Second-Best Wife

by Rebecca Winters

  Luke didn’t appear impressed or convinced.

  “Buona notte, Giovanni.”

  “Buona notte, Gaby.”

  She moved to the curtain, then paused. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Signore Provere.” She fought to keep her voice steady. “Have a nice trip back to Rome. Arriverderla.”

  She hurried out of the cubicle and down the crowded hall to the doors, having no idea if he’d said goodbye or not. But she didn’t dare stay to find out.

  Once she reached the outside, she broke into a run. Thank heaven it was dark and the streets were starting to empty. She didn’t want her glistening cheeks to attract any more attention than necessary.

  All the way back to the pensione she turned over the night’s earthshaking events in her mind. If she knew Giovanni, he’d send a car for her in the morning and follow through on all his good intentions. He’d probably dredge up one of his friends to take her to the ball.

  This time she was one step ahead of him. Of course she wouldn’t leave Urbino without saying goodbye. But she’d do that tomorrow night.

  Tonight she would get all her packing done, then be up at daybreak. If she took the first bus leaving Urbino, she could spend the morning in Assisi and the afternoon in Loretello. By nightfall her bus would bring her back to town in time to check in on Giovanni. It would be hard to say goodbye for the last time. Under the circumstances, she felt it wise to keep her visit short.

  The problem was, there was no way she could stay in Urbino tomorrow knowing that Luke had gone to Rome. She needed to exorcize him from her heart. The best way to do that was to keep busy and fill her mind with new sights and experiences.

  The trip to Belgium through Switzerland and France would help. When she got back to Las Vegas, she’d take a quarter off of school and ask Wayne if she could come and work for him on the ranch. No more Italian for her. She’d fulfilled her promise to her great-grandmother. That part of her education was finished.

  When Gaby finally got back to the pensione, she met Celeste in the hall on the way to her room.

  “Eh, Gaby. How is your friend?”

  “He’s going to be all right.”

  “Grace a Dieu.” She cocked her brunette head. “And the other one who is so magnifique?”

  “He leaves for Rome in the morning.”

  Her brows frowned dramatically. “So you won’t see him again?”

  “No.”

  “Quelle catastrophe!”

  “It doesn’t matter, Celeste. I’ll be leaving for home on Sunday.”

  “Do you want to come with us tomorrow? I don’t know what we’re planning, but we will amuse ourselves, n’est-ce pas?”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the invitation, but I’m going to go away for the day.”

  “Pourquoi? The fair is still on! Where will you go?”

  “I—I’m not sure yet,” Gaby prevaricated. Celeste was a nice girl, but if Giovanni had a car sent for Gaby from the palace and the driver discovered she wasn’t at the pensione, he’d inquire as to her whereabouts. The always helpful Celeste would be the first person to give information. Tomorrow was one time when Gaby didn’t want to be found.

  “Good night. Thanks for caring.”

  “Bien sur. We are friends, non? I must find out where you live before you leave. My parents are planning a trip to Los Angeles, Disneyland, next year. You are close, oui?”

  “Kind of.” Gaby smiled sadly. “I’ll be back tomorrow night. We’ll exchange addresses then.”

  “Tres bien. Bonne nuit, chérie.”

  The Medieval town of Assisi rested on an Umbrian hilltop shrouded in early morning mist. Gaby’s first view of the ancient citadel was so lovely, so Italian, it made her want to cry all over again.

  She’d shed many tears on the two-hour drive from Urbino. With every zigzagging kilometer, the rolling landscape of green hills and valleys thrilled her heart. Each knoll revealed oak and poplar-lined river banks, walled towns, lush orchards. No matter where she looked she saw well-ordered farms, crenelated castles, chains of undulating pastoral countryside dotted with vineyards.

  Until she’d met Luke, Gaby couldn’t understand how her great-grandmother had left the charm and color of a region so exquisite it looked like a Renaissance painting come to life, for the love of a man.

  To Gaby it was frightening to realize that such a powerful love could sweep you away so that nothing else mattered but to be with that one human being who colored your world for all time.

  Luke had colored hers. She’d never be the same again and wondered if he thought of her at all. Last night there’d been certain charged moments when she’d felt a chemistry so strong, she’d grown, sick with excitement. If he’d felt it, too, then how did he deal with his forbidden thoughts? How did he put them away? She’d like to know his secret.

  By now he was back in Rome, swallowed up in a life she couldn’t comprehend.

  “Signorina?”

  Startled, Gaby glanced at the driver. He was signaling that she should get off. Their bus had entered the parking lot below the town.

  Embarrassed to have delayed him, she hurried down the aisle and stepped to the ground, congratulating herself on getting away from Urbino before anyone had seen her to ask questions she had no desire to answer.

  A local hotel several blocks’ distance from the pensione catered to tourists and started serving breakfast at six. Gaby had walked there and sipped cappuccino while she waited for the bus which had taken her to a town further south. From there she’d caught another bus for Assisi.

  Other tourists had the same idea. The parking lot had started to fill with the kind of tour buses she’d be taking to Belgium. This was her last day in Italy. Though her emotions were in chaos and her pain almost unendurable, she would give herself the gift of this day.

  Inhaling the soft air sweetened by the fragrance from surrounding fruit farms, she set off to visit the holy abode of the legendary St. Francis of Assisi.

  On the way up the many steps, she moved past groups of nuns and priests who’d come on pilgrimage to the sacred shrine. She tried to imagine Luke among them and couldn’t, probably because she was in denial over his life’s work.

  Angry with herself for continuing to dwell on him, she went first to the dark, claustrophobic area under the church where St. Francis was purported . to be buried. Then she ascended to the basilica to view the priceless frescoes.

  Gregorian chant filled the nave. In the past, she enjoyed hearing priests sing their ancient music. But today the haunting sounds drove her from the church.

  The mist had started to burn off, revealing a blue sky. Hoping it was a good omen, Gaby pushed forward, exploring the mazelike town with its cobblestoned pathways and hidden churches tucked away in mellowed-orange walls.

  A ten minute walk from the main piazza, she came across many separate flights of stairs which she ascended. At the top, she spied the watch towers of a castle in the distance and was drawn to it.

  Eventually she reached her destination and paid the fee to enter the Rocca Maggiore. Free to wander around the outer bailey, she tried to imagine herself as a knight.

  Unfortunately the only picture that came to mind was a vision of Luke, his dark head thrown back, his black eyes flashing as his man-at-arms helped to dress his incredible male body in battle armor.

  Praying to rid his image from her heart, she moved through a dark corridor punctuated every so often by arrow slits. The staircase at the other end was pitch black. She’d have to feel her way if she wanted to go any further.

  Determined to make it all the way, she started the climb. Round and round she went, half fearing she might bump into someone coming down. But she couldn’t hear any sounds except her own footsteps. Finally she gained the top.

  What she saw when she walked to the edge of the tower defied description. Ripple after ripple of meadow and farm delineated by hedges and tree rows stretched to the horizon. Every direction delighted the eye. She stood there for ages. This was a degre
e of beauty unmatched anywhere in the world.

  “An anonymous poet once wrote that this region of Italy is the view from God’s window. The soul of anyone trespassing here will go away enlarged.”

  Gaby had been standing with her hands on the ledge, her face raised to the sun. She’d been enjoying the slight breeze which wafted through her waist-long hair, lifting it from the sides of her damp neck. At the sound of the distinctive male voice coming from behind, she let out a small cry and her fingers dug into the stone parapet till one of them drew blood.

  She had to be hallucinating and was afraid to turn around. Wanting Luke had become an obsession. Now her mind had conjured him up!

  Knowing he was in Rome, Gaby worried that she might be on the brink of a nervous breakdown. In an effort to get control of herself, she remained in place, not trusting her senses.

  “Giovanni told me you were a little frightened of me. I didn’t take him seriously, but now I’m beginning to wonder.” His wry tone caught her off guard.

  Dear God. It was Luke. Shock made her breath come in pants. “W-what are you d-doing here?”

  “You may well ask,” he murmured cryptically. “You’re as unpredictable as you are impulsive.”

  She whirled around. While her eyes were adjusting to the shaded area where he stood tall and dark in a charcoal shirt and trousers, she could feel his intent gaze roving over her face and body. She sensed he was making comparisons between her attire of last night and today.

  In keeping with the hot summer weather, she’d worn a sensible pale blue cotton wraparound skirt and a white, short-sleeved top. Her Italian leather sandals had been everywhere and looked good with anything she wore. But when Luke looked at her, she felt exposed and warm, as if he had the ability to see what lay beneath the surface and ferret her womanly secrets.

  Her breathing grew shallow. “W-why aren’t you in Rome?”

  “Giovanni had a bad night.”

  “How bad?” she asked in a tremulous voice.

  “He’s suffering dizziness, which in turn has upset his stomach. The doctor says this is to be expected with a head injury. It will pass. But our mother is taking it rather badly.”

  “I don’t blame her. Dear Giovanni.”

  “Under the circumstances, I couldn’t leave. Particularly not when Giovanni made me promise to call at the pensione and drive you to the palace to get your hair done for the ball.”

  She knew it. She just hadn’t realized that it would be Luke who was the driver. Her body quivered. “That’s very sweet of him, but I’m the last person he should be worrying about. I’m sorry you’ve been put to so much trouble to track me down.”

  His lips twitched. “It was no trouble. All I had to do was make a few phone calls in the right places and I knew exactly where to find the woman my informants refer to as the squisita testarossa from America.”

  Gaby blushed to the roots of her hair to hear herself described that way. What a fool she’d been to think she could elude the long reach of the Provere influence. Luke commanded the instant respect and cooperation of everyone in the Marches.

  She cleared her throat. “Last night you heard me tell Giovanni that I had no intention of going out tonight. He carries his sense of duty way too far,” she grumbled.

  “That’s his nature,” he said in thick tones. “I’m afraid in this case, however, you don’t have a choice. I made a promise to be your escort.”

  “No!” Her fearful cry rang in the air and she staggered back until she felt the rough ledge through the thin material of her blouse.

  She couldn’t possibly dance with him. To know his touch one more time, to feel his hands on her body when she knew he was a priest, was asking too much. It would be disastrous. It would be wrong.

  His brows drew together in a forbidding black line. “After rejecting his love, do you care so little about him that you would deny him this last request before you leave the country? I wouldn’t have thought you of all people would purposely hinder his recovery.”

  Luke’s hands had gone to his hips, forcing her to be even more aware of his devastating masculine appeal. Angry because of her futile attraction to him—stung by his cruel insinuations—she cried, “How can you say that to me? I’d do anything to help him get better. But to go to—”

  “Bene.” He prevented her from further remonstration. “Luciana will have an afternoon’s work ahead of her confining all that hair in time for you to dress.”

  “No!” she cried again out of a sense of self-preservation.

  He thrust her a long, unreadable glance.

  She fiddled with the tie of her skirt nervously, unwittingly drawing his interest when she hadn’t meant to. “I know what you promised Giovanni, a-and I certainly don’t want to make his condition worse. But—” She paused to swallow. “I have no desire to attend a ball. That was always your brother’s idea.” -

  “He thought it would please you,” came the wooden retort.

  Guilt assailed her. “That’s the problem. He tries too hard.” Her voice quivered.

  She felt his body tauten and knew she’d said the wrong thing, but now that she’d started this, she had to go on.

  “T-there’s something else I’d planned to do with my last few hours in Italy.”

  His sharp intake of breath warned her to tread carefully. “What would that be?”

  “It’s not your concern,” she assured him in a meek tone, growing more uneasy by the minute. “The point is, he would never have to know about it. Not if we lied to him,” she said in a small voice. “Just a little lie that would make us all happy.”

  “You’re forgetting Luciana who will run to Giovanni if you don’t show up. She adores him.”

  Gaby lifted pleading eyes to him. “You could explain to her that one of my friends at the pensione has insisted on helping me instead.”

  “He’ll expect a full report after the ball.”

  “I realize that. Naturally I intended to say goodbye to him one last time. But you could put off your visit until tomorrow morning, couldn’t you?”

  “Our stories may not match,” he persisted with maddening logic.

  “Please—” she begged him.

  The desperation in her voice must have reached him. He folded his arms, his eyes holding a strange glitter. “I might be willing to cooperate, provided you tell me what it is that’s so important.”

  “After leaving here, I’d planned to go to Loretello one last time to see if I could find the farm that once belonged to my Trussardi relatives. I’ve had to budget my money, so I’ve only been out there once. But I never did find out any information. I speak a little Italian now, and hoped to talk to one of the old residents to see if they might remember something.”

  He ran a ringless hand through his black hair, signifying any number of emotions. “Why didn’t you let Giovanni take you? He could have translated and been of enormous help.”

  She moistened her lips. “Because until last evening, I thought he was a poor, struggling student who didn’t have enough money to buy me a gelato, let alone his own bus ticket,” she added quietly when she saw the shadow that darkened Luke’s face. “H-he was very resourceful and always found ways for us to enjoy ourselves without spending any lira at all.”

  “Per Dio!”

  She winced from his anger. “I knew that if I told him about my frustration in not finding any information, he’d ask for time off from his work at the castle. That would mean he wouldn’t earn as much take-home pay. Because he never talked about his family, I assumed they had few resources and that he was helping them out. Under the circumstances, I didn’t want to place an unnecessary burden on him.”

  Luke’s smothered epithet left her trembling. “I had no idea my brother could be this devious. He owes you an apology. So does my mother for treating you so abominably at dinner.”

  “No. It’s not important.” She shook her head, overwhelmed to elicit this kind of response from Luke. “We both know Giovanni meant no harm.”<
br />
  “Do we?” he asked in a voice she didn’t recognize. “I’m afraid my feelings aren’t that generous.”

  A troubling silence heightened her anxiety. “Don’t be upset with your brother,” she appealed to him. “He worships you. I honestly believe he’d throw himself off one of the palace towers if you suggested it. You know what a great tease Giovanni is. His pretense with me was nothing more than that. As you said yesterday, he has no guile.’

  “I was wrong,” Luke muttered with chilling ferocity. She hated being the cause of a rift between them and started to tell him so, but his next words stopped her.

  “We’ll drive to Loretello. By nightfall we ought to have located your relative’s property. Come. I know a shortcut to the car.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  DAZED by the knowledge that Luke hadn’t gone to Rome, that instead, he had followed her to Assisi, Gaby couldn’t think clearly. Too late, she remembered about the bus.

  “Shouldn’t I let the driver know I’m not riding with him?”

  She turned her head in the direction of the parking area, inadvertently brushing the side of Luke’s face and neck with the ends of her hair. Embarrassed because it hindered his vision, she pulled the strands away as fast as she could.

  “I already took care of it,” came the husky rejoinder. As the Maserati began eating the kilometers, she noted that his hands gripped the wheel tighter. Already there was tension in the car and they hadn’t been in it five minutes.

  Because of Giovanni, Luke’s life had been thrown off balance and he had every right to be upset. But then, so had she.

  This morning when she left Urbino, who would have dreamed that by lunchtime she’d be ensconced in a fabulous Italian-made car, whizzing through adorable towns in the Italian countryside with Luca Provere?