Page 27 of Modern Romance May 2026 Books 5-8
‘It’s been a challenge. During the transition from chemicals, we took a hit financially, but since then it’s been on an upward trajectory in terms of yield and last year we had our best year ever.’
She could believe it. There was a promise of abundance, the potential for a bountiful harvest everywhere she looked. And a sense of nurturing and meticulous care, of human intervention but in harmony with nature.
All of it apparently down to Ettore.
It was strange and a little sad to think that they had been husband and wife and yet she had known nothing about any of this. How had that happened? But she had never pushed him to talk about his life before her, because that would have meant talking about her home life, her past, herself and, of course, the decision she’d made to abandon her brother. And if she couldn’t forgive herself for what she had done to Oscar, how could she expect anyone else to?
It was why everything they’d ‘shared’ had been superficial.
Except in bed. That was when, how, they had communicated deeply. But why get married, then? Why hadn’t they just stayed in bed until the fire that blazed between them had burned out?
A shrill, repetitive ringing sound punctuated that thought and Ettore fished out his phone. Glancing at the screen, he frowned. ‘I need to take this.’
‘Go ahead.’ She gave him a small, stiff smile. ‘I can entertain myself.’
As Ettore answered his phone, she walked back over to where the bike was parked. She swung her leg over the seat, and sat down, letting her gaze drift across the landscape. It was a paradise. And finally, and without any kind of strange, artificial intervention, she and Ettore had found a common ground.
If only she didn’t have to lie to Edoardo.
Her fingers tightened around the bike handles, and she felt a sudden urge to flee the scene of the crime. Except she didn’t know how to ride the bike. Or perhaps she did. How hard could it be?
Tentatively, she turned the key as Ettore had done, then flicked the engine on switch. Now, just a little bit of throttle. She turned the handlebar—
There was a roar, much louder than she’d anticipated. Startled, she let go of the handlebars as the bike jerked forward, rearing up like a startled horse, and then she was falling backwards, her breath punching out of her mouth audibly as she sat down heavily on the ground.
The bike was still moving, speeding forward down the slope and then there was the sound of wood splintering and fibreglass cracking as it collided with a fence post and slid sideways, its wheels spinning in the air.
‘Ma che cazzo fai?’
Ettore was by her side, leaning over her, his face in shadow, his eyes moving over her anxiously and she didn’t need to speak Italian to know that he was swearing.
‘What are you playing at?’
‘Nothing. I was—’ It was too complicated to explain.
‘Are you hurt?’
‘No.’ Bruised maybe, but mostly that was just her pride, she thought, watching his face harden as she shook her head.
‘Wait here.’
He got to his feet and stalked down the hill to where the bike lay on its side beneath a fence post, wire tangled around the chassis. It took a moment or two of twisting and tugging, but he managed to pull it free and lift it upright.
‘Is it okay?’
‘It’s fine,’ he said tersely, and the easy mood between them was a distant memory now. ‘We should get back. Are you okay to ride?’
‘Yes, of course.’
He stared at her for a moment as if debating whether or not to believe her and then he handed her a helmet.
Her coccyx was already starting to feel sore by the time they reached the barn. Ettore spoke to a man wearing overalls about the bike and then he took her hand and practically frogmarched her back to the castle.
‘I have a couple of calls to make. Dinner is at eight. We’ll eat on the terrace. What? What is it?’ He was staring at her face, frowning.
‘You’re hurt—’
She stared anxiously at where blood was seeping through the fabric of his shirt.
