last, his voice deep-toned and husky, with a hint of accent which accelerated Jess’s pulse to an alarming degree.
“I will do so at once, before she runs away again.” Roberto, who had been looking from one to the other with narrowed eyes, bowed formally. “Miss Jessamy Dysart, allow me to present my brother, Lorenzo Forli.”
Jess murmured an incoherent greeting, and Lorenzi Forli took her hand and raised it to his lips. Jess disengaged her hand swiftly, and forced her attention back to Roberto. She had met him only once before, when she’d played an unwanted third at dinner in this very hotel the night Leonie had informed Roberto Forli she was marrying another man. Then, they had spent a pleasant hour together after Jonah had arrived to take Leonie home, and Roberto, despite the circumstances, had been charm itself to Jess. Tonight, however, his manner was hostile. Nor did Jess blame him for it.
“I’m glad to see you again, Roberto.” She held out her hand to him. “How are you?”
He took the hand and bowed, unsmiling. “I am well. And you?”
His chill courtesy made it difficult to embark on the apology she was very conscious that he deserved. “I’m fine. I came on an errand for Leo. My sister,” she explained, turning to Lorenzo.
“I am acquainted with the beautiful Leonie,” he informed her. And Leo had never thought fit to mention him?
“How is the bride?” asked Roberto. “Radiant and beautiful as always?”
“Even more so at the moment,” Jess informed him.
Roberto’s eyes flickered for an instant. “Ah, yes. You know I am invited to the wedding?”
“Leo told me. But I was surprised you’d want to come,” she said frankly.
Roberto shrugged his shoulders in the way Jess remembered well from their first meeting. “I was coming to your country at this time for other reasons.”
“Is it a business trip?” asked Jess. “I’ve forgotten what you actually do, I’m afraid.”
“We are involved in hotels,” said Lorenzo, moving closer. “Miss Dysart, please drink a glass of wine with us.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” said Jess with deep regret. “I’m driving, I must get back.”
“We saw you with Leonie’s fidanzato.” Roberto informed her, his eyes bright with unexpected malice. “But he left before we could congratulate him.”
“I came to collect some earrings from Jonah,” said Jess. “Leo’s wearing them tomorrow, and he’d forgotten to hand them over.”
“Neither your brother nor your father could do this?”
Jess stiffened at his tone. “They wanted to,” she said shortly. “But I had my reasons for coming myself.”
“Of course you did,” said Roberto with open sarcasm.
“Enough, Roberto,” commanded Lorenzo. “Rejoin the Ravellos. I will escort Miss Dysart to her car.”
Roberto, obviously about to protest, received a quelling look from his brother, and reluctantly acquiesced. He nodded coldly to Jess. “Please give my—my regards to Leonie. Arrivederci!” And before she could embark on her apology he strode off.
“There’s something I must explain to Roberto,” began Jess in a rush, and would have gone after him, but Lorenzo Forli took her arm.
“Leave him.”
“But he’s obviously put out with me—I need to apologise for running away that day in London,” she said, ignoring the fact that Lorenzo Forli’s touch seemed to be scorching through her sleeve.
“Roberto is ‘put out’ as you say, not only because you ran away at the sight of him, but because he believes that you are in love with Leonie’s fidanzato,” he informed her, as he escorted her outside to the car park.
“What?” Jess stared up at him in disbelief.
Lorenzo shrugged. “He is sure that you came here tonight for a few stolen moments before your sister’s lover lost you tomorrow.”
Jess stopped dead, and wrenched her arm away, her eyes blazing as she glared up into the dark, imperious face. “That’s nonsense,” she snapped.
“Is it?” he demanded.
“Of course it is!” Jess looked him in the eye. “Look, Signor Forli, I came here tonight purely to please my sister, and to explain to Roberto why it was impossible to speak to him on Thursday—”
“All of which may be true. But I think Roberto can be forgiven for his mistake.” Lorenzo Forli’s eyes locked with hers. “I also saw you embrace your sister’s lover,” he informed her.
“So did several other people,” she retorted, incensed. “There was nothing furtive about it. I find Roberto’s insinuations deeply offensive. Yours, too, Goodnight, Signor Forli.” Jess stormed off blindly towards the car, in such a tearing hurry she caught one tall, slender heel in a patch of loose gravel and fell heavily on her hands and knees.
Lorenzo raced to pull her to her feet. “Dio—are you hurt?”
“Only my dignity,” she snapped, scarlet to the roots of her hair as she pulled away.
“Take care,” he said sternly, and bent to retrieve the impractical sandal. “You could have broken your ankle. Put your hand on my shoulder and give me your foot, Cenerentola.”
Jess complied unwillingly to let him slide on the offending shoe, then bit her lip when Lorenzo took her by the wrists.
He said something brief in his own tongue as he examined the grazed, bleeding palms. “I will take you inside to cleanse your wounds.”
“No, please,” she protested, in an agony of embarrassment. “I’m fine.”
Lorenzo shook his head firmly. “You cannot drive with hands which bleed. How far is it to your home?”
“Twenty miles or so—”
“Then I shall drive you. Leave your car here.”
“Certainly not,” she snapped, then spread her hands wide suddenly as blood threatened to drip on her jacket.
Lorenzi handed her an immaculate handkerchief. “You cannot control a car in this condition. And if you have an accident it will spoil the day for your sister tomorrow.”
Unexpectedly hurt by his thought for Leonie rather than herself, Jess mopped blood and dirt from her grazed palms without looking at him.
“Come,” he said imperiously. “I will ask the receptionist for dressings.”
Twenty minutes later Lorenzo Forli was driving his mutinous passenger towards Stavely in the car he’d hired for his stay in Britain. “Your hands are still hurting?”
“A little,” she muttered, still hot with embarrassment over the fuss
