time to gaze in awe at her surroundings as they

walked through the city to his bank. She was wearing

some of her new clothes — an outfit she had privately

labelled Roman Holiday, because it comprised a pair

of linen Capri pants in a mixture of creams and tans

that sat low on her hips, teamed with a plain tan top.

Woven wedges with tan ties and a quirky little bag

completed the outfit, to which Jodie had been forced

by the bright morning sunshine to add her own sunglasses.

Although she was too engrossed in her surroundings

to be aware of the admiring male glances she

was collecting, Lorenzo most certainly wasn’t.

Remembered bitterness darkened his eyes. Women

were too vulnerable to the flattery of other men and

their own egos, as he already knew. But it didn’t matter

to him how many other men found Jodie desirable,

did it? He had no feelings for her, and nor was he

going to allow himself to develop any.

"This way."

Lorenzo’s curt instruction reminded Jodie of how

much she disliked and resented his arrogance. She felt

nothing but pity for the poor woman who did eventually

become his "real" wife, she decided.

Nowadays Florence might be famous for its works

of art, but there had been a time when its fame had

rested on the reputation of its bankers — of whom the

Medici family had been members, Jodie remembered

as they stepped into the cool, cathedral-like sombreness

of Lorenzo’s bank.

The formalities appertaining to the opening of a

bank account for her were soon dealt with, allowing

them to be taken down a marble stairway to an impressive

pillared and gilded room patrolled by two

armed guards. They were given a key and escorted to

one of several small private rooms, furnished with a

table and several chairs. Here they had to wait for the

vault manager and one of the armed guards to return

with a locked safety deposit box, which was put on

the desk in front of Lorenzo. He then produced a key

and inserted it into the lock. Only then did the manager

and the guard leave them to lock themselves in

the small room.

Only the hum of the air-conditioning broke the silence

as Lorenzo turned the key. She was, Jodie discovered,

actually holding her breath.

Lorenzo lifted the lid of the box. Quickly Jodie

looked away. She had very mixed feelings about old

and priceless jewellery. For one thing, it always

seemed to possess a dark and tainted history — if not

because of the way it had been mined, then often

because of the acts of cruelty and greed of those people

who had wanted to possess it. No wonder priceless

stones were so often said to be cursed.

Lorenzo looked down into the box. The last time

it had been opened had been following the death of

his mother. He had a savage impulse to slam the lid

shut, to take Jodie by the hand and to go out into the

bright warmth of the sunshine. But he could not do

that. He was a Montesavro, and the head of his family,

and besides, what ghosts — if there were such

things — could possibly lurk here, in this piece of

metal? His fingers closed round the familiar faded

velvet box he remembered from his childhood.

"Here it is," he told Jodie brusquely, closing the

safety deposit box and relocking it before opening the

ring box.

"There is a legend that when the woman who wears

this ring is pure the stone glows with a particular clarity.

My mother always claimed that it was the stone

itself that was clouded," he added cynically, as Jodie

stared in disbelief at the huge rectangular emerald surrounded

by white flashing diamonds.

"I can’t possibly wear that," she protested. "I’d be

terrified of losing it. I wouldn’t feel safe unless I had

an armed guard with me. It must be worth…" She

shook her head, and Lorenzo frowned, recognising

not awed excitement in her voice at the thought of

the ring"s value but instead shocked distaste. A

woman who felt distaste rather than excitement at the

thought of wearing expensive jewellery? Such a

woman was so far removed from his own experience

that he hadn’t imagined one might exist.

"let’s see if it fits before we start arguing about

whether or not you will wear it," he told her coolly.

Jodie could feel her hand starting to shake when

Lorenzo gripped her wrist and then slid the ring down

onto her ring finger. The very weight of it felt uncomfortable.

Jodie frowned, and immediately went to

tug it off.

"No, leave it!"

The peremptory bite of Lorenzo’s voice shocked

her into stillness.

Lorenzo’s frown deepened as he studied the ring,

lifting her hand so that he could inspect it more

closely.

"what’s wrong?" she asked him uncertainly.

"Look into it and tell me what you can see,"

Lorenzo instructed her.

Reluctantly Jodie did so. "I can’t see anything," she

told him, confused.

And neither could he, Lorenzo acknowledged. The

ring was totally free of the vague cloudiness which

he remembered had so dissatisfied his mother. A freak

of chance? A difference in chemical reactions between

one woman"s skin and another"s? There had to

be a logical reason for the clarity of the emerald when

Jodie wore it.

Oblivious to the conflicting emotions Lorenzo was

trying to repress, Jodie tugged off the ring and handed

it back to him.

"I meant what I said. I’m not wearing it," she told

him hardily.

"We shall see. Certainly you will have to wear it

on Sunday, when we attend church for the first reading

of our banns," Lorenzo informed her.

She knew someone who would be envious of her

supposed betrothal ring, Jodie thought half an hour

later, after they had left the bank. And that was

Louise. Jodie could well imagine her reaction were

she to turn up at John’s wedding wearing it!

Automatically, to cheer herself up, she tried to conjure

up some satisfying images of her moment of triumph—

but somehow the sense of elation she wanted

just wasn’t there. But that was the only reason she

was putting herself through this whole palaver, allowing

herself to be bullied and hectored…and made love

to…by Lorenzo. wasn’t it?

THERE could be far, far worse ways in which to spend

the next twelve months than exploring this wonderful

city, Jodie thought happily as she took her reluctant

leave of the Medici Palace and headed for the Piazza

Signoria.

She had the day to herself, Lorenzo having announced

earlier that he had some business to attend

to and would be gone until after lunch. Not that she

minded — not one little bit. It was just the sight of so

many couples strolling hand in hand that was making

her aware of not having his imperious, imposing presence

at her side, and nothing at all personal. How

could it be? She was determined not to let down her

emotional guard with any man ever again, and even

if she hadn’t been she would have to be a complete

fool to fall in love with a man like Lorenzo.

No, it was just the warmth of the summer sun and

the effect of Florence itself on her emotions that was

giving her that inner feeling of sadness. Of course if

Lorenzo had been with her he would have been able

to tell her much more about the city than any guidebook.

But determinedly she reminded herself firmly