of how the tension that had somehow crept into even

their most mundane conversational exchanges made

her feel on edge — as though somehow she was on a

constant adrenalin surge, her body waiting… For

what? For him to touch her again? Her thoughts were

drifting down dangerous pathways, she warned

herself.

She tried to focus on the square and its famous

sculptures, pausing to check the guidebook she had

bought earlier. While she was living here she could

even try to learn Italian and turn her year of marriage

into a means of adding to her future CV. That would

give her something far better to occupy her thoughts

than these dangerous sensual longings that had begun

to creep up on her so disturbingly. Of course Lorenzo

would be a good lover, she told herself scathingly.

She didn’t need to experience his lovemaking at first

hand to know that!

The city was busy with other tourists, and by the

time she had walked as far as the Uffizi, having decided

to leave exploring the Palazzo Vecchio for another

occasion, she was beginning to feel both tired

and thirsty. There was a cafe.-bar in the square near

to the apartment, she remembered, and it would not

take her long to walk there.

When she got there, the small square was so busy

that at first she thought she wouldn’t be able to get a

table. But finally she found one, and sat down with a

small sigh of relief.

Half an hour later, she was just finishing her second

cup of coffee when a handsome young Italian approached

her table.

"Scusi, signorina," he apologised, giving her a

boldly flattering smile. "May I share your table? Only

the cafe. is full and…"

He was very good-looking, and quite obviously an

expert at recognising solitary female tourists, Jodie

reflected in rueful amusement as she looked back

at him.

From the other side of the square Lorenzo watched

the age-old tableau being played out in front of him.

Young male Florentines traditionally spent the summer

months flirting with gullible female tourists — so

much so, in fact, that it was an accepted rite of passage

that moved from the discreet pick-up, via walks

through the city, to the speedy conclusion of sex in

the tourist"s hotel and another notch in her partner"s

belt. And of course Jodie, with her woman"s body so

eager to make up for her lost teenage years, even if

she was not prepared to acknowledge it, would no

doubt fall into this particular young Florentine"s

hands like a ripe peach.

Lorenzo could already see how openly responsive

she was to her admirer, tilting her head back to look

up at him, no doubt smiling at him… How often had

he seen his mother give that same smile to her lover

when as a young boy she had used him to camouflage

those early meetings. When he had also smiled guilelessly

at the man with whom she’d planned to betray

his father. Well, Jodie was not going to get the opportunity

to follow his mother"s example, no matter

how clinically businesslike their own marriage was to

be. Purposefully he started to make his way toward

the cafe..

"Please do have the table," Jodie told the waiting

young man gently. "I was just about to leave anyway."

"No — why Don’t you stay and allow me to buy you

another cup of coffee?" he suggested, leaning towards

her, his hand reaching to her arm.

Immediately Jodie stood up and stepped back from

him, shaking her head as she refused politely. "No,

thank you." She could see the confusion and disbelief

in his eyes and had to struggle not to laugh. He was

very good-looking, and no doubt used to having his

overtures met with far more acceptances than refusals.

Lorenzo came to an abrupt halt as he saw the way

Jodie got up from the table and then shook her head.

Her body language made her feelings quite plain, and

he could see from the sag of the young man"s shoulders

that he was as aware as Lorenzo that he had been

turned down.

Jodie took her bill to the cash desk and, having paid

it, started to head back towards Lorenzo’s apartment.

Lorenzo turned the small incident over inside his

head, frowning as he did so. He tried to visualise either

his mother or Caterina doing what Jodie had just

done in the same situation, knowing that neither of

them would have walked away as she had. Could

Jodie be different from them? Could she be that rare

woman — at least in his experience — who was not

driven by ego and vanity, who did not need a constant

influx of new and admiring male attention?

As he walked past the cafe. his young fellow citizen

was already eyeing up another tourist, who, to judge

from the way she was smiling back at him, was rather

more appreciative of his endeavours than Jodie had

been.

It had become impossible for her to walk into the

apartment without having to go and stand in front of

Lorenzo’s "children of courage" gallery, Jodie knew,

and each time she did she saw something new in the

artwork that she hadn’t seen before. On a low table

beneath the drawings there was an expensive leather-

bound album in which Lorenzo had placed details of

every child whose work hung in the gallery. She was

studying it when Lorenzo walked in.

"Tired of sightseeing?" he asked her.

"My feet are," Jodie admitted ruefully. "So I

thought I’d come back and do some reading instead.

I bought lots of books about Florence while I was

out. Some of them have descriptions in several different

languages, but I was thinking, while I’m here,

I’d like to try to learn Italian."

"Since we shall be moving between Florence and

the Castillo, it might not be wise for you to enrol in

a formal language school, if that is what you were

thinking. But it would certainly be possible to hire a

private tutor if you wish," Lorenzo offered, adding,

"Have you had lunch yet?"

Jodie shook her head. "No. I stopped for a cup of

coffee at the cafe. in the square." She paused and wrinkled

her nose.

"You didn’t enjoy it?"

"The coffee was fine, but I got hit on by one of

those professional flirty types. I suppose that’s one of

the downsides of being alone."

"Some women enjoy the attention."

Jodie closed the album and stood up. "Well, I didn’t."

Lorenzo could see that she meant what she was

saying.

"Why Don’t I ask Assunta to make us some lunch

and bring it up to the roof garden? You can read your

guidebooks to me if you wish — in Italian."

Jodie was staring at him in astonishment, and

Lorenzo had to admit he was just as startled by his

own suggestion. He had intended to spend the afternoon

working, not playing at being a language tutor.

She really, really did not want to do this, Jodie realised,

hesitating in front of the entrance to the church

where their banns were to be read for the first time

this morning.

As though he sensed her reluctance, Lorenzo

stepped forward and took hold of her arm, so that she

had no option other than to step forward with him.

She had had to guess at what to wear, opting in the

end for a plain black linen skirt and a short-sleeved

chocolate-brown tee-shirt, over which she had draped

one of the beautiful multicoloured silk squares she

had found tucked away with her new clothes as a

small gift from the store, thinking that if necessary

she could adjust the square and cover her head.