The woman’s eyes flickered from one to the other as she tried to follow the gist of their conversation. Even if she spoke Italian, it was unlikely she could follow the thick accents of the mountain people.

Enrico bit the coin, and gave a gap-toothed smile. “Si, dottore.” With a final leer at the woman he left the room.

Marco bolted the door behind him and turned to her.

She rubbed a hand across her face. “Are you a doctor?

“A doctor?” he laughed. “Not any more. My name is Marco.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. Her fingers were slender and delicate, tipped with blood red polish. “At your service, bella donna.”

He bent over her hand and looked up at her. Her eyes were fixed on his mouth as he kissed her fingertips and she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. The taste of her skin sent another jolt to his loins.

“Only Marco?” she whispered. “What is your other name?”

The coat had fallen open and she no longer tried to conceal the sweet curve of her breast, which rose and fell with each breath. His lips tingled with the urge to press his mouth to that succulent nipple. Instead, he released her hand and took a step back. “I have no other name.”

He guided her to one of the rough wooden chairs. “Sit, please. I will get you some food.”

“No, nothing, thank you.” She shook her head, but took the chair and rubbed her hand over her face in a weary gesture. “Just contact someone. Does anyone have a telephone? If you send word to my father, he’ll get me out of this hovel and will reward you better than you paid that man. More money than you ever expected to have.”

“Money doesn’t matter to me.”

“It matters a lot to most people. I don’t suppose you’re an exception.” She held out her hand again. “Lady Emma Houndsdale. My father is the Earl of Bicester. I was a passenger on the steamship Lady Rose out of Southampton, bound for Cairo. We had just left Naples. There was a fire. Panic everywhere and I went in the water.” She shuddered. “Now tell me exactly where we are.”