She went to the window and stood looking out into the darkness, not thinking, letting her feelings have their way with her. But eventually she managed to order her thoughts.

I suppose I’m crazy, but so what? I love him, and I’ll always love him, but it won’t last. We’ll have this little time together, then go our separate ways-because that’s what has to happen. He’ll tire of me and find someone else, and that’s fine. The only heart broken will be mine. And that’s fine, too.

But when she awoke next morning all thoughts of broken hearts were far away. She opened her eyes to find Carlo propped on his elbows, looking down at her.

He was almost smiling, but there was also a question in his eyes, and with a sense of incredulity she realised that he was apprehensive. Last night he had been a confident lover, seducing her with practised skill. This morning he was unsure of himself.

Slowly she raised a hand and let her fingers drift down his cheek.

‘Hallo,’ she whispered, smiling.

He got the message, his face brightened, and the next moment he’d seized her into his arms, crushing her in an exuberant hug, laughing with something that sounded almost like relief.

‘No regrets?’ he whispered.

‘No regrets.’

‘You don’t want to turn back?’

He might have meant on their journey, but she understood his true meaning. They’d started on another journey, to an unknown destination. She’d made her mind up before this, but after a night of joy in his arms nothing would have held her back. Wherever the road led, she was ready and eager for it.

As they left the hotel he saw her giving yearning looks at his car.

‘If you were a gentleman you’d offer to let me drive,’ Della sighed,

It was comical how swiftly the ardent lover vanished, replaced by a man guarding his treasure like a lion defending its young.

‘An Italian car on Italian roads?’ he said, aghast.

‘I’ve driven in France,’ she told him. ‘So I have an international licence, and I’m used to driving on the wrong side of the road.’

He glared. ‘It’s the English who drive on the wrong side of the road. And this is my new car. Forget it. I’m not that much of a gentleman.’

‘I was afraid of that,’ she said sorrowfully.

‘Get in-the passenger seat.’

She assumed a robot voice to say croakily, ‘I obey!’ That made him grin, but he didn’t yield. Not yet.

He headed the car down the hill and drove for an hour, before pulling up in a quiet country lane and demanding to see her international licence, which he examined with all the punctilious care of a beaurocrat.

‘It’s a clean licence,’ she pointed out. ‘It says that I’m absolutely safe to drive on continental roads.’

‘It says nothing of the kind,’ he growled. ‘It simply says you haven’t been caught out yet.’

‘You’re not very gallant.’

‘No man is gallant where his new car is concerned. This licence doesn’t mean anything. The English give them out like confetti. That’s how little road sense they have.’

‘Or I might have forged it,’ she offered helpfully.

He gave her a dark look and got out of the car.

‘Five minutes,’ he said. ‘That’s all.’

He instructed her in the vehicle’s finer points and they set off. Five minutes became ten, then half an hour. She was instantly at home in the lovely vehicle, for fast, expensive cars were her secret weakness. In England she didn’t even own a car, since life in central London made it impractical, so this was a treat that seldom came her way, and she made the most of it, feeling her sedate, respectable side falling away with every mile.

Even Carlo had to admit that she was a natural driver. He might groan all he pleased, but she could sense him relaxing beside her as her skill became increasingly clear.

‘Well, I suppose you’re not too bad,’ he said at last.

‘Thank you,’ she said wryly.

‘All right-you’re much better than I expected, and I’m sorry I doubted you.’ Then he ruined the effect by saying, ‘But let’s stop for lunch while my nerves can stand it.’

She chuckled, and pulled into an inn that had appeared just ahead.

After lunch he reclaimed the driver’s seat, and as they continued south he explained about Badolato, their next destination.

‘It’s near the coast. I know it pretty well because I’ve been researching the Holy Grail.’

‘Here? But surely the Grail is-?’ she stopped.

‘That’s the point. Nobody knows where it is-or even what it was. But supposedly the Knights Templar used Badolato as a base, and they brought the Grail to the town for a while. Some people say it’s still there, hidden.’

‘You believe that?’

‘I believe it’s a very curious place. There are thirteen churches for a population of three and a half thousand, and the purity of the spring water is legendary. People come from miles around to fill up on it. They come to swim, too. It has its own beach down below, and the town is just above. In fact, there it is.’

She looked up and saw a medieval village rising steeply on the hillside in the distance.

‘I called ahead to the hotel where I normally stay,’ he said.

‘I hope you booked only one room this time?’

He grinned. ‘Yes, I did.’

Then she saw the beach.

‘It’s perfect!’ she breathed. ‘I’ve never seen such white sand or such blue sea-no, not blue. It’s practically violet.’

‘That’s a common trick of the light, especially this late in the afternoon. Shall we stop?’

‘Oh, yes, please. I’m dying for a swim.’

She felt sticky after the drive. Luckily the Badolato Marina was geared for bathers, and they were able to secure a hut. A run down the beach, a plunge into the surf, and all practical cares fell away as though the sea had washed them to oblivion.

She had discovered his body in the darkness, and knew the feel of every inch, but seeing it in sunlight was a new pleasure. She felt a guilty, almost voyeuristic pleasure in watching him as he plunged in and out of the water. It was like finding valuable treasure and securing it for her private enjoyment.

‘What is it?’ he asked, finally noticing her standing back and regarding him.

‘I’m just appreciating the view, thinking my thoughts.’

‘Tell me about those thoughts.’

She laid a hand on his chest, letting her fingers walk down a few inches.

‘Those kind of thoughts,’ she said.

‘Don’t do that,’ he said in a shaking voice.

She withdrew her hand and stood, giving him a challenging look, with her head on one side.

‘And don’t do that either,’ he begged. ‘This is a public place.’

She laughed, having fun. But suddenly she became aware that the light had faded and the air was rapidly growing colder. It had happened all in a moment.

‘Come on,’ he said.

Grabbing her hand, he dashed for the shore, while the sky darkened still, and growled until it exploded into a bang that almost deafened her. They changed in a hurry and reached the car as the first lightning flashed. She managed to get there first, and opened the driver’s door.

‘It’s better if I drive-’ he started to say.

‘Get in.’

He had to move fast, and then they were swinging out of the car park and up the hill. At once Della knew the task was harder than she’d reckoned. The road seemed to wind and wind, and it took all her attention to stay steady. Then the rain came crashing down about them, making the journey even more hair-raising.

Luckily it was only a brief drive, and within a few minutes they’d reached Badolato.

‘Turn left just there,’ Carlo said in a grim voice. ‘Then right.’

She did so, and drew up outside a modest but comfortable-looking hotel.

Carlo threw her a sulphurous look, but said nothing until she had switched off the engine. Then he exploded.

‘You stupid woman!’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘What on earth came over you? Do you think driving up a steep, winding road in a thunderstorm is-is-?’ He became speechless.

‘I honestly don’t know what came over me. It’s so unlike me to go mad like that. I’m usually so sensible.’

‘Sensible! Hah! More like five years old. Did I say something funny?’ he added sharply, because Della’s lips had twisted into a smile.

‘Well, I’m a lot more than five years old,’ she said wryly. ‘Carlo, I’m truly sorry for going crazy like that, but nothing happened. There isn’t a scratch on your car.’

‘Be damned to the car!’ he roared. ‘Do you think that’s what-?’

‘And I didn’t hurt anyone else.’

‘We’re lucky we didn’t meet anything coming down the hill.’

‘Hey, I’m a good driver.’

‘You’re a blithering idiot,’ he snapped, not mincing matters. ‘I’ve seen children with more sense. You-you-’

He jerked her roughly into his arms and held her close in a grip of iron. She could hardly breathe, but she could feel, with relief, that what drove him was no longer rage but a kind of hair-tearing distraction.

‘You could have been killed,’ he said in a muffled voice against her neck. ‘And don’t give me that nonsense about being a good driver. You’re not as good as that-d’ you hear?’

He drew back, holding her face between his hands so that she could see his eyes, dark with something that was almost desperation.

‘Don’t you ever dare give me a fright like that again,’ he said fiercely. ‘Mio dio!’

She was still partly in the grip of the wild mood that had seized her, and it was being driven higher by the lightning that flashed through the window, the thunder that almost seemed to be in the car with them. But most potent of all was the way he was trembling, as conflicting feelings raged within him.

‘If you ever dare do that again-’ he said hoarsely.

‘Yes-what-?’

‘Come here.’

‘Tell me what’ll happen if I do it again,’ she whispered provocatively.

‘I said come here.’

So she did. She did everything he wanted, laughing and singing within herself, so that her spirit soared and everywhere the world was full of joy.

‘I’m in love with you. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Hush!’

‘Why? Aren’t I allowed to say it?’

‘Carlo, be sensible-’

‘Not in a million years.’

‘But three days-’

‘Three days, three hours, three minutes. What does it matter? It was always there, wasn’t it? As soon as I saw you there at Pompeii, when I heard you laughing-’

‘When I saw you clowning around for those kids-’

‘Is that why you love me? Because I can make you laugh?’

‘Hey, cheeky! I didn’t say I loved you.’

‘But you do, don’t you? Let me hear you say it-please, Della.’

‘Hmm!’

‘Say it, please. Don’t tease me.’

‘Be patient. Three days is too soon.’

‘Say it.’

‘Too soon…’

They spent the day in Badolato, with Della making notes and buying up all the local books she could find. When evening came they ate in their room, preferring to hide from the rest of the world. But tonight only half her attention was for Carlo. What she had seen today had fired her imagination.

‘It’s promising,’ she said, flicking through her notes. ‘If I can only find a few more like this.’

‘Come and have a shower,’ he urged. ‘It’s time we were thinking of bed.’

‘Yes, but don’t you see-?’

‘We can talk in the shower,’ he said, beginning to undress her.

But in the shower there were other distractions, and by the time they had lathered and rinsed each other the conversation was no further advanced.

‘This is supposed to be a working trip,’ she murmured when they were lying naked in bed.

‘We’ve spent all day working,’ he complained, brushing one finger over the swell of her breast.

‘But I haven’t got enough for the series,’ she said, trying not to let her voice shake from the tremors going through her.

‘What are you looking for?’ he asked. ‘Do you just want tragic places, like Pompeii and the sunken liner, or dramatic, mysterious places like this?’

His own voice shook on the final words, because her hand had found him, the fingers caressing him softly in a way that made it hard for him to concentrate.

‘But what else is there?’ she asked.

‘Cheerful places.’

‘Are there any?’

‘Don’t you know your own country’s history? What about The Field of the Cloth of Gold?’

She frowned. ‘Wasn’t that-?’

‘If you wanted to be pompous you could call it the first great summit conference, but actually it was just a jumbo jolly.’

‘A jumbo jolly?’ She chuckled. ‘I like that.’

‘Four hundred years ago King Henry VIII of England and Francis I of France, plus their courts, met in a field outside Calais. They put up huge tents made of silk, satin and gold, and had a party that was so extravagant that the locals celebrate it to this day.’