Lorenzo's Reward

“Only in my dreams,” he said, routing her completely. He smiled into her eyes. “But now I’ve met you in the alluring flesh, Jessamy Dysart, you will forget all other men in your life from this day on, including your sister’s husband. I forbid you to gaze at him with longing tomorrow.”

“What? You can’t forbid me to do anything,” she said, incensed, desperate to hide the tumult of delight beneath her outrage. “We’re complete strangers. I don’t know what you think gives you the right to talk to me like this—”

“Why did you cut off your beautiful hair?” he interrupted, changing the subject with an abruptness which knocked her off balance again.

Jess blinked. “Not—not quite all of it.”

“Far too much. Almost you look like a boy, now.”

“Do I really!”

“I said almost!” Lorenzo gave her a slow smile, his eyes lingering on the place where her jacket hung open. “You are all contradiction, tesoro. You wear trousers and cut off your hair, yet choose feminine shoes and a camicetta which clings to your breasts. Why can you not glory in the fact that you are a desirable woman? A woman,” he added relentlessly, his eyes clashing with hers, “who must no longer yearn for a man forbidden to her.”

Jess gave an exclamation of pure frustration, afraid that at any moment the entire Dysart clan would come pouring from the house to press the stranger at their gates to whatever hospitality he would accept. “I don’t know why I’m saying this to a man who I’d never met until an hour ago, but I do not yearn for Jonah. Nevertheless I’ve known him for a long time, and it’s true that I love him. But like a brother. Or a brother-in-law.” She looked him in the eye. “So let’s forget all this nonsense, shall we? I’d give you my hand to shake on it, but both of them hurt rather a lot at the moment.”

He nodded, his face relaxing visibly. “Very well, we shall talk no more of this.” He smiled down at her. “And since we cannot shake hands, English style, we shall say goodnight Italian style—like this.” He took her by the shoulders and planted a kiss on both her flushed cheeks. He raised his head to look down at her, no longer smiling, then with an oddly helpless shrug he bent to kiss her mouth, his hands tightening on her shoulders when the kiss went on for a considerable time. He raised his head at last, his eyes slitted. “Mi scusi! That was unfair,” he said unevenly.

“Unfair?” managed Jess.

“To take advantage when you are injured. But I could not resist.” Lorenzo smiled into her dazed eyes, dropped his hands and stood back. “Now, since I cannot see you tomorrow, tell me when you return to London.”

“Not for a while.”

He moved nearer. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here.”

“Then I shall also.”

Jess stared at him disbelief.

“You would not like it if I did?” he demanded.

“That’s not the point. I don’t know you. I just can’t believe that you took one look at me that day and decided—”

“That I wanted you,” he finished for her.

Jess felt her face flame. “Are you always this direct with women?” she demanded. “Or is this approach commonplace in Florence?”

He shrugged negligently. “I am not concerned with how the other men behave, either in Florence or London. So, Jessamy. When will you be free? Or am I not asking correctly? Should I entreat? Implore? Forgive my lack of English vocabulary. Tell me what to say.” He took her by the shoulders again. “Or are you saying you have no wish to see me again?”

Jess looked down. “No,” she said gruffly. “I’m not saying that.”

He put a finger under her chin and smiled down at her in triumph. “Tomorrow, then, after the wedding. You will dine with me.”

She shook her head reluctantly. “I can’t. I must stay with my family.”

“Then Monday.”

“Are you staying on that long?”

He bent nearer. “Do you doubt it?” he whispered, and kissed her gently. He raised his head to look into her eyes, muttered something inaudible in his own language and pulled her close, crushing her to him as he kissed her again, no longer gentle, his lips parting hers, his tongue invading, and she responded, shaking, her body curving into his as she answered the demand of the skilful, passionate mouth. For a while Jess was lost to everything other than the engulfing pleasure of Lorenzo Forli’s kiss. Then she came back to earth abruptly at the sound of footsteps on the terrace, and pulled away, her face burning.

Breathing a little rapidly Lorenzo looked up to smile in greeting when Leonie came hurrying towards them. “Buona sera, Leonie. Please forgive my intrusion.”

“Lorenzo, how nice to see you! I couldn’t believe it when Adam said you’d driven Jess home. Roberto didn’t tell me you were here in England with him.” Leonie held up her face and Lorenzo kissed her on both cheeks, sending shamed little pang of jealousy through Jess.

“I joined him only a short time ago. Roberto is here to visit his friend, but he will return to Florence after your wedding. I shall stay awhile, and explore your beautiful countryside.” Lorenzo glanced at Jess, sending the colour rushing to her face again. “I was most fortunate, Leonie, to meet your sister tonight.”

“Come and meet the rest of my family as well, Lorenzo,” she said promptly, but he shook his head.

“I must not keep the bride from her beauty sleep.” He smiled at her. “Not, of course, that you need this, Leonie.”

“Thank you, kind sir.” She exchanged a look with Jess, then gave him a cajoling smile. “Lorenzo, feel free to say no, of course, but since Roberto and Ravellos are coming to my wedding why don’t you come too? It’s a very informal affair. Just a garden party after the church ceremony tomorrow afternoon. My family would be delighted to welcome you. Wouldn’t they, Jess?”

Jess nodded mutely.

Lorenzo’s eyes searched her face for a moment, then, apparently satisfied she approved the idea, he smiled at Leonie. “You are very kind. I am most happy to accept. Until tomorrow. Buona notte!” He gave them both a graceful little bow, got back in the car and drove off down the winding drive.

Leonie put an arm round her sister’s shoulders and drew her slowly along the terrace to the house. “Well, well, what have you been up to, sister dear?” she teased gently. “I was sent out to invite Lorenzo in, but I beat a hasty retreat when I saw him kiss you. I waited for a bit, but then he started kissing you again, and it seemed unlikely that he was about to stop for the foreseeable future, so I decided to interrupt. Sorry!”

“I tripped and fell in the Chesterton car park and hurt my hands, so he volunteered to drive me home,” said Jess, flushing.

“With the greatest of pleasure, by the look of it. I don’t know Lorenzo as well as Roberto, of course—”

“Obviously,” retorted Jess. “You never mentioned him.”

“I haven’t met him often. He doesn’t socialise much. In fact, Roberto told me that Lorenzo’s marriage changed his brother into something of a recluse.”

CHAPTER THREE

“HE’S married?” Jess stopped dead in her tracks, her world disintegrating about her.

“Renata died about three years ago,” said Leonie hastily, bringing Jess back to life. “It was a great shock to Lorenzo. He was married very young, I think. I’m not sure of the details. Actually, I think Roberto’s a bit in awe of his older brother, though they see a lot more of each other these days.” She gave Jess a sparkling look. “Not that Lorenzo looked much like the grieving widower just now.”

“He took me by surprise,” muttered Jess as they went in.

Leonie chuckled. “I can see that. You’re still in shock!”

Jess shivered a little, and Leonie urged her inside the house.

“Come on I’ll make you a hot drink while mother inspects those hands. By the way,” she added, “in all the excitement I hope you didn’t forget the earrings!”

To the disappointment of Tom Dysart, who rather fancied himself in his father’s morning coat and top hat, his daughter had insisted on a very informal wedding. Lounge suits would be worn instead of morning dress for the men. The female guests could splash out on hats. But otherwise she wanted very much the same kind of garden party Jonah’s parents had put on in their Hampstead house seven years before, to celebrate their first, ill-fated engagement.

“Only this time,” Leonie had declared, “we’ll be celebrating a wedding at Friars Wood and nothing will go wrong. The sun will shine, and we’ll live happily ever after.”

She was right about the weather. The June Sunday was glorious from the start, with just enough breeze to mitigate the heat without endangering the umbrellas shading the tables on the lawn. When the kitchen in the main house was given over to the caterers, quite soon after breakfast, the family moved out into Adam’s quarters until it was time to get ready for the main event.

“Rounded up any more guests this morning, Leo?” quizzed Adam, over an early lunch.

“Cheek!” The bride smiled at her mother. “But when I found Lorenzo Forli was here with Roberto it seemed a shame not to ask him. You don’t mind, do you, Mother?”

“Not in the least,” said Frances placidly. “Numbers don’t matter at this kind of thing. And it was very good of him to drive Jess home last night. How on earth did you come to fall like that, darling?”

“Death-defying heels, no doubt,” said Tom Dysart. “I hope you’re trotting down the aisle in something safer, Jess.”

“She has to,” said Kate, who measured only an inch or so over five feet. “Today I’m in the high heels and Jess is down to something safer to even us out.”

“Just make sure you don’t fall over, then, half-pint,” advised her brother.

“As if!” she retorted, giving him a push.

“My shoes don’t have any heels at all,” said Fenny with regret, then brightened. “But they’ve got little yellow rosebuds on the toes.”

“Time enough for high heels where you’re concerned,” said Tom lovingly, then looked at the bride’s plate with disapproval. “For pity’s sake eat something else, Leo. I can’t have you fainting as we march up the aisle.”

“No chance,” Leonie assured him. “But my dress fits so perfectly I’m leaving the pigging out bit until the wedding feast.”

“You’re very quiet, Jess,” observed her mother. “Are your hands still hurting?”

“Not so much.” Jess yawned a little. “I’m just a bit tired after my jury stint, I suppose. Don’t worry,” she added, “no one will be looking at me today.”

“I wouldn’t count on that. How about Lorenzo the Magnificent?” said Adam, carving off a sliver of ham with a deft hand. “The man couldn’t take his eyes off you last night.”

“Rubbish!” Jess made a face at him. “I’d never even met Lorenzo Forli until—until last night.”

“So you hadn’t,” said Leonie, smiling slyly. “Just think how much better you can get to know him today!”

“Talking of today,” said Frances, holding out a hand to Fenny, “we’d better get ready. Mrs Briggs will clear away before she sets off for the church, so get a move on everyone. You don’t want to be late, Leo.”

“Perish the thought,” teased Jess, pulling her sister up. “Jonah admitted to nerves last night, so don’t keep the poor man waiting on tenterhooks at the altar.”

“Don’t worry—I’ll be punctual to the second.”

Leonie was true to her word. Long before it was time to leave the house she was ready, in a slim, unadorned column of ivory slipper satin. Jess secured the pearl brooch into her sister’s gleaming hair, handed over the earrings, then stood back to admire the effect.

“How do I look?” she asked.

“Absolutely beautiful,” said her mother fondly. “And your bridesmaids do you proud, darling.”

Jess and Kate were in bias-cut chiffon the creamy yellow shade of Fenny’s layers of organdie, the child in such a state of excitement by this time that Kate had to hold her still for Jess to secure a band of rosebuds on her hair.

The photographer arrived a few minutes later. Frances collected a dramatic straw hat decorated with black ostrich feathers, then herded the entire family off to the drawing room for the indoor pictures. The bride requested the first pose alone with Adam, his lanky frame elegant in a new suit with an Italian label, his mop of black curls severely brushed for once for the photograph, before he rushed off to drive down the lane to the church to do his duty as usher.

Tom Dysart, tall as his son, but with greying hair that had once been flaxen fair as Jess’s shining locks, wore a magnificent dark suit with grey brocade waistcoat, and looked as proud as a peacock as he posed, first with the radiant bride, then with his wife, and finally with all his women folk around him.

“Like a sultan in his harem,” said Jess, laughing.

“And a damn good-looking bunch you are,” said her father fondly.

Later, as Jess waited for the bride with Kate and Fenny in the church porch, she found that her posy was shaking a little in her still tender hand.

“Nervous?” whispered Kate.

“Only of this thing falling out of my hair,” lied Jess, controlling an urge to peer into the church to see if Lorenzo had arrived. But it was true that her new haircut, unlike Kate’s flowing dark curls, had made it difficult to fix the trio of rosebuds attached to a tiny comb. Kate put her posy down on the porch seat, removed the flowers, then anchored them again very firmly into one of the longer gilt strands.

“How’s that?”

“Fine, love, thanks. Here we go. The bride’s arrived.”

Leonie smiled radiantly at her sisters as she glided up the path, then, to the strains of Mendelssohn, began the walk up the aisle on her father’s arm towards the bridegroom and best man at the altar.

Jonah’s tense face relaxed into a smile of such tenderness at the sight of his bride Jess felt her throat thicken, and dropped her eyes to the flowers she held, as she walked down the aisle. When they came to a halt she turned to make sure Fenny was happy behind her and caught a glimpse of Lorenzo, standing with his brother towards the rear of the church. She met his eyes for a long, charged instant, then turned to take charge of Leonie’s flowers as the service began.

When Tom Dysart rejoined his wife after giving his daughter away, Jonah took Leonie’s hand and held it in his. After the moving ceremony was over the wedding party moved to the vestry to sign the register, and during the kissing and congratulations Jess slipped out into the church to stand beside Helen Savage’s wheelchair for a chat while the organist went through a spectacular repertoire before launching into Wagner for the triumphal exit.

Jess hurried back to the vestry and took the best man’s proffered arm, laughing up at Angus Buchanan as he joked about his terror over his speech. As they drew level with the Forli brothers Jess surprised such a dark, smouldering look from Lorenzo she realised he was jealous, and glowed with secret gratification as the wedding party emerged into the sunlight for the inevitable photo session.

Back at Friars Wood, the bride and groom’s happiness pervaded the entire scene on the sunlit lawn as they greeted their guests. Everyone milled about with glasses of champagne, laughing and talking, and introducing themselves. First Roberto Forli, then his brother, shook Jonah’s hand, and asked smiling permission to kiss the bride. When he reached Jess, to her surprise Roberto saluted her on both cheeks in the same way.

“Lorenzo has told me about your legal problem,” he whispered. “I am glad it was not the sight of my face which made you run!”

She gave him a wry little smile. “Absolutely not. Jeremy Lonsdale’s face did that. Sorry I had to be so rude, Roberto.”

“I am sorry also. I should not have said such bad things to you last night.” He pulled a face. “Lorenzo was very angry with me when he returned.”

“Let’s forget it, shall we?” Jess smiled at him warmly, then introduced him to Kate. When Jess turned at last to Lorenzo, he took her hand to draw her closer so that he could kiss both her cheeks.

“You look very beautiful—all woman today,” he whispered, and raised a black, quizzical eyebrow. “The best man thought this also, no?”

“Angus is very charming,” she said demurely, and gave Lorenzo a smile so radiant his eyes lit up in response. She turned away hastily to welcome Angela and Luigi Ravello. Jess chatted with them for a while, introduced them to other people, then did the rounds of the other guests, all the time finding it a dangerously exciting experience to know that Lorenzo Forli rarely took his eyes from her. This all-out intensity of his was something new in her experience. And gloriously addictive.

Eventually Leonie and Jonah took their places with their respective parents at a table in the centre of the lawn, and Adam and the best man directed guests to the tables grouped casually around the central focus of the bride and groom. Adam wheeled Helen Savage’s chair to the nearest table, with Jess and Fenny, and invited the guests from Florence to join them.

Jess made the necessary introductions, and Adam, giving her a surreptitious wink, seated Lorenzo next to her, put Kate between the two brothers, and took his place beside Fenny, who was next to Helen Savage’s chair, as she usually was lately, her eyes sparkling as they inspected the tempting canapés and patisserie Leonie had chosen for the meal.

“You obeyed me, Jessamy,” said Lorenzo, under cover of the general conversation and laughter.

She eyed him narrowly. “I obeyed you?”

“You did not gaze with longing at the bridegroom.”

“I should think not,” she retorted, looking across at Leonie. “I told you how wrong you were about all that. Don’t you think the bride looks breathtaking today?” she added.

Lorenzo’s eyes followed hers. “Leonie dazzles because she is so happy.” He smiled wryly. “Unlike my brother, who was very sad during the ceremony.”

Jess glanced at Roberto, who, if he was nursing a broken heart, showed little sign of it as he laughed with Kate. “I’m sure a man like Roberto won’t pine unconsoled for long.”

“True. Robert leads a very active social life. I,” he added very deliberately, “do not.” Lorenzo gave her a long, unsmiling look, then noticed Fenny, who was watching them with interest as she munched on a meringue. “Jessamy, will you introduce me to this very elegant little lady?”

“Of course.” Jess smiled affectionately at the youngest bridesmaid. “May I present Miss Fenella Dysart? Fen, this gentleman’s name is Lorenzo Forli.”

“How do you do?” said Fenny politely, as she’d been taught.

“Piacere,” said Lorenzo, and got up to kiss her hand.

“Ooh!” Fenny went scarlet with delight. “Did Mummy see, Jess?”

“Run across and ask her, if you like.”

Lorenzo laughed as he watched the little girl race across the grass. “She will break hearts, that one.” Then his eyes narrowed as he watched Fenny chattering to Jonah. He frowned. “Strange. Now that I see them together the child greatly resembles the bridegroom. How can that be?” Colour ran up suddenly beneath his olive skin. “Dio—she is Leonie’s child?” he whispered.

“Certainly not!”

Lorenzo turned to look at Jess, his eyes narrowed in sudden, dark suspicion.

“It’s not what you think,” she whispered hastily, relieved when Angus Buchanan stood up and put an end to conversation by tapping his glass for silence. The circumstances of Fenny’s birth were complicated, and not something to discuss with a man who, difficult though it was for her to remember, was nevertheless still very much a stranger.

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