“Sì, sì. Ovviamente parlo italiano. Questa è l’Italia, no?” He grinned.
Of course, I speak Italian. This is Italy, no?
My shoulders relaxed, my face betraying my relief.
The man had a rabbit-like face with bright, round, brown eyes. He splashed his way around the horses, stopping in front of us with an outstretched hand. Mud caked his fingers, and his velvet, leather, and silk attire were in a sorry state, streaked with grime. Realizing the state of his hand, he wiped it hastily on his leather trousers before offering it again.
“I’m Count Mathias Montego, and I seem to have gotten myself into quite the predicament.”
I clasped his hand. “Roman Alexander. We saw your carriage stuck and figured you might need help.” I turned toward Tristan. “This is my manservant, Tristan. He doesn’t speak much. He’s a little… simple.”
I hoped Tristan didn’t understand my Italian.
Count Montego nodded sagely. “I have one like that. I sent him off to get help, and he hasn’t returned. No idea where he’s wandered off to.” He propped his hands on his slender hips and surveyed the stranded wagon. “But since you’re here, offering assistance, I gladly accept. And rest assured, I shall repay you in kind.”
He grinned, revealing perfectly white teeth—odd for this century. His salt-and-pepper hair, tousled yet artfully so, framed a well-groomed beard. His indulgent expression suggested he was accustomed to fawning attention and getting his way with people.
Switching to English, I ordered Tristan to find a slender log to wedge beneath the wagon wheel.
“Why should I do that?” he countered, pouting.
“Because you don’t want to be left on the side of the road to fend for yourself,” I said, glowering at him.
“Fine.” With an exaggerated sigh, he flung his hand over his head and stomped off into the trees.
I turned back to the count, slipping into Italian. “He’s new at this job.”
Count Montego chuckled. “I can see that. He seems… spirited.”
“A bit, yes. But I’ll have him heeled soon enough.”
A few moments later, Tristan returned, dragging a sturdy branch behind him. “Will this do?” he asked, still sulking.
“Good enough.” I gave it an approving nod.
Together, we positioned the branch beneath the stuck wheel. I climbed into the driver’s seat and took up the reins.
The horses lifted their heads, sensing the shift, muscles tensing in readiness.
With a sharp whistle and a flick of the reins, they heaved forward. The wheel rolled smoothly up and over the log, and within seconds, the carriage was free, back on solid ground.
“Splendid! You gentlemen are wonderful,” Count Montego exclaimed. “Now, how can I repay you? Where would you like to go? I insist.”
Judging by his fine attire, he could easily afford compensation, but I had never been one to rely on others. I shook my head, holding out my palms. “No need, Count Montego. We were happy to assist a fellow traveler. I’m afraid we can’t accept your help.”
I turned to leave, but Tristan grabbed my arm in a vice grip.
“What are you doing? Of course, we can accept his help. Are you out of your mind?”
I arched a brow. “Oh, you suddenly understand Italian now?” I pried his fingers off me.
“I know enough to catch ‘can’t accept help.’ Don’t be an ass. You don’t even know where we are!” He flung out his arms in an exaggerated gesture. “Look around. There could be nothing for miles, and this man offers assistance!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Count Montego watching us like we were his entertainment for the day.
I exhaled through my nose. “Act like a manservant.”
“Fine. I’ll be your hired help if you agree to take his offer. Or do you want to traipse through the heat all day?”
