Bertatali must have heard them as she threw open her door and rushed out to Mariella.
“Ah, Signorina Holmes. You are back.” She hugged Mariella, baby and all. “I am so thankful. And the baby, he is well?” She greeted Cristiano and insisted on all coming into her home.
“We are devastated your cabin burned. Aye, when I think of what could have happened without the swift intervention of Cristiano. You will stay with us at no cost, we insist. That such a thing could happen is not acceptable. The fire chief thinks the heater’s wiring overloaded. All are being inspected before we rent out another space. The electrician is here even now. I am so sorry. When I think of what could have happened—”
“We’re fine, signora.”
Cristiano nodded at her acknowledgment, staying near the door.
“Our insurance will cover everything. Please say you’ll stay a little longer. We do not want you to remember Lake Clarissa with the horror from the fire. Do let us make it up to you. My husband has a contractor going over every inch of every cottage. They will be totally safe. I guarantee it. Please stay.”
Mariella looked at Cristiano. “A day or two,” she agreed.
“I am so grateful you are safe. And your baby. Come, let me prepare some tea and you sit. Please, come into the kitchen.”
Signora Bertatali bustled around asking question after question. How did she feel? Did she get enough clothing?
“We are all so fortunate you saw the fire,” she said to Cristiano. “How did you from your grandfather’s cottage?”
He explained he’d been riding. Mariella wondered why he’d gone riding in the middle of the night. Not that it mattered. Thanks to him, they were safe.
Signora Bertatali poured the hot tea and sat at the table across from Mariella and Cristiano. Dante began fussing and Mariella reached into the baby bag to bring out a bottle. In short order it was ready.
“Let me. You drink your tea,” Cristiano said, reaching for the little boy. Dante was light in his arms. For a moment Cristiano saw the baby he’d rescued. How was that child doing all these months later? He would have to see if he could find out.
“Thank you.”
“And you, Cristiano, your family will be even more proud to learn of your rescue of last night. After that terrorist attack in Rome. I shiver every time I think about it.”
He had no comeback. He didn’t care if his family never knew of last night’s fire. He was content to know he’d been able to function as his training had prepared him. No fear except for the woman and child.
Once Dante had been fed and changed, Signora took them to the cottage right next door to the Bertatalis’ home. It had been completely checked out and declared safe. Cristiano unpacked his car and brought in all her new clothes while Mariella put the baby down in the new crib.
Too tired to think straight, she thanked him and watched as he left, then fell on top of the bed and pulled over a blanket. Before she could mentally list any of the many steps she needed to take, she fell asleep.
The next morning Cristiano sat on the flagstone patio in front of the cottage and read from the latest manual his commander had sent him. Still technically on disability leave, he had plenty of time to keep up with the latest information and his commander agreed, sending him updates and reports to keep him current.
He heard a sound and looked up, surprised to see Mariella walking down the long graveled driveway. The sun turned her hair a shimmery molten gold shot through with strands of copper. She wore dark trousers and a sweater, though the afternoon was warm for October. He hadn’t expected to see her here. How had she found the cottage? Not that it was hidden, lying right off the main road.
“Buongiorno,” she called in greeting.
“Hello,” he said, rising as he placed the manual face down on the small table. He hadn’t expected her to make the long walk up a hill with a cut on her foot. Where was the baby?
“I came to say thank you for saving us,” she said.
“You did that yesterday,” he said, watching as she walked closer. He could see no lasting effects of the fire. Only the faintest hint of a limp showed.
“I know. I just wanted to see you again.” She gave a shy smile and the effect on his senses was like the sun coming out after days of rain. For a moment, he felt elation. Then common sense intruded. He’d asked her to stay in Lake Clarissa, she had. Now she probably wondered why.
He glanced around. It was warm in the sun, but would cool down when the patio became shaded by the trees.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked. He hadn’t had anyone at the cottage since he had arrived. It felt strange to invite her inside.
“A glass of water sounds nice. It’s warmer than I thought it would be today and that’s a long walk.”
“Especially with an injured foot.”
She lifted her leg slightly and rotated the foot in question. “Actually, it didn’t bother me that much.”
He stared at the foot, then let his gaze wander up her body to those freckles. Her hair was curly and framed her pretty face. Her eyes were more silvery now than the other night. Then they’d been a stormy grey. The sun highlighted her hair, some of it the color of honey, some almost white gold. He wanted to touch those silky strands to see if they were as soft as they promised to be. Brush his fingertips across the freckles that dusted her face. Kiss her and feel the rise of desire being with a beautiful woman evoked. Prove to himself he was still alive, healthy and normal.
He resisted temptation. Dared he take the risk?
Every cell in his body clamored for closer contact with her. Temptation was never easily denied. He relished the feelings, the wanting, the anticipation, the desire. After staying alone for months, it was like an awakening, as if his body were coming alive after a long illness, painfully tingling. How ironic, he was attracted to a woman for the first time in ages and he dared not pursue the relationship. At least not beyond a casual friendship.
“Water’s in the kitchen,” he said.
She tilted her head slightly and smiled. “Usually is.”
He led the way through the dark living area back to the kitchen. He opened the cupboard and stared for a moment. There were no glasses.
She followed him, looking around with curiosity. For a moment Cristiano scanned the room, noting the dirty dishes stacked in the sink.
He heard a giggle behind him and turned to find Mariella trying to hide her laughter. He scowled, knowing exactly what she was thinking.
“I’ve seen college kids with digs like this, but I never thought once people were grown up they’d continue to live this way. Or is it only guys?” she asked, the amusement bubbling in her voice.
“Dante would understand,” he said, spotting a glass on the counter. He snagged it and quickly washed it. After it was rinsed, he filled it with tap water and handed it to her, still dripping. His sister would have his head if she ever
