‘There are things you need to see.’

‘Will you let me go?’

‘No, I won’t. So don’t waste time asking me.’

‘This is kidnap,’ she seethed.

‘You can call it what you like.’

It would have been easy to scream for help, and rouse some passer-by to assist her. Alex could never quite understand why she didn’t do this.

She was still considering the matter as he opened the door of his vehicle for her to get in.

The car was a heavy four-wheel drive, long past its best, but suitable for rough terrain. Swinging out of Fiesole they were soon at the bottom of the slope and heading for the great hills she could see looming ahead, waiting for them.

‘Are you going to show me Belluna?’ she asked.

‘Some of it. There’s too much to see in one go. But it’s time you saw what you’re negotiating about.’

Soon they began to climb again. Florence vanished. The land grew wild, fierce, somehow darker, yet filled with violent colour. Had there ever been such colours, she wondered?

‘Stop a moment,’ she said.

Rinaldo halted the car, and she immediately opened the door and jumped out.

‘Careful!’ he cried. ‘It’s steep here. But you picked a good place.’

They were up high, looking far out over the valley and the far hills. The sun streamed down over the scene, touching fields, full of flourishing crops. Far off there was a village, its red roofs and glinting windows also bathed in warmth and light.

Alex took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the pure fresh air, without a trace of city fumes.

She was city born and bred, and had always regarded London as her natural home. But in these wide spaces she suddenly felt free to breathe, as if for the first time.

‘Over there are the vineyards,’ Rinaldo said, coming beside her. ‘See, on that steep slope, with the vines arranged in tiers so that they all catch as much of the sun as possible.

‘We also grow wheat and olives, but I dare say the lawyers have told you all that.’