At home, being constantly on the run with the restaurant, she’d never had to worry about her fitness, but now—being virtually on holiday until the birth of the baby—she would have to keep “in shape” or she’d struggle to keep up her pace when she returned to work.
Eventually, Blair began to make her way back toward the palazzo, and with a soft exclamation of delight realized the herb garden she’d come through had led her to her original destination—the palazzo kitchen. A wide door stood open, and beyond it she identified hanging copper pots and a large black coal range.
“Hello?” she called from the door.
“Ms. Carson! It is a pleasure to see you again!”
Cristiano bustled across the terra cotta-tiled floor and clasped Blair exuberantly to his rotund figure.
“Cristiano, lovely to see you too. Please, call me Blair. I was wondering if I could help you with anything for tonight, I’ll go mad if I don’t have something to do.”
The cook made a rude noise and flapped his hands toward the long wooden table that dominated the center of the kitchen.
“Sit down, sit down. You’re not here to work. You can watch and learn instead,” he answered with a wink.
Blair did as she was told and sank into one of the cane-bottomed wooden chairs at the table. Time passed quickly as Cristiano peppered Blair with questions about what she’d been doing since she left the palazzo back in February. She found it hard to believe that it had been less than three months since she was here, even harder to believe she was back.
She smiled at Cristiano’s voluble sighs and laughter, as she told him about Carson’s latest achievement and how the restaurant had grown from seventy-percent capacity to over a hundred-percent bookings, weeks in advance. But she itched to throw on an apron and work alongside him.
An idea sprang to mind and before she could think it through further Blair found the words spouting from her mouth.
“Cristiano, if I don’t cook while I’m here I think I’ll go crazy. Besides which, when I go back home I will need to bring something new again to the restaurant. Could I take some lessons from you? I know you often conduct demonstrations when tours come through to the palazzo. Would it be too much of an imposition if you coached me privately?”
Before the chef could reply, his eyes flew to one of the internal doorways.
“Blair, you aren’t here to work.”
Blair stood rapidly at the sound of Draco’s voice. Small black spots swam before her eyes and she put a hand out to the back of her chair to steady herself a moment. When the spots receded Draco was at her side.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine, just got up a little too quickly, that’s all,” she brushed aside his concern. “And for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t think it work to have the chance to learn some new dishes from Cristiano.”
Draco shot a glare at Cristiano before the other man could speak. “We will discuss this later. For now we have other, more important matters to discuss. Can you come with me now or would you like to sit a while?”
“Draco, I’m not an invalid. I told you, I’m okay.”
Where had the man who’d been such a tender lover this afternoon disappeared to? she wondered. The Draco she saw now was more like the overpowering man who’d bought her restaurant building out from under her so he could control where she lived and where she bore his child.
He said something in rapid Italian to Cristiano, who answered in kind before turning back to his work.
“Come with me,” Draco said, offering Blair his arm.
Irritated by his high-handed attitude, she fell in step beside him, but refused to touch him. He led her to a salon that looked out over the formal garden she’d found near the gymnasium. Ripples of light from the swimming pool reflected through the deep-arched wood-and-glass doorways onto the high ornate ceiling. Blair felt as if, in many ways, she’d stepped into another world. Certainly she was out of her world.
She sat on the edge of a richly upholstered sofa and gestured to the gymnasium across the garden.
“I was thinking I could use the gym, would that be okay?”
“The gym?” He frowned a little.
“Yes, and the pool too, if it’s warm enough. If I’m not doing anything else, I’d like to at least have some regular exercise.”
“The pool is heated, but we will wait and see what the doctor has to say first. I have made an appointment for you to see a specialist tomorrow.”
“A specialist?” Blair shot to her feet. How dare he go ahead making appointments without discussing things with her first? “Whatever for? I’m fit as a horse. I’ve barely even been sick. Besides, I spent some time checking on the Internet before we left Auckland, and there’s an extremely well-appointed birthing center not far from here,” she protested.