come this far, she told herself rather wanly. She might as well go on to the bitter end—whenever that might be.
His voice broke across her reverie. ‘What are you thinking?’
Quickly she forced a smile. Spoke eagerly. ‘Oh, just how good it will be to see Paolo again. We don’t seem to have been alone together for ages.’ She managed a note of anxiety. ‘You really do think you’ll be able to persuade your aunt?’
‘Yes,’ Alessio said quietly, after a pause. ‘Yes, I do.’
And they ate the rest of the meal in silence.
Siestas were probably fine in theory, thought Laura. In practice, they didn’t seem to work quite so well. Or not for her, anyway.
She lay staring up at the ceiling fan, listening to its soft swish as it rotated, and decided she had never felt so wide awake. She needed something to occupy her.
Her book was finished, its ending as predictable as the rest of the story, and she had no wish to lie about thinking. Because her mind only seemed to drift in one direction—towards the emotional minefield presided over by the Count Alessio Ramontella.
And it was ludicrous—pathetic—to allow herself to think about a man who, a week ago, had been only a name on the paperwork from the Arleschi Bank’s head office. A distant figurehead, and nothing more.
And no matter how attractive he might be, that was how he would always remain—remote. No part of any world that she lived in, except for these few dreamlike, unforgettable days.
Except that she had to forget them—and pretty damned quickly too—as soon as she returned to England, if not before.
She slid off the bed. She’d have a shower, she decided, and wash her hair. She’d brought no dryer with her, but twenty minutes or so with a hairbrush in the courtyard’s afternoon sun would serve the same purpose.
Ten minutes later, demurely wrapped in the primly pretty white cotton robe she’d brought with her, and her hair swathed into a towel, she opened the shutters and stepped outside into the heated shimmer of the day.
She was greeted immediately with a torrent of yapping as Caio, who was lying in the shade of the stone bench, rose to condemn her intrusion.
Laura halted in faint dismay. Up to now, although he was in the adjoining room, he hadn’t disturbed her too much with his barking. But she’d assumed that the Signora had taken him with her to the other end of the house to share her sick room vigil. She certainly hadn’t bargained for finding him here in sole and aggressive occupation.
‘Good dog,’ she said without conviction. ‘Look, I just want to get my hair dry. There’s enough room for us both. Don’t give me a hard time, now.’
Still barking, he advanced towards her, then almost jerked to a halt, and she realised he was actually tied to the bench. And, next to where he’d been lying, there was a dish with some dry-looking food on it, and, what was worse, an empty water bowl.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ She spoke aloud in real anger. Caio would never feature on any ‘favourite pets’ list of hers, but he deserved better than to be left tied up and thirsty.
She moved round to the other end of the bench, out of the range of his display of sharp teeth, and grabbed the bowl. She took it back to her bathroom, and filled it to the brim with cold water.
When she reappeared, Caio had retreated back under the bench. He growled at her approach, but his heart clearly wasn’t in it, and the beady, suspicious eyes were fixed on the bowl. She put it on the ground, then, to demonstrate that the suspicion was mutual, used her hairbrush to push the water near enough for the tethered dog to reach it. He gave a slight whimper, then plunged his muzzle into the bowl, filling the silence with the sound of his frantic lapping.
When he’d finished every drop, he raised his head and looked at her in unmistakable appeal.
I could lose a hand here, Laura thought, but Caio made no attempt to snap as she retrieved the bowl and refilled it for him.
‘You poor little devil,’ she said gently as he drank again. ‘I bet she’s forgotten all about you.’
The leash used to tie him was a long one, but Laura realised that it had become twined round the leg of the bench, reducing his freedom considerably.
She could, she thought, untangle it, if he’d let her. But would he allow her close enough to unclip the leash from his collar, without doing her some damage?
Well, she could but try. She certainly couldn’t leave him here like this. She could remember hearing once that looking dogs in the eye made them more aggressive, so she seated herself at the far end of the bench, and moved towards him by degrees. When she was in his space, she clenched her hand into a fist and offered it to him, trying to be confident about it, and talking to him quietly at the same time. His initial sniff was reluctant, but he didn’t bite, and she tried stroking his head, which he permitted warily.
‘You may be spoiled and obnoxious,’ she told him, ‘but I don’t think you have much of a life.’
She slid her fingers down to the ruff of hair round his neck and found his collar. As she released the clip Caio made a sound between a bark and a whimper, and was gone, making for the open space of the garden beyond the courtyard. And after that, presumably, the world.
‘Oh, God,’ Laura muttered, jumping to her feet and running after him, stumbling a little over the hem of her robe.
What the hell would she do if she couldn’t find him? And what was she going to say to the Signora, anyway? She’d be accused of interfering, which was true, and coming back with a counter-accusation of animal negligence, however justified, wouldn’t remedy the situation.
She had no idea how extensive the villa’s grounds were, or if they were even secure. Supposing he got out onto the mountain itself, and a wolf found him before she could?
This is what happens when you try to be a canine Samaritan, she thought breathlessly as she reached the courtyard entrance, only to find herself almost cannoning into Alessio, who was approaching from the opposite direction with a squirming Caio tucked firmly under his arm.
‘Oh, you found him,’ she exclaimed. ‘Thank heaven for that.’
‘I almost fell over him,’ he told her tersely. ‘Where has he come from?’
‘He was tied to the bench over there. I was trying to make him more comfortable, and he just—took off. I was terrified that I wouldn’t be able to find him.’
‘He was out here—in this heat?’ Alessio’s tone was incredulous, with the beginnings of anger. He glanced at the bench. ‘At least he had water.’ He looked at Laura again, more closely. ‘Or did he?’
She sighed. ‘Well, he has now, and that’s what matters.’ She was suddenly searingly conscious of the fact that she was wearing nothing but a thin robe, and that her damp hair was hanging on her shoulders. ‘I—I’ll leave him with you, shall I?’ she added, beginning to back away.
‘One moment,’ he said. ‘What made you come out here at this time?’
‘I couldn’t
