Chapter Thirteen
Kate sat on the porch of the villa staring down the portico, toward the lazy vineyards in the distance, toward an arbor of summer flowers just now erupting from small buds. She smelled the fragrance of new roses, despite the fact that the rose garden was beyond her view.
The memory of her first hours with Vitorio was still fresh with her—the pain of it still rippling softly through her limbs. She’d been driven until she was weak and had to sit for a time to recuperate. Vitorio had been kind enough to allow her this time alone.
When they arrived in his small Fiat, they pulled into the half moon drive before the elegant country estate, Kate’s eyes widening half in wonder, half in horror, her loins pounded hotly. They had said little as this Italian master careened wildly
