Free The Italian’s Rightful Bride by Lucy Gordon

were.’
    â€˜Didn’t I bore your head off, talking history all the time?’
    â€˜Nobody bores me by talking about my home,’ he said. ‘Even then I was impressed by your knowledge.’
    â€˜But we were supposed to be a courting couple,’ she reminded him, teasing. ‘And there we were, talking about Julius Caesar.’
    â€˜It wasn’t always Julius Caesar.’
    â€˜That’s right. We touched on Lucrezia Borgia as well. There’s something not quite right about that, if only I could put my finger on it.’
    He joined in her laughter. They had slipped back into their usual way of talking, which, she guessed, was what he’d wanted.
    She put the beer can to her lips, throwing her head back and draining it like a man, finishing with a sigh of pleasure.
    â€˜You’ve got foam on your mouth,’ he said, taking out a clean handkerchief.
    â€˜Thank you.’ She stood quietly until he’d finished dabbing her lips.
    â€˜I don’t think you take proper care of yourself,’ he said.
    â€˜I don’t need to fuss about myself. I have everything I want. Look.’ She indicated the half-revealed foundations stretching away from them.
    As she said it a different look came over her face, as though she could see something that was hidden from him.
    â€˜Joanna,’ he said uncertainly.
    She touched his hand and moved away slowly, descending the few shallow steps that led down to where the foundations were beginning to show, and even some tiles. As he watched she dropped to her knees and ran her fingertips over the tiles, where the outline of a pattern was just visible.
    Then she stood up and looked out over the whole dig, stretching over most of an acre, her face blazing with pride. She did not speak, but she didn’t need to. She couldn’t have said more clearly, This is my kingdom.
    â€˜Joanna,’ he said softly.
    When she did not seem to hear him he took hold of her shoulders and turned her towards him.
    â€˜Joanna,’ he said again, giving her a little shake. ‘Where are you?’
    She gave him a smile, but there was something dreamy about it.
    â€˜I’m here,’ she assured him.
    â€˜I don’t think so. Sometimes I think the real world isn’t very real to you at all.’
    â€˜You think this is the only real world?’ she asked in surprise. ‘Isn’t the past real? It should be to you of all people. I thought you understood the excitement of passing into another universe where the rules are different.’
    â€˜But not more real than the present,’ he said with atouch of urgency, for the hairs were beginning to stand up on the back of his neck at a kind of strangeness that had come over her.
    â€˜It’s like travelling, exploring wondrous places. It’s the greatest excitement there is.’
    â€˜I think your world is inhabited by some very strange creatures. It’s alarming.’ He searched her face. ‘You’re a little alarming yourself.’
    She looked up at him, smiling. The glow of the sun was on her face. Hardly knowing what he did, or why, he drew her hat off, so that the sun touched her hair too, seeming to turn her to gold. The sight of her held him still.
    Joanna could not have moved if her life had depended on it. Gustavo was looking at her as he had never done before, as though she had his whole attention, even without his will. His expression was startled, unguarded, almost defenceless, and she knew that, for the second time that day, she had broken through to some inner place that had always been barred to her in the past.
    She was flooded with warmth, although whether from the sun or from some other cause she did not know. She only knew that it was beautiful and sweet, and she wanted it to last forever.
    â€˜Joanna—’ he whispered again.
    The shrilling sound from her pocket seemed to go through them both, breaking the spell.
    â€˜What’s