The Doctor and the Debutante

‘Everything in the tourist guide. The Ponte Vecchio, the Uffizi, the church of Santa Maria Novella. I’ve walked until my feet ache.’

‘What is this History of Art that you are studying?’ He crossed his long legs in front of him and settled back against his seat.

‘Oh, you kind of learn about the history of art.’ She flushed again. Talk about stating the obvious. But this man was addling her brain and making her tongue-tied. ‘I mean it’s learning about artists—like Michelangelo, for example, how he became a sculptor, all the art he did and why that’s considered important.’

There was a pause and Dante frowned. ‘What do you do with this degree when you are finished studying?’

Good question and not one that she wanted to answer. People in her position weren’t expected to do proper jobs. Modelling was okay, as long as it wasn’t glamour, so was PR, as was fundraising. Even these were considered to be ways of passing the time until marriage and children came along. Her role was to run her father’s house and carry out all the duties and responsibilities that went with her title.

She realised Dante was still waiting for an answer to his question.

‘Actually, when I was a little girl I dreamt of becoming a teacher.’

‘So, why didn’t you?’

Why hadn’t she? Because she’d always known that her life had been mapped out in an entirely different direction. One over which she had no control.

‘It was just a childish dream. Nothing more.’

Brown eyes locked onto hers. ‘It is good to dream, no?’ He was studying her as if she puzzled him.

No, it wasn’t good to dream. Not for her. It only made real life more difficult.

‘We all have to live in the real world, don’t we?’ she replied lightly.

‘Have you been out to the country?’ Alice was relieved when he changed the subject.

She shook her head. She had been too absorbed sightseeing and exploring all the touristy attractions Florence had to offer to venture further afield.

‘If you have not been in the countryside, then you have not seen Tuscany properly. Maybe I will show you.’

Alice wiped the palms of her hands on her trousers. He was only being polite. He would probably forget about her the moment he left her.

‘You said you live in the mountains,’ she asked. ‘But you work in Florence?’

Again that expressive shrug of the shoulders. ‘I work here, at this hospital, but my home is about forty-five kilometres that way, near where Sofia lives.’ He gestured behind him. ‘How long do you have left here in Tuscany?’ he continued.

‘Another week. I’ll be sorry to leave.’

‘You are staying in Florence?’

Alice nodded. ‘A friend of my father’s has a home here. He’s happy for me to use it while I’m visiting.’

‘You are here on your own?’ Dante seemed a little shocked.

‘Yes, but I don’t mind. In fact I kind of like it.’

Dante looked disbelieving.

‘Would you like to meet me in the Piazza della Signoria tomorrow?’ he asked. ‘You can’t leave without seeing the real Tuscany and I would like to show you more of my country.’

Alice shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. Part of her wanted to spend more time with him. Another part knew it was a crazy idea. What could she and this man possibly have in common?

‘I’m not sure. I don’t think it’s a good idea.’

He looked at her with languid eyes. ‘I think it is a very good idea.’

One thing she could say about him, he didn’t give up easily.

‘I was in London once for a month and a family there looked after me,’ he said. ‘I would like to show the same hospitality to our visitors. To you. And you helped Sofia when you didn’t need to. You could have walked away like everyone else, but you didn’t.’

Alice flushed. Despite what she had just told herself, it was disappointing that he felt it was his duty to show her around.

Whatever his reasons, seeing him again was too risky. He was different from any man she had ever met and never before had a man made her pulse race the way Dante did. The last thing she was looking for was a holiday romance. She smiled. She was getting way ahead of herself. Someone like him was bound to have a girlfriend, although she’d already noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

The doors to the department opened and a distracted couple rushed in. Instinctively Alice knew these were Sofia’s parents, not least because the little girl was almost a carbon copy of her mother.

Dante jumped to his feet. ‘Please meet me there at three o’clock tomorrow, I am working until two,’ he told Alice as he went to intercept the distressed couple. After talking to them for a few moments, he led them towards the lift. Alice guessed he was taking them to see their little girl. Alice stared after his retreating back. The arrogance of the man! He hadn’t even waited to hear her reply.

Alice was a nervous wreck by the time three o’clock the next day came. She had braided her hair, noticing that over the last week the sun had lightened it to almost the colour of corn which in turn emphasised the unusually light green colour of her eyes. She had dressed simply, in a crisp white blouse and light trousers. Apart from a slick of pale lipstick she didn’t bother with any other make-up. For the umpteenth time she wondered if Dante would come. It was entirely possible he had forgotten all about her.

But he was waiting for her on the same steps that she’d been sitting on the previous day.

‘Ciao, Alice,’ he said, and kissed her on either cheek. ‘I thought we could have a picnic down on the river then I will take you to see more of Florence. How does that sound?’

He took her to the river bank and they sat on the grass. He pointed to a woman rowing on the river. ‘It is like I do. The boat I row is for a single person, but I know where I can get one for two. Maybe tomorrow I can take you?’

Alice’s pulse skipped a beat. He was already planning their next date.

She looked down at the effort Dante had put into their picnic. There was a round of cheese, several types of cold meats, Tuscan bread and olives, as well as fresh salad leaves. This wasn’t lunch, this was a feast.

‘The olives and salad come from our smallholding and my mother bakes the bread herself. Of course, there is a trattoria not far from here. We could go there instead.’

Alice shook her head. She had had her fill of restaurants, fancy or otherwise. It was perfect here in the sun.

‘Bene, we will eat then we will have time for me to show you something.’

The food Dante had brought was so delicious she found she had eaten more than her fair share.

‘I’m sorry. I’ve eaten more than I should, but it was so delicious.’

‘You must never apologise for enjoying food.’ He leaned back on his elbows and regarded her through slitted eyes. ‘Most women, they are too thin—as if they are starving. All the men I know prefer women who have some curves. Like Botticelli’s Venus.’ He grinned at her. ‘Have you seen any statues in Florence where the women look like men? I don’t think so.’

The look in his eyes was doing all sorts of weird things to her stomach. Hastily she took another forkful of salad and nearly choked.

Dante sat up, looking concerned.

‘Are you okay?’

How attractive, Alice thought furiously. Spitting bits of lettuce leaf all over him. And right enough, to her mortification, Dante lifted his hand and very gently removed something from the corner of her mouth.

‘That’s better.’ He was laughing at her and Alice was tempted to abandon her lunch and run back to the villa. It was the first time she had ever felt gauche and awkward. Until she’d come to Italy, she had used her expensive clothes and jewellery almost like an invisible cloak to hide her natural shyness.

He stood up. ‘So you have seen the statue of David, the Uffizi and the church of Santa Maria Novella.’ Alice was pleased that he’d remembered what she’d told him.

‘Did you climb to the top of the Duomo and look down at the city?’

Alice shook her head. ‘It was too hot to stand in the queue.’

He held out a hand to her. ‘But you must see it. Come, I will take you if you like. It is a little climb but it is worth it. I have a cousin who works there. He will let us come to the front so we don’t have to wait.’

‘No, that’s not fair. We should wait our turn like everybody else.’

Dante frowned. ‘Here in Italy, we are not so polite. But if you don’t want to go to the Duomo, there is another place just a short drive from here where you can see the city. The view is as good as that from the Duomo. When I run in the afternoons after work, I like to go past it and I always have to stop and look. I have my motorbike nearby. We could drive there now.’

Alice nodded and to her surprise he took her by the hand and yet somehow it felt natural. She felt a ripple of excitement as he led her through the narrow streets until they came to a number of motorbikes, haphazardly parked next to each other. It looked to Alice as if the owners had abandoned them there. When he’d mentioned a motorbike, Alice had assumed Dante meant a moped, like every other young Italian seemed to own. She baulked at the powerful-looking Kawasaki, eyeing it with trepidation. ‘You won’t go too fast?’

He laughed. ‘Going fast is the fun of it. But don’t worry, you’ll be safe with me. I promise.’

She found herself on the back of his Kawasaki and soon he was weaving his way in and out of the traffic, gesticulating good-naturedly as cars tried to cut them up. More than once Alice thought they were going to crash and closed her eyes only to find that they had managed, at the last moment, to squeeze through a gap she hadn’t even noticed. She wound her arms tightly around his waist and pressed her face into his back so she wouldn’t have to look. He smelled faintly of olives and soap and she could feel the heat from his body through her clothes. Every part of her body was tingling where it touched him.

At first Alice kept her eyes closed. If she was going to die, she’d rather not see it coming, but after a little while she opened them again. She couldn’t spend the whole day with her eyes closed. Then she relaxed. She had never felt so free in all her life.

Dante was right; the view from the top of the hill was breathtaking. Spread beneath her, a golden red in the dying sun, were the terracotta roofs of Florence. The city didn’t look nearly as big and bewildering from up here.

They sat on a low wall as Dante pointed out the famous landmarks of the city—the Campanile, Santa Croce, the brick tower of the Palazzo Vecchio. His pride in his home city was evident.

They sat there talking, though later Alice couldn’t remember about what. It didn’t seem to matter to either of them. The sun dipped low in the sky and the lights of the city twinkled below them. A cool breeze teased her neck and she shivered, yet she didn’t want this evening to end.

‘Are you cold, cara?‘ Dante asked, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her towards him. Alice leant against him, her hand pressed against his chest. The air between them sizzled and sparked and she turned her face towards him, noting how his eyes seemed to glimmer in the dark. As Dante traced a finger down her cheek a delicious shiver ran down her spine. Using the tips of his fingers, he tilted her face upwards and studied her intently, before bringing his mouth down on hers.

The kiss was the sweetest and yet the most exciting Alice had ever known. When he pulled away, she could hardly breathe. She barely knew this man, yet she already knew something special was happening to her.

Later that night, after Dante had dropped Alice back outside her villa, he sped along the mountain road, weaving between cars and revelling in the feel of the wind on his face. As he concentrated on hugging the tight turns he thought about Alice. Dio, she was sexy with her long blonde hair and eyes the colour of the hills. She had curves that made a man want to run his hands across her body. And those lips, they tasted like honey and pears. He found her even more sexy because she had no idea what she could do to a man. She was shy and inexperienced and he wondered if she’d ever been with a man before. But it wasn’t just the way she looked that set his blood on fire, in her heart she was different to the women he usually dated. The opposite of Natalia.

Thinking about Natalia still made him angry. They had grown up together and everyone had expected them to marry. But when he had decided to become a doctor, he and Natalia had argued. She’d wanted him to go into business with her father, telling Dante that that way they could have a good life. A rich life was what she’d meant. Of course he had refused. He was going to be a doctor—it was what he was meant to do. Natalia had stamped her foot and argued that she couldn’t—wouldn’t—wait until he was earning money. So she had left and married someone else. Now she was living the life she had always wanted. Since Natalia he had never let another woman close.

But he had been attracted to Alice instantly. He had asked her to meet him on an impulse, but to his surprise he’d found he enjoyed her company. He’d had many women since Natalia but they weren’t like Alice. They cared more about what they were wearing, what they looked like, and that was fine. But soon it got boring. He liked a woman who could talk, who knew how to laugh, who loved the simple things in life. Like Alice. Already he knew she could never pretend to be something she wasn’t.

He opened the throttle to pass a lorry that was lumbering up the mountain road and just managed to squeeze into the gap between it and an oncoming car. He laughed out loud. Dio, that was closer than he would have liked.

He had ten days to spend with Alice before she returned to the UK and he was going to make the most of them.

The next days were the most exciting of Alice’s life. She met Dante every afternoon after he finished work at the hospital. He showed her a side of Italy, the real Italy, that she’d never seen before, and every day she fell harder for him. If he was puzzled that she always insisted that he drop her off at the high walls shielding the villa where she was staying, he never said anything. He waited until the gates opened in response to her pressing the buzzer before he sped away on his bike. Alice knew she should tell him who she really was, but she wanted the dreamlike state she was in to go on for ever.

Saturday was his day off and that morning, her second last day in Italy, he picked her up from outside the villa on his motorbike. He held out a helmet and as he helped with the straps his fingers brushed her throat. Her skin literally sizzled where he’d touched her.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

His eyes seemed to glow as he looked down at her. ‘I want you to see where I live. Will you come?’

Alice’s heart thumped against her ribs. There was something in those dark eyes that told her that he wasn’t asking her just because he wanted to show her where he lived.

Dry-mouthed, she could only nod. Dante drove his bike as if he were pursued by a hundred devils, overtaking when there was the smallest of gaps.

Eventually, after the scariest but most exhilarating forty minutes of Alice’s life, they drove down a dirt track before stopping next to an olive grove.

Alice eased herself off the motorbike hoping that her shaking legs would hold her. She just about managed to hobble a few steps before Dante pulled her into the crook of his arm. She leant into him, savouring the warmth of his body.

‘This is where I grew up,’ he said, gesturing towards the trees. ‘Behind this is my mother’s house and a little further is the building where I live. It used to be for the shepherds, but now it is my home.’

She turned in his arms, relaxing against his chest. Behind her, he wrapped his arms more tightly around her. In the cocoon of his arms she felt at peace. She had never felt so happy. And she had never felt so sad. Her time with Dante was drawing to an end too quickly. Through the thin material of his T-shirt she could feel his heart beating and knew hers was keeping time with his.

‘Will you come with me to my house?’ he asked. His voice vibrated through her and her heart kicked hard against her ribs. She knew what he was asking.

She turned in his arms until she was looking directly into his eyes.

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Via,’ he said. He wasn’t smiling any longer. His dark eyes were intense, almost black.

He took her hand and led her down a path through the olive trees.

Once they were hidden from any passing cars, he pulled her back into his arms. For one long moment they looked into each other’s eyes and then he was kissing her. His mouth tasted of tomatoes and sunshine. A pool of liquid lust spread from her belly downwards and upwards until every part of her body felt as if it was on fire. If he carried on kissing her like this she would surely spontaneously combust. Even as he was kissing her she was smiling.

Dante pulled his head back while keeping her body pressed close into his. She could feel every inch of him along the length of her body.

‘What is funny?’ Although he half smiled, his eyes were glittering.

‘Nothing. Everything. I’m happy,’ she said simply.

‘Amore, I have never met someone as honest as you before. I like it,’ Dante said, and then he was kissing her again. Until she had met him, she had never been kissed like that before. She had never been held like this before. She had never felt like this before.

He pushed her gently against a tree and gathered her hands in his, pinning them above her head. She couldn’t stop this. Not if her life depended on it.

His eyes raked across her body, lingering on her breasts. He kissed her throat at the point where her pulse was beating wildly. Still holding her wrists with one hand, he dropped his other hand to the buttons of her blouse. Alice could dimly hear the sounds of cars passing on the nearby road but as he slowly unbuttoned her blouse, all awareness of the outside world left her. ‘Tesoro mio,’ he murmured, dropping kisses ever lower.

She arched her neck and raked her hands through his thick, dark hair. Each of his kisses was sending hot flames through her body. She almost couldn’t bear it. She felt as if she was going to lose control. She had to stop this. He’d called her honest. She needed to tell him the truth.

But she couldn’t call a halt. The only thing that mattered was the here and now.

Dante had pushed her blouse aside and was kissing her breasts. He circled her nipples with his tongue and ripples of pure, exquisite pleasure throbbed through her aching body.

Suddenly, to her dismay, he stopped. She moaned and tried to draw his head back down but Dante shook his head and slowly, reluctantly released her arms. His eyes were black with desire.

He buttoned up her blouse. Dazed, she could only watch.

‘Not here,’ he said hoarsely.

She knew what he was saying and she was powerless to resist. In a couple of days she would be home, back to being Lady Alice. Right now, all she wanted to do, all she ached for was to be back in his arms. She would tell him the truth. If whatever this thing was that was between them had a chance, she had to be as honest as he thought she was.

As they walked towards Dante’s house, Alice thought her heart would break. Two more nights, then she’d be returning to her life in London. The thought of leaving was tearing her in two.

The air was rich with the scent of olives as he led her by the hand through the orchard. Within a few minutes they arrived at a small whitewashed building with an ochre roof standing on its own in a little oasis of green.

Still holding her by the hand, Dante opened the door and pulled her inside. Alice only had a fleeting glimpse of a double bed before Dante was kissing her again.

Later, much later she lay with her head on his chest. He stroked her hair and murmured to her in Italian.

She traced the scar on his shoulder with the tip of her finger.

‘How did this happen?’ she asked.

‘An accident with my motorbike. Two years ago. A lorry came round on the wrong side of the road. I had to go into a ditch to miss it.’

‘You could have been killed!’ Alice said, alarmed.

‘But I wasn’t. I was hurt. A few days in hospital. It wasn’t so bad. My girlfriend at that time wasn’t happy.’

‘Have there been lots of women?’ she asked. She could have bitten her tongue the moment the words were out. Of course there had been lots of women. She could tell that from the way Dante had made love to her. As if she was precious, but also with passion and an uncanny sense of what she needed and when.

His hands paused in her hair.

‘A few. But they were not important—’ He broke off. ‘I’ve never met anyone quite like you.’

The warm glow of happiness she’d experienced since they’d made love deepened. But under the glow she felt a shiver of unease. What would he think of her when he found out she hadn’t been honest with him? She wasn’t who he thought she was. Reluctant to spoil the mood, Alice raised herself on her elbow and looked down at him. ‘Why did you decide to become a doctor?’ she asked.

He sat up and pulled her head against his chest where she could hear the strong beat of his heart. One of his hands was in her hair, the other softly caressing her neck. Everywhere he touched her sent stabs of desire coursing through her body. She hadn’t known that a simple touch on her skin could drive her wild with longing.

When his answer came his voice was deeper than ever.

‘A few years ago, I had a friend. A girl, Rosa. We had played with each other since we were children.’ His hands paused on her skin and he took a deep breath.

‘Her house was next to mine. We were always together. At school. After school. While we were growing up. Soon she was no longer a little girl but a beautiful woman.’

A stab of jealousy so strong it took her breath away ripped through Alice.

‘Did you love her?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

Dante laughed. ‘Sì, I loved her, but we were never lovers. She was like a sister to me.’ His voice grew sombre again. ‘I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, but she always knew what she wanted to do. To be a nurse.’ He paused and Alice knew he was remembering. ‘I stayed on the farm and she went to university. The first holiday she came back, it was as if we had never been parted. She was so excited with what she was learning. She was lit up inside. But after a few days she got sick.’

Dante’s voice was like sandpaper. Alice held her breath and waited for him to go on.

‘Everyone thought it was flu. No one was worried. Her mother phoned the doctor. He told her it wasn’t a problem, to give Rosa painkillers for the headache and fever. By the time she came out in a rash, it was too late.’

‘Meningitis?’ Alice whispered.

‘Sì. It was before the time they vaccinated against it. We called the ambulance. I knew it would take too long. I didn’t want to wait. We were losing her.’

He paused again and swallowed. ‘We put her in the car and I drove as fast as I could. But it was too late. By the time we got to the hospital, she was unconscious. I would have given my life for her, but I wasn’t able to do one thing to save her. It is why I became a doctor. I will never let anyone die because I didn’t know how to help them.’

‘I’m so sorry, Dante.’

‘You are like her in many ways. Kind and honest.’ Another spasm of guilt ran up Alice’s spine. She had to tell him.

‘You are different from other women.’ There was a note of bitterness in his voice that puzzled Alice. ‘You don’t care about material things. Clothes. Money. What other people think of you.’

Alice’s heart felt as if it were slowly being encased in ice. When she told him the truth about herself, he would see that she wasn’t the woman he thought she was. She couldn’t bear that. Was there any point in telling him? In two days she would be gone.