Our eyes locked in silent war. I knew this was one of those times that we would have to agree to disagree.
I rested my palm against his face. “That was kind, what you did for Romeo. He’s been miserable.”
“Me too,” he said. “Without you. These last four days have been hell.”
I agreed. We sat there for a few minutes, letting peace come in silence. Once the sun had shrunk to nothing but a pinhole and darkness crept over the land, Brando swooped me up.
“Where are we going?” I asked, bobbing in his arms.
“To one of the smaller villas. The sisters thought we would want privacy.”
“Nice of them,” I murmured.
He grinned. “Getting sick of making cannoli?”
“Please. Don’t even mention the word.”
“It’s only been four days.”
“And I reek.”
“You do,” he agreed. “You’re going to have to tell me at some point why you’re dressed this way.”
“One of the sister’s granddaughters thought the three of us were better suited for business purposes. She wants to get posters made from us in traditional Sicilian clothing. Chiara had to pose with ricotta. Rosaria with pecorino.”
“You?”
“Cannoli.”
“Figures.” He stopped and looked down at me. “This granddaughter didn’t have the pictures made yet, did she?”
I shook my head. “No. She took them today. Why?”
“She can’t use them. People are looking for you.”
“I hadnoidea.”
He gave me a look that conveyed his thoughts—I was being flippant. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” he said. “It makes sense now why Serafina told us when we got here that she wanted the dresses back. I wasn’t sure what she meant.”
“My clothes are at the main villa.”
“She was bringing them to one of these stone villas.” He stopped when we were in front of a row of five cottages, attempting to find the one Serafina had assigned to us. “That one.” He chucked his chin toward it. Its slight shape was outlined by the horizon, the mountains in the distance towering over the roof’s slanted frame. “She said the flower pot has acornicellopainted on it.”
“That’d be the one then.”
I held on tighter as he rooted through his back pocket for the skeleton key. The door was wooden and wide. Once the key slid into place and the lock clicked, he opened the door to a darkened interior that smelled vacant. One iron-framed bed, a fireplace, a kitchenette, a small round table, and a bathroom. A sole kerosene lamp sat on the table, giving off minimal light. It was perfect.
“This reminds me of the house on Snow, when we first found it.”
“It does,” I said, smiling at him. The thought of our house on Snow made me feel warm and cold all at once and I shivered. I yearned to go home with Brando, back to Natchitoches, to sleep in our bed in our room and cook in our kitchen that overlooked a spectacular rose garden. “But our place is bigger.”
He stopped and kissed me. And I forgot about the house. His mouth was soft and sensuous, and he tasted like sweet cream. I couldn’t believe my clothes were still on when he broke the connection.
“This new style has some potential,” he said, his head moving further down, his mouth skimming the top of my breasts. “You can pretend you’re a lost peasant girl looking for directions. It’ll be like something out of one of your romance books.”
“NoInglese,” I said, batting my lashes at him.
He laughed, his warm breath fanning over my skin. I tilted my head back, giving him easier access. A slight movement caught my attention. Before I had the chance to warn him, Theresa jumped out of the shadows.
