over her with mild surprise, before entering the room. There was a strange kind of tension immobilising her, that made her thought-processes feel as if someone had pressed a slow motion button. Was this Carmela’s boss? If it was, he was the antithesis of what she’d been expecting.
Golden-haired, blue-eyed, with a strong, lean jaw and of an imposing height, he might easily have hailed from Denmark, Sweden or even Germany. Yet the confident, slightly arrogant way he bore himself, and the way he wore his clothes—as though they and he were in complete enviable accord—easily convinced her he was a true son of Italy.
Azure, they called the colour that was so reminiscent of the Mediterranean, and that was the startling hue conveyed by this man’s disturbingly direct glance as he focused it on Laura. Feeling heat assail her from all sides, she quickly looked away—taken aback that she should experience such an emphatic reaction to someone she’d only just met.
‘Fabian! You’re just in time to meet Laura. She arrived only an hour ago, and I was just about to come and find you to introduce you.’ Putting her hand behind the fair-haired girl’s back, Carmela impelled her forward, as if concerned she would be too reticent. ‘Laura, this is Signor Fabian Moritzzoni … owner of the Villa de Rosa and my employer. Fabian, this is my dear friend Laura Greenwood.’
Automatically Laura held out her hand, and felt the man’s large cool palm enclose hers, his clasp neither too firm nor too slack, yet without a doubt signifying authority—and she found herself immediately under disquieting surveillance.
‘My pleasure, Signorina Greenwood. It appears I am indebted to you for agreeing to stand in as my assistant in Carmela’s absence. You had a good journey from the UK, I trust?’
‘I did, thank you.’
‘And this is your first time in Tuscany, I hear?’
‘It is, but that’s not because of any lack of desire. Carmela’s been asking me to visit for ages, but somehow it never seemed to be the right time. Still … I’m here now and I hope that I’ll be able to be a real help to you, Signor Moritzzoni.’
‘That is my wish too, Signorina Greenwood.’ Fabian’s tanned brow furrowed slightly as he gazed back at Laura. ‘So. You will take the rest of the day off to settle in, and presumably start work tomorrow? Carmela will put you in the picture about what needs to be done. Does that meet with your approval?’
His unsettling examination didn’t waver for an instant. He had the glance and acuity of focus of the shrewdest of businessmen. Laura would not like to be on the receiving end should she be someone who was trying to deceive him. But then she thought of something else. Had he seen the scar? Was that what he was looking at so intently? She lifted her hand automatically to touch the pale golden strands of her fringe, suddenly self-conscious of the disfigurement beneath it. No doubt it must displease him, in this land of the terrifyingly good-looking to gaze upon a woman whose already average looks were marred by an ugly scar. She wished he would finish talking to Carmela and go. Her confidence and determination in taking this job and making a success of it had not disappeared—but it had definitely been a little shaken.
‘There’s no need for me to wait until tomorrow to make a start,’ she said. ‘If Carmela needs me to give a hand straight away, then that’s fine with me. I want her to be able to leave for her honeymoon with a settled mind, knowing that she’s left the situation in good hands. The sooner I get to grips with what needs to be done, the better.’
‘You see, Fabian?’ Carmela cheerfully exclaimed. ‘I told you there would be nothing to worry about with Laura here!’
‘I am sure that you are right.’
His voice was smooth as amontillado and oloroso sherry combined—nonetheless, Laura detected a definite edge to the Italian’s disturbing glance that seemed to say I will be extremely disappointed if you should let me down. Inwardly she shivered as her eyes determinedly met his, and it took every ounce of will she possessed to hold his gaze and not look away.
CHAPTER TWO
SINCE the arrival of the opera company and the orchestra that morning for rehearsals the house and grounds had joyfully vibrated with the sound of music and song. Listening in wonderment, Laura wished the children she’d taught could hear what she was hearing now. They might only have been six or seven years old, but they’d quite quickly acquired a fine appreciation of some of the classical pieces that she’d brought into class for them to listen to, as well as enjoying listening to their teacher occasionally playing the piano. They’d all been so eager to learn an instrument too, and Laura had done much to encourage their fledgling interest. But she hadn’t taught her class for over two years now, and as a consequence there was a hollow ache inside her that couldn’t easily be filled.
There had been a time in the past when she’d dreamt of a career performing music herself, but once she’d discovered her love of teaching it to children she had honestly believed she’d found her true calling. Now, after a period of enforced rest and recuperation because of her accident, she would have to start the search for a similar fulfilling post all over again. As soon as she got back from Tuscany she fully intended to redouble her efforts to that end, but at the moment she was pretty much in seventh heaven here, in this stunningly exquisite house, helping out a friend in need. Her spirits and morale were already uplifted by the sound of the music around her.
While Carmela consulted her master plan for the concert, in order to properly explain it all to Laura and make sure she hadn’t left anything important out, her friend busied herself with more practical things. She didn’t want to be idle with so much clearly to be done. Everyone she met seemed to have a hundred and one jobs to do. That being the case, Laura took it upon herself to help out wherever she saw she might be needed.
On checking back with Carmela a while later, she found her still fine-tuning arrangements, as well as making some important phone calls that only she could deal with. Seeing that the kitchen staff were run off their feet, she gave them a hand by carrying trays of drinks and food to the hard grafting workmen on the site, erecting the stage and lighting inside the largest marquee.
‘Buongiorno, Signorina Greenwood.’
Halfway across the lawn, transporting empty glasses back to the kitchen, Laura came to a standstill at Fabian Moritzzoni’s greeting.
‘Buongiorno,’ she replied, aware that her voice was not quite steady.
The man had ruffled her, suddenly confronting her like that when she hadn’t been expecting it. He was wearing a white linen shirt over ecru-coloured chinos, with his sunglasses pushed back on top of his darkly golden head, and his appearance had a raffish sort of Bohemian quality about it, rather than the look of almost intimidating businessman of yesterday—though it would be a foolish individual indeed who believed he was anything less than one hundred per cent sharp … one hundred per cent on the money in every way. Being so painfully aware of the charismatic quality of this man could potentially be the most distracting drawback to this job, Laura concluded. Immediately she recognised the indefinable threat he represented to her peace of mind, and the still tender, wounded part of her wanted to instantly retreat.
‘I see that you are already in the thick of things. An event like this is a lot of work, no?’ He smiled, utilising that gesture with the easy confidence of a man who had had the world’s attention from the moment he was placed into his doting mother’s arms as a baby. Next to the supreme vitality he radiated, Laura felt like a very pale shadow in comparison.
Fabian had forgotten how delicate-looking this replacement assistant
