admired.”
He’d be amused if it weren’t for the fact that he was suddenly so tired. “Yes, it’s a Colombian square-cut emerald. Her birthstone.” He felt the slight tremor in his limbs. Giving a silent, crude curse, he whipped out his billfold and held out his driver’s license for her inspection.
A quick look showed her a stem, unsmiling picture of him and informed her that his name was Niccolo DiFrenza, that he lived at a good address in Boston, that he was six feet tall and had brown eyes.
On a certain level, she was reassured. Everything checked. But on another level, something told her Nico DiFrenza couldn’t be so simply and neatly explained by fitting him into a slot on the DiFrenza family tree. There was nothing simple or neat about this man.
“Look, Miss Deverell, please reconsider about the room. I really don’t think I can drive one more mile.” His pallor had increased, she noticed with concern. “It’s just that I’m not sure this is the best place for you. We aren’t set up to offer any service. Ramona, my mother’s housekeeper, is with me helping out, but all the workers you see are involved in the renovations.”
“So you do have other people staying here?”
“I phrased that poorly. Only Ramona and I are actually staying here. The workers come in from the surrounding towns each morning. ”
“I wouldn’t expect room service or someone to bring me fresh towels and make up my bed in the morning. All I need is a bed. Period.”
“And an ocean view.” She turned slightly to look at the house. “Well, thanks to my great-grandfather Edward Deverell and his Art Nouveau seashell-shaped design, there aren’t many rooms in the house that don’t have an ocean view.”
He saw that she was softening and pressed his advantage. “I promise I won’t be a bother. I’ll even drive into the town you mentioned for my meals. ” “Ramona would have a fit,” she said dryly. “As soon as she found out you’re recovering from an illness, you’d be lucky if she’d let you lift your own glass of water.”
“Then I can stay?"
She was tempted to say yes, but in the end, caution ruled. Reluctantly, she shook her head. “No. But I will give you a bed for a few hours so you can rest before you start out again.” He accepted her verdict in stony silence. “All right?” she asked.
“That would be very kind of you.”
Nico stepped back to allow Caitlin to precede him through the massive carved black-walnut front doors, then followed her into the grand entry hall with its forty-foot ceiling and majestic staircase that climbed a story, then branched in opposite directions to climb another story.
Nico lifted his gaze to the top of the stairs and inhaled sharply at the sight of the twenty-foot stained-glass window there, crafted in vibrant greens, purples, golds, and blues.
“Louis Comfort Tiffany designed the window to represent a peacock’s head and body,” Caitlin offered. “And the marble mosaic of the landing and stairway below it portray the tail. ”
Nico’s gaze followed the vivid plumage of the peacock’s tail as it fanned out in the breathtaking jewel-colors of the window to spread down the stairs to the hall floor. “The staircase is a work of art,” he said, his voice hushed.
She nodded, pleased with his reaction. “The whole house is.” She cast a glance at his pale face. “1 forgot to ask you about your bags. Will you need them to freshen up?"
“Probably. They’re in my car. I’ll get them later.” “Fine.” She gazed at him worriedly. He really didn't look at all well. “I think we’d better take the elevator.” His lips compressed. “I can manage the stairs.” Without a word, she took his arm and led him to one of the two gilded elevators tucked beneath the stairway. On the third floor, they walked down a wide hall.
If he were going to be allowed to stay only a few hours, he had to make the best of the time, Nico thought, trying to focus on the
He’d be amused if it weren’t for the fact that he was suddenly so tired. “Yes, it’s a Colombian square-cut emerald. Her birthstone.” He felt the slight tremor in his limbs. Giving a silent, crude curse, he whipped out his billfold and held out his driver’s license for her inspection.
A quick look showed her a stem, unsmiling picture of him and informed her that his name was Niccolo DiFrenza, that he lived at a good address in Boston, that he was six feet tall and had brown eyes.
On a certain level, she was reassured. Everything checked. But on another level, something told her Nico DiFrenza couldn’t be so simply and neatly explained by fitting him into a slot on the DiFrenza family tree. There was nothing simple or neat about this man.
“Look, Miss Deverell, please reconsider about the room. I really don’t think I can drive one more mile.” His pallor had increased, she noticed with concern. “It’s just that I’m not sure this is the best place for you. We aren’t set up to offer any service. Ramona, my mother’s housekeeper, is with me helping out, but all the workers you see are involved in the renovations.”
“So you do have other people staying here?”
“I phrased that poorly. Only Ramona and I are actually staying here. The workers come in from the surrounding towns each morning. ”
“I wouldn’t expect room service or someone to bring me fresh towels and make up my bed in the morning. All I need is a bed. Period.”
“And an ocean view.” She turned slightly to look at the house. “Well, thanks to my great-grandfather Edward Deverell and his Art Nouveau seashell-shaped design, there aren’t many rooms in the house that don’t have an ocean view.”
He saw that she was softening and pressed his advantage. “I promise I won’t be a bother. I’ll even drive into the town you mentioned for my meals. ” “Ramona would have a fit,” she said dryly. “As soon as she found out you’re recovering from an illness, you’d be lucky if she’d let you lift your own glass of water.”
“Then I can stay?"
She was tempted to say yes, but in the end, caution ruled. Reluctantly, she shook her head. “No. But I will give you a bed for a few hours so you can rest before you start out again.” He accepted her verdict in stony silence. “All right?” she asked.
“That would be very kind of you.”
Nico stepped back to allow Caitlin to precede him through the massive carved black-walnut front doors, then followed her into the grand entry hall with its forty-foot ceiling and majestic staircase that climbed a story, then branched in opposite directions to climb another story.
Nico lifted his gaze to the top of the stairs and inhaled sharply at the sight of the twenty-foot stained-glass window there, crafted in vibrant greens, purples, golds, and blues.
“Louis Comfort Tiffany designed the window to represent a peacock’s head and body,” Caitlin offered. “And the marble mosaic of the landing and stairway below it portray the tail. ”
Nico’s gaze followed the vivid plumage of the peacock’s tail as it fanned out in the breathtaking jewel-colors of the window to spread down the stairs to the hall floor. “The staircase is a work of art,” he said, his voice hushed.
She nodded, pleased with his reaction. “The whole house is.” She cast a glance at his pale face. “1 forgot to ask you about your bags. Will you need them to freshen up?"
“Probably. They’re in my car. I’ll get them later.” “Fine.” She gazed at him worriedly. He really didn't look at all well. “I think we’d better take the elevator.” His lips compressed. “I can manage the stairs.” Without a word, she took his arm and led him to one of the two gilded elevators tucked beneath the stairway. On the third floor, they walked down a wide hall.
If he were going to be allowed to stay only a few hours, he had to make the best of the time, Nico thought, trying to focus on the