Slightly to her surprise he moved aside. ‘I can recommend a good place in the next street-’

‘You mean it’s run by a friend of yours who’ll keep an eye on me?’ she said lightly.

‘You’re full of suspicion.’

‘Shouldn’t I be?’

Wryly, he nodded. ‘You’re also a very wise woman.’

‘Wise enough to pick a restaurant for myself. Your choice might have arsenic in the wine.’

‘Only if you have put me in your will.’

The last thing she’d expected from him was a joke, and a choke of laughter burst from her. She controlled it quickly, not wishing to yield a point to him.

Then she turned a corner and stopped in sudden delight at what she saw.

Before her was a huge loggia filled with stalls, selling pictures, ornaments, lace, leather goods, fancy materials. Everywhere was brightly coloured and bustling with life.

Most fascinating of all was a large bronze boar perched on a pedestal which contained a fountain, its tusks gleaming, its mouth open in a grin that mixed ferocity and welcome. Unlike the rest of the body, the nose was gleaming brightly in the late evening sun.

Even as Alex looked, two young women went up to the boar and rubbed its nose.

‘That’s why it shines,’ Rinaldo said. ‘You rub the nose and make a wish that one day you’ll return to Florence.’

Smiling, Alex put out her hand, but withdrew it without touching the bronze animal.

‘I’m not sure what I’ll do,’ she said, as though considering seriously. ‘Wishing to return to Florence would mean that I was leaving, wouldn’t it? And that’s so much what you’re trying to make me do that I think I should do the opposite.’

He eyed her with exasperation. But he did not, as she had been half hoping, show signs of real annoyance.

‘Of course, if I just decide to stay here, I wouldn’t need to return,’ she mused.

‘I suppose this entertains you,’ he growled. ‘To me it’s a waste of time.’

‘I’m sure you’re right. I’ll defer a decision until I’ve worked out what would annoy you the most.’

She began to turn away, but he grasped her upper arm with a hand that could almost encompass it. His grip was light, but she could sense the steel in his fingers, and knew that she had no chance of escape until he released her.

‘And then you’ll annoy me, for fun,’ he said. ‘But beware, signorina, to me this is not fun. My life’s blood is in Belluna. You will remember that, and you will respect it, because if you do not-’ his eyes, fixed on hers, were hard as flint ‘-if you do not-you will wish that you had. I have warned you.’

He removed his hand.

‘Enjoy your meal,’ he said curtly, and vanished into the crowd.

It was over. He was gone. All the things she ought to have said came crowding into her head now that it was too late to say them. All that was left was the imprint of his hand on the bare skin of her arm. He hadn’t held her all that tightly, but she could still feel him.

She turned away from the market and walked on through the streets. She found a restaurant and entered, barely noticing her surroundings.

The food was superb, duck terrine flavoured with black truffle, chick-pea soup with giant prawn tails. She had eaten in the finest restaurants in London and New York, but this was a whole new experience. More art than food.

‘Definitely, I am not going home before I have to,’ she murmured. ‘He can say what he likes.’

CHAPTER THREE

ALEX decided to allow herself the next day for sightseeing. It beat sitting in her room waiting to see what Rinaldo would do next.

But as she descended into the foyer the bulky form of Signor Montelli darkened the door. Alex groaned at the sight of the oily, charmless man whom she remembered from the wake. Reluctantly she sat down with him at a table in the hotel’s coffee shop.

‘I have come to solve your problems,’ he declared loftily.

It was the wrong approach. Alex was immediately antagonised.

‘I’m sure that I have no problems that you could possibly know about,’ she replied coolly.

‘I mean that I’m prepared to pay a high price for your mortgage on the Farnese property. I’m sure we can come to terms.’

‘Perhaps we can, but not just yet. I must give the first chance to the Farnese brothers.’

He shrugged dismissively. ‘They can’t afford it.’

‘How do you know how much it is?’ she asked curiously.

‘Oh-’ he said airily, ‘these things become known. I’m sure you want to turn your inheritance into cash as soon as possible.’

Since this was precisely why she’d come out to Italy it was unreasonable of Alex to take offence, but she found her resistance stiffening. This man was far too sure of himself.

‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss it with you until I’ve discussed it with them,’ she said firmly.

He named a price.

Despite herself Alex was shaken. The money he offered was more than she was owed. The accountant in her spoke, urging her to close the deal now.

But her sense of justice intervened and made her repeat, ‘I must speak to them first.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not a patient man, signorina.’

‘I’ll have to take the risk of losing your offer, won’t I?’ she said lightly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me.’

As she rose Montelli’s hand came out and grasped her wrist.

‘We haven’t finished talking.’

‘Yes, we have,’ she snapped, ‘and if you don’t release me right now I shall slap your face so hard that your ears will be ringing for a week.’

‘Better do as she says,’ Gino advised. ‘Otherwise I’ll get to work on you myself.’

Neither of them had seen him come into the coffee shop. Montelli scowled and withdrew his hand.

‘Shall I thump him for you anyway?’ Gino asked her pleasantly.

‘Don’t you dare!’ she said firmly. ‘If there’s any thumping to be done I want the pleasure of doing it personally.’

Gino grinned. Then, glancing at Montelli, he said curtly, ‘Take yourself off.’

The transformation in him was astonishing. Instead of the smiling boy there was a hard, steely man. Then it was over, and the pleasant young man was there again. But for a moment Alex could see that this was Rinaldo’s brother.

Montelli saw it too, for he scuttled away.

‘My chance to rescue a damsel in distress,’ Gino said, laughing. ‘And you had to spoil it. Couldn’t you have pretended to be just a little bit scared for the sake of my male ego?’

‘Oh, I should think your male ego is in fine healthy shape, without me buttering it up,’ Alex observed, laughing with him.

‘Signorina, you understand me perfectly,’ he said.

He said ‘signorina’ differently to his brother, she thought, softer, almost with a caress, not grim and accusing. A natural flirt. A merry, uncomplicated lad. He would be excellent company.

‘Are you going out?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I thought I’d do some sightseeing. I’ve never been to Florence before.’

‘May I show you around? I’m at your service.’

‘That would be nice. Let’s have a coffee and discuss it.’

They found a small café near the loggia and drank coffee in sight of the bronze boar. Alex waited for him to tell her about the superstition of rubbing the beast’s nose, but he did not.

But of course, she thought, you know all about your brother’s visit to me last night, how we fought, and then came here. He told you everything. This meeting was no accident.

She smiled at Gino over the rim of her coffee cup, while her mind pursued her own thoughts.

He told you to come and find me, to see if charm worked any better than growling. Well, you are delightful, my friend, and I’m happy to spend the day with you. But you don’t fool me for a moment.

‘Did Montelli hurt you, grabbing you like that?’ Gino asked, taking her arm gently and studying it as though looking for bruises.

She barely felt his light touch. Nor could she recall the feel of Montelli’s hand, unpleasant though it had been. The grasp that lingered was Rinaldo’s, from the night before. Strange, she thought, how she could still feel that.

For a moment she saw his face again, intent, deadly, ready to do something desperate at any hint of a threat to what was his.

‘No, Montelli didn’t hurt me,’ she said.

Gino held onto her just a little longer than necessary, before dropping her hand and saying, ‘Let me take you to the Uffizi Gallery first. Here in Florence we have the greatest art in the world.’

Together they went around the vast gallery. Alex tried to look at all the pictures and show a proper appreciation, but it was too much for her. She felt as though great art was pursuing and attacking her.

They had lunch at a little restaurant overlooking the River Arno, with a perfect view of the Ponte Vecchio.

‘I can’t stop looking at the bridge,’ Alex marvelled. ‘All those buildings crowded onto it, making it seem so top-heavy. I keep thinking that it’ll collapse into the water, but it doesn’t. It’s miraculous.’

‘True,’ Gino agreed. ‘But then, all Florence is miraculous. Sixty per cent of the great art in the world is in Italy, and fifty per cent of that is in Florence. Because for the last few centuries-’

Alex hardly heard what he was saying. She was fascinated by him. Where else, she wondered, would a farmer lecture her about art?

But this was Florence, home of the Renaissance, which had produced men who were many sided, with subtle, wide-ranging minds.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said suddenly. ‘Am I becoming a bore?’

‘Not at all. You made me think of Renaissance man. I guess he’s still around all these generations later.’

‘Of course. That is our pride. Not that Rinaldo thinks so. He never raises his head from the land. But I think a man should have the soul of an artist even if he does get his hands dirty.’