Matteo followed Arturo back out to the main shop. Darcy smiled when she saw them and nodded to Matteo. ‘Would I be able to see this, please?’

  Arturo was surprised, he hadn’t expected her to be interested in anything in Matteo’s shop. Matteo immediately moved into his charming proprietor routine, which Arturo had witnessed on many occasions. He pulled his key chain from his pocket, unlocked the glass cabinet and pulled out the item she was referring to with obvious pleasure.

  He switched to English easily. ‘Oh, yes. An ancient late Roman gold garnet ring. The flat band is made from a thick hammered sheet of high carat gold and the garnet cabochon is set in the centre in a closed back setting.’

  He held out the yellow gold ring with its surprisingly bright red stone. It had a slightly orange tinge to it and the stone was set in the middle of the ring. ‘The gold is twenty-two carat,’ he added as Darcy slipped the stone on her finger.

  The gold wasn’t finished in the way that any jewellery made in the last few hundred years was. The rough working was clear. And it was small, though Darcy could slip it on her right-hand ring finger.

  She held up her finger, obviously caught by the history. ‘This is genuine?’ she asked. ‘And verified?’

  Arturo tried his best not to smile. Matteo could occasionally be a charlatan in other respects, but with his antiques he was always above board.

  ‘Of course,’ Matteo blustered, a little offended.

  ‘Can I see the paperwork?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s in Italian,’ he said dismissively as he walked over to a large cabinet.

  ‘Luckily enough,’ said Darcy astutely, ‘I brought my own interpreter with me.’

  Matteo shot Arturo a glance, fumbling through some files and producing the paperwork to verify the gold, setting and provenance of the ring. He gave Darcy a nod.

  ‘I love it,’ she announced. ‘I’ll take it.’

  Arturo wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or not. The price tag was a few thousand pounds. It wasn’t that he thought Darcy couldn’t afford it. He was more taken aback by the impulsiveness of her purchase. She handed over her credit card to Matteo, which Arturo quickly substituted for his own. She didn’t notice, and shook her head when Matteo offered to package up the ring for her. She only took the receipt and a small box, which she put in her handbag.

  Arturo exchanged a few more words with Matteo about the potential meeting before they walked back out into the now blistering sunshine. Darcy was still admiring her ring. ‘I feel as if I have a part of the day now,’ she said simply, then put her other hand on her heart. ‘Something to always remember my sister by, and keep the memories of my visit to Rome alive.’

  Arturo was instantly a little wounded by the words. Wouldn’t their ongoing friendship—or whatever it was—keep the memories alive?

  But he could see by her face this wasn’t about him. This was about her sister, and honouring her memory. He was wise enough not to say anything until Darcy turned to face him with a bright smile, holding her hand out towards him. ‘Sistine Chapel?’

  Then he slid his hand into hers and headed to hail a cab.

  He wasn’t quite sure what he would tell anyone about this day. His sister, although caught up in the last few whirlwind weeks before her wedding, would ask him a million questions in the way only a sister could.

  In a strange way his heart ached a little that he couldn’t have this conversation with his father. He’d been the wisest man that Arturo knew. Although he’d never interfered in his son’s relationships, he’d been astute and full of good advice when it came to women. He wondered what his father would have thought of this Englishwoman.

  Arturo knew that his mother had long expected him to marry an Italian woman, preferably from one of their peer group. She had been decidedly unhappy about his engagement to Faye. His father hadn’t had the same expectations and had always told Arturo to follow his heart. He’d liked Faye and always been gracious to her. But—and it still made Arturo smile—he’d never given the follow your heart advice in front of his mother.

  Darcy spun around as the taxi slowed beside them, almost tripping as both hands landed on his chest. ‘Oops.’ She smiled, the amber scent of her perfume assaulting his senses. She looked up, her pale blue eyes shining, energy emitting from every pore. Her happiness was infectious. ‘This is the best day,’ she said simply, staying still for a few seconds right under his nose.

  The palms of her hands seemed electric through the fabric of his shirt. He wanted to stay there. He knew they were in a rush to reach the Sistine Chapel in time. But for the first time in as long as he could ever remember, Arturo Fabiano wanted to freeze-frame his life—capture this moment in time and keep it.

  It had been so long since he’d felt like that. And he couldn’t actually remember a time like that for him and Faye.

  But Darcy? She was an entirely new person and all of a sudden he wanted to explore more, to push a little and see what might happen.

  He knew that he would eventually let her know he’d been engaged before. But he still had a feeling Darcy had walls in place. It wasn’t quite so apparent today. Today in Rome seemed to be a ‘throw caution to the wind’ kind of day. But back in Edinburgh she occasionally opened her mouth to say something, then clearly rethought and stopped.

  He couldn’t imagine what it might be, but one thing was for sure—he wanted to find out.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DARCY WAS FEELING as though she’d been swept off her feet. She wasn’t sure how else to put it. It didn’t matter that she’d actually swept herself off her feet by planning this whole twenty-four hours. She was consciously aware that while Rome was beautiful and fascinating, the same words could also be used to describe her companion.

  Was now the time to mention meeting a handsome Italian to Libby and Fizz? She bit her bottom lip and quickly sent them the selfie of them both that Arturo had taken with her phone. As the taxi darted through the Rome streets, she typed two words: Loving Rome.

  She tried not to look at herself too hard in the photo. One glance and she could see the glow coming from her, and exactly how happy she looked. She was sure her sister and friend would notice too. No doubt they would ask questions.

  Her fingers twisted her new ring. There was something wondrous about owning a piece that had history and had belonged to generations of women before her. The price hadn’t fazed her, but she had found Arturo’s colleague a little...shifty? Was that the right word? It seemed irrelevant now as they sped through the city towards the almost final destination of the day.

  As they pulled up outside the Vatican entrance to the Sistine Chapel, the queue was still present. They climbed out of the taxi and Arturo guided her towards the entrance, where they showed their tickets.

  ‘Do you know the way?’ she asked Arturo, and he nodded and led them down a central corridor.

  The walk to the chapel was long. History was all around them. If she’d been in Rome longer, she would have loved to spend a day on a whole Vatican tour, seeing the gardens, admiring all the tapestries and portraits and beautiful sculptures. As it was, she saw them all at breakneck speed since they knew the time of the last admission to the Sistine Chapel and she didn’t want to miss it while admiring other parts of the museum. The inside of St Peter’s Basilica would need to remain on her wish list.

  As she walked along, Arturo by her side, interested in everything they were seeing and commenting on it all, it suddenly struck her that she might have been in a very different position.

  At this point in her life, she could have been married to Damian for five years. And what struck her the most about that was just how much he would have hated this mad twenty-four-hour rush around Rome. He wouldn’t have found enjoyment in this—in fact, he probably wouldn’t have agreed to come. Museums, monuments and national buildings had never featured in Damian’s plans. He just wasn’t that kind of guy. She’d always known that while being stood up at the altar had been ultimately cruel, it had been the best thing for both of them.

  The handsome man beside her was intelligent, gracious and the perfect companion. And the more hours she spent in his company, the more she realised it.

  It was odd. Because she’d initially felt quite reserved around Arturo. But the more she got to know him, the more confident she became in being herself around him. He still didn’t know everything about her—or she him—but gradually she could feel her walls and barriers beginning to come down.

  It had been a moment of pure madness to invite him to join her. Some might infer she’d done it for convenience, and in a way she had. But that didn’t stop the little hiccups she had inside her body when he smiled at her, or their skin came into contact. There was nothing convenient about that.

  There were still moments to pause and admire some of the artefacts. By the time they reached the entrance to the Sistine Chapel she was dizzy with the beauty around her.

  There was a sign telling visitors not to take pictures and not to talk in the chapel. Even though they were part of the last group to enter, the chapel was still busy. It seemed as if everyone in the world wanted to see the same place that she did.

  Arturo spoke in low Italian to one of the security guards at the entrance, who murmured a few words to him. As soon as they stepped inside Darcy was struck first by the heat, and then by how thin the air seemed.

  But all that disappeared as she lifted her head to stare at the ceiling and the frescoes on the walls. She could hear whispers all around her, but was reluctant to join in. She wanted to be respectful of her environment, and take everything in.

  Her first surprise was how bright the colours were on the ceiling and, as she moved closer to the wall frescos, just how much detail was actually included. The clothing, the hairs, the skin wrinkles were all presented in a way that made her want to reach out and touch it. Of course she didn’t. The security presence in the chapel was heavy, but she could understand people being overwhelmed by the sight in here.

  The second thing that surprised her was how small the chapel was. In her head, she’d pictured it as much bigger, but now she was here she realised she could cross from the entrance to the exit in around forty steps. Not that she wanted to. But she could sense people around her being hurried along.

  Arturo put his hand at her back and gently steered her to one side, out of the flow of traffic. It gave her a few moments to take some time and look properly. From her childhood in Sunday school in her home town of Bath, she recognised several of the biblical scenes, such as the creation of the sun and moon, Adam and Eve, the garden of Eden and the Last Judgement on the wall behind the altar, its brilliant blue tones standing out brightly to her.

  Eventually, a guard signalled it was time to leave and they exited at the side of St Peter’s Basilica, by the entrance to the stairs to the dome.

  Although the air in Rome was still warm, the gentle breeze was a welcome relief from the stifling crush in the chapel.

  ‘Too many people,’ she sighed. ‘I don’t know why I expected anything else from Rome’s most favourite tourist attraction.’ She leaned back against the nearby wall, letting the cool stone penetrate through her white shirt. Her hair felt sticky and she really wanted to sit down again.

  She couldn’t help but stare up at the steps of the Basilica and wonder if she should try to cram that in too. Her stomach gave a loud rumble and she laughed and put her hand over her abdomen.

  ‘How about a choice?’ said Arturo good-naturedly.

  ‘What do you mean?’ She took a deep breath, trying to clear out her lungs.

  He waved his hand towards the street down from St Peter’s Square. ‘We could do dinner at one of the restaurants that face the Basilica and admire the view here or...’ He paused for a moment. ‘Or I know another restaurant that looks across to the Colosseum. What would you prefer?’

  The breeze was dancing across her skin and finally cooling her down now. ‘How about a drink at one of the street places that look up to the Basilica, and then on to the restaurant near the Colosseum?’ She grinned. ‘And just so we’re clear, I’m looking for a cocktail right now.’

  He laughed and they walked amiably across St Peter’s Square, stopping to take some photographs, and taking a few for some other tourists.

  They stopped at a bar, drank some Rossinis then some Negronis and took some photos of the sun setting behind the gleaming white Basilica, before catching a taxi to the restaurant that Arturo had reserved for them.

  Their table was on a rooftop terrace and, as they sat, lines of orange and violet were streaming behind the Colosseum. Their waiter took some photographs as Arturo ordered for them.

  Darcy took the opportunity to drink some water as they waited for their food. ‘I can’t believe I’ve just had the chance to see the sun setting behind two of the most beautiful buildings in the world.’ She held up her hands. ‘It feels like magic.’

  ‘Magic? Really?’ Arturo was drinking a bottle of beer. He looked completely unfazed by their day.

  Darcy held up her hand to admire her ring. ‘When I tell people at work next week that this is what I spent twenty-four hours doing, I doubt if anyone will believe me.’

  ‘You have the ring, and the photos to prove it. Why wouldn’t they?’

  She sighed and looked out across the Rome skyline. ‘Because it’s just not a very Darcy thing to do,’ she admitted.

  ‘But you’re enjoying yourself?’ His phone pinged, but he ignored it.

  ‘Of course I’m enjoying myself,’ she said. ‘I just couldn’t have imagined doing anything like this.’ She gave a huge appreciative sigh as she looked at the elegant structure of the sunset-lit Colosseum again. ‘And I definitely picked the right city and...’ She hesitated, wondering if she should say it out loud. She raised her glass of water. ‘And I definitely picked the right Italian to come along for the ride.’

  His eyebrows raised. He was good at that—it was his signature move. ‘Just the right Italian, not the right guy?’

  ‘Oh...’ She laughed. ‘You’re going to be like that then?’

  ‘Like what?’ he said with a gleam in his eye.

  The waiter came over and set down their plates of salted cod, alongside courgette flowers with mozzarella. The portions looked small on the plate, but as soon as she started eating, Darcy realised how filling the dish was. The waiter also brought a bottle of chilled white wine and they ate in a leisurely fashion, taking their time, until the sun had completely set and a dark sky filled with a smattering of stars was above them.

  ‘Did you order pasta?’ she whispered across the table.

  He nodded and she leaned back with her hand on her stomach. ‘I’m not sure if I can.’

  ‘How about I ask for a half portion?’ He smiled. ‘You really want to taste this pasta.’

  ‘Can’t be in Italy and not taste the pasta,’ she said with a smile, taking a second to savour the moment.

  She was unbelievably lucky. She knew she was. ‘This day has been perfect.’ She sighed. ‘I think I’ll still remember it when I’m old and grey.’

  ‘You, grey? Never.’

  She touched her hair. ‘That’s the thing about blonde. It hides the grey better.’

  ‘You can’t know that?’ he joked.

  She laughed as she took a small sip of wine. ‘Not yet, but my mother told me.’

  He raised his glass towards her. ‘And our mothers know everything.’

  She leaned forward. ‘Tell me a bit about your family. They must be very proud of you.’

  ‘Sometimes,’ he said with a hint of humour. ‘My mother both likes and dislikes that I do the same job as my father. She supported my studies, and the fact I travel so much for work, but the truth is, she would like me at home. There’s much work to be done on the estate, and while I love the place...’ he paused and took a deep breath ‘... I’m not ready to do that yet.’

  ‘Could you work from home? Isn’t that what everyone does now?’

  He paused for a moment, clearly trying to find the right words. That made her instantly curious. ‘My work is sometimes...intense. There are too many distractions at home. And that doesn’t include my mother and my sister. Edinburgh gave me the change of scene that I needed.’

  ‘I can relate to that,’ she said with a smile, without explaining any further. ‘What does your sister do?’

  He smiled back. It was clear he had great affection for his younger sister. Darcy liked that. Even though her relationship with her sister was a little fractured now, family was important to her.

  ‘Cara has done a number of things. She studied design and then started with one of the Italian fashion houses. She was doing well, but got into a certain rivalry with a colleague.’

  ‘That sounds like a film or some kind of juicy novel.’

  He gave a soft laugh and nodded. ‘It could have been. Then things happened with my father, and she decided to leave. Right now, she helps my mother run the estate. She’s excellent at it. Probably because she has a gift for systems, processes and, usually, people.’

  ‘Is this a simple way of saying Don’t cross my sister?’

  There was a flicker of panic in his face, and for an instant she felt her cheeks flame. Of course she would never meet Arturo’s sister. She hadn’t meant to imply that.

  Thankfully, the waiter appeared to set down their main courses. She thought he would leave it, and let the conversation naturally drift in another direction, but he didn’t. He looked her straight in the eye.

  ‘You would never need to worry about Cara. She would like you just as much as I do. My sister knows what’s important to me.’

  For a second she wondered if she’d heard right. One moment her heart had been plummeting, thinking she’d made a silly faux pas, but now...? Now, she was getting an entirely different message.