“Good boy!” Jack said after his horse jumped a high fence, a shortcut to get to town via a farmer’s field. He patted the animal’s neck as he slowed their pace. “You’ll get two apples for that.”
Xanthus neighed in response and shook his head from side to side.
“Okay, three apples,” Jack said with a chuckle.
Named after Achilles’s immortal talking horse, Xanthus had been a gift from Jack’s father, given in better days and happier times. His father was gone, but not so the magnificent beast. The pain of losing his father, of not having the chance to say goodbye, was a regret that would haunt Jack for the rest of his life. But his grief had been muddied by anger and shock at what his father had done. The finality of his father’s last act of disinheritance had hardened Jack and made him suspicious of everyone’s intentions.
Most days, he was able to push his anger away so that he could focus on regaining his inheritance. A wave of guilt washed over him as he thought about Cynthia Maxwell. Marrying the heiress meant gaining the funds he would need to challenge his cousin in a court of law. But he didn’t like the thought of using a woman’s wealth to do it. What choice did he have? His birthright had been stolen from him. Aunt Kitty had offered to mortgage her home so he wouldn’t have to marry for money, but he couldn’t do that to her. Her estate was more than a home. It was her life.
Ironically, Jack had never been one to think about money, nor had he ever been inclined to avariciousness. The possible discovery of treasure on an archeological dig had always fascinated him. But not for the money. It was more about a need to uncover the past and share it with the world. To gain a deeper understanding of civilization and humanity.
Now, he had no choice but to give up his work and try to make the best of the tattered remnants of his life.
His ability to trust had been sorely damaged, and it was no wonder his imagination wreaked havoc on his emotions. He realized that was likely why he suspected Gabriella of ulterior motives. Until he discovered who she truly was, he would treat Signorina D’Angelo with the meticulous attention he used when investigating the origins of an artifact or approaching an archeological dig. Though his body had other ideas he must resist, he would need to control himself and keep his distance from her.
At least, that was what he’d intended, but the morning’s events had only enhanced his growing fascination with her. Her offer to step in and help Aunt Kitty after the cook’s drunken tantrum was as kind as it was surprising. He recalled their shared laughter at Aunt Kitty’s banal comment about breakfast being late. The way Gabriella’s face glowed with humor made her even more beautiful. He’d never seen a woman laugh like that so naturally and without artifice.She’s no tittering miss, that’s for sure.
Nor could he help but notice Gabriella’s reaction to Aunt Kitty’s announcement of his possible engagement to Cynthia. The flash of dismay that flickered in her eyes before she hastily looked away had more than intrigued him, and it made his heart skip a beat.
He had had his share of paramours over the years, usually widows still young enough and eager for bed sport, but sometimes married women bored with their lives and in search of a bit of sensual diversion. He didn’t give a thought to his actions other than taking his enjoyment wherever he found it. But sensing Gabriella’s passionate nature had sparked something in him. Something he’d never felt before.
The thought of making love to the voluptuous beauty made him rock hard. Not a comfortable feeling while sitting astride a horse along bumpy terrain. Jack shifted in his saddle to ease his discomfort.
He feared he would want more of her. What if he fell under her spell and a few romps beneath the sheets weren’t enough? What if he wanted all of her every day for the rest of their lives?
Damn! What if I’m falling in love? A ridiculous notion.
That would have disastrous consequences. There was no room in his life for love, and certainly not with a mysterious woman who had just dropped into his life yesterday.
But he couldn’t forget each time he’d held her in his arms, how perfect she felt, and the thundering of his heart when he touched her. The look on her face in the music room had turned his world upside down. Every cell in his body had longed for her at that moment. And he didn’t give a rat’s arse that she wasn’t wealthy or from an aristocratic family. Besides, the world was changing, and even members of the English aristocracy needed to acknowledge that.
Double damn!He needed to tread carefully, to think very hard about this. He couldn’t afford to be distracted from his mission of regaining his inheritance.
Don’t be a fool, Jack. Think with your head and not your cock.He was confusing sexual attraction with love. Yes, that was it. It had to be. He would find out who Gabriella was and satisfy his curiosity, and perhaps his smoldering need for her, and be done with it.
*
Gaby tied theapron around her waist. She’d lined up everyone who worked in the kitchen. There would be no second-guessing or questioning of her authority. In the kitchen, there could be only one leader.
She was relieved to learn Angelina, the older girl, was adept at baking, and her cousin, Maria, usually made the desserts. That took a huge burden off Gaby’s shoulders. She could focus on the main meals and oversee the rest with the help of the two girls, who seemed eager to please. They reminded Gaby of herself at that age, how she loved hanging out in the kitchen with her grandmother and mom, absorbing their wisdom like a sponge. Her nonna had instilled in her the importance of respecting every aspect of managing a kitchen. No job was menial, from making sure that plates, glasses, and cutlery were spotless to properly dicing an onion to creating a light and delectable mousse. Everyone in the kitchen did their part to ensure a meal’s success.
“I realize I’m a stranger to you, and you are probably still in shock from the cook’s inexcusable behavior,” Gabriella said in Italian. She thanked her lucky stars that her family had taught her the language from infancy. And her one-year apprenticeship in Florence also refined her fluency. “My name is Gabriella D’Angelo, and I am a professional chef. I do not want to hear gossip about Signora Fratelli. I hope she finds peace in her life, and I wish her well. Nor do I want to know how she managed this kitchen. I have my own way of doing things and what I expect from you. We shall respect each other and work hard together, and we will create unforgettable meals that will bring praise and pleasure. We will all thrive if we work as a team without putting on airs, and your positions will be secure.”
Gaby laid out the notes she’d made after they’d finished cleaning up the kitchen. “I’ve reviewed the menu for tonight’s dinner and the dinner party for this weekend and have made some adjustments. I will need your help as I familiarize myself with the sources and the availability of ingredients.”
“What do you mean by sources, signorina?” asked Luigi, the boy who managed the livestock and tended the garden.
“I mean things we do not grow or raise here on the property. Surely, things like saffron, fish, and shellfish are bought from vendors in the village or private individuals.” It was going to take an adjustment for Gaby, and she had no idea how things were procured in this isolated area, nor the ways of turn-of-the-century Italy. Thank goodness she’d taken a few classes in food history, and her grandmother had told her stories of how they did things by hand “back in the day.”
“Si, si,” Angelina said, beaming at her. “On Fridays, there is an open farmers’ market in Piombino, and Cook would most times provide a list of what was needed for the week.”
“I see. Then I take it everything has been ordered for Saturday night.”
“Si, signorina. What hasn’t been delivered should arrive today and tomorrow.”
“Then we will use what is provided.” Gaby smiled at the three teenagers. “In the future, I would like to go to the market myself, and you can all take turns accompanying me. It will give us a chance to get to know each other. There’s a great deal to learn from attending a market, and it’s never without excitement.”
Angelina, Maria, and Luigi looked at each other as though they’d stepped into another universe. Gaby swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked back sudden tears. She’d been lucky enough to have been taught by patient and gifted women, and she believed that joy in the kitchen brought joy to life. How she missed her family. Would she ever see them again? She had no idea. But for now, she had to make the best of things and carry on until she could figure out what Allegretto wanted her to do.
