“I didn’t bring a swimming costume with me,” I said. “I thought it would be all churches and art galleries. Besides,” I added, “we only have one more day.”

He nodded. “So, you will come back again. When you are an independent woman.”

“I hope so.”

He had spread a rug on the grass. “Sit,” he said.

I did so. He squatted beside me, opened the basket and took out various containers, displaying them with satisfaction.

“Cheeses,” he said. “Bel Paese, pecorino, Gorgonzola, mozzarella that you must eat with tomato.” He pointed to them as he put them on a wooden board. “And here salamis, and prosciutto, and olives. And the bread. And the wine. And peaches from our estate. See, we will not starve.”

He poured red wine into two glasses and handed me one. I took a sip. It was rich, warm and almost fruity. I had had dinner. It was the middle of the night. But I found myself tucking in as if I hadn’t eaten for days. “Mmm” was all I could say.

Leo nodded, smiling, watching me eat with satisfaction as if he were a conjurer who had just pulled off a spectacular magic trick.

A cool breeze was blowing off the Adriatic Sea now, but the wine was warming through my whole body. I took a bite of peach, and juice ran down my chin.

“Oh.” I dabbed at it in embarrassment. “I’ve never had a peach so juicy before.”

Leo was laughing. “That’s because they are fresh. Picked today.” He reached out and wiped my chin with his fingertip. It was only the lightest of brushes against my skin, but it made me feel uneasy and excited at the same time. Reluctantly, we finished eating, but Leo filled my glass again, and I took another drink.

I lay back, looking up at the stars. I couldn’t ever remember being so content.

“So tell me,” Leo said, his face appearing above mine, “have you ever been kissed?”

“Never. Apart from family members.” He was going to kiss me. A perfect ending to a perfect evening. My heart started beating rather fast.

“Then you are lucky that it is I who give you a first kiss,” he said. “I am very good at it, so I am told.”

And before I could say anything more, his lips came down to meet mine. This was no delicate brushing of a first kiss, such as I had read about in novels. I was conscious of the warmth of his mouth, the weight of his body against mine and an incredible surge of desire I had not known I possessed. I didn’t want him to stop. But he sat up suddenly.

“I think I had better be a gentleman and stop right now,” he said. “I should take you home.”

He started packing up the remains of our picnic. I sat watching him, feeling confused. Had I somehow displeased him, disappointed him, not been good enough? I didn’t want to ask.