His Lost-And-Found Bride. Scarlet Wilson

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His Lost-And-Found Bride - Scarlet Wilson The Vineyards of Calanetti

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been well. I take it that is the chapel?’ She gestured to the building from which he’d emerged.

      Straight to the point. It was the only way to be. She had to ignore the way his warm hand enveloped hers. She definitely had to ignore the tiny sparks in her palm and the tingling shooting up her arm. She pulled her hand back sharply.

      If he was surprised at her direct response he didn’t show it. His voice was as smooth as silk. ‘Why don’t we go into the main house? I’ll show you to your room and introduce you to Louisa, the owner.’

      He waved his hand, gesturing her towards the palazzo, and she could instantly feel the hackles rise at the back of her neck.

      ‘That won’t be necessary. I’m not staying. I’ve booked a hotel nearby.’

      Logan exchanged a glance with the driver, who was already disappearing into the palazzo with her red case. ‘Why don’t you have some refreshments in the meantime? I’d still like to introduce you to Louisa and I’m sure you’d like to see around the palazzo—we’ve already renovated some parts of it, including the room Louisa has set aside for you.’

      He was so confident, so assured. It grated because she wished she felt that way too. She was trying her best to mimic the effect, but it was all just a charade. Her stomach was churning so wildly she could have thrown up on the spot. It wasn’t just the intense heat that was causing little rivulets of sweat to run down her back, it was Logan. Being in his presence again after all these years and the two of them standing here, exchanging pleasantries, as if what had happened between them hadn’t changed their lives for ever, just couldn’t compute in her brain.

      Business. She kept repeating the word in her head. She was probably going to have to keep doing this for the next few days. Whatever it took to get through them. She had to be professional. She had to be polite. The Italian Heritage Board would expect her to discuss her findings and proposals with the owner directly—not through a third party. Maybe this way she could take Logan out the equation?

      She gave a nod and walked over the courtyard towards the palazzo. The first thing she noticed as she walked into the wide entrance hall was the instantly cool air. The palazzo may be hundreds of years old but it seemed as though the amenities had been updated. She gently pulled her jacket from her back to let some air circulate.

      Logan showed her through to a wide open-plan sitting area. Glass doors gave a wide, spectacular view over the vineyards. She was instantly drawn to the greenery outside.

      ‘Wow. I’ve never really seen a working vineyard before. This is amazing.’

      A beautiful slim blonde emerged from another doorway, her hair tied in a high ponytail, wearing capri pants and a white top. She smiled broadly and held out her hand. ‘Welcome. You must be Lucia. Logan told me to expect you. I’m Louisa.’ She nodded to the view outside. ‘And I knew nothing about vineyards either before I arrived here.’

      Lucia shook her hand easily. Should she be cautious? What exactly had Logan told her?

      Her eyes flitted from one to the other. Was there a relationship between Logan and Louisa? She watched for a few seconds. Logan had his hands in his pockets and was waiting in the background. He wouldn’t do that if he were in a relationship with Louisa and this was their home.

      Louisa nodded towards the doorway that must lead towards the kitchen. ‘Can I get you coffee, tea, water or...’ she gave a smile ‘...some wine?’

      Of course. She was in a vineyard. Would it be rude to say no? She was Italian, she loved wine. But she was here for business, not pleasure. ‘Just some water would be lovely, thank you.’

      There was a few seconds of uncomfortable silence as she was left alone with Logan again. He moved over next to her, keeping his hands firmly in his pockets.

      ‘How is your job at the heritage board? Do you like it?’

      She gave a brief nod but kept her eyes firmly on the vineyard outside. ‘It was always the kind of job that I wanted to do.’ She left everything else unsaid. If things had turned out differently there was a good chance that she would never have taken the job in Venice. It would have been too far away from the life they had planned together in Florence.

      Something inside her cringed. It was almost as if she’d wanted things to turn out this way and that just wasn’t what she’d meant at all.

      But Logan didn’t seem to notice. He just seemed more concerned with filling the silent space between them. ‘And how do you like living in Venice, compared to Florence?’ It was his first acknowledgement of anything between them. They’d lived together in Florence for just over a year.

      Louisa came back out of the kitchen holding a glass of water. ‘You’ve lived in Florence and now Venice? How wonderful. What’s it like?’

      Lucia took the water gratefully. Her throat was achingly dry. For the first time since she’d got here she felt on comfortable ground—questions about Venice were always easy to answer. ‘Venice is amazing. It’s such a welcoming city and it absolutely feels like home to me now. It is, of course, permanently full of tourists, but I don’t really mind that. My apartment is on the Grand Canal so at night I can just open my doors and enjoy the world passing by on the water. Some nights it’s calming and peaceful—other nights it’s complete chaos. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

      Louisa gave a visible shudder. ‘Too many people for me. Too much of everything.’ She looked out over the vineyards. ‘I can’t imagine what this place will be like when the royal wedding takes place. There will be people everywhere.’ She gave a shake of her head. ‘All the farmhouses and outbuildings are being renovated too. Logan’s the only person staying in one right now while we still have some quiet about the place.’

      Lucia didn’t smile. Didn’t react. But her body was practically trembling with relief to know she wouldn’t be under the same roof as Logan.

      Now she might consider staying in the palazzo for the next couple of days.

      Louisa gave her a smile. ‘I intend to stay out of the way as much possible. Now, about the fresco. What happens next? You do understand that we are under an obligation to get the rest of the restoration work finished as soon as possible?’

      Lucia could hear the edge in her voice. The same strong hint that had come from Logan. She chose her words carefully. ‘It all depends on the fresco itself. Or, more importantly, the artist who created it.’

      ‘Will you know as soon as you look at it?’

      She held out her hands. ‘It would be wonderful if we could just look at something and say, “Oh, that’s by this artist...” But the heritage board requires authentication of any piece of work. Sometimes it’s by detailed comparison of brushstrokes, which can be as good an identifier as a signature—we have a specialised computer program for that. Sometimes it’s age-related by carbon dating. Sometimes we have to rely on the actual date of the construction of the building to allow us to agree a starting point for the fresco.’

      Louisa smiled and glanced over at Logan, who looked lost in his own thoughts. ‘Well, that’s easy, then. Logan has already been able to date the construction of the palazzo and chapel from the stone used and the building methods used. Isn’t that right, Logan?’

      He turned his head at the sound of his name, obviously only catching the tail end of the conversation. He

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