Sunlight streamed through the windows at his back and highlighted the elegant slash of her cheekbones, the porcelain smoothness of her complexion.
Attraction and yearning ballooned, swelling his lungs.
The poet in him searched for adjectives he could use to describe her.
Silken, perhaps, for her skin.
Sinuousfor the curve from her bosom to her narrow waist.
Strikingfor the difference between her silvery eyes and olive Mediterranean skin.
Magnificentfor everything else—the fire of her personality, the soft plump of her lips—
He released a slow breath.
“What did our Italian acquaintance—Fabrizio, is it?—want with ye?” he asked, needing to distract his thoughts.
“Back to that are you?”
“Aye. Friends share with friends. It’s my personal motto.”
She lolled her head sideways to look at him, her eyes narrowing. “You just made that up.”
“Anything for a friend,” he replied with a wink.
She smiled . . . reluctant . . . but a smile nonetheless.
Ethan would take it.
And still, she remained silent, gaze looking past him to the window beyond. Again, her sense of loneliness, of isolation, struck him.
He spared a third glance for the door. He really should be on his way . . .
The thought scattered as Lady Allegra fully turned her body to face his on the sofa, bringing them that much closer together.
“You wish to hear of my troubles. Very well.” She spoke with an edge to her tone. As if in challenge. As if she expected him to bolt.
Well, Ethan certainly wasn’t going to leave now. The offer of information had its own gravitational pull.
“Go on, lass.”
Pursing her lips, she said, “When you and I encountered one another in Italy, I was working as an operative forLa Giovine Italia.”
“I’ve heard tell of them. They are a revolutionary group fighting tae unite Italy into a single democratic country, are they not?”
“Yes. Fabrizio claims to be raising money and assisting the organization financially. Hence his presence here.”
“Ah. He wishes ye to contribute tae the cause, willingly or otherwise.”
“You have the right of it.”
Ethan frowned. “Why isn’t Fabrizio blackmailing Kendall? Your brother would be a much more lucrative target.”
“My thoughts precisely,” she snorted. “But apparently Kendall forbade Fabrizio from ever approaching him again. And, of course, Fabrizio fears my brother while simultaneously seeing me as an easy mark.”
“Then Fabrizio is a bigger fool than I had supposed.”
“You say the kindest things,” she said expansively, her lovely eyes blinking in a slow up-down swoop.
