CHAPTER 8

         Alessandro was tall and she wasn't, the top of her head barely reaching his chin, so she had to tilt her head to look into his face. The rain had caught him too, but only briefly, so the drops sat on the expensive silk of his jacket in small crystal drops that could easily be brushed away.

          His hair was so black that it reminded her of midnight, gleaming damply but not dripping wet like hers. She didn't know then that the great Alessandro Baroni stood there like that, in silence, because he was completely and utterly love-struck.

          He admitted that to her later, weeks later when his single-minded campaign to break through her shy reserve was successful, on a night when she was lying in his arms on a bed of fine linen, their bodies damp, limbs tangled, his hand gently caressing her long hair across the pillow.

  &n