to either of them. The sun dipped low in the sky and the lights of the city twinkled below them. A cool breeze teased her neck and she shivered, yet she didn’t want this evening to end.

‘Are you cold, cara?‘ Dante asked, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her towards him. Alice leant against him, her hand pressed against his chest. The air between them sizzled and sparked and she turned her face towards him, noting how his eyes seemed to glimmer in the dark. As Dante traced a finger down her cheek a delicious shiver ran down her spine. Using the tips of his fingers, he tilted her face upwards and studied her intently, before bringing his mouth down on hers.

The kiss was the sweetest and yet the most exciting Alice had ever known. When he pulled away, she could hardly breathe. She barely knew this man, yet she already knew something special was happening to her.

Later that night, after Dante had dropped Alice back outside her villa, he sped along the mountain road, weaving between cars and revelling in the feel of the wind on his face. As he concentrated on hugging the tight turns he thought about Alice. Dio, she was sexy with her long blonde hair and eyes the colour of the hills. She had curves that made a man want to run his hands across her body. And those lips, they tasted like honey and pears. He found her even more sexy because she had no idea what she could do to a man. She was shy and inexperienced and he wondered if she’d ever been with a man before. But it wasn’t just the way she looked that set his blood on fire, in her heart she was different to the women he usually dated. The opposite of Natalia.

Thinking about Natalia still made him angry. They had grown up together and everyone had expected them to marry. But when he had decided to become a doctor, he and Natalia had argued. She’d wanted him to go into business with her father, telling Dante that that way they could have a good life. A rich life was what she’d meant. Of course he had refused. He was going to be a doctor—it was what he was meant to do. Natalia had stamped her foot and argued that she couldn’t—wouldn’t—wait until he was earning money. So she had left and married someone else. Now she was living the life she had always wanted. Since Natalia he had never let another woman close.

But he had been attracted to Alice instantly. He had asked her to meet him on an impulse, but to his surprise he’d found he enjoyed her company. He’d had many women since Natalia but they weren’t like Alice. They cared more about what they were wearing, what they looked like, and that was fine. But soon it got boring. He liked a woman who could talk, who knew how to laugh, who loved the simple things in life. Like Alice. Already he knew she could never pretend to be something she wasn’t.

He opened the throttle to pass a lorry that was lumbering up the mountain road and just managed to squeeze into the gap between it and an oncoming car. He laughed out loud. Dio, that was closer than he would have liked.

He had ten days to spend with Alice before she returned to the UK and he was going to make the most of them.

The next days were the most exciting of Alice’s life. She met Dante every afternoon after he finished work at the hospital. He showed her a side of Italy, the real Italy, that she’d never seen before, and every day she fell harder for him. If he was puzzled that she always insisted that he drop her off at the high walls shielding the villa where she was staying, he never said anything. He waited until the gates opened in response to her pressing the buzzer before he sped away on his bike. Alice knew she should tell him who she really was, but she wanted the dreamlike state she was in to go on for ever.

Saturday was his day off and that morning, her second last day in Italy, he picked her up from outside the villa on his motorbike. He held out a helmet and as he helped with the straps his fingers brushed her throat. Her skin literally sizzled where he’d touched her.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

His eyes seemed to glow as he looked down at her. ‘I want you to see where I live. Will you come?’

Alice’s heart thumped against her ribs. There was something in those dark eyes that told her that he wasn’t asking her just because he wanted to show her where he lived.

Dry-mouthed, she could only nod. Dante drove his bike as if he were pursued by a hundred devils, overtaking when there was the smallest of gaps.

Eventually, after the scariest but most exhilarating forty minutes of Alice’s life, they drove down a dirt track before stopping next to an olive grove.

Alice eased herself off the motorbike hoping that her shaking legs would hold her. She just about managed to hobble a few steps before Dante pulled her into the crook of his arm. She leant into him, savouring the warmth of his body.

‘This is where I grew up,’ he said, gesturing towards the trees. ‘Behind this is my mother’s house and a little further is the building where I live. It used to be for the shepherds, but now it is my home.’

She turned in his arms, relaxing against his chest. Behind her, he wrapped his arms more tightly around her. In the cocoon of his arms she felt at peace. She had never felt so happy. And she had never felt so sad. Her time with Dante was drawing to an end too quickly. Through the thin material of his T-shirt she could feel his heart beating and knew hers was keeping time with his.

‘Will you come with me to my house?’ he asked. His voice vibrated through her and her heart kicked hard against her ribs. She knew what he was asking.

She turned in his arms until she was looking directly into his eyes.

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Via,’ he said. He wasn’t smiling any longer. His dark eyes were intense, almost black.

He took her hand and led her down a path through the olive trees.

Once they were hidden from any passing cars, he pulled her back into his arms. For one long moment they looked into each other’s eyes and then he was kissing her. His mouth tasted of tomatoes and sunshine. A pool of liquid lust spread from her belly downwards and upwards until every part of her body felt as if it was on fire. If he carried on kissing her like this she would surely spontaneously combust. Even as he was kissing her she was smiling.

Dante pulled his head back while keeping her body pressed close into his. She could feel every inch of him along the length of her body.

‘What is funny?’ Although he half smiled, his eyes were glittering.

‘Nothing. Everything. I’m happy,’ she said simply.

‘Amore, I have never met someone as honest as you before. I like it,’ Dante said, and then he was kissing her again. Until she had met him, she had never been kissed like that before. She had never been held like this before. She had never felt like this before.

He pushed her gently against a tree and gathered her hands in his, pinning them above her head. She couldn’t stop this. Not if her life depended on it.

His eyes raked across her body, lingering on her breasts. He kissed her throat at the point where her pulse was beating wildly. Still holding her wrists with one hand, he dropped his other hand to the buttons of her blouse. Alice could dimly hear the sounds of cars passing on the nearby road but as he slowly unbuttoned her blouse, all awareness of the outside world left her. ‘Tesoro mio,’ he murmured, dropping kisses ever lower.

She arched her neck and raked her hands through his thick, dark hair. Each of his kisses was sending hot flames through her body. She almost couldn’t bear it. She felt as if she was going to lose control. She had to stop this. He’d called her honest. She needed to tell him the truth.

But she couldn’t call a halt. The only thing that mattered was the here and now.

Dante had pushed her blouse aside and was kissing her breasts. He circled her nipples with his tongue and ripples of pure, exquisite pleasure throbbed through her aching body.

Suddenly, to her dismay, he stopped. She moaned and tried to draw his head back down but Dante shook his head and slowly, reluctantly released her arms. His eyes were black with desire.

He buttoned up her blouse. Dazed, she could only watch.

‘Not here,’ he said hoarsely.

She knew what he was saying and she was powerless to resist. In a couple of days she would be home, back to being Lady Alice. Right now, all she wanted to do, all she ached for was to be back in his arms. She would tell him the truth. If whatever this thing was that was between them had a chance, she had to be as honest as he thought she was.

As they walked towards Dante’s house, Alice thought her heart would break. Two more nights, then she’d be returning to her life in London. The thought of leaving was tearing her in two.

The air was rich with the scent of olives as he led her by the hand through the orchard. Within a few minutes they arrived at a small whitewashed building with an ochre roof standing on its own in a little oasis of green.

Still holding her by the hand, Dante opened the door and pulled her inside. Alice only had a fleeting glimpse of a double bed before Dante was kissing her again.

Later, much later she lay with her head on his chest. He stroked her hair and murmured to her in Italian.

She traced the scar on his shoulder with the tip of her finger.

‘How did this happen?’ she asked.

‘An accident with my motorbike. Two years ago. A lorry came round on the wrong side of the road. I had to go into a ditch to miss it.’

‘You could have been killed!’ Alice said, alarmed.

‘But I wasn’t. I was hurt. A few days in hospital. It wasn’t so bad. My girlfriend at that time wasn’t happy.’

‘Have there been lots of women?’ she asked. She could have bitten her tongue the moment the words were out. Of course there had been lots of women. She could tell that from the way Dante had made love to her. As if she was precious, but also with passion and an uncanny sense of what she needed and when.

His hands paused in her hair.

‘A few. But they were not important—’ He broke off. ‘I’ve never met anyone quite like you.’

The warm glow of happiness she’d experienced since they’d made love deepened. But under the glow she felt a shiver of unease. What would he think of her when he found out she hadn’t been honest with him? She wasn’t who he thought she was. Reluctant to spoil the mood, Alice raised herself on her elbow and looked down at him. ‘Why did you decide to become a doctor?’ she asked.

He sat up and pulled her head against his chest where she could hear the strong beat of his heart. One of his hands was in her hair, the other softly caressing her neck. Everywhere he touched her sent stabs of desire coursing through her body. She hadn’t known that a simple touch on her skin could drive her wild with longing.

When his answer came his voice was deeper than ever.

‘A few years ago, I had a friend. A girl, Rosa. We had played with each other since we were children.’ His hands paused on her skin and he took a deep breath.

‘Her house was next to mine. We were always together. At school. After school. While we were growing up. Soon she was no longer a little girl but a beautiful woman.’

A stab of jealousy so strong it took her breath away ripped through Alice.

‘Did you love her?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

Dante laughed. ‘Sì, I loved her, but we were never lovers. She was like a sister to me.’ His voice grew sombre again. ‘I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, but she always knew what she wanted to do. To be a nurse.’ He paused and Alice knew he was remembering. ‘I stayed on the farm and she went to university. The first holiday she came back, it was as if we had never been parted. She was so excited with what she was learning. She was lit up inside. But after a few days she got sick.’

Dante’s voice was like sandpaper. Alice held her breath and waited for him to go on.

‘Everyone thought it was flu. No one was worried. Her mother phoned the doctor. He told her it wasn’t a problem, to give Rosa painkillers for the headache and fever. By the time she came out in a rash, it was too late.’

‘Meningitis?’ Alice whispered.

‘Sì. It was before the time they vaccinated against it. We called the ambulance. I knew it would take too long. I didn’t want to wait. We were losing her.’

He paused again and swallowed. ‘We put her in the car and I drove as fast as I could. But it was too late. By the time we got to the hospital, she was unconscious. I would have given my life for her, but I wasn’t able to do one thing to save her. It is why I became a doctor. I will never let anyone die because I didn’t know how to help them.’

‘I’m so sorry, Dante.’

‘You are like her in many ways. Kind and honest.’ Another spasm of guilt ran up Alice’s spine. She had to tell him.

‘You are different from other women.’ There was a note of bitterness in his voice that puzzled Alice. ‘You don’t care about material things. Clothes. Money. What other people think of you.’

Alice’s heart felt as if it were slowly being encased in ice. When she told him the truth about herself, he would see that she wasn’t the woman he thought she was. She couldn’t bear that. Was there any point in telling him? In two days she would be gone.

Propping herself on her elbow, she gazed down at his beautiful face. He was smiling.

‘You don’t really know me, Dante,’ she said softly.

‘I know enough. But there is more to learn, I think.’ The look in his eyes as they travelled across her body set nerve endings she’d never even known she had on fire. He pushed her back down on the bed and nibbled her ear. ‘You could stay in Florence longer,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t you have more time before you have to go back to university?’

Alice felt her heart plummet down to her toes. Was that all he wanted from her? Just another few days of a holiday romance—and then what?

Almost as if reading her mind, Dante pushed himself up on his powerful arms and gazed down at her. ‘Or maybe longer than that. You could stay with me,’ he said softly.

It was as if someone had dropped ice cubes down the back of her neck. He couldn’t know how impossible it was for her to do what he was asking. When he found out who she truly was, he would feel differently about her and she couldn’t bear that. Already she knew she was falling in love with him and the longer she stayed the harder she would fall. The thought terrified her. She had to leave before she got in any deeper. No matter how much she wanted to stay with him—more than anything she had ever wanted—there could never be a future for them. Her father needed her. She had her life and shallow though it was, it was the only life she knew.

Not that Dante was suggesting anything more than a few more days together.

She ran her fingertips across his chest down towards the silky hair of his abdomen. He drew a sharp breath as she let her hands travel lower. With him she felt no shyness, only a sense of wonder at the power her touch had over him.

In response he brushed his hand along the inside of her thigh and her bones turned to mush. ‘Amore mio,’ he growled, ‘I can’t think when you do that.’ His hands travelled higher up her thigh and he groaned. ‘That’s enough talking for now. We’ll talk more tomorrow.’

But Alice already knew there would be no tomorrow for them. She knew with heart-breaking certainty that they only had a few hours. She would have to make the most of every second.

CHAPTER ONE

ALICE studied herself in the full-length mirror. Her dress, a shimmer of silver, clung to her body before falling in a little train at the back. These days she no longer had to worry about revealing curves that suggested an over-enthusiastic fondness for food. Not eating tended to do that.

As soon as she’d come back to London she’d broken off with Peter, much to her father’s disappointment. Peter was everything he’d hoped for in a son-in-law. But he wasn’t Dante. Alice knew she could never marry anyone who didn’t make her feel the way Dante had, even if that meant being single for the rest of her life.

She pursed her lips as she applied deep red lipstick, trying to dispel the empty feeling that lurked somewhere deep inside. Okay, so this wasn’t how she’d envisaged her life to turn out, but she was happy, maybe not happy in that scary, intense way she had felt in Italy—she doubted she’d ever feel like that again—but she was content, wasn’t she? At least with her new, more active role with the charity she was doing some good. This fundraiser would bring in thousands of pounds for the camps for the displaced in Africa. And if she felt empty inside, as if someone had taken a giant icecream scoop and hollowed her out, didn’t lots of people feel that way? She should count her blessings, as people always said. Underneath the empty feeling was one of excitement. She was going to Africa with the charity. Maybe out there she would find the Alice she had been in Italy. Maybe, at last, she’d feel as if her life had some meaning.

She finished her make-up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Bless Susan, she knew exactly how do her hair so that it would stay firmly in place for the whole evening.

Alice glanced at her watch. Almost time to go.

She sighed at her image in the mirror. A pale face with dark shadows stared back at her. Had it really been a year since she had said goodbye to Dante? Tonight the guest speaker, who was doing a presentation on behalf of the charity for which this evening was being held, was a Dr Salvatore, who was coming from the same hospital where Dante had worked. When she’d seen his name on the programme, she’d contemplated slipping in a casual question to Dr Salvatore about Dante. He was bound to know him.

She knew she was torturing herself, especially if Dante turned out to be engaged or, worse still, married, but she was desperate to hear about him, even if it was only someone saying his name. When she’d left Italy without saying goodbye, she’d told herself it was for the best. So why did her heart still ache for him?

But she mustn’t think of Dante. Not tonight. Even though barely a day went past when she didn’t think of his deep brown eyes. And his smile. All that was safely in the past. She was living the life she was meant to live. Italy had been a dream. A wonderful dream. She had to look to the future.

Downstairs, the ballroom was thronging with guests. All willing to pay thousands of pounds for a seat at the dinner table, knowing that the money would be put to good use. Alice could see the top of her father’s head as he spoke animatedly to someone. Knowing him, it would be another business deal. Dad wasn’t one to waste an opportunity. Not when the heads of businesses from across the world were in this room.

The room sparkled from the hundreds of lights from the oversized chandeliers. The tables were set with the finest crystal money could buy and at each table setting there was a little Swarovski souvenir for the guests to take home. The heavy scent of lilies drifted from tall crystal vases. In the corner a string quartet was playing softly. At the end of the evening there would be a surprise for the guests as her father had flown in a famous opera singer to round off the evening. Alice couldn’t help but wonder if some of the money her father had lavished on this event could have been better spent. Given to the charity, for example. But when she’d raised the issue with him, he’d assured her that the money the evening would bring in would far outstrip the money he had lavished on this dinner. Not least as he had already personally pledged a significant sum.

The room was already packed. Diamonds flashed from throats and wrists as women in elegant evening gowns lifted glasses to their lips. The men were in dinner jackets and bow-ties, and the murmur of low voices and the occasional rumble of laughter filtered above the sound of the music.

As she weaved her way through the crowd towards her father, people parted to let her past. She paused to accept a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

Suddenly there was a hush and all eyes swivelled towards the door. A tall, dark-haired man was standing by the entrance. He was wearing a leather jacket over a pale mauve shirt and black trousers. But it wasn’t his casual dress that caused everyone to follow his process across the room, it was his presence. A sort of natural elegance coupled with an arrogance—a way of holding his head, a half-smile on his lips as he gazed around the room with slitted, amused eyes.

Alice had stopped with her glass midway to her lips. His hair was shorter, much shorter, and there were creases near his eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there before, but there was no doubt. It was Dante and he was walking towards her father.

Her legs almost buckled. She hadn’t seen him in twelve months but every part of her came alive as if a bolt of lightning had coursed through her body. What was he doing here? Where was Dr Salvatore?

She glanced around, thinking that she would escape to the ladies to give her time to get her trembling hands under control, but just then her father called her name and gestured to her to come over to him. If she fled now, she would look like an idiot. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and fixed a smile on her face. Hadn’t she taught herself to do that whenever she found herself in a difficult situation? And this one was off the Richter scale as far as difficult situations went.

‘Alice! My dear. I’d like you to meet Dr Dante Corsi. One of the directors of People in Need. Dr Corsi, my daughter, Lady Alice.’

As Alice looked into deep brown eyes the room began to spin. In a single second she was transported back to Florence, to his bed in his cottage. All the moments she had so miserly treasured and so desperately tried to forget.

Once more, years of training in how to handle difficult social situations came to Alice’s rescue.

She saw the shock of recognition in Dante’s eyes then quickly the shutters came down.

‘Dr Corsi and I have already met.’ She proffered her face for a kiss, only too aware of the familiar scent of his aftershave as he bent his head and kissed her on either cheek.

‘Oh!’ Her father looked puzzled for a moment then his brow cleared. ‘In Italy, of course. But how?’

‘Your daughter was trying her hand as an artist. There was an accident. She helped me care for the victims. It was a long time ago.’ Dante lowered his voice. ‘How have you been?’ His voice was matter-of-fact, his face expressionless, but his eyes were saying all sorts of things. Stuff she didn’t want to hear. Like who the hell are you? Why did you leave without saying goodbye?

Alice’s father narrowed his eyes. She could almost see his sharp, analytical brain whirling.

‘Dr Corsi is here to do a presentation on behalf of one of the charities we are raising money for tonight,’ he told Alice.

‘You raise money for the charity?’ Alice tried hard to keep her voice even. But it was difficult with her heart hammering away like a steam train. ‘I thought you were still working as a paediatrician in Florence.’

She realised her mistake as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Now he’d know that she’d been keeping track on his career. But she hadn’t known about his work with the charity. And she certainly hadn’t known he’d be here. If she had, she would have found some excuse not to come.

Dante’s eyes were as dark as the night outside. ‘What about you? Did you finish your degree? How have you been?’ He sounded almost bored.

‘Yes, I finished my degree,’ she said softly. ‘At the moment, I raise funds for the charity my father sponsors.’ She knew she sounded defensive.

Alice’s father was looking from one to another, puzzlement still written all over his face. Then someone waved, trying to catch his attention.

‘Would you excuse me for a moment?’ her father said. ‘There’s someone I need to speak to. I’ll be back shortly.’

Don’t go, Daddy, Alice wanted to shout. Don’t leave me alone with this man. But of course she couldn’t say anything. She smiled faintly.

‘So, Lady Alice, ‘Dante drawled, his voice heavy with sarcasm, ‘I see now why you left in such a hurry.’ His eyes were cold.

‘Not here, Dante, not now,’ she muttered. She could not have this conversation with everyone watching them with curious eyes.

He grabbed her by the elbow and steered her towards the open French windows. She tried to pull her arm away but his grip was too strong. She couldn’t risk making a scene so she let him propel her outside onto the roof terrace.

Although seating had been set out on the terrace, most people were still inside. A fountain sprayed water into the air and the lights of London glittered as far as the eye could see.

At least the early summer breeze cooled her burning cheeks. Dante spun her towards him.

‘So. Now I’ve found you, are you going to tell me why you never told me who you really were?’

Her mouth was dry and her heart was hammering so hard she thought she was going to pass out. How could she explain? In retrospect it seemed ridiculous that she hadn’t told him, but what had been the point? There had never been any question of she and Dante having a future together. In the cold light of the day after they’d made love Alice had run, knowing that she was already more than a little in love with him and knowing that a long-term future together was impossible.

‘You l-looked for m-me?’ she stuttered.

‘I waited for you at the piazza and when you didn’t turn up I thought something had happened to you.’ A small muscle twitched in his cheek. ‘Dio, I thought you’d had an accident—that you might be lying in a hospital wondering why I didn’t come to you. I went to the villa but it was locked up, apart from the housekeeper. She told me you had left and that, no, she couldn’t give me your address. You didn’t even have the courage to tell me you were going. Then I got the letter you left for me at the hospital.’ He smiled but there was no humour in his eyes. ‘At least I knew you were not hurt.’

‘I…’ Alice took a deep breath. ‘You’re right. I should have told you I was leaving. I’m sorry.’

Dante jammed his hands into his pockets as if to prevent himself from reaching out and shaking her. He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Sorry?’ This time his smile was positively cat-like. He shrugged. ‘It does not matter. I made a mistake. I thought you were different. I was wrong.’

Anger rose up like a tidal wave. Okay, so she should have told him she was leaving, but he had never pretended she was anything more to him than a holiday romance.

‘You have no right to judge me, Dante. As you pointed out, you don’t know the first thing about my life here.’

‘Because you chose not to tell me.’ There was no mistaking the contempt in his eyes. ‘You did not have to lie.’

‘I didn’t lie,’ she said hotly. When he raised an eyebrow she added hastily, ‘I just didn’t tell you the truth.’ It sounded weak even to her own ears.

‘It is the same thing,’ he said quietly. ‘You should have trusted me. Instead you chose to act out a little…’ he struggled to find the right word ‘…play.’

‘Here you are.’ Peter’s voice cut through the tension that lay between them like a thick layer of fog. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’ Although they were no longer engaged, they were still friendly.

Dante looked at Peter and his eyes turned black.

‘Peter, this is Dr Corsi, who is here on behalf of the charity.’

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Dr Corsi,’ Peter said. ‘I understand that the staff is ready to help you set up for your presentation.’

‘Pronto. ‘ Dante dipped his head at Peter and swung on his heel, leaving Alice alone with Peter.

‘What is it? You’re pale. Almost as if you’ve seen a ghost. Are you feeling all right?’

No, she was not feeling all right. And, yes, she had just seen a ghost.

Alice took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Somehow she would have to get through this evening.

‘I’m fine. It was hot in there and I was feeling a little faint so Dr Corsi suggested getting some fresh air. I feel much better now. Shall we take our seats?’

Alice didn’t know how she got through dinner. Although the food had been cooked by a famous London chef especially for the occasion, every bite tasted like sawdust and Alice found it difficult to swallow. Now and then, when she looked up from her plate, she would find Dante’s eyes on her. She forced herself to concentrate on her dinner companions, but crazy thoughts were running through her head. Dante had looked for her. Was that why he was here instead of Dr Salvatore? Had he seen her name and recognised it and decided to come here to berate her? No, she couldn’t believe it. Dante wasn’t small minded.

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