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As soon as he had been able to cope alone, he had left his aunt and uncle's house and come to the family villa on Elba, to escape the press and decide what the hell he was going to do with the rest of his life. Here on the island he could be himself. No one bothered him. The locals knew and respected the family, guarding their privacy. And, thankfully, the press had never found this place. Or had they? Did that explain the presence of his unexpected visitor?

'It must have been a terrible experience, Seb.'

Gina's comment interrupted his runaway thoughts, and his suspicions about her intensified. 'You could say that.'

Unfazed by his sarcasm, she studied his scars. 'Nerve and tendon damage?'

'Yes.'

He started as one finger brushed across the scar on the inside of his left forearm near the indentation of the elbow. The feather-light touch sent darts of awareness shooting through him.

'Does this cause you problems, too? Was the ulnar nerve cut here?'

'Why?' Who
was
this woman? Did she know more about him than she was pretending? 'What do you know about it?'

Dusky lashes lifted and dark brown eyes looked into his own, a self-deprecating smile curving her tempting mouth. 'Sorry. I'm being nosy. I didn't mean to intrude. It's an occupational hazard. I'm a senior staff nurse, and until a few days ago I worked in a busy accident and emergency department.'

That explained her knowledgeable questions, Seb allowed, but left more of his own unanswered. She was a nurse who had recently worked in trauma. Had she known where he was and thought to...what? Care for him? Heaven forbid. Or was she hoping to find a new job working on his team? She would be out of luck. He no longer
had
a team. Seb opened his mouth to tell her it was a waste of time, looking to him to aid her career, but it seemed her inquisitiveness had not yet ended.

'Are you having physio? Keeping up the mobility is important; as you'll find you can regain more sensation and movement for many months yet.' She awarded him another smile, her fingers sure but gentle as they explored his hand. 'I'm sure your surgeon has already told you that. Injuries like this weren't unusual in the department I worked in, and I know how frustrating it can be in the, early stages of recovery. Don't lose heart on there not being more improvement to come. Are you the artist?'

'Sorry?' Her chatter and her sudden change of subject amused and vexed him at one and the same time.

Gina gestured across the terrace to his unfinished canvas, and he remembered she had been looking at it when he had come out of the villa. 'Is the painting yours?'

'Yes. I wanted to see if I could still handle the brushes. I can't grip properly, so I've had to change my style, but—'

Seb broke off, annoyed with himself for revealing more to this woman. How did she
do
that? How could she slip inside his protective shell and make him say things, do things, he never would with anyone else? Realising she was still holding his hand, that he was allowing her to do so, he frowned and removed it, even more cross with himself for missing her touch.

Undaunted by his gruffness, she took another sip of her drink. 'The painting is different, but in a good way. Interesting. Atmospheric.'

'You like it?' Surprise drew the question from him.

'It's amazing. Cleverly done with those abstract blocks or zones. You've captured the sharpness of the natural light and the vivid colours of the island to perfection. Do you sell a lot to tourists?'

'No.'

'You should. I'm sure your work would be very popular.'

Watching her, Seb wondered if she was as uncomplicated and as innocent as she seemed. Did she really believe him to be the villa's caretaker—a man who sold a few paintings to supplement his income? It could be a front, a cover for why she was here, but gut reaction nagged at him that she was telling the truth. He would be checking out her story once he learned more about her, but she was so open, so completely without guile, that it would surprise him were she not genuine. Having been caught out before, however, he couldn't take any chances now.

Determined to wrest back control of this situation, he set about asking some questions of his own.

'You said you worked in trauma. Are you here looking for a new job?' He watched her closely as she absorbed his words.

'No, not at all.' She tossed her braid over her shoulder. 'I start in my new role as soon as I get home.'

Her smile increased in wattage and did curious things to his insides. He wondered whether he would wake up any moment and discover this strange interlude had been some surreal dream—that Gina was a figment of his imagination. So much for taking charge of things. Sitting forward, he rested his forearms on his knees.

'And where is home, Gina?'

'Strathlochan.' His confusion must have been obvious because she laughed. 'It's in Scotland.'

That threw him. As did the place name. Why did Strathlochan sound familiar? He had never been to Scotland. But his cousin Riccardo had. He made a mental note to check the connection with him later. Several other facts hit him at the same time. Gina's surname should have registered with him before, yet her colouring betrayed a Latin ancestry, and she spoke Italian like a native. He needed to probe more deeply into this intriguing woman's background, and get to the bottom of just what she had been doing on the villa's private beach.

'You do not live on Elba?' Seb questioned, and Gina sensed his surprise.

'No. I've always lived in Scotland,' she confirmed, keeping to Italian. 'I'm only here for a short holiday.'

'Your Italian is perfect,' Seb countered, in proficient if accented English.

'As is your English.' She was startled by his fluency. Knowing she would have to divulge more about herself if she was to secure his help, she continued. 'I have Italian ancestry, but I have never been here before.'

His watchful gaze held her captive. 'You are enjoying Elba? The island is beautiful, no?'

'Very beautiful.'

She couldn't look away from him to appreciate the coastal view. His nearness and his attention were potent, firing her blood and increasing the awareness she had felt from the first moment she had seen him. She remained curious about his injuries, convinced there was more to the incident than he had told her. He'd put himself in danger to go to someone's aid, and no matter how much he tried to play down his involvement, that said a great deal about him in her view. But the pain, anger and confusion evident in his eyes attested to the fact that he had yet to come to terms with the effect his loss of motor and sensory function had had on his life.

It must be hard for him as an artist, worrying whether he would be able to use his hands again. She would like to reassure him, but he put up barriers, retreated behind his pride. He was not a man to share the troubled feelings she sensed boiled inside him. Besides, it was none of her business. After today she would probably never see him again. A wave of sadness and regret overwhelmed her at that realisation.

'So, Gina,' he said now, reclaiming her attention. 'We were going to discuss why you are here.'

Nervousness gripped her. 'Yes, we were.'

'Why now? Why this beach? You cannot see it from the road, so how did you know it was here?' he pressed, and although his voice was warm, the challenge was unmistakable.

'I was looking for the rock called Neptune's Spear. When there was no reply at the villa, I decided to wait in case someone came home so I could talk to them. The temptation to go down to the beach and see if I had the right place was too much to resist. I had no idea you were down there swimming,' she explained, meeting his gaze, seeing a mix of curiosity and wariness in his eyes.

He regarded her for a long moment in silence. 'How did you know of the rock? Why is it that you wish to contact the owner of this villa?'

'It's a long story. A personal one.' She hesitated, wondering how to handle the situation. 'And it's not really mine to tell.'

'Then whose is it? You said you were here on Elba with someone?' he queried, his expression guarded.

'My grandmother.'

Surprise replaced the suspicion in his voice. 'Your
grandmother?’

'Yes.' What had he been expecting her to say? And had she imagined that flash of relief that had crossed his face? It had happened too quickly for her to be certain. Pushing aside fanciful notions, she took a deep breath. 'Nonna Maria is Italian. Elba, and the beach at Neptune's Spear in particular, are special to her. She was here fifty years ago, and it has been her dream to come back.'

Interest sparked in his eyes. 'Fifty years? And she has not returned in all that time?'

'No. It wasn't possible for her to do so...for several reasons.' Gina spoke with caution, not wanting to reveal the sorry state of their finances. Nor did she wish to confide in anyone but the owner—the only one with the power to help them and grant their wish—the reason why they had made this important trip now.

'So what happened fifty years ago that means so much to her?' Seb probed, and she knew she would have to explain further.

'Nonna Maria was nineteen. She lived in Siena with her family, who took an annual holiday on Elba,' she began, warming to the story as Seb gave her his full attention. 'Matthew McNaught was a twenty-one-year-old ship's engineer. He was enjoying a few days off on the island with some friends while their vessel was under repair in port on the mainland. Both Maria and Matthew escaped for some time alone...and they met and fell in love on the beach by Neptune's rock.'

Seb's eyebrows rose in surprise. 'This beach?'

'Yes. My grandmother said no one lived here in those days.'

'What happened then?' he asked, making no comment about the villa.

'Matthew asked Maria to come to Scotland and marry him. Her family were rigidly opposed to the match, and demanded Maria return to Siena with them.'

'And what did she choose?'

Caramel eyes looked deep into hers, and it took Gina a moment to find her voice. 'She chose Matthew.' Her voice was uneven and she cleared her throat. What was it about this man that affected her so? It had never happened to her before. Aware he was waiting for her to continue, she attempted to rid herself of her wayward thoughts. 'I know the estrangement from her family pained my grandmother— there was no reconciliation—but she never regretted her decision. That life-changing moment led to fifty years of love and togetherness, through good times and bad.'

'You're a romantic.' His smile held the same touch of cynicism as his voice.

'Not really.' Her own tone cooled in response to his attitude, and to the memories of how Malcolm had trampled on her ideals. 'I just know that it worked for my grandparents. I can't imagine how hard it was for Nonna Maria, ripped away from her family and the country she knew, beginning a new life in a foreign land, not speaking the language, with her new husband away at sea for months until he secured a job in Glasgow's shipyards. They survived. They loved each other and were happy.'

Her grandparents' story had been her lifelong fairytale, her dream...a dream she had squashed down when she had lost hope of finding the kind of love they had shared for herself. She'd grown up and headed out into the adult world with those childhood hopes intact, but she had discovered that she couldn't have everything. Malcolm had taught her that. She had been forced to make a choice between her own needs or those of her grandparents. There had been no choice. Since then her own desires had been in cold storage. She had never met anyone who had understood her, and what was important to her, and she had given up believing she would ever find a man who would be to her what Matthew had been to Maria.

'And your grandfather—he is not here with you?'

Seb's question cut through her thoughts, and she gasped as fresh pain seared through her.

'Gina?'

'No,' she managed, meeting his gaze, seeing the concern in his eyes. 'He died several months ago.'

She swallowed down the renewed welling of grief, startled when Seb reached out a hand, resting it on her forearm. 'I am sorry,
cara.'

'Thank you.' Gina thought of her grandmother, lost without the man who had been husband, friend, lover and confidant for fifty years, and of her own broken heart at losing the grandfather she had loved so much. 'It's not been easy...especially for Nonna Maria. The enforced separation has taken its toll on her. She needed to come here.'

Heat radiated out from the point where Seb's skin touched hers. She struggled to ignore it, to fight against an awareness that was at once overwhelming yet exciting and unexpected, as if some internal thaw was beginning to reawaken the sensuous woman she had hidden away. His fingers lingered a moment longer, and when they were withdrawn she let out a shaky breath, both relieved and disappointed, unnerved by what was happening to her.

'I want to meet your grandmother.'

Gina's eyes widened in surprise. 'You do? Why?'

'I would like to hear about her history with this place, to know what; it is that brings her back and why she wants to contact the villa's owner.' He paused, his gaze turning enigmatic once more. 'Unless there is some reason you do not wish me to speak with her?'

Gina realised this was a test—that Seb didn't yet believe her. Why was he so sceptical? What did he imagine she was doing here? For her grandmother's sake she had to convince him she was telling the truth.

'Not at all. I am sure Nonna will be delighted to talk to you. My concern is not to raise the hopes of a fragile old woman only to dash them if you then withhold your help,' she finished, issuing a challenge and a warning of her own.

'Gina—'

'I came alone today because, whilst Nonna's spirit may be strong, she is too frail for all the walking and waiting around. The journey from Scotland was tough on her,' she pressed on, ignoring the note of chastisement in his tone, unable to mask the protectiveness she felt for her grandmother. 'I don't want her upset—' She broke off and bit her lip, trying to rein in a sudden rush of emotion. 'We only have a few days here, and I want to make her happy.'