The Count of Castelfino by Christina Hollis Page A

announced.
    Things didn’t go quite according to Meg’s master plan. She swept in and out of the next shop at high speed, but as she progressed down the list each visit became longer, and more leisurely. Although she never found anything that suited her taste and Gianni’s instructions as perfectly as the blue sheath and jacket, she actually began to enjoy herself. All the shop assistants fawned around her as though she were royalty. She was offered drinks, sweets and snacks everywhere she went. Trying on clothes became a delight rather than a chore. She learned that rich fabrics needed to be enjoyed and lingered over, not pulled on and off at speed. When she got to the final establishment on her list, she was amazed to find it was a real wrench to leave. But at last, awash with coffee and stuffed with cantuccini, she returned to seal the deal on her ideal outfit.
    She had arranged to meet Gianni near the Ponte Vecchio. He was already there, laughing into his mobile. The moment the weight of his gaze fell on her, he ended the call. Walking towards her with a smile, he pulled out his car keys.
    ‘You haven’t taken as long as I thought you would!’ His gaze ran over her, and Meg’s mouth went dry. The afternoon was so hot she’d been convinced her temperature couldn’t possibly climb any higher. She was wrong. He looked magnificent. The contrast between his olive colouring and the brilliant white shirts he favoured was one she always admired. Today she was in for an extra treat. Gianni had not only turned back his cuffs so they exposed his smooth tanned forearms, he had also taken off his tie, and there were enough buttons open at his neck to expose a dark shadow of hair. Meg’s pulse began to race away with her manners. It was all she could do to keep either under control.
    ‘Don’t worry, Gianni. I’ve got everything for the business banquet, exactly as you instructed. Thank you so much. And would you believe it—I got most of it only after I ended up back at the very first shop I visited! They’re going to deliver it as soon as all the alterations have been made. Now—let’s get back to the villa. I can’t wait to get home, kick off my shoes and—’
    She stopped, painfully aware she was gabbling. Gianni raised his eyes to heaven and clicked his tongue.
    ‘Women! If they’re at home they want to be out shopping. If they’re out and about, they want to get back home! They’re all the same!’ he said in a voice full of Italian indulgence.
    I’m not. How I’d love to linger here with you. Oh, if onlyyou knew …Meg thought, but bit her tongue. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.
    The days before Gianni’s first formal banquet passed in a whirl of preparations.
    ‘I knew I made the right decision in employing a female head gardener,’ he announced innocently as Meg knelt on a hearth, working at a flower arrangement. When he said that she sat back on her heels.
    ‘So you weren’t the man who threatened me with redundancy the moment I arrived?’ she mocked, without looking at him.
    Gianni ignored her comment. He was too busy surveying the floral decorations draped around the summer dining hall. ‘I ask you—what man could have done this so beautifully?’
    ‘My great-great-grandfather and his contemporaries, for a start,’ Meg said, adding an extra spray of tiny orchid flowers to the display of lichen-and moss-encrusted logs set in the fireplace. She had designed everything, from the colour schemes to the hand-tied bouquets. It had given her so much pleasure. Gianni’s praise more than doubled her satisfaction, and she smiled as she put the finishing touches to the floral fire in the empty hearth. It was a sparkling mass of red and gold flowers, all cosseted in the perfect environment of the estate’s brand-new greenhouses. That was an extra source of pride for Meg. She had done it all herself.
    ‘Years ago floral art was part of every head gardener’s job description,