These Tangled Vines(74)

Later, after her swim, she slipped into her dress and strolled to the edge of the terrace to gaze across the rolling hills of Tuscany and the fiery pink sunrise. This was her magic. Her bliss. It was Anton’s bliss too.

Lillian turned and walked back through the forest lane to the guest suite where Freddie was sleeping in their bed. She stared at the old stone building and took a deep breath to prepare herself, then removed her shoes and tiptoed barefoot up the steps. Quietly she opened the door, entered, and closed it behind her with a gentle click, so as not to wake him.

Their bedroom door was closed, so she went to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. When it finished gurgling, she poured herself a cup and sat at the table, where she sipped slowly in the early-morning silence, searching her mind for the right words—words that would deliver the truth to Freddie while sparing him as much pain as possible.

Lillian finally finished her coffee and gathered the courage to get up from the table and walk to the bedroom. She paused for a moment, closed her eyes, and took a breath, then opened the door.

She found herself dumbstruck.

The bed was empty. Freddie was not there.





CHAPTER 23


LILLIAN


The covers were tousled, but Freddie was gone. For several seconds, Lillian stood frozen in the doorway, her hand on the knob, her heart racing. Where was he?

She ran upstairs to the second bedroom and checked there, as well as the bathroom.

Good God. Did he know where she had gone during the night?

Lillian dashed out the door and down the steps to look for the car. It was parked under the overhang, which meant he hadn’t driven anywhere.

Hurrying to the patio, she gazed about in all directions, across the vineyards and olive orchards, wondering if he had gone for a walk, but that was ridiculous. Freddie would never rise at dawn to go walking.

“Freddie!” she shouted, knowing she was causing a disturbance and waking guests in the other suites, but panic had taken over all propriety.

Heaven help her.

What if he knew?



Lillian called Anton at the villa, but according to Caterina, he had left early to work in the office. Lillian tried calling him there, but no one had seen him, so she hung up the phone and watched the road. With any luck, Freddie would saunter into the driveway with a smile on his face and a bag of pastries from the hotel dining room.

Ten minutes passed, and he didn’t appear. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

In that moment, all hell broke loose. A siren blared in the distance, causing an ice-cold wave of terror to course through her veins. Then a car came speeding down the lane and skidded to a halt. It was Francesco.

He opened the door and got out. “Lillian! You must come! There’s been an accident! Your husband is hurt!”

She called out to him from the patio at the top of the stairs. “What happened?”

“He was . . .” Francesco couldn’t seem to answer the question. “Please, just come.”

Lillian ran into the apartment to grab her purse, then hurried outside to Francesco’s car. “I don’t understand,” she said, getting into the passenger seat. “Please tell me what happened.”

Francesco was hesitant but finally managed to put a few words together. “He was hit by a car.”

“What?” Lillian exclaimed. “Where?”

He pointed. “Up the hill, along the road to the wine cellars.”

“Is he okay?”

Francesco glanced at her with unease. “I don’t know. He wasn’t conscious. They called an ambulance.”

“But he’s alive, isn’t he?”

“Sì. ”

By the time they arrived at the scene, the ambulance had already left for the hospital. Francesco turned the car around and followed in that direction.



By the time they reached the hospital, Freddie was in the ER. Lillian begged the nurse to let her see him.

“You must let the doctors work,” the nurse said, escorting Lillian away from the doors and leading her into a private seating area, where Francesco and Anton were waiting.

Anton stood, and she went to him immediately. “Thank goodness you’re here. I don’t understand how this could have happened. What was he doing out on the road, walking at dawn?”

Anton offered no response, then turned and spoke in a low voice. “Francesco, will you excuse us?”

“Sì. I’ll wait in the car.”

With every second that passed, Lillian’s heart pounded faster with fear. Anton led her to the chairs, urging her to sit down.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said. “The reason Freddie was on the road was because he saw you leave last night.”

She frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

Anton paused and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Lillian. He followed you, then he saw you come inside the villa, and . . . he watched us through the window.”

She stared dazedly at Anton for a moment while the words sank into her brain. She envisioned it all—Freddie following her in the darkness, creeping up to the window at the villa, watching the whole scene as she and Anton made love. A slow and heavy wave of horror began to roll in the pit of her belly. “No . . .” She buried her face in her hands. “Poor Freddie. This was my worst fear.” She cried softly for a time, then turned to Anton. “What happened after that? Francesco said he was on the road to the wine cellars. Why would he go there?”