An Innocent Abroad: A Jazz Age Romance by Romy Sommer Page A

jetty that jutted out from an even
simpler stone boat house. Though it was not a large boat, it gleamed in the
sunlight, painted and polished as no ordinary fishing boat ever was.
    At
the sound of a whistle, she turned her head, as Stefano emerged from the path
behind the boat house, from the direction of the villa. Her stomach fluttered
at sight of him, no longer from nerves, but from joy.
    “ Buon
giorno , Isabella.”
    This
wasn’t the sophisticated Conte di Cilento. This was the Stefano she knew, warm,
smiling. His eyes flared as he took in the loose hair and the sheer dress. She
tore her gaze away from his, letting her eyes slide down the length of him
instead.
    He
wore fawn-coloured trousers, and a plain cotton shirt, open at the neck to
reveal the tanned skin at his throat, golden against the whiteness of the
shirt.
    “Shall
we go?” he asked.
    “Where
are we going?”
    “Capri.”
    He
took her hand and led her along the jetty, then helped her up onto the deck of
his boat. She glanced around. “Are you able to sail this by yourself?” Oh please
let there not be a sailing crew.
    He
smiled, his cheek dimpling. “It’s a motor boat as well as a sail boat. We will
be all alone.” He led her into the glassed-in cockpit in the centre of the deck
and beneath it, reached down a steep ladder, was a tiny cabin.
    As
Stefano did a quick inspection of the boat, she climbed down into the cabin to
stow away her purse and sketch pad. The room was tiny, with a kitchen top on
one side, a bunk on the other.
    Back
on deck, she stood in the prow as he cast off. The motor engaged, sending a
vibration up through the soles of her feet. Though the engine was contained in
a powerhouse at the aft of the boat, the roar blotted out the sound of the
birds, the children on the beach, even the crash of the waves. She turned her
face to the sea, loving the cool spray against her skin as the boat sliced
through the deepening water. She lifted the hair off her neck, allowing the
cool air across her skin.
    Then
she turned to look at him, standing firm at the helm, his feet planted apart
against the sway of the boat as it moved over the growing swell. His smile
reeled her in, as helpless as any fish on a lure. The wind whipped across her
face as she made her way towards him, until she ducked into the shelter of the
cockpit and the safety of his arms.
    “Would
you like to steer?” he asked, his voice silken against her ear. He guided her
hands to the wheel and when he let go she felt the power gathered beneath her
hands. She laughed at the thrill of it.
    Then
his arm snaked around her, holding her steady, pulling her back against him. Her
nerves tingled with the awareness, all her senses heightened. At her back, his
arousal pushed gently against her and the knowledge of her affect on him was exhilarating.
    She
shifted against him, rubbing herself against him, instantly aware of the effect
the movement had on him.
    He
stepped back, placing a little distance between them. “You tempt me, cara .
But it is too soon. Have patience.”
    How
could she be patient, when every part of her ached with a crushing need to feel
him, to know him? When she wanted beyond reason or thought for him to possess
her body and turn her into the woman she so desperately wanted to be?

Chapter Eleven
     
    The
blue shadow of Capri edged closer, growing larger. The blues changed to greens
as the thickly forested coastline came into sharp relief. Too soon for Isobel’s
liking, steep, verdant cliffs soared above them, bringing their journey to an
end.
    Stefano
slowed the boat, swinging in towards one of the coves.
    On
the clear water of the bay, a number of small rowing boats bobbed around a
floating barge. Instantly aware of watching eyes, she moved away from him to
stand in the prow, but distance did not lesson the heightened awareness of her
body to his. Behind her, the engine’s motor died away and the boat drifted into
the cove on the waves. Stefano waved to the men