Italian Attraction: The Italian Tycoon's Bride / An Italian Engagement / One Summer in Italy...

The air carried the delicate perfume of the orange groves beyond the horses’ paddock and stables and it was very quiet and tranquil, the sky pierced with stars and the heat of the day mellowed to a warm breeze.

Something in the stallion’s attitude to the mare touched Maisie deeply. He was protective of her, as though he sensed her time was nearly upon her and that she was carrying his foal. He probably did. Maisie was of the opinion that all animals, but especially horses and dogs, knew far more than human beings gave them credit for. They were also a lot nicer than some people she could name.

The thought of Jeff spoilt the peacefulness and, cross with herself for allowing him to intrude at such a moment, she turned and began walking back to the house. She had almost reached it when a tall woman dressed casually in a shirt and jeans came out on the veranda from the sitting room French windows.

‘You must be Maisie.’ The woman stretched out her hand, her attractive face breaking into a warm smile. ‘I’m Jenny, Blaine’s mother. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you personally but you know how things are. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to come and look after the children for the next little while.’ The American accent was a strong southern drawl.

For a startled moment Maisie wondered if there was something Blaine hadn’t told her, then she realised his mother was referring to her animals. ‘I ought to be thanking you,’ she said as they shook hands. ‘You’ve already made me so welcome. I don’t feel I’m here to do a job.’

‘Good.’ Blaine’s mother’s smile widened, her greeny-blue eyes just like her sons. ‘That’s as it should be. Look, I’m going to have to leave very early in the morning; they’ve brought Guiseppe’s operation forward. Roberto is with him now and I’ve called Blaine to go and see him tonight. Just … in case.’

Maisie nodded. She was glad she was here but the circumstances which made it necessary were awful.

‘I need to tell you all about the animals—exercise, feeding and so on. I’m afraid, because some of them had poor starts in life, they’ve got little idiosyncrasies and so on. Nothing you won’t be able to handle, but it’s better you know.’

Jenny rubbed her hand across her forehead and it struck Maisie that Blaine’s mother was tired—very tired. She was the sort of woman who just got on with things, though; that much was obvious already. ‘I’ll handle everything just fine. Blaine told you I’m a veterinary nurse?’

Jenny nodded. ‘Just as well, because Liliana won’t be of any help,’ she said ruefully, indicating a seat on the veranda and, once Maisie had sat down, sitting down herself. ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong, she’s a swell housekeeper and a dear friend, but on the subject of the children we have to differ. Normally it doesn’t matter but it’s proved to be a bit of a problem in recent weeks. She can just about tolerate the dogs and cats, although she won’t feed them unless she absolutely has to, but she’s terrified of the horses and nothing I can do will make her go anywhere near them. And they’re such sweet babies too.’

Maisie remembered the stallion’s height and lethal hooves. Sweet he might be, a baby he wasn’t. But on the subject of babies … ‘I saw the mare is due to foal soon?’

Jenny nodded. ‘I have to admit that with all this with Guiseppe I didn’t realise for a time, then it’s just got swept aside. I don’t think I’ve even told Blaine. But my vet is excellent. I’m sure nothing will happen yet but if you were worried at any point he would come immediately. His name and number are on the notes I’ve left for you. Shall I get them and then we can go through everything?’ she added, stifling a yawn as she spoke.

‘You look exhausted,’ Maisie said gently. ‘If you’d rather we could do it in the morning when you’re fresher.’

‘But I’m leaving very early. I shall breakfast about six.’

‘I’m an early bird normally, always have been. You can fill me in while we eat if you like.’

‘That’d be great.’ Jenny looked at her a little helplessly.

‘And please, don’t worry about anything here. I promise you everything will be under control, OK? I won’t let you down. Just concentrate on getting your husband well. It’s absolutely right you’re with him at a time like this, and soon both of you will be home and this will seem like a bad dream.’ Maisie found herself patting Blaine’s mother’s hand. ‘Try and get some sleep now.’

Jenny tried to smile but her tired eyes filled with tears. ‘I don’t think I’ve slept for weeks,’ she admitted shakily.

‘Come on.’ As Maisie helped Jenny to her feet she found herself thinking that she would never have believed she’d be in this position a week ago—a strange country, a strange house and she was providing the shoulder to cry on. Life had suddenly gone topsy-turvy and it was all down to Blaine. She didn’t know if she wanted to thank him or blame him.

The next morning Maisie awoke to the sweet scent of honeysuckle and jasmine drifting in through the open window, and after she had padded across the room and peered out she saw the whole of the back of the house was engulfed in the rich-smelling flowers. ‘What a gorgeous place.’ She breathed the words out into the perfumed air and felt like pinching herself to make sure it was all real. This time yesterday she had been in a grotty little bedsit in London; today she was in another world.

After a quick shower she pulled on a pair of jeans and a light top, looped her hair into a high ponytail and was downstairs and in the breakfast room by ten to six. It was only as she was greeted by Liliana and led to the table where two places were set that she realised she might have committed her first faux pas. It was clear Liliana did not eat with the family and she had all but invited herself to share breakfast with Blaine’s mother. She was employed to do a job the same as the housekeeper. Why hadn’t she considered she might eat separately with Liliana the night before?

When Jenny joined her a moment later Maisie knew she had to set the record straight immediately. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She stared at Blaine’s mother in an agony of embarrassment. ‘I should have realised I wouldn’t eat in here with you. I just wasn’t thinking last night.’

‘Oh, Maisie.’ Jenny’s hand had gone to her breast. ‘I thought you were going to say you’d changed your mind and wanted to go home. Of course you will eat with me and Guiseppe when he comes home. We’ve been trying to persuade Liliana to sit with us for thirty-five years, but she’s adamantly stuck in the old ways and won’t budge from her kitchen.’

Jenny plumped herself down at the table, her voice soft when she added, ‘For the first time in ages I slept well last night. I’m sure it was because my mind was at rest about things here and I knew I could concentrate on Guiseppe without having to dash back and forth from the hospital.’

Maisie smiled. Blaine’s mother was a darling.

The two women talked through everything they needed to while they ate, and then Maisie and Liliana waved Jenny off and went back into the house, Liliana to see to her kitchen and housework, Maisie to see to the indoor pets and then the horses. Jenny had promised she would ring as soon as she knew Guiseppe was all right but it was almost evening before the call came.

Liliana answered the telephone and when after a moment or two the elderly housekeeper burst into tears, Maisie stared at her, horrified. Liliana passed her the phone before throwing her apron over her head and rocking herself to and fro. ‘Hallo?’ Maisie didn’t know what to say. ‘Is that you, Jenny?’

‘It’s Blaine.’ The deep rich voice was dry. ‘My father is doing very well after what turned out to be a bigger operation than they’d thought. I think you need to make Liliana a cup of coffee with something strong in it.’

‘I’ll do that.’ Maisie was so relieved her legs felt weak. ‘I’m so pleased, Blaine. Give your mother and Roberto my best wishes.’

‘How are you coping that end? Any problems?’

Maisie thought of the frenzied pace of the veterinary practice where she had worked and the hundred and one jobs, all urgent, which would pile up the minute her back was turned. Being here in Italy was a holiday in every sense of the word. ‘Everything’s fine,’ she said reassuringly. ‘Tell your mother the children are all fed and watered and the dogs had a lovely long walk this afternoon.’

‘You took all seven out?’ he asked incredulously.

It felt good to have surprised him. ‘Of course,’ she said airily. ‘They were as good as gold.’

‘Even Humphrey?’

‘Especially Humphrey,’ she said firmly. The little mongrel was already her favourite. ‘He’s a perfect angel once you understand him.’

She thought she heard a slight groan before he said, ‘I feel like I’m talking to my mother.’

Well, that wasn’t very nice. ‘Goodnight, Blaine,’ she said evenly.

‘Goodnight, mia piccola.’

His voice had been very soft and Maisie hesitated a moment before she replaced the receiver. She glanced at Liliana, who had stopped crying long enough to wipe her eyes with her apron. ‘Come on,’ she said quietly. ‘Blaine says you’ve got to have a cup of coffee with a kick in it.’

‘Scusi? A kick?’

‘A spot of brandy,’ Maisie clarified. ‘And, before you say no, I’m going to make one for myself too.’

Somehow, though, she felt it was going to take more than the odd measure of brandy to help her deal with her increasingly disturbing feelings about life in general and Blaine in particular over the next weeks.

The fact that Liliana allowed her to make the coffee told Maisie the little elderly woman was even more shaken up than she appeared. It had only taken Maisie an hour or two to understand that the kitchen was utterly and totally Liliana’s domain; even Blaine’s mother had tiptoed about in it that morning before she had left the house. But Liliana was a softie under her capable and somewhat gruff exterior, Maisie thought, as she handed the older woman her coffee, which had a double shot of brandy in it. She had obviously been worried to death about Guiseppe and had been hiding her concern most of the time; hence the reaction when she’d learnt he was going to be all right.

Liliana said much the same as they sipped their coffee together on the veranda, Maisie digging into a batch of the wonderful sticky sugary pastries Liliana had made earlier that day. ‘I needed to be strong for Jennifer,’ Liliana explained as they looked out over the warm summer evening, the heady smell of honeysuckle and jasmine and climbing roses heavy in the slumbering air. ‘You understand? To be her, how do you say it, her rock?’

Maisie nodded. ‘Yes, I understand,’ she said, wondering what magic Liliana used to make such incredible melting pastry.

‘She is a good woman, and brave, but she has had so much to contend with.’

Maisie nodded again. It was clear Liliana needed to talk and to have her listen, and with the plate of pastries within reach she had no argument with that. The dogs were all spread out around their feet, Humphrey in prime position on her foot as usual, waiting for any crumbs that might fall. Like the cats, they knew enough to keep very quiet and still around Liliana unless they wanted to be shooed off.

‘It hit both of them very hard, the trouble with Blaine. He tried to shield his mother, of course, but …’ Liliana shrugged, her thin black-clad shoulders eloquent.

Maisie pricked up her ears. Liliana obviously thought that as a friend of the family—as she had been described, apparently—she knew more than she did. She wondered if she ought to warn Liliana that she didn’t know anything about Blaine—it would be the right thing to do. Morality warred with curiosity. No contest. Maisie bit into another pastry and looked sympathetic.

‘Not that I thought Francesca was right for him.’ Liliana had lowered her voice as though she thought if she spoke too loudly it would reach Blaine’s ears umpteen miles away. ‘She was a sweet girl, of course, well brought up, but just because the pair were childhood sweethearts it does not follow that all will be well. But Jennifer and Guiseppe being Francesca’s godparents, and the two families such friends …’ She sighed. ‘My poor Blaine. Tragic.’

She took another sip of coffee, her face contemplative, and Maisie wanted to snatch the cup away from Liliana’s lips. Don’t stop. Go on. But it appeared Liliana had finished. She drained her coffee and stood up, her manner suddenly brisk. ‘I shall go to early mass tomorrow and give thanks to the Holy Mother,’ she announced with dramatic intensity. ‘She has spared my family more pain.’ And with that she disappeared into the house.

Maisie licked her fingers. She was tempted to follow Liliana and see if she would say more; the brandy had obviously loosened the old woman’s tongue. But then that would be somewhat sly and underhand, she admitted, refusing to acknowledge the little voice that said she had been less than honest in letting Liliana rattle on in the first place.

She had just listened, she told herself. Had provided a sympathetic ear at a time when Liliana needed one. That was all. She frowned to herself. And really she knew little more than she had initially, except that Blaine’s old love had been Italian and dearly loved by his parents by all accounts.

Francesca. Beautiful name. Probably beautiful woman. Long black hair, hauntingly lovely face, stunning figure. Model-thin.

There were two pastries left on the plate and Maisie divided them between the ecstatic dogs, the three she had already eaten now screaming their calories in her head. As Humphrey stood guard over the last of the crumbs on the floor, fur bristling as he almost choked trying to lick up every morsel before any of the others nosed in, she smoothed her hands over her rounded hips. OK, so she wasn’t grossly fat but she would never be a supermodel. She was, as boyfriends in the past had described her, cuddly.

She sighed, staring across the lawned garden directly in front of her to where the two horses were standing in the paddock in the distance under the shade of a big old green oak tree. The sunlight was already dappled; within an hour or two the vivid blue of the sky would begin to mellow and her first full day at the villa would come to an end. She wasn’t going to like it when she had to return to England.

The thought brought her out of the doldrums with a jolt. What was the matter with her? she asked herself crossly. She had weeks and weeks to look forward to in this glorious place; why on earth was she whining about having to go back home now?

It was the emotion of the last hour, she decided, rising to her feet and then smiling as the dogs rose expectantly, tails wagging and tongues lolling. ‘Just a walk down to see your slightly bigger friends then,’ she told them, picking up a couple of apples for the two horses from a bowl on one of the small tables on the veranda.

As she stepped out of the shade into the blaze of late afternoon sunshine she lifted her head to the heat. The foreign brightness to the quality of the light and the overall intensity of colour about her made her feel alive from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She was going to stop analysing everything, she told herself firmly. From now on she would just take each day as it came. No more heart-searching. No more regrets. Blaine was right. Jeff would never have suited her in the long run, nor she him. But she was free, free and footloose and independent. Mistress of her own destiny and answerable to no one. Anticipation and excitement flooded her blood.

This wonderful crazy feeling might not last, she thought as she walked down towards the paddock, the dogs sniffing and bounding and tumbling each other over. But it was enough that she had felt it today because now she knew she would feel it again. Her life wasn’t over because Jeff didn’t want her—far from it. She had got herself into a tangle of maudlin self-pity in England; she had needed a complete change of scene to break the cycle.

As the two horses came ambling over to her when she reached the fence of the paddock, their large expressive eyes fixed on the apples in her hands, she laughed out loud. ‘Cupboard loves.’ She let their velvet nuzzles nose the food out of her hands.

She would thank Blaine when she saw him next, she decided as the horses crunched their titbits. She would tell him it had been the right decision for her to come here, that she was grateful to him for suggesting it.

She pictured the long lean length of him in her mind as she stood on the bottom rung of the fence, her hair wafting about her face in the hot breeze. The striking, almost luminescent black-lashed eyes, the firm hard mouth, chiselled cheekbones, strong jaw. His body was superb but aggressively masculine, virile, unyielding. He would make love all night and still want more. The core of her sexuality stirred, shocking her as an aching thrill of pleasure took hold.

Colour flooded her cheeks and she jumped down from the fence, amazed at herself. Blaine Morosini wasn’t her type, not at all, so why did she feel as though he had just caressed her in the most intimate place? It was ridiculous, nonsensical, but true nonetheless. She had never felt like this before, even when Jeff was kissing her and touching her, so how could Blaine produce such sensual feelings when he wasn’t even here?

Rebound. She seized the word and held on to it like a lifeline. That was all this was. For some reason her body had reacted to Blaine from the first time she had seen him; it was a relief to admit it to herself at last. He was so very different, the opposite in fact, to the sort of male she usually liked and so, hurt and upset as she had been over Jeff, she had swung to the opposite end of the scale. Classic rebound scenario. Didn’t mean a thing. And she had known a man like Blaine couldn’t possibly be interested in someone like her so her subconscious had told her she was safe.

‘Whew.’ She sighed loudly. What a relief. She wasn’t going round the bend after all. Her body was going a bit haywire, admittedly, but she could control that. She wasn’t a nymphomaniac, far from it. She dared to bet there weren’t too many twenty-eight-year-old virgins around these days.

A whine at her feet brought her eyes down to Humphrey, who clearly thought he was due a bit of attention. She smiled, kneeling down and fussing the little animal, who promptly rolled over on his back in submissive adoration. ‘You’re more lucky than you know,’ she murmured, rubbing the jumbo size ears which felt like velvet. ‘No complicated relationships or muddled thoughts for you. You see, you like, you conquer. If the lady is willing, of course. If not, you sail off looking for the next lucky female. No broken heart or hurt feelings. Totally sensible.’

Humphrey seemed to laugh at her, tongue lolling and eyes bright. She fussed him a little more and then stood up and together, the rest of the dogs following, they walked back towards the house.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE following day was a peaceful one. Maisie mucked out the stables and, once they were fresh and sweet-smelling, exercised Iorwerth, the stallion. Before she had left, Jenny had told her the name was Welsh and meant Lord of worth; Iola, the mare’s name, being the feminine diminutive. ‘My father was Welsh,’ Jenny had explained when Maisie had asked how the names had come to be chosen. ‘Although his parents immigrated to America when he was only four years old, he was careful not to lose knowledge of the language, and all the horses on our ranch had Welsh names. I suppose I just carried on the tradition here.’

Italian, American, Welsh—Blaine certainly had a cocktail of blood flowing in his veins, Maisie thought as she walked back to the house after taking the dogs for another long walk in the afternoon. Perhaps that was why he was so … unusual? The word mocked her with its meekness.

She felt sticky and hot as she ladled out the dog and cat food into the respective bowls, which she then placed on the veranda at the back of the house. It was the only place in the whole of the villa that Liliana allowed the animals to eat and drink, but as Maisie stood watching the rows of dishes—red ones for the dogs and white for the cats, with Leonardo, the Labrador, having his own special black one because he was on a prescribed diet for diabetes—and the little heads all avidly eating, she reflected that they didn’t do too badly. Plenty of good food, canine and feline company, lovely surroundings, all their needs catered for—if she came back as an animal she’d love it to be a cat or a dog under Jenny’s care!

After washing the bowls thoroughly she put them away and went upstairs to her room to shower and change before dinner. Dumping her jeans and shirt—which still smelt vaguely of horse—in the linen basket in a corner of her bathroom, she stepped under the cool cleansing flow of water in the shower. It was heavenly. Although she had used lashings of sun-lotion and had been careful not to burn, her skin had felt hot and irritated by the end of the day. The velvet-soft water was just what she needed. After standing for some minutes just letting the water take all the aches and pains of a physically tiring day out of her limbs, she washed her hair before wrapping a bath sheet round her and walking through to the bedroom.

She creamed her face and body, noticing the slight golden tint to her skin with some delight, and then dried her hair, letting it fall in soft waves about her shoulders. She had insisted she wanted to eat with Liliana in the kitchen while Jenny was away and now she slipped on a light linen shift dress without bothering with any make-up or jewellery. No need to dress up, she told herself as she yawned at her reflection in the mirror. She was so tired that she doubted she’d last till pudding anyway.

As she walked downstairs she noticed Liliana exiting the formal dining room, however. ‘Liliana?’ She frowned at the housekeeper. ‘I thought I was eating in the kitchen with you?’

‘My fault, I’m afraid.’ As Blaine appeared in the doorway of the sitting room, a glass of wine in his hand, Maisie felt her heart actually jump. ‘I said we’d all sit in the kitchen but Liliana wouldn’t have it, neither will she join us. Stubborn.’ His eyes left Maisie as he smiled at the little housekeeper, and Maisie used the time to compose herself and catch her breath. By the time she joined him in the hall she hoped the hot flood of colour she knew had stained her cheeks bright red had died down somewhat.

‘I didn’t know you were eating here tonight,’ she managed quite casually as she followed him into the sitting room, accepting the glass of red wine he handed her in the next moment with a nod of thanks.

‘Neither did I.’ He smiled and her heart did that funny little hop thing again. ‘I came by mainly to reassure Liliana that my father is definitely holding his own and she insisted I stay for dinner. I think she feels I don’t cook for myself well enough.’

He came by to reassure Liliana. Maisie took a big sip of wine, hoping it would begin to soothe her frazzled nerve-endings by the time she had to sit facing him over the dining table. The two of them. By themselves. ‘And do you?’ she said as the wine warmed the little cold bit in her stomach his words about Liliana had caused. ‘Cook for yourself, I mean?’

‘Of course; I’m Italian.’ He sat down on one of the sofas, one knee over the other and one arm along the back of the seat as he surveyed her with laughing eyes. ‘We’re all wonderful chefs from birth; didn’t you know?’

She tried to enter into the spirit of the thing but it was hard because he looked so darn fanciable. Now she had acknowledged this strange effect he had on her, it seemed to have multiplied alarmingly and she had goose-pimples on her goose-pimples. ‘Do you even do barbecues?’ she asked, smiling back. And then hoped he didn’t think she was poking fun at poor Roberto.

‘Now and again, but I prefer to think of them as meals eaten alfresco rather than your English version of taking a piece of unprepared meat and cooking it until it resembles coal.’

‘Excuse me!’ She couldn’t work out if he was teasing her or not but she wasn’t going to let him get away with that. ‘I know loads of English people who marinate their meat beforehand and produce wonderful results.’