Lottie sniffed. No. Not Alec.

He probably had more self-control than the statue of David. And a heart to match.

The closest thing to experiencing true magic is Venice at sunset.

Alec’s stern expression hadn’t faltered while he quite obviously quoted his own father. But if he felt even a touch of nostalgia, he did not share it. But then, why would she think him capable of any sentimentality? His actions, or lack thereof, said more than enough.

Alec finished his stretch then came around to the other side of the cart and held out his arms. Lottie hesitated, but then he raised his eyebrows. “Can’t a man keep his wife from breaking her neck?” he asked innocently.

Lottie gave him a pointed look but relented. “I suppose.”

Alec’s hands encircled her waist as he helped her down. His touch was brief and entirely courteous, but Lottie’s knees suddenly buckled. Alec immediately pulled her to him while his warm, woodsy scent invaded her senses. Her palms spread over his chest and her fingers tensed against the urge to stroke the musculature that lay beneath his linen shirt.

“It’s—it’s from sitting so long,” Lottie hastened to explain. As she forced her hands to push away from him, her very cells seemed to cry out.

Alec released her. “Of course,” he said smoothly, his expression as unfathomable as ever. “You go on ahead.” He handed her the basket. “Find us a place to sit. I’ve a blanket packed away here somewhere.”

Lottie gave a dazed nod as she took the basket and walked toward the river. The swift, steady sound of rushing water helped to settle her overwrought nerves. She found a spot that was an ideal combination of both view and shade, then watched the patterns of sunlight glinting off the surface of the water until she was lulled into a kind of trance. She didn’t even hear Alec’s approach.

“This is perfect,” he said. She whirled around as he shook out a thick brown blanket and spread it over the earth. “Here. Have a seat.”

Lottie sat down on the blanket as far away from him as possible. A corner of Alec’s mouth lifted, but he said nothing as he sprawled across the middle of the blanket and propped himself up on one bent elbow. “And what did the lovely Marta send us off with?” He looked perfectly at ease now, as if they did this regularly. And they had. Once upon a time.

A ghost of a smile hovered on Lottie’s lips. They had picnicked often at Haverford, her uncle’s estate in Surrey. Her governess, Miss Newson, had initially barred Alec from joining them despite Lottie’s many fervent pleas. She didn’t like foreigners and, well, the boy was just so very Italian. But soon enough, even the stringent Miss Newson couldn’t resist Alec’s formidable charm, and he was granted permission to accompany them. Those lazy summer afternoons were some of the happiest of her life. But it was useless to remember them now. They were both much changed since then.