Page 32 of 2 Books in One Bundle

Connie smiled up at him again, then went back to gazing at the horizon. ‘It’s so gorgeous being out at sea like this,’ she said. ‘The sun on the water...the breeze in my hair.’

‘If you like,’ he said, ‘we can hire a motorboat and take off around the island. There are little bays and remote rocky coves...we can go snorkelling.’ His eyes glinted. ‘Even skinny dipping, perhaps?’

She gave a laugh. ‘They’d have to beveryremote coves for that!’ she warned. She looked at him again. ‘Where are we going to be staying, by the way? Or is that a secret too?’

Dante shook his head. ‘No, not at all. I’ve rented a beach villa a little way out of the main town—the only town. It’s not luxurious, but it looked good online, so I hope it won’t disappoint. There’s a decent hotel in town, if you’d prefer.’

‘A beach villa sounds perfect,’ Connie said enthusiastically. ‘Can we do barbies on the beach?’

‘I’m sure we can. And if we get bored we’ll stroll into town and eat at some of the restaurants—there are a good few. Many of the people who come to the island do so on day trips, either from the larger islands or from the mainland, so the place caters for visitors.’

‘It all sounds absolutely lovely!’ Connie exclaimed.

Dante’s arm tightened around her and he went back to gazing out over the water at the approaching island, pointing out the harbour they could already see at the far end of the little town that curved around the sweep of the bay.

It was not long before the ferry docked and they were disembarking. A few taxis waited, but Dante had a different means of transport in mind, as he told Connie.

‘Bicycles?’ she guessed.

He gave a laugh. ‘Not right now—but we can hire them if you like, to explore the island. No, our transport is just there.’

He pointed to the edge of the quay and Connie gave a squeal of delight. ‘A pony and trap!’

‘Trap?’ echoed Dante, nonplussed.

‘A small horse-drawn carriage,’ Connie explained. ‘I’ve no idea why it’s called a trap.’

They walked across to it. Dante pulled their suitcases, which he hefted up into the trap. The driver—an ancient individual with an even more ancient straw hat—said something to him in a strong dialect, raising his whip in greeting.

Meanwhile Connie had gone to meet and greet the steed who would be doing all the work. Not a pony, but a placid-looking working horse, also wearing a straw hat to protect him against the sun, his long ears poking through. Dante saw her speak affectionately to him and stroke his velvet nose, at which he whickered softly.

‘All aboard,’ said Dante cheerfully.

His mood was excellent. Connie was on board with his choice for their holiday, the sun was shining but a sea breeze freshened the heat, and now they were about to head for their private beach villa—very private!

He helped Connie up and they moved off at a sedate walking pace. Dante didn’t mind the slowness. It gave him time to look about with Connie as they made their way along what was, effectively, the main road of the little town, along the seafront.

The houses and restaurants and café-bars along the way were old-fashioned-looking, with wooden shutters and faded pastel-painted fronts and walls. The whole place had an unhurried, sleepy feel to it. The ancient driver greeted various acquaintances in almost unintelligible tones as they progressed, and Connie gave a laugh.

‘I feel I ought to wave at them. You know—like the Queen? All very gracious. And maybe nod my head as well!’

‘Go ahead.’ Dante gave an answering laugh. ‘Who knows? They may take us for royalty.’

He stretched out his legs, relaxing completely, feeling his good mood increasing. This was going to be an excellent holiday...

And so it proved. The beach villa was simple, yes, but with all that was needed—including a brick-built barbecue, just as Connie had wished for. It was ideal, and only a few steps from a small and secluded beach. There was no pool—but who needed a pool when the clear, calm azure waters awaited them?

Dante found himself wondering whether any female he’d ever run around with before would have condescended to stay in so quiet and rustic a destination. But Connie was like no other woman he knew—and she clearly loved it here.

So did he.

The days passed in easy succession—undemanding, totally relaxing—and Dante gave himself over to them. Work seemed a million miles away, and he was glad of it. Internet connection was not great, and he was glad of that too. It gave him a good reason not to let himself be plagued by his office.

And why should he be? He had competent staff, and in the time since his grandfather had died he’d overseen the smooth transfer to his own executive control, adding in some of his key people, letting some of his grandfather’s retire, but without any acrimony. The company was making even more money than when his grandfather had been in charge, and all the years of dogged apprenticeship he’d put in as his grandfather’s heir had trained him completely to do what was necessary.

His thoughts sheared away. He wasn’t here to think about work. He was here to have what he had very seldom had before—a holiday. A solid two weeks—not just a few days snatched out of a hectic work schedule and invariably including some business meetings, even if he had managed to bring one of his fleetinginamorataswith him for the duration.

Both holidays andinamorataswere not something his grandfather had approved of.

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