by Penny Jordan
Amelia gave him an incredulous look. ‘But that’s crazy, Rico. I walked past the little boy’s grave the other day at the palace.’
He sent her a quick unreadable glance. ‘A child was certainly killed during the rescue operation, but what if it isn’t Prince Alessandro Fierezza that is buried at the castle?’
Amelia felt a shiver run from the base of her spine to disturb the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. ‘What are you saying? That Papà was somehow involved in this?’
‘You said it yourself. Papà is not a violent man. What if he couldn’t go through with the orders he was given by the leader of the bandits and spirited the prince away instead of killing him?’
She frowned as she considered the possibility. ‘But a child was killed.’
‘Yes, that’s true.’
‘But not necessarily by Papà…’
‘You still want him to be innocent, don’t you?’ he asked.
‘I can’t bear the thought of our father killing an innocent child, prince or not,’ she said. ‘He just couldn’t possibly have done such a thing.’
‘The rumours are not going to die down. It will make life even more difficult for us on the island.’
‘Is that why you lost your job at the vineyard?’ she hazarded a guess.
‘I was going to leave anyway. I am sick of being treated like a peasant.’
‘You should have stayed at school like Mamma wanted. You would have had more choices in terms of a career.’
‘Like you, you mean?’ he said with a cynical movement of his lips. ‘At least I have some sort of life.’
‘I wish people would not keep criticising me for choosing to care for others instead of myself,’ she grumbled. ‘I love my work. It fulfils me.’
‘You don’t have to give your life away in order to serve others.’ He threw another quick glance her way. ‘Once Papà dies you will be free to do what you want with your future. You could even leave the island, go and work in some other place for a while. It would make you realise there is a whole world outside of Niroli.’
Amelia knew there was an element of truth in what he said. She had cloistered herself away for too long, but the alternatives were just too threatening. She was frightened of making another dreadful mistake. She didn’t have the experience that other women her age took for granted. She had only had one lover and it had turned her world upside down. The lingering shame of it still clung to her like a scratchy fabric against her tender skin. How had she been so blind, so gullible and so trusting? She just didn’t know how to relate to men other than as patients or relatives, and as for her medical colleagues—she kept them at a professional distance at all times.
It was safer that way.
‘I will need the car again tomorrow,’ Rico said as he took the turn to their run-down cottage in the foothills. ‘I have some business to attend to. I can give you a lift to the hospital but I think I should warn you I am leaving before sunrise and I might not be back until midnight.’
‘I’ll take the pushbike,’ she said, her heart sinking at the thought of the long ride into town. At least most of the journey was downhill, but the return trip after a day on the ward was no picnic.
‘Maybe you could ask Dr Hunter to give you a lift home tomorrow,’ Rico suggested. ‘That way you can kill two birds with one stone.’
‘I hardly think Dr Hunter is going to make a house call way up here,’ she said. ‘I’ll try and convince Papà to see him at the hospital or even the community clinic.’
‘He won’t go. You’ll have to get the doctor to come here. I am sure he won’t mind. Perhaps you could offer to show him around the island as a return favour—he probably won’t expect payment.’
Oh, yes, he will, Amelia thought as she brought that sensual smiling mouth to mind. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not making any promises,’ she said.
Rico sent her one of his rare smiles. ‘You’re a good sister, Ammie. I don’t know what we would do without you.’
She smiled back at him shyly. It was indeed a rarity to receive a compliment from either of her brothers and certainly never from her father. ‘Thank you, Rico. I just want us all to be happy and free of the past.’
The smile instantly faded from her brother’s face. ‘We can never be free of the past. It has cast a shadow over us that will not go away.’
Amelia followed him into the cottage with a despondent sigh. She hated to admit it but her brother was right.
What the nuns had taught her was true: the sins of the fathers were revisited on the next generation.
All her life she had lived with the burden of being a Vialli, the most scorned and hated family on the island of Niroli for what they had done to the king’s little grandson.
She suppressed a little shudder at the thought of that tiny broken body buried in the palace grounds, the Fierezza coat of arms emblazoned on his headstone, the family motto inscribed below.
Sempre Appassionato, Sempre Fiero.
Always passionate, always proud.
She had stood in respectful silence that day, comforting herself that at least the little prince was now at rest with his parents in heaven.
But what if he was still alive as her brother had suggested, but totally unaware of his royal heritage?
And if he was indeed alive, then who was the little boy who now lay in the Fierezza family vault…and why hadn’t his real parents come forward to claim him?
CHAPTER THREE
‘THERE’S a parcel for you in the third drawer of the filing cabinet,’ Lucia said on Amelia’s arrival at the hospital the next morning.
‘A parcel?’ Amelia wiped her damp face with a tissue. ‘For me?’
Lucia looked up from the notes she was writing. ‘You look like you’ve just run a marathon. Has Rico taken your car again?’
Amelia nodded and tossed the tissue in the bin under the desk. ‘His is still in the workshop. They won’t release it until he pays the bill, but I can’t see that happening too soon now he’s out of work. I had to use the pushbike.’
‘You should have called me. I could have taken a detour to pick you up.’
‘And add to your already frantic morning getting the children off to school and your husband off to work? No, the exercise will do me good. I quite enjoyed it actually.’
‘I’d offer to run you home but I’ve already promised the girls I’d take them swimming at the beach after school.’ Lucia gave her an apologetic look.
‘I’ll be fine,’ Amelia assured her. ‘Anyway, Rico might make it in time to pick me up.’ She opened the drawer and took out the neatly wrapped parcel and stared at it for a moment.
‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ Lucia asked.
She turned the package over in her hands and frowned. ‘It doesn’t say who it’s from.’
‘Go on, open it. It’s addressed to you.’
Amelia undid the slim ribbon before unpicking the tape holding the brightly coloured wrapping in place. The paper fell open to reveal a beautiful summer dress in three bright shades of pink, the skirt soft and voluminous, the fabric exquisite to touch.
‘Wow!’ Lucia breathed a sigh of wonder. ‘Someone has very good taste. If I’m not mistaken, that looks like a Mardi D’Avanzo original.’
Amelia checked the label on the collar of the dress, her heart giving a sudden lurch as she saw the famous Italian designer’s name printed there. ‘It is…’
Lucia’s eyes twinkled. ‘So who is your admirer? It’s not your birthday for months.’
Amelia carefully rewrapped the dress, scrunching up the little card she’d found inside the wrapping. ‘Is Dr Hunter in yet?’ she asked.
Lucia leaned forward in her chair, her eyes going wide. ‘Did Dr Hunter buy that for you?’
Amelia straightened her spine resolutely. ‘Yes, and I am giving it back to him right now.’
Lucia looked confused. ‘How come he bought you a dress?’
‘I’ll tell you later. Where is he?’
<
br /> ‘I think he’s in the office Dr Morani organised for him. But aren’t you being a bit hasty? I mean, that’s a designer outfit!’
Amelia gave her a determined look. ‘I can buy my own clothes. I am not going to accept his or anyone else’s charity.’
She strode down the corridor and gave the office door a couple of hard raps with her knuckles.
‘Come in,’ Alex called out cheerily.
She opened the door and closed it behind her with a little snap and locked gazes with him where he was sitting behind his desk.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ she bit out, thrusting the parcel at him.
He got to his feet and smiled. ‘Did you like it? I kind of had to guess your size but you’re about the same size as my younger sister Megan.’
Amelia slapped the parcel on the top of his desk. ‘I cannot accept this from you,’ she said, her tone crisp with pride.
‘If you don’t like the colour I can always change it,’ he offered.
‘It’s got nothing to do with the colour!’ she said, only just resisting the urge to stamp her foot at him.
‘Then what’s the problem?’ he asked.
‘You had no right to buy me this.’
‘On the contrary, I thought I had a perfect right to do so,’ he said, his dark eyes running over her lazily before returning to her fiery gaze. ‘I was partly responsible for you ruining your dress the other day, so I thought it was the very least I could do to replace it.’
‘With this?’ She pointed to the parcel on his desk.
He rubbed at his cleanly shaven jaw for a moment, his eyes still holding hers. ‘Mmm…now what did I get wrong? It must be the size. I know women absolutely hate it when the men in their lives get their size wrong.’
‘You did not get the size wrong and I am not the woman in your life.’ This time she did stamp her foot. ‘I just cannot accept such an expensive outfit from you or indeed from anyone.’
‘I thought the colour would bring out the raven’s wing darkness of your hair.’
She glared at him without answering.
‘It’s meant to be a compliment,’ he explained. ‘You have the most beautiful, shiny hair. It was the first thing I noticed about you when I saw you perched on the top of my back fence.’
Amelia fought against the compliment’s effect on her feminine psyche but it took a huge effort. Her hair was cut short, she did nothing to it but wash it each day. She couldn’t remember anyone ever calling it beautiful before, or at least not in a very long time.
‘It makes you look like an elf,’ he added with a tilt of his mouth.
She gave him a scornful look. ‘I thought you said I looked like a pixie?’
He grinned down at her. ‘Pixie, fairy, elf—what’s the difference?’
She pursed her mouth at him. ‘A pixie has funny ears.’
‘Show me your ears,’ he said.
She stepped backwards. ‘I—I beg your pardon?’
He stepped forwards. ‘Go on. Prove to me you’re a pixie not an elf. I dare you.’
‘This is a t-totally ridiculous c-conversation,’ she said and backed away even farther, but she came up against the closed door. She had to crane her neck to keep eye contact, her heart skipping as fast as a professional boxer in training.
‘W-what are you doing?’ she squeaked as his hand reached for her hair.
She shivered all over as his fingers tucked her hair behind one of her ears, his touch so gentle it felt like a caress of a long, soft feather against her sensitive skin. She couldn’t get her lungs to inflate properly and all of a sudden she had an almost uncontrollable urge to drop her gaze to the sensual curve of his mouth.
‘Well, how about that?’ he said as he stepped backwards. ‘I was wrong. There’s absolutely nothing weird about your ears.’
Amelia was completely lost for words. She opened her mouth a couple of times but nothing came out.
She watched as he walked back over to his desk, his long legs encased in dark trousers that highlighted his lean, athletic build. His light blue shirt was rolled back at the cuffs, revealing his tanned wrists with the sprinkling of dark masculine hair running down his arms to the backs of his fingers. He was wearing a silver watch—she couldn’t make out the brand but she assumed it was worth a small fortune.
She stiffened as he picked up the parcel but instead of handing it to her he pulled out the bin from beneath his desk and dropped it into it.
‘What are you doing?’ she blurted, pushing herself away from the door.
He gave her a guileless look. ‘I’m throwing the dress away.’
‘B-but…but why?’
He gave a loose shoulder shrug. ‘You don’t want it.’
‘But that doesn’t mean you have to throw it away! You can give it to someone else…your sister, for instance.’
‘I bought it for you, not my sister,’ he said. ‘And besides, how would you feel if a guy bought a present for another woman and ended up giving it to you?’
‘Um…’
He gave her a knowing little smile. ‘See? I told you. You wouldn’t like it one little bit.’
Amelia’s eyes went to the bin and she swallowed. ‘I—I could find someone who would really like it…I mean…rather than you throw it away.’
‘Oh, would you?’ He gave her a grateful smile. ‘I’d really appreciate it. It cost an absolute packet—not that I mind, of course, as I can afford it—but my parents always taught me to be responsible with money. What’s that old saying? If you look after the pennies the pounds look after themselves?’
Amelia was starting to think Alex Hunter had far too much talent in the way of charm. She could feel her mouth twitching and had to bite her tongue to stop herself from laughing out loud. No man, not even Benito with his silver tongue, had had this effect on her.
He handed her the parcel, his fingers brushing against hers. ‘Please try and find it a good home,’ he said soberly. ‘I was getting very attached to that dress.’
A burst of laughter spilled from her mouth. She tried to cover it with a cough, but she could see he wasn’t fooled.
He gave a huge grin and raised his closed fist in the air in a punch of victory. ‘I knew I could do it!’ he crowed delightedly.
‘D-do what?’ She tried to restrict her smile but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate.
‘I wanted to make you smile and I did it. I had my doubts there for a while, but I finally wore you down.’
‘You’re impossible,’ she said and turned to leave, a ridiculous smile still stuck on her face.
‘Hey, are we still on for a date some time?’ he called out as she got to the door.
She turned around to look at him. ‘I can’t possibly go on a date with you,’ she said, her belly doing a funny little flip-flop as she met his eyes once more.
‘Why not?’
She hunted her brain for a valid excuse. ‘I…I have nothing to wear.’
His gaze went to the parcel under her arm before returning to hers, a smile tilting up the corners of his mouth. ‘You could always wear that, but to tell you the truth, I really liked the one you had on the other day.’
She frowned at him in puzzlement. ‘The long black one?’
He shook his head. ‘No, the one with the great view.’
Amelia could feel the colour firing in her cheeks and wished she had more poise to deal with his effortless charm and playful banter.
‘I have to go…’ She reached for the door with clumsy fingers, her heart fluttering like a confined sparrow.
‘Here.’ He reached past her shoulder and opened the door for her. ‘Allow me.’
She breathed in the fragrance of his aftershave, its citrus grace notes making her senses whirl all over again at his closeness. ‘Th-thank you.’
He waved her through gallantly. ‘It was so nice of you to call round to see me,’ he said with another stomach-flipping grin. ‘Feel free to drop around any time.’
She shook her head at him
and left, but it took most of the morning before she could wipe the smile off her face, and even longer before the mad fluttery sensation in her stomach died down to a soft little pulse…
CHAPTER FOUR
IT WAS a punishing ride home. Amelia gave the hot sun a resentful scowl as she pedalled up the hill, certain it had come out in full force just to make her journey all the more tiresome.
It had been a long day. One of the cardiac patients had taken a turn for the worse and she’d had to deal with distressed relatives who wanted a miracle to happen when a lifetime of bad diet and bad habits had led to the damage in the first place.
She hadn’t run into Alex Hunter since she’d gone to his office. She’d heard he was taking the registrars through the procedure in a workshop prior to a case organised for Theatre the following morning.
Somehow she had fielded Lucia’s questions when she’d come back to the ward, giving her a cut-down version of what had happened when she’d first met the visiting specialist.
Amelia felt a little guilty that she hadn’t yet asked Alex about her father’s request to see him. She knew her father would question her as soon as she returned for news of when he would come to visit, but somehow the thought of Alex seeing where she and her family lived embarrassed her. He was clearly very wealthy—how would he react to entering a cottage that hadn’t seen a brush of paint in close to twenty years? The furniture was threadbare and mostly unstable, the floorboards rickety and the curtains at the windows let more light in than they kept out. Spiders had taken up residence in every corner in spite of her best efforts to keep them at bay, and the hens that fought over every last crumb in the yard had made what was left of her mother’s garden a pock-marked wasteland.
She sighed as she forced the stiff pedals around yet another time, sweat breaking out on her upper lip at the effort.
‘Vialli villain!’ a youthful voice called out from the grass verge as a rock flew past her ear.
She flinched and wobbled on her bike, but somehow managed to keep it upright. She turned her head to see who had thrown the rock, but whoever it had been had run off.