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‘I’m glad you like it,’ Lucy said inadequately, noting the shimmer of tears in Anna’s eyes.
‘I love it. And now a toast to my Antonio.’ She raised her glass.
Lucy lifted hers to her mouth but only wet her lips. The little cake she had eaten had been sickly sweet, and what she could really do with was a cup of tea and something else to eat.
She looked at Lorenzo. He had drained his glass and was looking at his mother with such care and tenderness in his eyes it made her ache. He had never looked at her like that, and never would. She tore her gaze away and replaced her glass on the table, shifting restlessly in her chair.
‘Champagne not to your taste, Lucy?’ Lorenzo queried politely.
She glanced back at him. He was frowning at her—no tenderness in his eyes now, just black ice. She realised if she didn’t get out of there soon she was going to scream—definitely not on Lorenzo’s list of acceptable behaviour during the visit.
She was sitting there minus her briefs, needing to go to the bathroom, with a nice woman almost in tears and a man who hated her.
‘Yes, it is fine,’ she said, her green eyes filling with mockery. ‘But if you will both excuse me?’ She stood up. ‘I have been travelling since eight this morning, and I would like to go and freshen up, please.’
‘Of course, my dear. Where are my manners? I was so overcome … ‘
‘Hush, Mother.’ Lorenzo rose to his feet. ‘I’ll show Lucy to her room.’ And, slipping an arm around her waist, he led her to the door. His mother smiled on benignly.
As soon as they were in the hall Lucy shrugged out of his hold. ‘No audience now,’ she sniped.
Lorenzo raised an eyebrow and said, ‘Follow me.’
She did—up the elegant staircase to where Lorenzo turned right around the galleried landing to the front of the house, then along a corridor. He opened the second door on the left.
‘My mother has the master suite next door, so you will be perfectly safe.’
Safe from what or who? Lucy wondered, and followed Lorenzo into the room. She gasped. The décor was all ivory and gold—the bed covered in the finest ivory satin and lace. Next to the fireplace was a chaise-longue, and a beautiful occasional table inlaid with hand-painted roses and humming birds. The whole effect was very feminine.
‘The bathroom and dressing room are through there.’ Lorenzo indicated a door at the opposite end. ‘I believe the maid has unpacked your clothes. If there is anything else you need you have only to ring.’
She actually felt like wringing his neck. He was standing there so cool, so remote, when only hours ago he’d been ripping off her briefs. No—best not to go there.
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