The Italian's Blushing Gardener

by Christina Hollis

  ‘What did I stop you doing this evening?’ he asked after a few moments’ study. His eyes never left the printed page, so the question caught Kira off guard.

  ‘Nothing, as usual,’ she replied instantly, before remembering what she had said to him in the heat of her anger.

  He looked up from the brochure with a smile that glittered like pearl against his golden skin.

  ‘In that case, why don’t you show me around this old place?’

  The offer was so unexpected, Kira replied without thinking. ‘Oh, I’d love to!’

  She regretted the words in an instant. This wasn’t her job. She had no business here. She had simply offered to hand over the details and keys, before disappearing. That was the deal—nothing more. She tried to backtrack. ‘Yes, I’d love to, Signor Albani, although I’m only a neighbour.’ She looked up at the lovely old house and heaved a long, heartfelt sigh. ‘I don’t really know anything about the place. I’ve only seen inside one or two rooms before—’

  ‘“It has been owned by an Englishman for many years,”’ Stefano read aloud from the notes. ‘Do you know him?’

  ‘Sir Ivan was my client. I was his landscape consultant. That’s all,’ she added hurriedly.

  ‘I suppose you two English people both “kept yourselves to yourselves,” in that well-worn phrase?’ Stefano’s wry smile made Kira feel defensive. However right he may be, she didn’t like that he assumed so much about her. Piqued, she ignored her impulse to refuse him.

  ‘I’ll gladly show you around outside, signore. There’s no one who knows more than I do about the estate and the gardens here, but you’ll be better off with the brochure when it comes to viewing the house.’

  ‘You’re a landscape consultant, you say?’ His smile dimmed as he looked her over with a different intensity. Kira reddened as he studied her working clothes of dusty jeans and simple white shirt. Seeing her reaction, his generous mouth lifted in a grin.

  ‘But why are we wasting time out here talking, when we could be looking around this beautiful house? If I know English women—which I do,’ he said in a way that needed absolutely no explanation, ‘I’m sure you are as keen as I am to get inside the villa and have a good look around. So come with me now. What do you say?’

  There was nothing Kira could say. He was talking about a tour of the house she had spent two years dreaming and wondering about. She had been trying to pluck up the nerve to have a peek inside before he arrived, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Now he was inviting her in…

  Without waiting for her answer, he started forward. Holding the Bella Terra brochure in one hand, he touched her waist lightly with the other. Kira found herself drawn gently towards the big old building. His pat of encouragement was enjoyable in a way she did not want it to be. Putting on a little more speed, she moved fractionally ahead of his hand. She reached the steps of the house just in front of him. Then there was a pause as Stefano used the great iron key to unlock the door. Standing aside, he let Kira enter first. Still she hesitated. She was desperate to poke around the villa, but on her own. Quite apart from him possibly becoming the villa’s next owner, exploring such a beautiful place with Stefano Albani felt somehow much too intimate.

  Stefano had none of her misgivings. His hand connected with her waist again, gently urging her to enter. A little sigh left Kira’s lips. It felt dangerously like the sound of her scorn softening around the edges. He stayed where he was, but inclined his head politely. ‘After you. I need to see everything, so I’m afraid this may take some time.’

  He spoke softly, but with absolute authority. He was acting as though the house already belonged to him. Kira coloured guiltily. She had enjoyed the run of this valley for so long she considered it to be her own private haven. Now she finally had a chance to look around the villa at its heart, but the company of such a man added an extra frisson of excitement. If she was honest, it was the surprising intensity of this feeling which was making her hesitate.

  What if she couldn’t think of enough to say? She had got out of the habit of small talk. Flustered, she looked around wildly for help. Why, she had no idea. There was no one for miles. She had never felt so alone. This man scrambled her brains. He had totally blown away all her common sense. She looked into his eyes and saw things she recognised from the reflection in her bathroom mirror each morning. His blue eyes spoke words that never reached his lips, and she knew that look. Aside from his dangerously smooth assurance, there might be a deeper, darker reason to beware. He might have secrets like hers hiding beneath that sophisticated surface. Unaccountably, she felt the need to peel away his seductive veneer and find out the truth beneath the image.

  The weight of Stefano’s hand began to rest against her a little more noticeably. At first it had been the merest brush of his fingertips. Now his palm settled gently in the hollow of her back, like falling snow.

  With terrifying clarity, Kira imagined it sliding around to encircle her waist again. It felt so good, it had to be wrong. Swallowing hard, she suppressed every wild, unfamiliar instinct and announced quietly, ‘Please don’t touch me, Signor Albani.’

  His hand fell away. He stepped back, surprised.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m positive.’

  He stared at her, trying to puzzle out her expression. Kira willed herself to return his look blandly.

  ‘That’s interesting,’ he murmured at length.

  After studying her face, he let his gaze drift at leisure over her body.

  ‘First you answer me back, but now you’re as nervous as a kitten,’ he mused, his eyes hooded with thought. ‘I came to look at property. It seems that’s not the only thing around here that might be worth investigating.’

  Chapter Two

  ‘DON’T flatter me, or yourself,’ Kira muttered, beginning to fuss with the belt of her jeans. It felt wrong to be exploring such a place in her dusty work clothes; somehow she felt that the villa demanded a sense of occasion. He was standing so close to her that the temptation to study him was next to irresistible. Instead, she concentrated on brushing herself down, removing any stray grass seeds before she crossed the threshold of the grand house.

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s a villa, not the Vatican!’ He chuckled, again exhibiting a disquieting ability to read her thoughts. ‘You look fine. You’re one of those women who look good in anything.’

  Kira glanced up sharply at his unexpected compliment. He laughed as their gazes connected. She couldn’t stop staring at him, and when he caught her eye it sent a confusion of signals through her body.

  ‘You’re right. I’m only looking around a house, that’s all. It’s nothing more than that,’ Kira murmured, trying to stake her claim to innocence. This Stefano Albani was strangely magnetic. Leaving him to investigate on his own might mean she never saw him again. If she followed him, she would delay the moment of parting and get to view the property of her dreams, too.

  ‘So if you are ready, signore, shall we make a start?’ she added with a bit more confidence.

  He laughed again. ‘Suddenly so businesslike! I’m making the effort to leave the world behind for a while. Why don’t you do the same? I suspect it would do us both good to live a little, for once.’ His gaze was uncomfortably direct and Kira shifted under it. ‘In fact, it occurs to me that I don’t even know your name. So, as we begin, why don’t we start with some simple introductions? You know who I am, but who are you?’

  Kira had often wondered that herself. ‘That isn’t important, Signor Albani.’ She shook her shoulders irritably.

  ‘Of course it is!’

  ‘No, really. I’m nobody.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ His smile showed signs of fading. ‘Everybody is somebody. Your name is your own. You can give it to me.’

  Kira stopped. Ignoring this danger sign, Stefano didn’t.

  ‘Go on. You know you want to, and it won’t hurt!’ he teased her gently.

  His question revived all Kira’s pain. The
isolation of Bella Terra meant she didn’t have to introduce herself more than once or twice a year. That suited her. Every time she spoke her name, it reminded her of the shame she had left behind in England.

  ‘It’s Kira Banks,’ she muttered. Head down, she tried to cross the threshold but Stefano blocked her retreat.

  ‘You don’t sound very happy about it.’ His air was light, but she saw interrogation in his relentless blue gaze.

  Blast him, what was wrong with the man? Kira was used to people backing off, becoming bored when met with her reluctance to talk about herself. In her experience most people preferred to be talking about themselves in any case. It appeared Signor Albani was used to having his questions answered.

  ‘Why is that?’ Stefano persisted quietly in the face of her continued silence.

  Kira wanted to stare him out but her features lost the struggle. They were moving of their own accord. Her lids would not obey. She lowered her lashes, unable to struggle against the depth of his gaze. Making up some excuse for any other person would have been easy enough, but Stefano Albani was looking down at her with a fiction-piercing stare that demanded nothing less than the truth.

  She gritted her teeth and muttered, ‘I came here to escape. I wanted to live in a place where no one knows my name.’

  He drew back from her a little.

  ‘Okay, I’ll let it go at that…’ he relented, although his face told a different story. ‘For now…’ he added with a smile.

  Kira mastered her features and managed a bland smile.

  ‘Don’t say I have stumbled on a master criminal, living in her bolthole in Italy?’

  He was teasing her again. She managed to lift her eyes to challenge him, but knew she couldn’t afford to rise to his bait. Her pain hovered too close to the surface. She didn’t need him to aggravate her injuries. There were other people only too willing to do that.

  ‘Why I’m here is nobody’s business but my own.’ She tried not to snap, but it was difficult. Only his steady gaze softened her reaction. ‘In any case, the reasons would take far too long to explain, Signor Albani. Some things are best kept private. Why don’t we stop wasting time, and start looking around this lovely house?’

  Purposely keeping her voice casual, she jerked herself out of his grasp. She could not escape his expression so easily. It was like a caress. It took all her determination to break eye contact with him. She managed it by concentrating on the breathtaking photograph on the cover of the property brochure in his hand. It was the only sure way she could distract herself from the delicious dangers of this man. Stefano gestured for her to walk across the entrance hall first. It was large, cool, and it echoed with his slow footsteps as he followed her across the cracked marble tiles.

  Kira took a good look around. She had only ever entered the villa by one of the back doors. This was her first time in the grand public areas, and she didn’t want to miss a thing. While she was daydreaming, Stefano strolled past her. Pulling a pearl-handled penknife from his pocket, he pushed the blade against the woodwork of the nearest door. Kira gazed in wonder at the ornate plasterwork, and the beautifully worked banisters on the great double staircase, but he was busy with more practical things. He worked his way methodically around the entrance hall, testing, checking and inspecting.

  ‘This is the most beautiful house I have ever seen,’ she said wistfully. Stefano was not so easily impressed.

  ‘My town house in Florence is more practical, and in better condition,’ he observed, before flashing another brilliant smile at her. ‘But you’re right. The setting and space here can’t be beaten.’

  Kira nodded. ‘It’s a lovely house. Oh, yes, there are bound to be things about it that must be altered, updated or replaced. It’s old. But I’d like nothing better than the chance to give it some homely touches. Couldn’t you just imagine the scene in December, with a fifteen-foot Christmas tree standing in that bay between the staircases?’

  Stefano looked over to where she pointed. He studied the space, tipping his head first one way, and then the other.

  ‘Yes, the proportions would be exactly right. That’s important with these old houses. Everything must be in scale,’ he said firmly.

  Kira’s heart gave a strange flutter. She had been half joking, hardly expecting the big-shot billionaire to consider Christmas trees with such seriousness. That might be a glimmer of hope. Even if he might fill the place with rowdy celebrity friends, he clearly had an eye for the important things in life.

  ‘A tree like that in a place like this will need to hit exactly the right note. When I host my first Christmas party I want everyone to be speechless with delight—because I’m all for a quiet life.’ He smiled, and gave her a look of undisguised interest. ‘So that’s the festive season sorted out. What do you suggest for my housewarming extravaganza?’

  It was a totally unexpected question. Kira looked to see if he was trying to wind her up. He gazed back innocently. Smiling in spite of herself, she decided to answer in the same spirit.

  ‘Actually, I’m the last person you should ask about entertaining. I’m a garden designer. I prefer to work with plants rather than people.’

  ‘What is a Christmas tree, if it isn’t a plant?’ He shrugged. ‘And I shall need all sorts of those. When we become neighbours I shall want your advice, sooner or later.’

  Kira shot him a look of pure disbelief. ‘You can have exactly what you like, signore. You don’t need anyone to advise you, let alone me!’

  ‘There are times when everyone can do with a little help,’ he slung straight back at her. ‘By employing skilled people, I can spend my time and effort on all the things I really want to do. In this instance, it gives me plenty of time to plan for Christmas.’ He stopped inspecting the paintwork and turned an acute gaze on her. ‘I know—you must have a good eye for colour. How would you like the task of co-ordinating all the decorations?’

  Kira nearly laughed out loud. It felt truly bizarre to be standing in a vast Tuscan villa in the heat of summer, talking about something that was months away.

  ‘Why on earth would you want someone else to decorate your Christmas tree? It’s something I’ve looked forward to every year for as long as I can remember! It’s the chance to be a child again, I suppose, without all the pressure.’

  It was Stefano’s turn to look askance. ‘I know all about pressure.’ His voice darkened with meaning.

  Kira groaned under the weight of memory. ‘That’s why it’s so good to get away from it all, to a place like this. I can enjoy Christmas my way. No rehearsing recitals in Gloucester cathedral, dashing between carol services and amateur dramatics, torturing tons of holly, ivy and mistletoe into wreaths and swags. When I was a child, it was never ending.’

  He pursed his lips, and then said drily, ‘It’s a wonder you had any time to yourself.’

  ‘I didn’t. That’s the penalty you pay for being a trophy child, isn’t it?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know. I missed out on all that. I skipped it, and went straight from sleeping in a box under the table, to earning a living.’

  ‘Gosh, you must have had a deprived childhood!’ she joked.

  He stared at her, unimpressed. His eyes were suddenly chill with all the hidden feelings she recognised from her own reflection. She stopped laughing.

  ‘Yes. Yes, I did.’ He grazed his lower lip with his teeth for a moment, and then added, ‘But that’s behind me now. The future is all that matters.’

  There was iron-hard determination in his voice. His eyes were everywhere. She wondered what havoc he would wreak on this beautiful old house when he took possession of it. The thought worried her. A few moments ago, she had been annoyed by the way he talked as though the villa was already his. Now she was thinking about it in the same way. He was checking every inch of the building like the rightful owner. If ever a man was made to lord it over the Bella Terra valley, it’s Stefano Albani, she thought, with a shiver of apprehension.

  ‘You’re cold. W
hy don’t you step outside into the evening sun and warm up?’ he murmured.

  His words surprised her. She thought all his attention was riveted on the villa’s sales brochure, and hadn’t expected him to notice.

  ‘No, I’m fine,’ she said quickly, unwilling to miss this chance to look over the grand villa she gazed at every day from her favourite viewpoint on the other side of the valley.

  His eyes glittered with sudden fire. ‘As long as you’re sure.’

  Kira began to feel uneasy. Every time he looked at her, he smiled as he spoke. It was an unusual expression, caressing the most secret parts of her. As she tried not to shrink beneath his gaze, she felt the peaks of her nipples push against the smooth profile of her thin shirt. They stiffened still more to know he was looking at her. It was no longer the chill of the cool marble hall affecting her body. He must have realised it, too, but looked away sharply as obvious appreciation flared for a moment in his eyes.

  Kira didn’t know what to do. Putting her head down, she scuttled off towards the nearest door.

  ‘Let’s see what’s through here, shall we?’ she said, bursting into the first room beyond the entrance hall. Within half a step she stopped. It was the reception room that time forgot. Sunlight streamed through tall, graceful windows but its beams danced with dust motes. The design of the room was in a typically grand Italian style, although its furnishings wouldn’t have been out of place in an English country house.

  ‘Oh, my goodness!’ Kira exclaimed. ‘A little bit of England overseas!’

  Following close behind her, Stefano clicked his tongue when he saw her shudder.

  ‘My stepparents have spent a lifetime collecting stuff like this. Cane-back chairs, chintz upholstery and Goss china. Sir Ivan must have shipped everything over here from England. Why on earth would you move to Italy, then recreate England in your new home?’