Page 20 of Modern Romance May 2026 Books 5-8
‘Sounds welcoming.’
His mouth curved up minutely at the corners and she knew that he knew that she was referring to that remark he had made in Cambridge, and she had to fight back a betraying sort of flush at the idea that they should be in any way on the same wavelength.
‘Six hundred years ago there used to be pirates along the coast, and I suppose the residents got fed up with being raided and robbed so the landowners built these fortified houses.’
‘Why didn’t they just build castles?’
‘Some of them did.’ He lifted his hand from the wheel and gestured to his left and her gaze followed his gesture.
She sat up sharply, her eyes widening.
Even at a distance she could see the turrets of what was unmistakably a castle, half hidden by woodland.
And then it disappeared from view.
Turning in her seat, she peered past the headrest trying to see it again. And then she froze.
Ettore glanced at her. ‘What is it?’
‘Those SUVs were at the airport. I think we’re being followed.’
‘Yes, we are,’ he said calmly. ‘It’s their job, and, unfortunately, they’re something you’ll have to come to terms with.’
‘What do you mean?’ She frowned, and now it was her turn to look over at him.
‘It comes with the territory,’ he said as he accelerated through a pair of huge wrought-iron gates that opened silently to let them pass. ‘Or rather it comes with the estate.’
‘What are you talking about? What estate?’
A shiver ran down her spine, a child again playing Grandmother’s Footsteps, feeling something creeping up behind her, something she didn’t want to turn and face. But this time Ettore was giving her no choices.
He shifted back in his seat, his dark gold gaze tearing into her.
‘This is Castiglione Fiana, and it is my family’s home. Which means, as of now, it is your home too.’
Her breath, her heartbeat, everything fell still. This was his family home?
But what kind of family lived in a castle? In England, they would have to be ultra wealthy or, more likely, aristocratic.
She thought back to the beautiful, serious-eyed man she had met in Paris, remembering how formal he could sometimes be with strangers and that slight aloofness of manner that seemed to magically conjure up a seat in a crowded restaurant. And then her hands started to tremble and there was a ringing in her ears, and she understood it all in that instant and it was as crushing as it was overwhelming. Because the clues had always been there but she’d been too busy hiding herself to see what was hiding in plain sight.
‘Who are your family?’
He hesitated infinitesimally as if the question was something he’d fielded many times already in his life.
‘My father is the Duke of Marchesi. I am his heir, the Marquis of Corti.’
For a moment, the interior of the car seemed to flex in on itself as if all the air had been sucked out if it. They had stopped moving but Dulcie barely noticed. Nor did she register the moment when Ettore got out of the car. It was only when he opened her door and held out his hand and then, moments later, attempted to take hers, that her body reacted and she pulled her hand back.
For a moment, his smile looked as if it were stamped onto his face, and she suddenly noticed that they were no longer alone. There were two people, a man and a woman, standing in front of the largest door she had ever seen. His family? No, they must be staff, she realised a moment later as the woman stepped forward, inclining her head, her knees dipping into what looked suspiciously like a curtsey.
‘Buongiorno, Signore, Signora.’
‘Buongiorno, Valentina.Cara, this is Valentina, our housekeeper. And that is Alberto.’ The man bowed stiffly.
‘Hi, nice to meet you both.’ Dulcie forced herself to smile, and this time when Ettore took her hand, she managed not to jerk away.
Ignoring the sparks shooting up her arm, she let him lead her into the castle.
