Tuscan Sunrise (Tales from the Grand Tour Book 4) Read online

  “Are you well?” he asked, attempting to wrench the door open farther. “Can you reach my hand?”

  “Perhaps,” a woman answered as Adrian stretched his arms into the carriage from his awkward angle above the wreck. “Heather, you go first.”

  Cold, shaking hands met Adrian’s. As soon as he had a firm grip on them, he pulled. Someone was evidently pushing from below, and within seconds, Adrian pulled a terrified young woman in a tattered ball gown from the wreck.

  “You’re all right, miss,” he said, lifting her and twisting to set her down in the grass. “You’re going to be all right.”

  Gianni and the driver of their carriage rushed to help Adrian. He reached back into the carriage and pulled out a second woman who was nearly identical to the first. That surprised him enough to leave him wondering who else might come out of the shattered carriage.

  The next woman was older and dressed in black. She groaned and fussed, and the moment he set her on her feet, she pushed away from him.

  “Unhand me, you cur,” she said, stumbling backward. She wasn’t as steady as she thought she was, and tumbled back into Gianni’s waiting arms.

  “Buongiorno,” Gianni told her with a bright smile, wrapping his arms around her.

  “Oh!” the woman gasped, staring up at him with wide eyes.

  Adrian would have grinned at Gianni’s blatant flirtations, but the sounds of the final woman in the carriage struggling to get out drew his attention back to where it should be.

  “I’ve got you,” he said, bracing himself and reaching inside to help the woman out.

  His hands closed around her upper arms, and she gripped him as well. Together, they worked to bring her out of the darkness of the carriage and into the new light of day. As soon as Adrian muscled her torso up into the light and she raised her big, brown eyes to meet his, his heart skipped a beat. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life.

  Chapter 2

  Every inch of Hattie’s body ached from the blows she’d sustained when the carriage turned over. For a minute or so, she hadn’t been certain which direction was up. A dull pain pierced the side of her head where it had slammed against the carriage wall, either Heather or Sage, or both, were moaning miserably and calling for help somewhere else in the dark, cramped space of the wreck, and Miss Sewett was silent. Everything was wrong.

  And then light poured down from the sky, and a man’s voice asked, “Are you well?”

  Hattie was so shaken from the violence of the crash and so relieved to be rescued that she was hardly aware of everything that happened next. Bit by bit, she recovered her senses. She knew she had to get the others to safety first, and so she pushed Heather, Sage, and Miss Sewett up to meet the strong arms of their savior. As soon as the others disappeared through the opening at the top of the carriage—she only realized it was the door and that the entire, ruined vehicle was twisted on its side when she stood for her turn to be lifted out—she began to shake.

  “There we are,” the kind, male voice said as her savior plucked her from the wreckage as though she weighed no more than a feather. Seconds later, she felt solid ground under her feet. “Safe and sound.”

  Hattie glanced up into the eyes of one of the most handsome men she’d ever met. He was tall, with broad shoulders and deep, brown eyes. Scruff covered the lower half of his face, but judging by his clothes, the man was a gentleman. An English gentleman at that. His smile as he held her brimmed with concern, but there was something else, something electric, behind his eyes.

  And of all the ridiculous things to do, Hattie burst into tears like a ninny. It might have been because the sight of the crushed and mangled carriage that they’d all been rescued from was terrible to behold. It seemed like a miracle that all four of them had made it out alive. But it was just as likely that her sudden flood of tears came from the intensely safe feeling of the gentleman’s arms around her. She’d come closer to death than ever before in her life. Realizing that had her trembling like a leaf in the stranger’s arms. In spite of herself and her pride, she sagged against him, burying her face against his shoulder as she wept.

  “There, there,” the man said, holding her tighter and rubbing her back bracingly. “You’re all right. I’ve got you.”

  In the back of her mind, like a whisper from the depths of her soul, came the thought that no man had ever said anything so beautiful to her in her life. No man had ever wrapped her in a protective embrace and told her everything would be all right. Far from it. And the mad thing was, without even knowing whose arms she was in, she believed him.

  She allowed herself only a few more seconds to melt against him, resting her forehead against his shoulder and drawing in deep breaths to chase away her tears, before pushing back. Weeping and shaking were signs of weakness, no matter how real the cause. She gulped in a few more breaths, squared her shoulders, then wiped away the last of her tears with her gloved hands before raising her eyes to meet her savior’s.

  “Please forgive me for behaving like such a ninny,” she said. Her voice was wispier than she cared it to be and she still shook, which caused her to frown.

  Her savior laughed and smiled down at her as though she were the most delightful thing he’d ever seen. “Your life was in serious peril. I think that gives you license to shed a few tears, Miss—” His eyebrows rose in question.

  “Lady Hattie McGovern,” she said, attempting her most charming smile, in spite of the situation.

  His brow rose and his eyes practically glowed in delight. “A lady? And an Englishwoman too.”

  Heat flooded Hattie’s face, though she wasn’t sure if it was delight at his surprise or frustration over the way he seemed a little too pleased with the discovery.

  No, on second thought, with arms like his and a smile like the one he’d directed at her, she was most certainly delighted. The feel of his body still flush with hers, in spite of the fact that she’d pulled away a bit, only added to the feeling.

  “And you are?” she asked, her heart beating faster.

  His smile morphed into a teasing grin before he said, “Lord Adrian Fairfax.”

  A swoop of excitement rushed through Hattie’s stomach and lower. It was absurd, all things considered. She’d come inches from death not fifteen minutes before, and there she was, encouraging the pulse of carnal feeling that grew within her. Of course, it could very well have been a trick of her mind to combat the terror that still tried to cling to her, as though she’d walked through a spider’s web and couldn’t shake it off. But if her mind and body were intent on soothing her fear with a far more delicious emotion, who was she to argue?

  “I cannot thank you enough for rescuing us, Lord Fairfax.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

  “Well, technically it’s Lord Whitemarsh,” he said, his cheeks going pink. “Earl of Whitemarsh and all that.”

  The swoop that had gone through Hattie’s stomach lifted to her heart. She’d been rescued by a gorgeous earl with strong arms, who managed to smell captivating, even though it was clear he hadn’t bathed or shaved that morning. “It’s still Lady McGovern for me,” she said, her smile broadening. “Though after such an intense first meeting, I wouldn’t mind if you called me Hattie one bit.”

  Clearly, he caught the intent of her flirtation. His grin turned mischievous. “And what would your husband say if I gave you leave to call me Adrian?” he asked.

  “Oh, I’m certain he wouldn’t mind at all,” Hattie said with a coy glance up through her lashes. “Seeing as he doesn’t exist.”

  “Poor chap,” Adrian said. “Not existing in the face of such a lovely wife is a true sorrow.”

  Every bit of the trembling leftover from the carriage wreck turned inward, shivering its way down Hattie’s spine and swirling in her sex. She liked Lord Adrian Fairfax, Earl of Whitemarsh. She liked him very much.

  “Oh! Oh, no,” Sage wailed somewhere off to the side.

  Hattie reluctantly dragged her eyes away from Adri
an’s, stepping out of his arms, and turned to see her cousins and Miss Sewett gathered to one side of the wrecked carriages and injured horses. The drivers and one other, older gentleman were attempting to make the three ladies comfortable. Sage still stood, her body held in such a way that hinted she stood on only one foot. As their driver helped her to sit in the grass beside Heather, she moaned, and her face went white with pain.

  “It’s my ankle,” Sage moaned on, finally managing to sit and draw her skirts far enough up her calves to expose her feet. “It hurts terribly.”

  Hattie sent a longing look to Adrian, telling him she would much rather have stayed in his arms, but that she had a duty to her cousin. She lifted the torn skirts of her ball gown and strode across the grass to Sage. Along the way, she noted her own bruises and bumps, but was reasonably certain all of her parts were in working order.

  “What seems to be the problem?” Hattie asked, crouching in front of Sage and reaching for her ankle. As soon as Hattie touched it, Sage yelped so loudly that Hattie pulled back. “I see,” she said, then pursed her lips in concern.

  “It is a miracle we were all saved,” Miss Sewett said, her eyes wide as she stood to one side, wringing her hands. “One broken ankle is a gift from the Almighty.”

  “But, of course, Our Savior would spare someone as beautiful as you, my lady,” the older man who wasn’t one of the drivers said.

  Hattie’s brow shot to her hairline as she realized the Italian man wasn’t speaking to her—or Heather or Sage—but to Miss Sewett. Miss Sewett continued to wring her hands and fret for a moment until it became apparent that everyone was staring at her. She stared right back, glancing from Hattie to Heather and Sage, and even to Adrian, before turning to find the Italian man beaming at her. As soon as she noticed him, she leapt away as though she’d been stung.

  “What is the meaning of this, sir?” she demanded, stumbling a few steps to the side.

  “My name is Gianni,” the man said, his smile broadening. “And might I have the pleasure of the name of such an angel as you.”

  Miss Sewett’s expression was one of pure horror. “You most certainly may not. And I refuse to call a man I do not know and am not related to by his given name.”

  “Then we shall have to get to know each other much better, mia bambina.” Gianni scooted closer to Miss Sewett, sliding his arm around her waist.

  Miss Sewett shrieked and dodged away from him, skirting around Heather and Sage to hide from Gianni on Hattie’s other side.

  “Enough mischief, Gianni,” Adrian laughed. “We need to get these delightful ladies to safety and find a doctor for—I’m sorry, I do not know your names.”

  “These are my cousins,” Hattie did the honors. “Miss Heather and Miss Sage McGovern. And this is our chaperone, Miss Wendine Sewett,” she added with a wink for Gianni.

  “Wendine,” Gianni said as though taking a long drink of the finest wine. “Che bella!”

  “That’s Miss Sewett to you, if I allow you to address me at all,” Miss Sewett said, her face as red as Hattie had ever seen it. She continued to wring her hands and didn’t seem able to look anyone in the eye.

  Hattie would have found Miss Sewett’s discomposure to be the funniest thing she’d ever witnessed, if Sage wasn’t clearly still in pain and if the poor horses that had been involved in the crash weren’t in bad shape as well. She didn’t want to think about the possibilities of what would happen to the poor beasts. All she wanted was to return to Villa Angelina, take a long, hot bath, and crawl into bed. Preferably with Adrian.

  Adrian seemed to have similar thoughts. The crash had not gone completely unnoticed. A man who appeared to be a farmer was rushing toward them, along with two adolescent boys who must have been his sons. “You,” Adrian called to them. “Can you bring a wagon? We need to get the ladies to safety.”

  The farmer seemed confused for a moment before Gianni repeated his words in Italian. Then the farmer nodded and gestured, turning to his sons. The boys turned back, running across the field to a farmhouse that was visible in the distance, now that the sun had fully risen.

  Things moved quickly from the moment the farmer reached them. He, the drivers, and Gianni spoke in rapid Italian, complete with wild gestures. Hattie assumed they were explaining the accident. As soon as she was certain Sage was as comfortable as possible—which wasn’t very, but at least Heather was there to provide a shoulder for her to lean on—Hattie stood and stepped to Adrian’s side.

  “Do you speak Italian?” she asked. “What are they saying?”

  Adrian’s expression had gone serious. “I understand more than I can speak,” he said. “It seems as though one of the horses pulling our carriage threw a shoe or stepped in something. Something with its foot. That caused the poor beast to charge, dragging the other along with it, straight into your carriage instead of passing safely.” He frowned as he glanced from the talking men to the single horse still lying on the ground. The other three were, thankfully, on their feet again, munching on grass in the meadow.

  “I suppose we will have the full story from the drivers once they are done with the farmer,” Hattie said, crossing her arms and facing the matter with seriousness to match Adrian’s.

  “Is your cousin well?” he asked, glancing down at her with a concerned look.

  Hattie checked over her shoulder on Sage before turning her head up to meet his gaze. Heavens, but he was large. It made her wonder if all of him was large. She fought the swirls of delight that thought brought to her in favor of enjoying the way he apparently took her seriously. Even the most attentive lovers of her past had failed to truly take her seriously.

  “I believe she will be well,” she said, rising to the challenge and giving Adrian every reason to treat her as an equal instead of a simpering, flirting female. Even if she did have every intention of flirting with him until she got what she wanted. “It appears that only her ankle is affected. We were all exceptionally lucky.”

  “Proof that fate has something more in store for you,” he told her, his smile warming again.

  Hattie’s pulse pounded as she grinned up at him. “It isn’t done with you either,” she said with as coy a look as she could manage while exhausted, still slightly shaken, and standing in a ripped ball gown in the middle of a Tuscan field. “I have a feeling it has only just begun to have its way with you.”

  “What an intriguing thought,” he said, his tone enticing.

  The farmer’s sons chose that moment to arrive on the scene with a wagon, much to Hattie’s regret. She and Aiden were forced to suspend their flirtation as they helped Sage, Heather, and Miss Sewett into the wagon. Much to Miss Sewett’s horror, Adrian and Gianni chose to ride with them as the farmer’s sons drove them the rest of the way to Villa Angelina. Gianni insisted on sitting in the wagon bed by Miss Sewett’s side during the journey. His attempts to hold Miss Sewett’s hand and sing opera arias to her—in order to calm her nerves, or so he explained—was exactly the sort of diversion that Hattie, Heather, and Sage needed on the bumpy, painful ride. By the time Villa Angelina came into sight, Hattie found herself wondering if Gianni’s antics were a deliberate way to set the ladies’ minds at ease. One glance at Adrian told her he thought as much too. Both Gianni and Adrian rose in her estimation.

  “Good Lord, what happened here?” Hattie’s cousin, Lady Roselyn, and Lord Asher McGovern, the Duke of Addlebury and the head of their wild clan, greeted them as the wagon pulled up to the villa’s front door.

  “We’ve been expecting you for hours,” Asher said, rushing forward to help Adrian lift Sage from the wagon. He frowned suspiciously at Adrian as he scooped Sage into his arms as though she were a baby. “The party at Villa Torrigiani was over ages ago.”

  “Our carriage wrecked with Lord Whitemarsh’s,” Hattie said, scooting to the back of the wagon. She intended to climb down on her own, but Adrian swept her into his arms. He took his sweet time setting her on her feet. They exchanged a charged look that hinted thei
r encounter was far from over.

  Unfortunately, Asher was there, watching them with narrowed eyes. “Whitemarsh,” he said, considering. “Lord Pickering’s son?”

  “That would be me,” Adrian said with a friendly smile. He set Hattie on her feet, stepping toward Asher and extending a hand. Asher had already handed Sage off to a footman, who carried her inside as Heather trailed anxiously after them. Asher took Adrian’s hand. “I had the misfortune of crashing into your delightful cousins, but the exceedingly good fortune of discovering that none of them were grievously harmed.”

  Asher continued to look guarded as he clasped Adrian’s hand. “I owe you my thanks.”

  “You owe him more than that, Ash,” Hattie said, straightening her skirts—which were now riddled with bits of hay as well as ripped—and moving to stand by Adrian’s side. “Lord Whitemarsh was a true hero. He pulled all four of us from the mangled wreckage of our carriage and made certain we were as well as could be expected. Just ask Miss Sewett.”

  Hattie turned to Miss Sewett—who was wide-eyed and red-faced as Gianni helped her from the wagon. She didn’t seem to mind the dashing Italian’s hands around her waist as much as she might have, though.

  “Is this true, Miss Sewett?” Asher asked her. For whatever reason, in spite of the fact that Miss Sewett was an utter pill, Asher trusted her and deferred to her in every way.

  “What? Oh. Er, um, yes, it’s true,” Miss Sewett stammered as Gianni set her down. “These gentlemen were quite the heroes this morning.”

  Asher eyed Miss Sewett with a faint twitch of his lips for a moment, then turned back to Adrian. “In that case, sir, you have my eternal gratitude.”

  “You should give him more than that,” Hattie said, her heart thumping against her ribs. She sent Adrian a cheeky, sideways smile, then faced her cousin once more. “You should invite him to stay with us. At least for the day. The man has been through as much of a fright as the rest of us, and he deserves a good rest and a meal before being shooed back to wherever he is staying.”