knew, had known for weeks, the imposter would run.
Short of locking her in her room and chaining her to the bedpost, there was little he could do to ensure that she didn’t simply disappear. And he was honest enough to acknowledge that he had more reasons than one for not wanting that to happen.
He froze, the breath locking in his lungs as a savage stab of lustful sensation arrowed through him. The object of his serial thoughts had just entered the courtyard, heading for the garden room, judging by the flowers that were cradled in the crook of one arm.
She looked hot, uncomfortable. Pausing, she thrust out her lush lower lip and puffed out a breath to shift the now overlong silvery blonde fringe out of her eyes, then plucked crossly at the unsuitable tacky leather miniskirt that showed far too much of her delectable legs than was wise in company.
Just the sort of tasteless garment her twin would choose, he decided as she walked on, tottering on ridiculously high heels over the cobbles.
Cesare expelled a harsh breath and, lust ignored for the moment, decided on a pang of soft sympathy to do something for her. Retrieving his mobile from his jacket pocket, he flipped it open and began to dial.
‘They are beautiful, my dear,’ Filomena enthused as Milly fed the last rose into place in the crystal bowl. ‘How I miss my garden! It is so thoughtful of you to bring it to me.’
‘It won’t be long now,’ Milly promised with a warm smile. Next week Filomena was due to have another X-ray and if the collar bone was healed she could be rid of the sling and could venture out of doors. Already she was able to walk around her room without discomfort, which showed her ribs were healing well, and she sat for several hours in the armchair by one of the tall windows. ‘Now, would you like me to read to you?’
There was a shelf full of new books which, she learned, Jilly and Filomena had chosen in Florence—thankfully all English language editions because of the old lady’s wish to thoroughly familiarise herself with the tongue she had learned as a young woman. They were currently halfway through Dickens’s A Christmas Carol, Milly’s choice because she’d been given a copy on her tenth birthday and had read it annually ever since, gradually acquiring all the great author’s works.
‘Later.’ Dark eyes twinkled. ‘We will talk now and you will tell me more about yourself. Especially about young men. I’m sure you must have someone special waiting for you back home.’ She smiled with pure mischief. ‘Most anxious to see you again—just as I’m sure your little sister must be!’
A bubble of hysteria burst in Milly’s stomach. So far nothing more had been said of the horrible suggestion that she invite her ‘little sister’ over for a holiday! What if her putative boyfriend were to be included in the invitation?’
Trying not to squawk in horror at the prospect, she tugged at the horrid leather top, which made her feel overheated and tacky, and denied, ‘I don’t have a boyfriend.’ Which was the absolute truth.
The moment Cesare had left the premises for his headquarters in Florence a few days after they’d returned to the villa she’d phoned Bruce to stop him worrying about where she had got to and had received a far from interested or sympathetic reaction to her news that she was working in Tuscany for the time being as paid companion to a lovely Italian lady.
Words like Inconsiderate…Flighty behaviour…Mother and I always thought you were steady and sensible…Disappointed in you…
In the end she had put the phone down on him, thanking her lucky stars that she had never regarded him as anything more than a friend, only being thrown in a loop when his mother had talked about formalising their so-called relationship.
‘Now why do I find that so hard to believe?’ Filomena questioned with a mischievous smile and Milly shifted uneasily in the chair she’d chosen to use, hating the way the leather skirt stuck to her thighs and made a discomfiting sucking noise when she moved and wishing she could kick off her silly shoes because her feet were killing her and wondering how Jilly could actually choose to wear such stuff.
Thankfully, when Cesare entered the room, she was spared more personal delving. She hadn’t known he was back and, to her horror, a hot spiralling ache invaded her pelvis as she stared at his broad and gorgeous back and narrowly clad long legs as he immediately strode over to where his grandmother sat and lifted her hands to his lips, sparing Milly not a single glance.
Gratefully seizing the opportunity to make herself scarce, she got to her feet and, as if Cesare had second sight, he drawled, ‘Stay where you are. I need to talk to you both.’
Turning, he caught her in the act of sneaking out of the room. Her face flushed a furious scarlet then paled to ash grey beneath the light tan she’d picked up since arriving in Tuscany when he announced, his fantastically handsome face the picture of innocence, ‘Nonna, if you can spare Jilly, I need to be in Florence. I’d like to take her with me—I’m sure there are things she needs to buy and I’d like to give her dinner afterwards.’
As a bombshell it couldn’t have been more unwelcome. She had no idea what he was up to. In her role as Jilly she should jump at the opportunity to spend time with her one-time lover, hoping against hope he could be persuaded to change his mind about marriage.
But as she wasn’t her twin, merely her pale shadow—a shadow who craved his company as well as seeing the personal danger in that weak self indulgence—she would have to get out of it somehow.
She sent an unconsciously pleading look in Filomena’s direction, willing the old lady to voice an objection at being deprived of her companion, and felt sickeningly let down when all she got was a bright smile and, ‘What a splendid idea! I spoiled the break she needed when I had that silly accident and she has worked tirelessly and so cheerfully. A daughter couldn’t have shown more kindness—she deserves to be spoiled!’
Milly cringed at the fulsome praise, she didn’t deserve it, not while her deceit was sticking like a hard rock behind her breastbone. And there was no way out as far as she could see, not unless she threw a sudden fainting fit. As she didn’t trust her acting ability to accomplish that she mumbled through a mouth that felt too stiff to open, ‘I’ll get changed, then.’
‘There’s no need.’ Cesare was at her side. A firm hand encircled her arm, just above her elbow. Her flesh burned and quivered at his touch. It was the first time he had touched her since that morning on the beach and it sensitised every cell in her body, made her so sexually aware of him she didn’t know what to do with herself.
‘You can change later,’ he promised silkily. ‘Right now, Stefano is waiting to drive us.’
Chapter Nine
STARING AT THE back of Stefano’s neck and thankful for the sleek, top-of-the-range vehicle’s effective air-conditioning that helped her feel marginally less sticky and uncomfortable, Milly vowed that the moment she and Cesare got some privacy she would come clean, tell him everything and take his understandable and flaying anger because she guessed she deserved it.
Gritting her teeth, she tried to ignore the bombardment of nerves that was turning her stomach upside down and inside out at the thought that after his initial rage would come his scornful hatred. She tried to concentrate on figuring out why Cesare, cool and brooding and speechless at her side, had insisted she go to Florence with him and what he had meant when he’d told her she could change later.
She would have asked him there and then but she positively knew she wouldn’t get the
