‘You could say that,’ he agreed, his tense shoulders finally relaxing a bit. Margaret could be anywhere between fifty and sixty, her dark hair had streaks of grey and she had the lean body of a woman who had danced all her life. As she glanced around the room at the hotch-potch of dance fans, he could see the patience on her face, and he sent a silent prayer upwards.

  ‘Maybe this wasn’t the best place for me to learn. Maybe I should have asked for private lessons.’

  She side-eyed him. ‘You’re that bad?’

  He laughed. ‘I could be.’

  She tapped his arm. ‘Let’s wait and see. There are a number of newbies here tonight. Let’s see how it goes.’ Her smile was reassuring. ‘I promise that I’ll be able to teach you enough to glide your sister around the dance floor. You’ll be fine.’

  She walked away, her movements all long legs and graceful limbs. An hour. That was how long this class lasted. If he could get through this, he might have to take some time to rethink things. Thankfully, there was no one here he knew. His friends would be in hysterics if they knew he was taking dance classes.

  And Arturo was determined to keep this quiet.

  * * *

  ‘This is a bad idea,’ said Darcy to Arthur. ‘I should never have asked you to come.’

  Arthur straightened his shoulders as he looked around. Another woman nearby gave him a shy smile.

  ‘Like flies around honey,’ breathed Darcy. This might be a bad idea for her, but it didn’t look like it was going to be a bad idea for Arthur. She could see the number of women in his age range who were already trying to catch his eye.

  And she couldn’t blame them. He was tall, trim, with a dapper beard and maroon waistcoat. Arthur knew how to dress.

  ‘This might not be so bad,’ he mused.

  There was another guy at the opposite end of the room. He’d glanced in her direction a few times, and at first she’d wondered if he was one of the instructors. His dark hair and broad frame, as well as his impeccably fitted suit, would catch anyone’s eye. But even though he looked like a man who turned heads, he didn’t look like a dance instructor.

  At least, he didn’t seem to have the confidence she imagined went along with being a dance instructor. In fact, he looked every bit as uncomfortable as she was.

  Margaret, the lady who’d greeted them when they’d first arrived, appeared in the middle of the room and clapped her hands above her head.

  ‘Everyone. Get ready to start. We’ll begin with some gentle warm-up exercises and stretches to get us all ready. Make sure you have some space around, and follow my lead.’ She gave a nod to someone and some music started.

  Gentle exercise. Darcy could manage that. She stared down at the red lightweight tulle skirt that had appeared in the post from her friend Libby. She hadn’t even been sure she should wear it, but a quick text from her sister had encouraged her.

  She followed the exercises, rolling shoulders, swinging arms, bending and stretching. It gave her a chance to look at the room around her. The Variety Hall in Edinburgh had been used for more than a hundred years. The wide, light wooden floor was deluged with sunshine that streamed through the central glass domed ceiling above them, with tiny insets of stained glass. It currently gave the illusion that it was a beautiful and bright day outside, whereas the wind tunnel known as Princes Street gave an entirely different version of the day.

  The warm-up exercises finished quickly, and Darcy found herself face to face with Arthur, following some very simple steps. It was clear that at some point in his life he’d done this before and was a complete natural.

  As she glanced around the room it was also clear that many of the participants had been coming for a while. Hardly anyone seemed as confused as she was.

  ‘Move around!’ said Margaret, clapping her hands above her head, and Darcy’s eyes widened as she realised that everyone else was swapping partners. She’d only planned on dancing with Arthur, but he was swept away from her eagerly by another woman, and she found herself in the arms of an older grey-haired woman.

  ‘Barbara,’ she sighed quickly. ‘I always end up as the man.’

  Darcy couldn’t help but laugh. She started to relax a little. The people around her were lovely. Some took things very seriously, but most were there to keep fit and have fun. A few were reliving dancing from their youth. All were patient with Darcy if she messed up a few steps. She kept her eye on Arthur and he seemed to be having the time of his life.

  Her heart ached, remembering how lonely he’d been when she’d first met him. Since she’d moved to Edinburgh they’d become firm friends, but now she wondered if she should have tried some more sociable activities with him earlier.

  Darcy twirled around and side-stepped straight into her next partner. His large frame filled her vision in the expensive cut of an Italian suit and a whiff of entirely masculine and woody noted aftershave. She caught her breath and looked up, just as he stepped on her foot.

  ‘Yeow!’ she said, hopping and catching her foot in her hand. The soft leather shoes she’d been recommended for class certainly couldn’t deal with the weight of his muscular build.

  ‘I am so sorry,’ he said immediately, but her ear didn’t take in the words. Her ear took in the accent. The rich Italian accent that fitted entirely with the dark handsome man in front of her.

  For a second, she wondered if this was all some elaborate game show. Libby and Fizz had concocted this whole thing together as a kind of ‘gotcha’. The guy was actually some actor and was probably supposed to make this whole thing a nightmare, to see how much it would take her to flip.

  She pushed the thought away almost as soon as it formed. That was the trouble with having an active imagination. It could take her down dangerous paths and ridiculous scenarios. Anyway, no one could really top being stood up at the altar, so what would be the point?

  The man’s hand was on her arm, his other trying to reach her foot as she hopped around. Heads had turned and were watching them.

  She put her slightly squashed foot back on the ground and tried not to grimace. ‘It’s okay,’ she said automatically. ‘It will be fine.’

  Fine after she’d raided her bathroom cupboard for some painkillers and probably sat it up on her sofa for the rest of the night.

  His face was marred by a deeply furrowed brow and he spoke some rapid Italian that she didn’t have a single chance of following. His words were musical, the language rich and smooth. It did things to her skin. Things she didn’t recognise at first. Not until the skin prickles made their way directly to her spine.

  The jolt was instant. Disturbing. And then strangely awakening.

  It was a long time since she’d felt any kind of attraction to a man. It wasn’t as if she’d lived like a monk—or, more appropriately, a nun, for the last five years. But everything had been very casual for her. She hadn’t really allowed herself to be invested in anyone since Damian. Losing both her sister, and Damian in such a short space of time had made her wary of risking her heart again. It was so much easier to keep a protective barrier wrapped around herself and focus on other things. Like work or the renovations to the cottage. Both of which had been ultimately time-consuming.

  Someone squeezed her hand gently and she jolted back to reality. It was him, of course it was him, and now he was looking at her with concern.

  ‘Arturo,’ he said softly, as if he’d already said it before. ‘I am Arturo Fabiano. I am so sorry.’

  She blinked. ‘Darcy Bennett,’ she replied, meeting his dark brown eyes.

  He shook his head in disgust. ‘I should never have come here. It was a stupid idea. How on earth can anyone learn to dance in a few weeks? I should have known better.’

  Her interest was instantly piqued. ‘You want to learn to dance in a few weeks? Why?’

  He took a breath and sighed. She could tell by the expression on his face this meant something to him. ‘My sister is getting married. Our father died a few years ago, and she’s asked me to give her away.’

  Something tugged at Darcy’s heartstrings. Words could be simple but she understood the heartache behind them.

  ‘I’m sorry about your dad.’

  She watched him swallow, clearly surprised she hadn’t just kept talking. He paused and met her gaze. For a moment they didn’t move, held in place. ‘Grazie,’ he said in a low voice.

  The people around them had started moving again, and it was clear they were blocking the flow. Arturo looked around them and held out his arms automatically—one on her shoulder, one at her waist, for them to get back into the rhythm of those around them.

  As she slid her hand into his, the warmth of his palm seemed intensely personal. As she tried to remember the steps that Margaret continued to shout out loud, Darcy took a deep breath. ‘So, I take it giving your sister away also means doing one of the dances at the wedding?’

  His expression was almost a grimace and she had to hide the smile that threatened to dart across her face.

  ‘Yes,’ came the short reply.

  The furrow had appeared on his brow again and she could tell he was concentrating on the steps they were doing. Every now and then he glanced down, obviously trying not to step on her toes again.

  ‘Is this your first time here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Mine too.’

  Now, his eyes came up from the floor and locked gazes with her again.

  ‘Why did you come?’

  Her stomach twisted a bit. Arturo might be tall, dark and handsome, but he was also a complete stranger. She wasn’t sure she wanted to share about Laura and the bucket list. A Variety Hall filled with a hundred other people just didn’t seem like the place for that conversation. ‘I have an older friend—Arthur.’ She nodded in his direction. ‘I persuaded him to come because I’m trying to get him out more.’

  It wasn’t the truth, but it also wasn’t completely a lie. Her brain made a few more connections and she prayed he wouldn’t ask how she and Arthur had met. Telling him the humiliating being left at the altar story was even less appealing than the personal bucket list story.

  Arturo followed her line of sight. ‘That sounds nice.’ He gave a smile—the first one she’d seen from him. It had an easiness about it and changed his expression completely. His furrowed brow could be intimidating. But the smile? Well, that could make knees weak on the other side of the room. ‘He certainly looks as if he’s going down a storm.’

  Darcy nodded. ‘And I couldn’t be happier for him. This looks like it’s giving him the boost he needs and deserves.’

  Arturo gave her a curious glance but she didn’t fill in any of the blanks. Instead, she looked straight into those brown eyes with a renewed burst of confidence. ‘So, Arturo Fabiano. What do you do for a living?’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Just call me Indiana Jones.’

  She couldn’t help but smile. ‘You’re an archaeologist?’

  He shook his head as they took another few steps. ‘I find hidden treasures.’

  Now it was Darcy’s turn to raise her eyebrows. ‘What does that mean?’ She wasn’t quite getting the steps right, but at this point she didn’t care. ‘Don’t archaeologists spend all their time digging in the dirt?’

  ‘I’ve done that,’ he agreed with a nod. ‘I’ve worked on sites at Pompeii, Egypt, Turkey and the UK. Now, I do mainly retrieval. Mostly it’s art—paintings, sculpture, artefacts.’

  ‘So, who do you work for?’

  There was a fleeting expression. Was that embarrassment? ‘I work for one of the Italian national agencies.’

  She felt a little tremor down her spine. It was the way he said the words. Was he like an art kind of James Bond? ‘I get the impression you’re not looking for new works—or new artists.’

  He gave the smallest dip of his head. ‘Let’s call it a recovery operation.’

  Darcy was intrigued. She’d heard of people trying to retrieve pieces of art that had been stolen during wartime. Was that what he did?

  ‘How do you do that? And how do you know what to look for?’

  He spun her around and she almost lost her footing because she was no longer paying attention to the instructions but more to the man holding her in his arms. ‘Sorry,’ he laughed.

  She shook her head as a woman tapped her arm. ‘It’s time to move partners again.’ She glanced pointedly at Arturo.

  Darcy tried not to laugh and went to step back, but Arturo shook his head. ‘Maybe it’s best to leave us out of the swapping. We’re both complete beginners and we don’t want to spoil anyone else’s dance experience tonight.’

  He said it so smoothly but commandingly that the woman blinked, gave a half-annoyed look and moved away.

  He leaned forward and she caught his woody aftershave again. ‘Hope you’re not offended. But I don’t plan on being picked apart by all the experts here tonight. Plus, I don’t want to stand on anyone else’s toes.’

  ‘Whereas mine are already flat?’ she countered.

  She could see the waver in his eyes—trying to tell if she was joking or not—but his face broke into a wide smile again. ‘Exactly,’ he agreed.

  ‘So, you’ve interrogated me,’ he said good-naturedly. ‘What do you do?’

  ‘Cybersecurity.’

  ‘You’re a hacker?’ His eyes widened and it was Darcy’s turn to laugh.

  ‘Sometimes. It depends what the job is. I’ve worked with banks to improve their security systems. I’ve worked with private companies who’ve purposely asked me to hack into their systems in order to find any points of failure. Sometimes I’m just giving general security safety advice or training for staff.’ She’d actually done a whole lot more than that but, thanks to contractual obligations, wasn’t allowed to say.

  ‘You must be a woman of many secrets.’ He was teasing, but the comment hit a nerve, immediately causing her to tense. This attractive man was a perfect stranger. She really knew nothing about him. And she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to admit the strange pull she felt towards him.

  She was so out of practice with all this. In a flash of panic, her eyes darted to his hand, checking to see if he wore a wedding ring. Thankfully, his finger was bare. Relief. In years gone by, she would have always checked before continuing a conversation with a stranger, particularly one who seemed to be flirting with her.

  As the music stopped, she dropped her hands from his. ‘I should check on Arthur,’ she said quickly. ‘See if he needs rescuing.’

  Was that disappointment on his face? ‘Of course,’ he said graciously. ‘Thank you,’ he added.

  ‘For what?’ she asked as she stepped back.

  ‘For making an evening I was dreading...’ he paused and gave a hint of a smile ‘...not quite as bad as I thought.’

  She could swear an army of butterflies just fluttered next to her skin. Darcy just smiled and headed across the dance floor towards Arthur. He gave her a knowing look as he glanced in Arturo’s direction.

  ‘Darcy, my dear,’ he said with a twinkle in his eye, ‘I think we need to talk.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ARTURO SPOKE IN rapid Italian to his counterpart. He’d been chasing this stolen artefact for years. It had belonged to a fellow Italian family over a hundred years ago and had been stolen in a midnight raid on their property. There had been no trace of the painting for years—meaning it had likely been stolen to order by another family. Now? He’d heard rumours of house clearances and basement sales, along with a few whispers amongst the antique dealers. He pulled up his screen and noted the next flight to Catania. With another few words, he completed the call and leaned back in his chair, looking out over the city.

  Most people were surprised that he’d temporarily based himself in Edinburgh. Arturo had travelled the world with his job and stayed in many cities. But after an initial visit a few years ago he’d liked the charm and vibe of the ancient city. Some of the streets seemed to brim with history, and there were a surprising number of experts relevant to his field nearby. A flight to London was only an hour away and nowhere was ultimately out of his reach. Plus, after the death of his fiancée, followed a few years later by the death of his father, Italy had too many memories and reminders. Arturo had realised quickly that he needed a little space and some different scenery in order to move on with his life.

  But had he moved on? Not really. Two big losses had made the usually steady ground shake beneath his feet. He wasn’t even sure he was ready to. But at least in Edinburgh he was away from the microscopic glances of his family, their love, their opinions and their strong-armed influence. And the truth was, Edinburgh already held a little space in his heart.

  His fingers moved quickly, booking his flights and accommodation. He could have asked his assistant to do all this for him, but he’d already sent her a piece of research work this morning and would rather she continue with that. He glanced at the return flight. He would be back in time for the next dance class.

  His fingers froze on the keypad and he leaned back, staring out of his glass-walled office towards Edinburgh Castle. The thought had just slipped into his head, like a little seed secretly sown. Arturo’s skin prickled. He couldn’t deny that the woman he’d met the other night had piqued his curiosity. He was sure there was much more to Darcy Bennett than met the eye. He liked that.

  It had been so long since a woman had sparked his interest. His American fiancée had held a role similar to his. They’d met first on a dig in Egypt, then again when they were both trying to retrieve the same piece. It had seemed like fate. The whirlwind engagement had surprised both their families. And even though Faye and himself could be like ships passing in the night, the spark hadn’t died. At least not until she had.