At Dante's Service (11 page)

Cowardly! Dante stiffened. It seemed eminently sensible of Rebekah to want to protect herself from emotional injury. After his marriage had ended he had made the decision never to put his faith and trust in a woman ever again. But that wasn’t the action of a coward, he assured himself. He was a realist, possibly a cynic, but he had good reason to be.

Yet although Rebekah had been treated so cruelly by her fiancé, she was still prepared to risk being hurt again in her search for love. It would be easy to label her a romantic fool, he brooded. But he felt admiration and respect for her, coupled with the uneasy feeling that his chosen lifestyle of flitting from one meaningless affair to the next without any emotional involvement on his part was not in any way admirable.

‘Come on,
mia bella
,’ he murmured when he saw her eyelashes brush against her cheeks. ‘You need some rest.’ He was sure she must be feeling drained and she made no protest when he stood and carried her into the bedroom. He helped her slip out of her robe and get into bed before he undressed and slid in beside her. He had assumed she would fall straight to sleep, but when she snuggled up close and ran her fingers over his chest, following the path of hairs that arrowed down his stomach, he struggled to control the heated desire that swept through him.

He turned his head towards her and felt a curious tug on his insides when he looked into her beautiful violet eyes. ‘Are you sure you want this?’ he said thickly.

Rebekah nodded. She could not explain why confiding to Dante about Gareth’s terrible betrayal had been
such a relief. It was as if something dark and festering had been exposed and she felt as though she could finally let go of the bitterness that had eaten away at her. She did not forgive Gareth—some things were unforgivable. And she would never ever forget her stillborn baby. But it was time to move forwards, time to allow the hurt to heal and embrace life once more. Dante made her feel alive, and his desire for her that she could see burning in his eyes gave her a sense of self-confidence that had been missing since she had fled from Wales two years ago.

‘I want you to make love to me,’ she whispered, and her heart leapt when, without another word, he bent his head and claimed her mouth in a slow, drugging kiss that quickly turned to fiery passion.

He trailed his lips over her throat, her breasts, and teased her nipples with his tongue until she shivered with delight. She curled her fingers in his silky black hair as he moved down and gently pushed her thighs apart so that he could arouse her with his fingers and mouth. And finally, when she was trembling on the brink, he lifted himself above her, groaning as her molten warmth welcomed him and urged him to fill her completely.

Afterwards she fell asleep with her head pillowed on his shoulder. But Dante lay awake long into the night, wondering what was happening to him, why making love to Rebekah had left him not only physically fulfilled but relaxed and content in a way he had never felt before. It begged the question—what the hell was happening to him? And more disturbing still was that he did not have an answer.

The hot Tuscan summer days slipped past inexorably, causing Rebekah a little pang when she thought about how many days and nights she had left with Dante. It was easier not to think, easier simply to enjoy his company and the friendship that had grown between them. His desire for her had shown no sign of abating and they made love every night with a passionate intensity that she found utterly irresistible.

‘Okay, I’ve got enough shots.’ Nicole’s voice drew Rebekah from her thoughts. ‘Can we eat now? The sight and smell of the food is making me feel ravenous.’

Rebekah laughed. ‘We’ll hang on for Dante and Vito to finish playing tennis and then we’ll have lunch. Knowing how competitively those two play, I think they’ll have worked up an appetite for Welsh Cawl.’

‘What is it, exactly?’ Nicole asked as she packed away her camera and tripod.

‘It’s a stew made with lamb and leeks and other root vegetables. Traditionally it was cooked in an iron pot over an open fire, but it works just as well cooking it in a casserole dish in the oven.

‘Shall we eat on the terrace?’ Rebekah asked as she collected plates and cutlery. ‘The pergola gives plenty of shade.’ She followed Nicole outside. The courtyard garden was baking, but beneath the pergola covered in grapevines and bright pink bougainvillea, it was slightly cooler.

‘You know, I can’t believe there are only two more recipes to make and photograph before the book is finished,’ she said as she flopped down onto a chair. ‘I’m amazed we’ve done so much in three weeks.’

‘And it’s great that the publishers offered a contract
after you sent them the first few pages of recipes.’ Nicole smiled. ‘I can’t wait to see the book in the shops.’

‘I’m looking forward to showing it to my grandmother.’ Rebekah fell silent, her mind turning to Nana, who, according to her mother, was growing increasingly frail.

In one more week she would finish working her period of notice and be able to leave Tuscany and go home to Wales to visit her family. She felt a familiar dull ache in her chest when she contemplated leaving the Casa di Colombe, which she loved, and Dante, who, despite her best intentions, had become a serious threat to her heart.

It was his fault that she was becoming obsessed with him, she thought ruefully, her heart-rate quickening when she caught sight of him strolling back from the tennis courts with Nicole’s husband Vito. Both men were darkly tanned and good-looking but Dante’s height and easy grace and the chiselled perfection of his features made him especially eye-catching—something Rebekah was made aware of whenever they visited the nearby town of Montalcino and he was a magnet for female attention.

Nicole followed the direction of Rebekah’s gaze towards the men and gave her a speculative look. ‘So, what is your relationship with Dante? You can’t kid me any longer that you’re simply his cook.’ She grinned when Rebekah blushed. ‘Don’t get me wrong—I think it’s great if the two of you are involved. I was worried that Lara had scarred him for ever.’

Rebekah stiffened. ‘Who is Lara?’ she asked in a carefully casual voice.

‘Oh—I assumed he had told you …’ The American woman suddenly became evasive. ‘He knew Lara years
ago when he was living in New York. That’s where I met him. He was friends with Vito, and then when I started dating Vito we all hung around together.’ In an obvious attempt to change the subject, Nicole said, ‘Why don’t you and Dante come to dinner with us at the weekend? It’s about time I cooked for you for a change.’

‘We can’t this weekend, I’m afraid.’ Dante’s deep voice sounded from behind Rebekah’s shoulder. He dropped into the seat next to her and gave her one of his sexy smiles that made her toes curl. ‘I’m taking Rebekah to Florence for a couple of days.’

‘You are?’ She flashed him a surprised look.

‘Uh-huh. We’ll be staying at a five-star hotel in the heart of the city within walking distance of the Duomo, the Campanile and the Uffizi Gallery, and we’ll eat at some of the best restaurants in the city. I think you deserve a break from cooking.’ His voice dropped to a husky drawl intended for Rebekah only. ‘Our room has a four-poster bed and I can’t promise we’ll do a lot of sightseeing,
mia bella
.’

She blushed and jumped up to begin serving the lunch. But she could not help darting Dante another glance and discovered he was watching her with a feral gleam in his eyes that filled her with excitement. On most days she worked on her recipes in the mornings and Nicole arrived to take photos for the cookery book while Dante played tennis or golf with Vito. They would all eat lunch together and in the afternoons, after the other couple had left, Dante would lead her upstairs and make love to her in his cool bedroom, where the sunlight filtered through the blinds and gilded their naked, entwined limbs.

They were lazy, golden days, and she was dreading
the day when they would leave the Casa di Colombe and go their separate ways.

‘Why are you taking me to Florence?’ she asked him late that same afternoon, when they lay sprawled on his bed, breathing hard in the aftermath of a particularly wild sex session that had left her feeling astonished that her body could experience such intense pleasure.

‘Because you said you would like to visit the city.’ He could have made up an excuse, Dante mused. But what was the point? He had given up trying to rationalise why he enjoyed spending time with Rebekah—and not only in bed.

She had got under his skin. Sex with her was more fulfilling than with any of his previous mistresses, but he had also discovered that he liked talking to her and being in her company. She was interesting and her dry wit made him laugh. She also drove him mad at times because she could be sharp-tongued and prickly if she felt he was threatening her independence. Only yesterday, when they had driven into Montalcino, they’d had a fight over her refusal to allow him to pay for the traditional Tuscan clay cooking pots she’d picked up in the market.

She was a refreshing change from the usual women he dated who treated his wallet as their own personal bank, he mused. He was starting to wonder when his interest in her would fade. When they had arrived in Tuscany he had confidently expected that he would have got over his fascination with her by now. But instead he was contemplating asking her to come back to London with him at the end of the month, not to work as his chef, nor to be his mistress. If he was going to stand any chance of persuading her to give up the opportunity of
working for Gaspard Clavier in St Lucia he realised he would have to offer her something more than a brief affair. The trouble was, he did not know what he wanted, and that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

F
LORENCE
lived up to its reputation as the most beautiful city in Italy. After three days of sightseeing, Rebekah was blown away by the exquisite architecture of many of the buildings and fascinated by the city’s rich history, particularly that of the powerful Medici family, whose influence had contributed to making Florence the jewel of the Renaissance.

On their last evening Dante took her to dinner at an exclusive restaurant close to the famous bridge, the Ponte Vecchio, and they sat at a table overlooking the River Arno. The fading sun set the sky ablaze and turned the river to molten gold.

‘The view is breathtaking,’ she murmured.

‘It certainly is,’ Dante agreed. Something in his voice drew Rebekah’s attention to his face, and she was startled to find that his eyes were focused on her rather than the view of the river. ‘And you’re breathtaking too. You look stunning in that dress,
cara
.’

She flushed with pleasure at his compliment and glanced down at the jade silk gown that had been among the clothes he had bought for her. She had decided to wear the clothes, but had insisted that he should not pay her any wages for the month and instead reimburse the
money he had spent on her. ‘It’s a matter of pride,’ she’d explained when he had tried to argue. Dante had clearly been reluctant but he had agreed to do as she had asked.

‘The dress is beautiful, but it’s a bit too low-cut and I’m scared I’m going to fall out of it.’

‘I can hope,’ he said softly. The wicked glint in his eyes sent a quiver of anticipation through her and she wished they could finish dinner quickly and return to the hotel. Their luxury suite included a hot tub, and the memory of how he had made love to her in the water last night had lingered in her mind all day.

‘Thank you for bringing me here,’ she said softly. ‘Florence is a wonderful city, and I’ll always remember this trip.’

‘I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it. Maybe we’ll come back another time,’ he said casually. ‘I often spend a week or two in Tuscany in the autumn.’

Rebekah did not remind him that she would no longer be working for him then.

‘You’ve gone very quiet.’ Dante’s voice interrupted her bleak thoughts. ‘Is anything wrong?’

‘I’m worried about my grandmother,’ she replied, not entirely untruthfully. When she had phoned home the previous day her mother had told her that Nana had suffered a fall. Fortunately, she hadn’t been seriously hurt, but her increasing frailty was a concern. ‘When we leave Tuscany at the end of the week I intend to go straight to Wales to spend some time with her.’

‘I’ll arrange for you to fly there on the jet as soon as we arrive in England. I imagine you will want to stay with your family for a few days.’ His grey eyes sought hers across the table. ‘After that, why don’t you come back to London?’

Rebekah stared at him, wishing she could read his mind. Was he asking her to continue working for him, or was there another reason for his invitation? If he asked her to carry on their affair she would have to refuse, she told herself firmly. His interest in her would last for a few months at most. But while he would simply move on to another affair, she feared she would be left with a broken heart.

‘We made an agreement that I would leave you when I had served my notice, and nothing has changed.’

‘Of course it has,’ he replied imperturbably. ‘We’re good together,
mia bella
.’ He gave a laconic shrug. ‘Why change what is good?’

Because, for Dante, what they had amounted to great sex, while for her … Rebekah swallowed when he reached across the table and captured her hand, lifted it to his mouth and grazed his lips across her fingers.

‘Let’s go back to the hotel and I’ll show you how you make me feel,’ he murmured huskily.

There had been no point in continuing the argument, she thought when they left the restaurant and strolled hand in hand through the quaint narrow streets of Florence. They arrived at their hotel and, as soon as they stepped into the lift and the doors closed, Dante pulled her into his arms and kissed her so thoroughly that she stopped worrying about the future and focused on the sensuous anticipation of knowing that they would soon be enjoying the pleasure of making love once more.

In the bedroom he undressed her by the light of the silver moon and the diamond-bright stars that were visible through the open curtains.

‘Sei così bella,’
he whispered as he drew the jade silk dress down and cradled her voluptuous breasts in his
palms. He kissed her mouth, her throat and breasts before he sank to his knees and explored the heart of her femininity with his tongue.

Then he stood and she stripped him with trembling hands. Dropping to her knees, she gifted him the same pleasure he had given her, caressing him with her tongue until he groaned and pulled her to her feet.

‘Wrap your legs around me,’ he bade as he lifted her and held her against his hips. When she complied, he entered her and she cried out with the joy of his possession. The world disappeared and only she and Dante existed. He made love to her with a passion and an exquisite tenderness that captivated her soul and brought tears to her eyes.

As for Dante, lying with Rebekah in the sweet aftermath of their mutual pleasure, he wondered why she was insisting that she intended to leave him when it was quite clear she did not want to go. Surely she realised how much he desired her? Perhaps she was afraid that if she continued their relationship she could end up getting hurt, he brooded. Knowing how her ex-fiancé had betrayed her, he could not blame her for being wary.

Turning his head, he saw that she had fallen asleep and he felt a curious little tug on his insides as he studied her rose-flushed face and long dark eyelashes that curled on her cheeks. She was so beautiful—a beguiling mix of sex kitten and gut-wrenchingly generous lover.

He did not want to lose her, he acknowledged. So did that mean he was prepared to make some sort of commitment to her? He gave a sigh of frustration. If only they could remain in Tuscany in the private little world they had created. There would be no reason for them to discuss their relationship and he could simply enjoy
being with her. But that, he realised heavily, was a coward’s attitude. At some point he was going to have to come to terms with his past because he understood now that holding on to his bitter memories was preventing him from moving on with his life.

The storm broke two days after they returned to the Casa di Colombe. Ominous clouds had gathered over the distant hills and the air prickled with static electricity.

The strange tension seemed to reflect Dante’s mood, Rebekah thought as she pegged the washing on the line, hoping it would dry before the rain fell. He had been behaving oddly ever since she had mentioned on the drive back from Florence that Nicole had told her he had once lived in New York. For some reason he had stiffened and muttered that it had been years ago.

She should have let the matter drop, but her curiosity to know as many details about him as she could had prompted her to ask him about Lara.

‘She was someone I met in the States,’ Dante had said tersely. ‘I don’t know why Nicole had to drag up the past.’

‘Was she a girlfriend?’ Rebekah could not help asking.

‘What does it matter who she was? I told you, I knew her years ago.’ He had given a careless shrug, but Rebekah had wondered why he had tightened his hands on the steering wheel until his knuckles had turned white. Realising that her prying had annoyed him, she had tried to make light conversation for the rest of the journey, but his responses had been monosyllabic. And that night, for the first time since they had been in Tuscany, he had not made love to her, but rolled onto
his side, saying coolly that she was no doubt tired after their trip and she should get some sleep.

Maybe he was becoming bored of her, she thought bleakly as she walked back into the house. Maybe he was glad that they would be leaving Tuscany in a few short days, while she was dreading saying goodbye to him for ever. She was almost glad he had asked her to sort out his grandmother’s room. At least being busy stopped her from thinking about next Saturday, when they were due to leave.

Perlita’s personal belongings had not been touched since her death and Dante had requested Rebekah to empty the wardrobes and pack up his grandmother’s clothes so that they could be sent to a charity shop.

He walked in while she was pulling out boxes from beneath the bed. One storage chest contained old curtains but the contents of the second box were puzzling.

‘Children’s clothes,’ she said in surprise, ‘for a baby or toddler, I should think, from the size of them. And I guess, as they’re mainly blue, that they belong to a little boy. Oh, there’s a photo of a child …’ She reached into the box, but Dante leaned over her and snatched the picture out of her hand before she could study it properly.

‘Don’t touch anything in the box,’ he ordered curtly. ‘Shut the lid and leave it alone. In fact, you can leave the room. I’ll take over packing up my grandmother’s things.’

‘All right—keep your hair on!’ Rebekah sprang to her feet, but her irritation at being spoken to in such a peremptory tone faded when she saw Dante’s unguarded expression. It was the same agonised look she’d glimpsed in his eyes when he had shown her the photograph of his grandmother the day they had arrived at
the house, nearly a month ago. She had sensed his grief at Perlita’s death was still raw. But why did he look devastated as he dropped to his knees in front of the box and lifted out a child’s teddy bear?

‘Boppa Bear,’ he murmured, as if he had forgotten Rebekah was there. ‘I had no idea Nonna had kept some of Ben’s things.’

She felt she should slip quietly from the room and leave Dante alone. He had told her once that he did not need anyone, but she did not believe it. The haunted look in his eyes evoked an ache in her heart and, without conscious thought, she placed her hand gently on his shoulder.

‘Who … who is Ben?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Shrugging off her hand, he dropped the toy bear into the box and closed the lid with a sharp thud before standing up. ‘It’s not your concern.’ He stared at her, his eyes no longer full of pain, but hard and unfathomable. ‘I came to tell you I heard your phone ringing somewhere in the house. You’d better go and find it.’

It was possible Dante had made up that he had heard her phone, but Rebekah had more sense than to ignore his strong hint that he wanted to be left alone. ‘I left it in the kitchen,’ she muttered as she walked out of the room. She could not help feeling hurt by his refusal to confide in her about the identity of the mystery child. Clearly the toys and other items in the box had held a sentimental meaning for his grandmother. Perhaps, many years ago, Perlita had lost a son, she mused. But the baby clothes were made of modern material and the bear looked much too new to have been fifty or more years old.

She heard her phone ringing. As she hurried along
the glass-covered cloister and into the kitchen, the rain started to fall, smashing against the windows with awesome force that almost drowned out the low rumble of thunder.

The caller’s number on the screen was instantly recognizable and, with a sense of foreboding, she picked up her phone. ‘Mum?’

Ten minutes later, Dante swung round from the window, where he had been staring out unseeingly at the rain and frowned as Rebekah entered his grandmother’s room. ‘I told you I would take care of things in here,’ he said harshly. He controlled his impatience when he noticed her ashen face. ‘What’s the matter? Did you find out who was calling you?’

‘It was my mother. My grandmother is in hospital.’ Rebekah strove to keep the emotion from her voice but failed. ‘She … she’s not expected to last much longer. I must go home.’

‘Yes, of course.’ As he was speaking, Dante pulled his phone from his pocket to contact his pilot. In a strange way it was a relief to focus on something else rather than dwell on the fact that his grandmother had kept some of Ben’s things.

He glanced at Rebekah and his gut clenched when he saw the way she was biting her lip to prevent the tears glistening in her eyes from falling. For a moment he was tempted to take her in his arms and offer her whatever comfort he could. But a chasm seemed to have opened up between them. He could almost see her barriers going up and it was hardly surprising after the way he had snapped at her, he thought heavily.

He wished he had explained things to her. Perhaps if she knew about his past she would understand why he
found it hard to open up and reveal his emotions. But now was not the time. She had problems of her own to deal with and his priority was to arrange her immediate return to Wales.

‘The pilot will have the plane ready in an hour,’ he told her. ‘Go and pack whatever you need, and I’ll arrange for the rest of your things to be sent on to you.’

‘Thank you.’ Rebekah blinked hard and willed her tears not to fall. So this was the end. It was possible that after today she would never see Dante again. It was better this way, she told herself, better that he had no idea she had fallen in love with him. At least she still had her pride. But it seemed a cold comfort and, as she turned in the doorway for one last look at him, she felt as though a little part of her had died.

Nana Glenys passed away peacefully a week after Rebekah returned home. The book of her recipes was still with the publishers, but Rebekah had taken copies of Nicole’s photos to the hospital. Nana had seemed more like her old self that day, and she had squeezed Rebekah’s hand and whispered how proud she felt that both their names were going to be on the front of the book. It was the last conversation Rebekah had with her but her grief at Nana’s death was eased a little by the knowledge that she had made her beloved grandmother happy.

The funeral was attended by the whole village, and in the days afterwards Rebekah helped her parents with the task of clearing out Nana’s cottage. Dante phoned when she had been in Wales for three weeks and asked if she would be returning to London. She had secretly hoped he would try to make her change her mind when
she told him she wouldn’t be going back to him. But he merely wished her well in a cool, faintly bored voice which told her clearly that if she had not ended their affair he would undoubtedly have done so.