As they got out of the car it was clear that the wind had picked up, and Darcy’s hair flew in every direction. ‘Need a thicker jacket?’ he called as he walked around and opened the boot of the car.

  ‘Sure.’ She nodded, her denim jacket not quite up to the blustery breeze coming off the Firth of Forth.

  There were a few other people around, mainly walking dogs, as they jumped down onto the sand.

  ‘It’s been a while since I visited a beach,’ she said, enjoying the wind streaming through her hair, blinking her eyes at the tiny bits of gritty sand.

  ‘Me too,’ he admitted, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they walked down to the water’s edge. The first part of the sand had been soft, spongy and difficult to walk on. But as they neared the waves the sand was much firmer.

  ‘I wonder if the tide is coming in or out?’ she asked.

  ‘Let’s take some time to find out,’ said Arturo. It was one of his best traits. He was patient. He didn’t try to rush things. They stood together, and after a few minutes worked out that the tide appeared to be going back out.

  A little dog rushed past them, splashing them as it bounced and sprang through the waves with barks of pure enjoyment. Both of them laughed, not the least bothered by the splashing. A woman rushed up next to them, another dog on a lead in her hand. ‘Scamp, come here. Sorry.’ She gave them a rueful glance. ‘He just gets so excited when he comes down here. He loves the beach.’

  Darcy wrinkled her nose. ‘What kind of dog is he?’

  Arturo looked down at the other dog on the lead. It looked a bit older. It was white and shaggy, with short legs. ‘Is that one a West Highland terrier?’

  The woman looked at him in surprise as she picked the older dog up and tried to wrestle Scamp back onto a lead. Darcy dropped to her knees to help, trying to hold Scamp in place. He still wanted to dance in the waves.

  ‘We have no idea what Scamp is, do we, gorgeous?’ the woman said, staring fondly at her dog. ‘I got them both from the dog rescue place just outside Edinburgh.’

  ‘They’re rescue?’ Darcy was surprised. She didn’t know that much about dogs and wasn’t sure what kind of dogs ended up in a rescue centre.

  The woman succeeded in getting Scamp back on the lead and stood up, smiling. ‘I’ve had five dogs—not all at once, of course—but all were rescue. I’d just lost my black Lab, and six months later the house felt empty so I went back along to the rescue centre. I went for one, and came home with two.’

  ‘How did that happen?’ asked Arturo.

  The woman sighed and looked fondly at her dogs. ‘They’d both been owned by an elderly man who’d passed away unexpectedly. When I took Scamp out of the kennels to see how he was with me, Hugo here started whining. They didn’t like being apart. I couldn’t take one without the other.’

  ‘You weren’t worried about taking on someone else’s dogs?’

  ‘Someone else’s problem, you mean?’ she asked.

  Darcy nodded, embarrassed that she’d read her mind.

  ‘The people at the rescue centre are always very honest about the dogs they have. These were probably two of the best trained in there. But most people don’t want two dogs, so they’d been overlooked.’ Her smile broadened. ‘Or maybe they’d just been waiting for me.’ She gave them a smile and a wave before heading off down the beach with her dogs.

  As Darcy turned back, Arturo was watching her closely.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said with a half-smile on his face.

  The sun had dipped while they were talking, and he pointed at the darkening sky. ‘Maybe we don’t have shades of orange and the outline of the Colosseum, but I suspect Scotland’s offer might be just as nice.’

  ‘Nice?’ Darcy put her hand on her hip. ‘Just as well I’m an English girl and not a Scots, or I might be mortally offended by those words.’

  He knew she was joking and gave her a smile. ‘I can make amends.’

  ‘How?’

  He pointed to the few shops just parallel to the promenade. ‘I can offer chips or ice cream.’

  ‘They don’t call it ice cream around here.’

  ‘They don’t? What do they call it?’

  As they walked back up the beach, she gave him a sideways glance. ‘A pokey hat.’

  He almost choked. ‘What?’

  ‘It was one of the first things I learned when I got here. And I’ve got Arthur to thank for that.’ She pulled a face. ‘Although apparently the saying originated from the other big city in Scotland.’

  ‘Glasgow?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I still don’t get it—why on earth do they call it a pokey hat?’

  ‘It’s ice cream served in a cone, and if you turned the cone upside down it would be like a witch’s hat.’

  He wrinkled his nose for a few moments and shook his head. ‘Does that mean you want ice cream?’

  ‘Actually...’ she grinned ‘... I’d rather have the chips. It’s a bit cold around here.’

  ‘Okay.’

  They headed to the nearest fish and chip shop, then sat back at the beach, chips on their lap as they watched the sun finally dip in the sky.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, bumping him with her elbow. ‘I’ve just realised that the two men I’ve been hanging around with most in Edinburgh are both called Arthur.’

  He raised his eyebrows, but she laughed and continued. ‘Arturo is the Italian form of Arthur, isn’t it?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, I’ll let you have that.’

  She looked out across the view. ‘I wonder what that means?’

  ‘That both men you hang around with are called Arthur? Maybe their mothers just had good taste in names?’

  Her eyes gleamed with mischief. ‘Or maybe it’s some kind of fate and I was destined to meet you both.’

  Their gazes locked for a minute and neither of them spoke.

  Darcy swallowed. It was now or never. Time for some honesty.

  ‘You know how you told me about Faye, and your job?’

  A wrinkle appeared in his forehead. He was surprised by the change in direction. ‘Yes.’

  Darcy licked her dry lips, blaming it on the wind. ‘I haven’t been to a wedding in five years,’ she said quickly.

  The wrinkle in his forehead deepened. ‘None of your friends have got married?’

  She shook her head. ‘No—I mean yes. I’ve just made an excuse not to go.’

  He still looked entirely baffled. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because the last wedding I went to was my own.’ She said the words so quickly they all ran into each other.

  His face dropped like a stone. ‘You’re married?’

  ‘No.’ The answer was emphatic. Then she dropped her voice. ‘I went to my wedding, but my groom didn’t.’

  She hated these words. She hated saying them out loud. The humiliation still felt real.

  ‘He what?’ There was a change in tone from Arturo. He looked disbelieving.

  Darcy turned her head, putting her face head-on to the oncoming brisk breeze from the sea. Hopefully, that would hide the tears that were threatening to spill.

  ‘He stood me up.’ Her voice was quiet now. But Arturo had moved closer, his hand around her waist. ‘He phoned me to say he wasn’t coming.’

  After a moment he pulled her closer, sheltering her from the wind. ‘He was a damn fool, Darcy. Please tell me you don’t waste a second thinking about someone like that.’

  Now she did blink back tears, but brushed them away. ‘I just felt like I should tell you—be honest with you, before we reach Verona.’

  ‘In case what?’ It was as if he already understood.

  ‘In case I wobble,’ she admitted.

  He put both arms around her, pulling her into his chest. It felt safe this way. It felt safe to say more.

  ‘It all worked out for the best. Ultimately, we weren’t right for each other. And after a few days away, I came back and spent the next three months with my family in Bath, helping to nurse Laura. It was where I needed to be.’

  ‘Oh, Darcy,’ was all he said, one hand reaching up and cradling the back of her head.

  She’d told him. It was out there, and it felt more like a relief than a humiliation.

  His voice was low and considerate. ‘Are you sure you want to come? You don’t need to. I don’t want you to do something that might make you feel uncomfortable.’

  She lifted her head. ‘I’ve avoided weddings up until now. It’s time that stopped. So where better to start than at a beautiful wedding at a fabulous estate in Verona?’ She put a smile on her face. ‘Where I will be on my best behaviour to keep the mother of the bride, and the bride, from attempting to marry you off to some random Italian woman.’

  ‘You’re sure you’ll be okay?’

  She gave a gentle smile, thankful he’d been so understanding, and so kind. ‘I’ll be fine. A change of scenery again will be nice.’ She stood up, ready to move from the breezy spot, scrunching the chip wrapper into a ball and lobbing it into a nearby bin.

  His eyes widened.

  ‘Who knows—’ she grinned ‘—I might even surprise you.’

  He stopped walking and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘You do,’ he said sincerely. ‘Every single day.’

  She stopped breathing for a second at the seriousness in his face. Was this about what she’d just told him? They’d had a few moments of sincerity. But mostly their time together had been fun and light-hearted. She knew that things might change once she met his family, and she was conjuring plans in her head about how she might introduce Arturo to Fizz, and then her mum and dad.

  The fact that she was even considering those things made her know she was more hopeful about the possibility of continuing this relationship. And that scared her.

  Almost as if it was a sign from the universe, Arturo locked eyes with her. He bent down to whisper in her ear, ‘You surprise me every single day,’ he repeated. ‘And sometimes—’ he straightened up and looked at her again ‘—you downright scare me.’ The expression on his face was soft, with the hint of a smile on his lips. She knew he was still talking light-heartedly, but something inside her was squirming.

  She wanted to push on. She wanted this relationship to go somewhere. But could she really expose herself to the hurt she’d had before?

  A guy with a job like Indiana Jones, who was from Italy, probably a secret billionaire, and had an air of mystery about him, was hardly the best candidate for her heart. She should look for someone who would want to set down roots here, who might seem like a safer prospect, work in tech or something similar to her, and be independent but not have enough money to buy a small nation.

  That would be her ideal candidate, on paper, at least.

  But none of those guys had sparked her interest in the last five years. None had made her heart beat faster. None had made her excited to want to see them again. None had made her skin tingle or her lips buzz like Arturo had.

  Was she just destined for heartbreak again? Maybe she should call a halt to all this. Deep down was the familiar feeling of guilt. Why should she be able to move on and take a chance at happiness when Laura had never got that chance? Was that fair?

  Maybe going to the family wedding was a very bad idea. Maybe she should just rock back up to her cottage and stop imagining what the royal suite might look like in that posh Edinburgh hotel, or what size of bed it had.

  But as Arturo opened the car door for her and looked at her with those hypnotic dark brown eyes she knew she wanted to take this leap.

  Even if it was a very bad idea.

  Because if you didn’t leap, how would you ever know where you could land?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SHE COULD TELL Arturo was nervous. It was weird. It was not a term she’d ever associated with him. But as soon as they left Verona Airport and jumped in the sports car that was waiting for them, she could almost sense his jitters.

  It could just be excitement at getting back to his home, and seeing his family again. It could be actual honest-to-goodness nerves about the upcoming wedding and his role in it. There had to be pressure on him, and she hadn’t even asked if he needed to do a speech.

  The Italian countryside was beautiful and the miles passed in a blur. When Arturo finally drove through a set of stone pillars with open gates, she got a real sense of what he meant by estate.

  The house was not immediately visible and they continued along the curved red road for a few minutes. On one side there was open countryside, on the other, trees. Eventually the gleaming cream-coloured mansion emerged fully.

  It had three floors, a fountain in front of the house and sweeping steps up to double doors. Surrounding the house were immaculate manicured gardens.

  Darcy’s first thought was it looked like it had been plucked from a luxury magazine. But the quiet look of the house was quickly dispelled by the number of people around. As they approached, she noticed multiple buildings on either side of the mansion, and other roads leading around the back.

  A huge catering truck was parked off to one side, with another truck unloading what looked like hundreds of beautiful blooms.

  Arturo didn’t hesitate. He parked his sports car smack bang in front of the main door.

  ‘Isn’t there a garage?’ Darcy asked dubiously.

  ‘Serge will move it later,’ he said, stepping out onto the driveway, putting his hands on his hips and taking a deep breath.

  She watched with interest. After a few moments he ducked his head back down. ‘Getting out, or have you changed your mind?’

  ‘Is the air different here?’

  He gave a smile. ‘Everything is different here. Come on, let’s embrace the chaos.’

  Her nerves jangled, but she was excited too. She stepped out of the car just as the main doors opened and a man came down the steps. For some reason, she’d expected him to be in uniform. The place seemed grand enough for that. But he was wearing regular jeans and a T-shirt.

  ‘Good to see you, Arturo,’ he said easily. ‘Bags in the trunk?’

  Arturo’s shoulders visibly relaxed. ‘Nice to see you too—and yes, thanks, Serge.’

  The guy gave a little nod to Darcy. ‘I’ll be Serge,’ he joked, since Arturo had forgotten to make introductions.

  ‘Darcy,’ she said, holding out her hand, then realising that was ridiculously formal.

  But Serge took it with good grace and gave her hand a firm shake. ‘Nice to meet you, Darcy. I’ll take your bags up to your room. If Arturo doesn’t remember to tell you where it is, come and find me later, and I’ll show you.’

  She gave a confused smile as Arturo cut in. ‘And why wouldn’t I remember?’

  Serge popped the boot and started pulling out the bags. He looked at Darcy and smiled. ‘You want to see the size of the list Cara has for him,’ he joked.

  Arturo groaned.

  Serge lifted all three suitcases easily. ‘They have actually made drinks for you coming. They’re in the bar waiting for you both.’

  Immediately, Darcy felt a little panicked and looked down at her travelling clothes. Beige cargo pants and a big white shirt. She would rather have had a chance to freshen up before she met the family.

  She pushed her sunglasses up into her hair. Arturo had obviously read the panic in her face. He nodded to Serge. ‘Give us two minutes.’

  He walked her up the steps to the house and led her into the foyer. The floor was covered in tiny white and black tiles and a double staircase snaked up the curved interior walls. Doors left off in every direction.

  Arturo took her down one corridor to a large bathroom, giving her a chance to wash her hands, tidy her hair and retouch her make-up. It only took a few minutes and he was waiting outside for her when she was done. She was already feeling swamped by the size and prestige of the place. How on earth could she fit in here? Arturo had tried to warn her that he had an ‘estate’, but she really hadn’t grasped just how rich he was. She’d never mixed in this kind of circle before. The background thought that Arturo had brought her here as a convenience—to stop his family trying to pair him off with someone else—now seemed massively out of step.

  ‘Ready?’ He seemed steadier now. Maybe it was just the anticipation of being here that had made him seem nervous earlier.

  She nodded, and pretended her heart wasn’t pounding in her chest. He took her through another few rooms until they finally reached the room that Serge had referred to as the bar.

  The Fabianos’ bar was as big as any commercial bar, except it had a host of comfortable sofas and chaise longues, a few tables and chairs, a huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a whole wall of glass doors out to gardens with a wide array of colourful flowers.

  Darcy had barely managed to take anything in before the noise erupted in the room. A woman in a coral-coloured dress with matching shoes and long dark hair stood up and flung her arms around Arturo. At first glance it was obvious they were siblings.

  A graceful older woman with grey hair in a modern-cut bob and dark top and trousers came over to stand by them. She gave Darcy a kiss on the cheek. ‘Delighted to meet you,’ she said in perfect English. ‘You must be Darcy. I’m Arturo’s mother, but please call me Maria.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Darcy, watching as Arturo’s sister finally unravelled herself from her brother. She spun around towards Darcy.

  Cara was stunning, with the same dark eyes as her brother and a warm complexion. She gave Darcy a slightly more chaste hug, then kissed both her cheeks. ‘Cara,’ she said. ‘Welcome to our home.’

  Darcy glanced around nervously. There was a handsome man standing behind Cara, and Cara pulled him forward. ‘This is my fiancé, Dante.’

  Dante stepped forward, shook her hand and kissed her cheek. ‘How about a drink?’ he said, as if he could sense her nerves.