“Yes.” Her glossy lips curved into a smile, and she moved to him to press them against his mouth in a lingering kiss that made Costanza mutter under her breath. “Leave us,” Francesca commanded, ignoring her protests. The older woman stalked from the dressing room, banging the door loudly behind her.

“She still hates me, I see,” Steve said, his arm having gone automatically around Francesca’s waist. “I feel quite at home again.”

“Do you? I think not.” She drew back a bit, eyeing him with a critical frown. “You look—dangerous. Is that a new scar I see on your so beautiful face?”

He caught the hand she put against his jaw, turned it over to kiss the palm, then held it. “I just came by for old times’ sake, ’Cesca. I can’t stay.”

A note of sadness crept into her tone. “It is your wife, caro? She is with you?”

“Yes, but that’s not the reason. Ginny will be staying in town. I’d like it if you avoided her. She doesn’t need any reminders of recent problems right now.”

A dark brow arched. “And how would seeing me remind her of recent problems? Oh, have you two been quarreling about me? How provincial, caro!”

“Nothing so mundane, ’Cesca. Do you recall a persistent admirer of yours by the name of Rafael Luna?”

Francesca waved a dismissive hand. “So many men follow me persistently. I cannot remember them all, Stefano!”

“But perhaps you recall the man who accosted you in Florence. I had to throw him bodily out of your dressing room after he saw us together.”

“Perhaps I recall him. Has he followed me here? How intriguing. Should I see him, do you think?”

“That would be rather difficult. I had to kill him.”

Francesca laughed. “Such a vicious banditti! Did you kill him for me?”

“No. He abducted Ginny to get to me. She went through hell because of him—and because of you and me.”

“I had nothing to do with this Luna!”

“No, but he blamed me for keeping him from you. And Ginny suffered for it.”

“So you want me to avoid her.” Francesca stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged. “I shall not seek her out, if that concerns you. But should she confront me, I will not play the role of a coward. I warn you now.”

“I don’t think Ginny will be confronting you, ’Cesca. I hate leaving her behind, especially now, but I must.”

“So you try to wrap her in cotton wool so she does not see anything unpleasant? I see. Do you recall that I once told you to go back to your wife, that you must love her? I was more right than even I knew.”

Sighing, Francesca stepped back; her luscious figure was flattered by the gown that hugged her curves, and she looked every inch the princess she claimed to be.