the English who drive on the wrong side of the road. And this is my new car. Forget it. I’m not that much of a gentleman.’
‘I was afraid of that,’ she said sorrowfully.
‘Get in—the passenger seat.’
She assumed a robot voice to say croakily, ‘I obey!’ That made him grin, but he didn’t yield. Not yet.
He headed the car down the hill and drove for an hour, before pulling up in a quiet country lane and demanding to see her international licence, which he examined with all the punctilious care of a beaurocrat.
‘It’s a clean licence,’ she pointed out. ‘It says that I’m absolutely safe to drive on continental roads.’
‘It says nothing of the kind,’ he growled. ‘It simply says you haven’t been caught out yet.’
‘You’re not very gallant.’
‘No man is gallant where his new car is concerned. This licence doesn’t mean anything. The English give them out like confetti. That’s how little road sense they have.’
‘Or I might have forged it,’ she offered helpfully.
He gave her a dark look and got out of the car.
‘Five minutes,’ he said. ‘That’s all.’
He instructed her in the vehicle’s finer points and they set off. Five minutes became ten, then half an hour. She was instantly at home in the lovely vehicle, for fast, expensive cars were her secret weakness. In England she didn’t even own a car, since life in central London made it impractical, so this was a treat that seldom came her way, and she made the most of it, feeling her sedate, respectable side falling away with every mile.
Even Carlo had to admit that she was a natural driver. He might groan all he pleased, but she could sense him relaxing beside her as her skill became increasingly clear.
‘Well, I suppose you’re not too bad,’ he said at last.
‘Thank you,’ she said wryly.
‘All right—you’re much better than I expected, and I’m sorry I doubted you.’ Then he ruined the effect by saying, ‘But let’s stop for lunch while my nerves can stand it.’
She chuckled, and pulled into an inn that had appeared just ahead.
After lunch he reclaimed the driver’s seat, and as they continued south he explained about Badolato, their next destination.
‘It’s near the coast. I know it pretty well because I’ve been researching the Holy Grail.’
‘Here? But surely the Grail is—?’ she stopped.
‘That’s the point. Nobody knows where it is—or even what it was. But supposedly the Knights Templar used Badolato as a base, and they brought the Grail to the town for a while. Some people say it’s still there, hidden.’
‘You believe that?’
‘I believe it’s a very curious place. There are thirteen churches for a population of three and a half thousand, and the purity of the spring water is legendary. People come from miles around to fill up on it. They come to swim, too. It has its own beach down below, and the town is just above. In fact, there it is.’
She looked up and saw a medieval village rising steeply on the hillside in the distance.
‘I called ahead to the hotel where I normally stay,’ he said.
‘I hope you booked only one room this time?’
He grinned. ‘Yes, I did.’
Then she saw the beach.
‘It’s perfect!’ she breathed. ‘I’ve never seen such white sand or such blue sea—no, not blue. It’s practically violet.’
‘That’s a common trick of the light, especially this late in the afternoon. Shall we stop?’
‘Oh, yes, please. I’m dying for a swim.’
She felt sticky after the drive. Luckily the Badolato Marina was geared for bathers, and they were able to secure a hut. A run down the beach, a plunge into the surf, and all practical cares fell away as though the sea had washed them to oblivion.
She had discovered his body in the darkness, and knew the feel of every inch, but seeing it in sunlight was a new pleasure. She felt a guilty, almost voyeuristic pleasure in watching him as he plunged in and out of the water. It was like finding valuable treasure and securing it for her private enjoyment.
‘What is it?’ he asked, finally noticing her standing back and regarding him.
‘I’m just appreciating the view, thinking my thoughts.’
‘Tell me about those thoughts.’
She laid a hand on his chest, letting her fingers walk down a few inches.
‘Those kind of thoughts,’ she said.
‘Don’t do that,’ he said in a shaking voice.
She withdrew her hand and stood, giving him a challenging look, with her head on one side.
‘And don’t do that either,’ he begged. ‘This is a public place.’
She laughed, having fun. But suddenly she became aware that the light had faded and the air was rapidly growing colder. It had happened all in a moment.
‘Come on,’ he said.
Grabbing her hand, he dashed for the shore, while the sky darkened still, and growled until it exploded into a bang that almost deafened her. They changed in a hurry and reached the car as the first lightning flashed. She managed to get there first, and opened the driver’s door.
‘It’s better if I drive—’ he started to say.
‘Get in.’
He had to move fast, and then they were swinging out of the car park and up the hill. At once Della knew the task was harder than she’d reckoned. The road seemed to wind and wind, and it took all her attention to stay steady. Then the rain came crashing down about them, making the journey even more hair-raising.
Luckily it was only a brief drive, and within a few minutes they’d reached Badolato.
‘Turn left just there,’ Carlo said in a grim voice. ‘Then right.’
She did so, and drew up outside a modest but comfortable-looking hotel.
Carlo threw her a sulphurous look, but said nothing until she had switched off the engine. Then he exploded.
‘You stupid woman!’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘What on earth came over you? Do you think driving up a steep, winding road in
