hidden from her view.
“Yes, of course. All has been prepared per your instructions, Mr. Black.” This time the man spoke in accented English, casting a glance at Jenna.
“Thank you, Ernesto.”
“Hello,” Jenna said, holding out her hand.
“Hello, Signorina…?”
“Please, call me Jenna.”
“Oh, no!” Ernesto shook his head. “I mustn’t.”
“Signorina Carver,” Farrell offered, already halfway up a set of elaborately carved, granite stairs.
“Signorina Carver!” Ernesto said, clearly relieved. “Welcome to Tuscany.”
Jenna smiled. “Thank you.”
“Per favore.” Ernesto gestured to the stairs, and Jenna trailed behind Farrell and Lily.
They reached the second floor landing and continued down a long, tiled hall, sconces casting a soft glow from the walls on either side. When they came to the end of it, they turned left and continued through a series of turns that emptied them out into yet another one. She was becoming disoriented when Farrell finally stopped at one of the doors. He bent to open it, still carrying Lily in his arms.
Jenna stepped behind him into a large bedroom. A giant iron bed sat against one wall, a marble lamp with a pink shade casting soft light across yellow walls that might have stood there for a hundred years. A shelf was loaded with books, and Jenna caught the titles of several of Lily’s favorites. There was Miss Spider and Don’t let the Pigeon Drive the Bus and Harold and the Purple Crayon — all there, kept company by an array of dolls on the next shelf and a table stacked with crayons, colored pencils, sketch pads, and coloring paper. Sheer curtains blew softly back from open doors. Beyond them, Jenna could just make out the carved granite railing of a balcony.
Her heart hurt as she thought of Farrell, alone in the big house, making sure everything was just right for his daughter. How long had it taken him to put it together? How long had he been planning a home for them here?
He set Lily gently on the bed and tucked her feet into a layer of blankets.
“Should I leave on the light?” he asked, turning toward Jenna.
Farrell Black didn’t show weakness. Ever. But she saw it in his face now — love and vulnerability, the need to do the right thing by their daughter even if it meant admitting he didn’t know what that was. She swallowed against the lump in her throat.
“I think so,” she said. “Just in case she wakes up.”
Farrell nodded, then tenderly kissed Lily’s forehead. He stood, meeting Jenna’s gaze, and she had to force herself to breathe, to avoid drowning in the eyes that always seemed to see her too clearly. That always seemed to see too much.
She’d done everything possible to put distance between them. Had moved across the sea. Had avoided him for five years. Had summoned the strength to leave him again after the shootout in Cornwall. Had somehow managed not to go to him in London when doing so would have been so easy.
Too easy.
But here they were, together again, the rest of the world light years away.
Like it was destined.
“I should shut these,” she said, turning to the open doors.
“It’s not necessary,” he said behind her. “The grounds are crawling with guards.”
She turned to him in surprise. “I didn’t see anyone.”
“That's the idea.” He crossed the room, stopped in front of her, close enough that she could reach out and touch the hard plane of his chest, that she could be in his arms if she took one step forward. “I’ve spent the last three months reviewing the security protocols for every one of my properties. What happened in Cornwall will never happen again. You’re safe here.”
She wanted to be reassured by his words, wanted to tell him that she wasn’t scared. It would have been a lie. Farrell could fortify his estates with more weapons than the British navy, but he would always have enemies.
She nodded, knowing how much it meant to him to believe she felt safe. “Where should I
“Yes, of course. All has been prepared per your instructions, Mr. Black.” This time the man spoke in accented English, casting a glance at Jenna.
“Thank you, Ernesto.”
“Hello,” Jenna said, holding out her hand.
“Hello, Signorina…?”
“Please, call me Jenna.”
“Oh, no!” Ernesto shook his head. “I mustn’t.”
“Signorina Carver,” Farrell offered, already halfway up a set of elaborately carved, granite stairs.
“Signorina Carver!” Ernesto said, clearly relieved. “Welcome to Tuscany.”
Jenna smiled. “Thank you.”
“Per favore.” Ernesto gestured to the stairs, and Jenna trailed behind Farrell and Lily.
They reached the second floor landing and continued down a long, tiled hall, sconces casting a soft glow from the walls on either side. When they came to the end of it, they turned left and continued through a series of turns that emptied them out into yet another one. She was becoming disoriented when Farrell finally stopped at one of the doors. He bent to open it, still carrying Lily in his arms.
Jenna stepped behind him into a large bedroom. A giant iron bed sat against one wall, a marble lamp with a pink shade casting soft light across yellow walls that might have stood there for a hundred years. A shelf was loaded with books, and Jenna caught the titles of several of Lily’s favorites. There was Miss Spider and Don’t let the Pigeon Drive the Bus and Harold and the Purple Crayon — all there, kept company by an array of dolls on the next shelf and a table stacked with crayons, colored pencils, sketch pads, and coloring paper. Sheer curtains blew softly back from open doors. Beyond them, Jenna could just make out the carved granite railing of a balcony.
Her heart hurt as she thought of Farrell, alone in the big house, making sure everything was just right for his daughter. How long had it taken him to put it together? How long had he been planning a home for them here?
He set Lily gently on the bed and tucked her feet into a layer of blankets.
“Should I leave on the light?” he asked, turning toward Jenna.
Farrell Black didn’t show weakness. Ever. But she saw it in his face now — love and vulnerability, the need to do the right thing by their daughter even if it meant admitting he didn’t know what that was. She swallowed against the lump in her throat.
“I think so,” she said. “Just in case she wakes up.”
Farrell nodded, then tenderly kissed Lily’s forehead. He stood, meeting Jenna’s gaze, and she had to force herself to breathe, to avoid drowning in the eyes that always seemed to see her too clearly. That always seemed to see too much.
She’d done everything possible to put distance between them. Had moved across the sea. Had avoided him for five years. Had summoned the strength to leave him again after the shootout in Cornwall. Had somehow managed not to go to him in London when doing so would have been so easy.
Too easy.
But here they were, together again, the rest of the world light years away.
Like it was destined.
“I should shut these,” she said, turning to the open doors.
“It’s not necessary,” he said behind her. “The grounds are crawling with guards.”
She turned to him in surprise. “I didn’t see anyone.”
“That's the idea.” He crossed the room, stopped in front of her, close enough that she could reach out and touch the hard plane of his chest, that she could be in his arms if she took one step forward. “I’ve spent the last three months reviewing the security protocols for every one of my properties. What happened in Cornwall will never happen again. You’re safe here.”
She wanted to be reassured by his words, wanted to tell him that she wasn’t scared. It would have been a lie. Farrell could fortify his estates with more weapons than the British navy, but he would always have enemies.
She nodded, knowing how much it meant to him to believe she felt safe. “Where should I
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