From the Baroness’s Diary III

Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

I am beside myself by all the beauty out here in the Italian countryside.

Not just the vineyards, I must say. The sea, too, and the sun. The light here is different. And oh. The men. Oh, the men.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

Oui, the villa by the sea is very, very nice, though I don’t get to see around much yet.

The house, clearly centuries old, is comfortable and cozy and everything an Italian villa should be. I find myself sighing with longing as I gaze up at the beautiful house, floating between a backdrop of bright blue sky and an infinite turquoise sea.

But what really awakens the confusion—and the longing—inside me is still to come.

We walk in through the back door into a large farmhouse kitchen.

I sense the air of unmistakable masculinity that intoxicates my senses before I see the two men dwarfing a…mini table?

And it’s all I see: Salvatore’s brothers.

Because they don’t even have to be introduced, their sizes are so similar, though one is dark and has his back to me, and the other, who is looking down, is fair and much younger.

But their largeness is unequivocally the same: broad shoulders, large chest and back, and muscular arms.

“Cara,” Salvatore says, dropping my bag at his feet. “I’d like you to meet my baby brother, Angelo.”

Angelo’s big, somewhat innocent, baby-blue eyes grow bigger at the sight of me and I freeze on the spot. Non, n’est ce pas possible. What are the odds of the young man I had seen m**********g on the ferry being Salvatore’s younger brother?

After asking his oldest brother something in Italian and getting what I think is a mocking answer with a mocking laugh, he stands from the table.

I thought at first they were sitting at a mini table, but it doesn’t take me long to realize the table isn’t mini. Non, he just makes it look that way because he is so big.

“Piacere.” Because it is really a pleasure, though I’d rather have met him under other circumstances.

But shouldering his way past me, muttering something harsh to Salvatore, he leaves the room, banging the door shut for good measure.

For some reason it knocks the air out of my lungs when he dismisses me so easily.

Does he know I am married? Does he know about my past with his brother and disapproves of it?

But then the other brother stands. Slowly, unfolding his even taller body from his seated position. And then he turns and smiles at me.

And, oh, I have to use all my years of hard training in the convent to remain standing, because I feel faint.

He reaches out a hand and grasps mine in his.

A jolt runs through me and my smile dies on my lips.

“Principessa.”