Same Time, Next Christmas Read online

  "I do know a smattering of the language, and I am never rude."

  "I doubt that."

  I ignored him. "And I have a phrase book."

  "Perhaps you should use it."

  "I intend to, but at the moment it’s not necessary, is it?" The blasted man's insistence on pointing out my linguistic failures had distracted me from the subject at hand. "What do you mean I'm the trespasser?"

  "Simply that," he said. "This beach is part of the villa property. And as I have reserved the villa—"

  "You what?" Without thinking, I spun around to face him. Fortunately, he had already donned his shirt and trousers, both of which clung to him, in spots where he was still wet, in a most disturbing manner. He was tall and solidly built in the way of a man who enjoyed physical exercise. He appeared to be a few years older than I. His eyes were dark, his features regular, and one might have thought him dashing, even handsome, if one was so inclined. I was not. "That's impossible.

  He propped his right foot against a boulder and tied his shoe. "Not at all. I wrote to the villa's owner months ago. I have correspondence confirming that." He finished his right foot and switched to his left. "For the next month, the Villa Mari Incantati is mine."

  "As I said, that's impossible." I squared my shoulders. "As the villa has been reserved for me."

  "When you wrote to the owner, did she confirm your request?" he asked mildly, working at the laces on his shoe.

  "The owner is a dear friend of my aunt, who was supposed to accompany me but was unable to do so at the last minute." Even to my own ears, it didn't sound quite as legitimate as confirming correspondence. And given the impromptu nature of this trip to Italy and the fact that Aunt Helena simply visited the villa's owner, an elderly countess who lived in Mayfair, to make the arrangements, it was entirely possible that this stranger's claim to the villa was more valid than mine. "I am confident she arranged everything."

  He finished tying his shoe, then straightened. "I assume you have written confirmation as to that."

  "Well, I don't, but I'm certain my aunt . . ." Damnation, of course I didn’t. And knowing Aunt Helena, I would wager neither did she. She would say she didn’t need it, that she and the owner had a verbal agreement. Which was all well and good, but a verbal agreement between two women who weren't here versus a written confirmation in the hands of a man who did not look willing to give up his claim was almost as bad as having nothing at all.

  "The aunt who isn’t here?"

  "Yes, but—"

  "Therefore, you have nothing in the way of actual proof as to your claim."

  "Not on paper, but—" At once the answer struck me. "The owner was to send the villa staff notice as to our arrival. That should be adequate proof and will clear up this misunderstanding." I narrowed my eyes. "Then you may be on your way."

  "Not bloody likely." He smiled and pulled his silk tie around his neck but failed to actually tie it. It gave him a roguish, devil-may-care look. He looked distinctly . . . adventurous. "I arranged to reside here, and here is where I intend to stay." He grabbed his coat and waved toward the path. "Shall we?"

  "The sooner we have this resolved, the better," I said in a haughty fashion and started toward the path.

  I had no need to be haughty. I was fairly certain he was in the right and I was in trouble. We had arranged to let the villa so quickly that I wouldn't be at all surprised if the staff had never received word. Aunt Helena was not known for either thoroughness or efficiency. I was only comforted by the realization that the majordomo and housekeeper, Silvestro and his wife, Agostina, had been most welcoming upon my arrival, as if they had indeed been expecting me. While I had only been in Italy a day or so, thus far the people seemed remarkably friendly. However, as my welcome had been mostly in Italian, for all I know they could have been saying, Welcome, madam. Lovely hat. Who are you and why are you here?

  I started up the steep path, the gentleman a few steps behind me. I was very aware of his position behind and, for the most part, below me on the path, and I did hope he wasn't the type of man to stare and think lascivious thoughts. I put the unsettling idea out of my mind. There was nothing I could do about his thoughts, lascivious or otherwise. Besides, our positions couldn't be helped. At least if I tripped and began to slide back toward the beach, he would be there to hopefully break my fall and provide rescue. And wouldn't that be awkward? I had no desire to be obligated to him, and especially not for my life.

  There was a short rock wall, no higher than my knees, that guarded the path from the rocky cliff that plunged downward to the sea. The small beach we had come from was one of the few spots I had seen thus far where one could actually access the water. I was not used to a climb like this and tried very hard not to let my exertion show. I couldn't imagine any man would find a woman huffing and puffing her way up a cliff to be even remotely attractive. Not that I cared, but he was rather handsome. I didn't know any woman who wanted to look less than her best in front of a handsome man. It was a matter of pride, really. Nothing more than that.

  At least he was not inclined toward conversation, for which I was grateful. I wasn’t sure I could talk and climb at the same time. I couldn’t help but consider what my next step would be should the staff be unaware of my stay. Resolve washed through me. Regardless of what happened next, I shared one thing with the gentleman. I too had arranged to stay at the Villa Mari Incantati, and the Villa Mari Incantati was where I intended to stay. For Christmas, and two weeks beyond.

  At last we reached the point nearly at the top of the cliff where the path widened out and leveled off. There was now only a slight rise to the walled garden and iron gate that led to the loggia—a covered terrace that ran the length of the villa—with a remarkable view of the bay and Mount Vesuvius in the distance. The thought of being so close to the volcano was unsettling, even if it was nice to be able to keep an eye on it. And this was an adventure, after all. What would an adventure be without an element of danger? My Baedeker's Guide to Southern Italy had assured me that there was no real danger, as the volcano had been quiet for the last dozen years or so. Indeed, one could predict the weather by which way the ever-present plume of smoke drifted. Convenient, perhaps, but not overly reassuring.

  Aunt Helena had spoken of visiting the ruins of Pompeii, as we would be so close, but now that she wasn't with me, I had no desire to see the remains of what had once been a lively community. The story of how Pompeii had been destroyed and nearly forgotten for centuries had always struck me as terrifying and very, very sad. Beyond that, I was not thrilled at being even closer to the volcano.

  We crossed the loggia, even in December a wonderfully inviting spot. Paved with ancient flat stones, winter foliage wrapped around the columns that framed arched openings. The mild nature of the climate ensured all was still green, but only a handful of the hardiest specimens were actually in bloom. I anticipated spending long hours here curled in a chaise lounge reading one of the books I'd brought with me. My escort picked up his pace to reach the glass-paned door before me, opened it and waved me into the villa.

  "Thank you," I said coolly and stepped into a large garden room. Three sets of French doors opened onto the loggia. Light flooded the space, thanks to floor-to-ceiling windows on the north wall that provided, as well, a spectacular view of the coastline. Pots and urns filled every unoccupied space and overflowed with a profusion of colorful blooms that were apparently quite willing to thrive in the sunny room when their compatriots out of doors were not.

  Almost at once, Silvestro descended upon us with a flurry of enthusiastic Italian. I vowed to never again leave my room without my phrase book.

  "Sembra possiamo avere un problema," my nemesis said smoothly.

  I wasn't at all pleased that it would be up to him to explain our circumstances, but he was proficient in Italian, and we had already established I was not. I was likely to get us both thrown out. Whether I wanted to or not, I would have to trust that he was an honorable sort. My only solac
e was the excellent quality of his clothing. Surely a man who wore such clothing could be trusted.

  "Un problema?" Silvestro's eyes widened, and his gaze shifted from my interpreter to me and back. Even I could understand problema. "Qual è il problema? Cosa posso fare per correggerlo?"

  I was now completely lost. As the two exchanged words at breakneck speed, I could have sworn I heard the voice of a long-ago instructor berating me for not taking the study of languages more seriously.

  "Ahh." Silvestro glanced at me and nodded. "Un momento." He turned and scurried off down the hallway.

  "Well?" I said.

  "He says he has correspondence and apparently a book in which he notes matters pertaining to the running of the villa. However . . ."

  "However?" I did not like the look on his face.

  "Let's wait to see what Silvestro has in his book, shall we? But I daresay you're not going to like it," he added under his breath.

  I stared at him, annoyance sharpening my voice. "I have never been fond of men who enjoy being cryptic. Evasive and mysterious are not qualities I find the least bit attractive."

  "You think I'm mysterious?" A hint of a smile played about his lips.

  "I think you're annoying," I snapped. "Although you have not seen fit to introduce yourself, which I find more rude than mysterious."

  His smile grew more smug. "Neither have you."

  "I am not accustomed to introducing myself to naked gentlemen I encounter while they are swimming in the sea," I said in a lofty tone.

  "I see." His dark eyes, a deep blue, sparkled with amusement. Sparkled! He was enjoying this! "So when are you accustomed to introducing yourself to naked gentlemen?"

  I sucked in a sharp breath. This was totally and completely improper and quite, quite shocking. "I beg your pardon!" I narrowed my eyes. "Chiedo scusa!"

  He stared for a moment, then laughed. "You do learn quickly."

  "Apparently, I will have to." I drew a deep breath and summoned a measure of calm. I did not like being teased. I'd had more than enough of that from male cousins as a child. I did not like feeling helpless, and I absolutely hated not knowing what people were saying. "I do think, given the situation, that we should consider—"

  Silvestro came bustling back, a large ledger in one hand and a few loose papers in the other. He placed the ledger on a table. "Signore, signora, vedo qui—"

  "Mi scusi," I said quickly, stepped away and gestured to my stranger to join me. "It's ridiculous for me to pretend to understand what the two of you are talking about. If you would be so good as to handle this . . ." I forced a weak smile. "I would be most appreciative."

  "Of course," he said in a gallant manner, then studied me for a moment. "Are you sure you can trust me?"

  "No." I shrugged. "But I do find your clothes reassuring."

  A slow grin spread across his face. His very nice face. "I shall make a note to thank my tailor."

  "As well you should," I said in a sharper tone than I had intended, but then, I did tend to be sharp when I suspected something not to my liking was imminent. And suspected, as well, that there was nothing I could do to prevent it.

  He raised a brow in an arrogant way, as if he were amused and intrigued at the same time. It was most annoying, and I had the absurd impulse to slap his face. I had never slapped a man's face before and often wondered what vile thing the beast would have to do to deserve such a fate. Now, I was beginning to understand.

  "If you will excuse me." He nodded and turned back to speak with Silvestro.

  I sighed and returned to stand by the door and gaze at the scene beyond the glass. From this vantage point, the volcano was centered between two of the vine-covered columns that supported the loggia's roof. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, and the sky was streaked with pinks and oranges. It was a picture fit for a postal card. No doubt with some sentimental nonsense scrawled on the back.

  Silence fell behind me, and I could see the men's faint reflection in the glass. They had apparently finished their discussion. I wasn't at all sure I was ready to hear my fate.

  "Well?" I turned to face my stranger and forced a bright note to my voice. "Have you sorted all this out?"

  "More or less."

  I ignored the reluctant tone in his voice. "When will you be leaving, then?"

  The hesitation in his eyes vanished, replaced by a look that might be called a little bit wicked. I had the distinct feeling I had just thrown down a gauntlet. I raised my chin and met his gaze directly. "Well?"

  "Oh, I won’t be leaving."

  My heart sank. I ignored it. It would not do to have this villain think he had the upper hand. Especially if he did.

  "What did Silvestro say?" I held my breath.

  "He's confirmed that he did indeed have correspondence from the villa's owner as to your—or, rather, your aunt's—arrival."

  "Aha!" I fairly shouted with triumph. It was not the sort of exuberance I usually exhibited. I was, for the most part, sedate and cognizant of the rules of proper behavior. One should never gloat over one's successes, after all. But at the moment, I didn’t care and wondered if this lapse in propriety was a consequence of adventure. I rather hoped so. It was delightful. "I knew all was in order. I didn't doubt it for a moment." Still, it wasn't well-mannered to rub one's triumph in someone else's face. "I am sorry that your plans have been disrupted, but I understand these sorts of things do happen when one is traveling abroad. However, as this is not the high season, you will surely be able to find other accommodations with very little effort. Perhaps Silvestro can assist you."

  His brow furrowed in annoyance. "I have no intention of seeking other accommodations. I said I wasn't leaving, and I'm not."

  "You also said my claim to residence at the villa has been verified." I couldn't help myself—I smirked.

  "Which does not mean mine has not," he said smoothly. "Silvestro also said my arrival was expected as well."

  My stomach sank. "Oh?"

  "Apparently, while he did consider it somewhat convoluted, he attributed it to what he calls the bewildering manner of the English."

  "Nonsense." I scoffed. "We're not the least bit bewildering."

  "As we arrived within a few hours of each other, and you arrived without your aunt, Silvestro naturally assumed we were to meet each other here. A liaison that had been arranged at a location convenient to both of us." He paused. "A Christmas rendezvous, if you will."

  "I most certainly will not!" I stared at him. "And I don't think that this is a natural assumption at all."

  "He also expressed grave doubts as to whether or not your aunt even exists."

  "Of course she exists!"

  "Surely you can see his point. Shortly after I arrive, you show up without any sort of chaperone. It's not the least bit implausible to think something had been arranged between us." He shrugged. "Besides, he is Italian."

  "I don't care what he is, it's entirely far-fetched to assume simply because a man and a woman reserve the same residence at the same time that there's something scandalous in the works." I ignored the thought that if I had heard of the same sort of situation, I too would have leaped to erroneous conclusions of a sordid nature. "Why, one can just as easily assume that there was a dreadful mistake or some sort of misunderstanding or a confusion in one's calendar."

  "As this is not the usual time of year for visitors, Silvestro's assessment of the situation doesn't seem the least bit far-fetched to me. I assume you came from London?"

  "Indeed, I did, but—"

  "And I am currently residing in Calcutta. If one looks at a map, one might well say that Italy is suspiciously close to a halfway point. Therefore . . ." He paused as if his point was obvious.

  "Don't be absurd. London is far closer to Italy than Calcutta is. Why, a man would have to be truly smitten to have come this distance simply for an assignation."

  "I would think the distance is insignificant if the right lady is at the end of the journey." His blue eyes twin
kled, and heat washed up my face. "Love will entice a man to do all sorts of things he might otherwise not be inclined to attempt."

  "Be that as it may, this is not love," I said firmly. "This is an awkward dilemma involving strangers, not . . . lovers." I don't believe I had ever said that particular word in a man's presence before, let alone a man whose name I still did not know, and once again, I could feel my cheeks warm. I ignored it. "Surely you understand we must straighten this out. And I can think of only one way to do so."

  "Can you?" His brow rose.

  "It's obvious to me." I adopted my firmest voice. "You shall have to find other accommodations."

  "As we both have legitimate claims to the villa, why should I be the one to leave? I have come the farthest and expended the greatest effort." He smiled in an overly pleasant manner. "I think you should be the one to go."

  "Christmas is but three days away, and I have no intention of wandering Italy aimlessly, looking for a place to stay in some sort of odd reenactment of the story of our savior's birth." I shook my head. "No, as a gentleman, it falls to you to do the proper thing and take your leave."

  His smile widened. "And you believe I am a gentleman because of the quality of my clothing?"

  "Of course not." Although that did indeed contribute to my assessment of him. "Your accent is cultured and your manner refined. Aside from your penchant to leap naked into the sea—"

  He laughed.

  "I would say you do indeed appear to be a gentleman." I smiled in as sweet a manner as I could. "Do tell me if I'm mistaken."

  "If you judge a gentleman by his willingness to give up his plans in favor of yours, then I'm afraid you are indeed sadly mistaken."

  Annoyance surged through me. "Now see here—"

  He held up his hand to quiet me. "I have an alternative idea."

  I folded my arms over my chest. "Out with it, then."

  "As I refuse to turn around and head back to India—"

  "And I will not return to England."

  "I propose we share the villa," he said. "It's large enough to accommodate both of us. I daresay we can both reside here for the duration of our stay and easily avoid each other."