Diana looked out over the side of the cart, surveying the passing fields. Bucolic peace lay upon the land. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and told herself to embrace the peace while it surrounded them.
Beside her, Evelyn settled to nap with Rupert.
The voices of the boys and Toby quietly talking dulled to an unobtrusive drone behind her.
Henry’s steady rolling gait took her farther and farther from the hectic, often-tense activity of the preceding days.
With her eyes closed, her thoughts slowed. Her mind calmed, and her inner vision cleared.
The moment of reflection, of finding her mental feet again, was welcome.
She wasn’t surprised when, inevitably, her thoughts circled back to Toby.
To the kiss they’d shared and what it might mean.
To whether, in fact, it meant anything at all beyond a momentary mutual exploration.
As she recalled, that had been her motive in inviting the caress, in allowing and pursuing it.
He’d seemed equally curious and also equally cautious and careful of, perhaps, revealing too much.
Of stepping too far and taking too much for granted.
So what had she learned?
She honestly couldn’t say, yet that kiss had felt like a prelude.
A prelude to what, she really had no clue. She hadn’t been down this road before. Had never been interested in a man in that way before.
After trawling through her memories of that novel and enthralling kiss, all she felt safe in concluding was that, between her and Toby, everything was still very much up in the air.
It might have been just a kiss, yet surely it had hinted at the chance of something more… something more passionate growing between them.
* * *
Their lunch stopthat day was at the small village of Vergiate.
They’d become quite proficient in managing such interludes. Toby halted the cart outside a small taverna with a shady courtyard, giving them all welcome respite from the noonday sun. Once again, the hosts greeted him like a long-lost friend and gregariously embraced his family as well.
They spent a pleasant hour there, eating and drinking and listening to the chatter at nearby tables.
By the time they left the taverna’s shade and climbed back into the cart, the children were nodding off.
Diana felt decidedly somnolent herself, but with the wide brim of her straw hat providing some relief from the sun, she climbed up to the seat beside Toby, and he set Henry trotting, and they were off again.
Soon, she felt the coolness of a breeze off water, then they approached and rattled onto a bridge spanning a rather large river.
She glanced back, but the children were already asleep. She peered over the bridge’s side at the steadily flowing water.
“The river’s the Ticino,” Toby said, his voice low. He tipped his head northwestward. “It’s the outlet of Lake Maggiore.”
She looked in the direction he’d indicated and saw a wider stretch of water where the lake flowed into the river. “Is that the lake we’re making for?”
He shook his head. “We’re heading for a smaller one, farther west.” He twisted and glanced at the sleeping children, then, smiling, faced forward and whispered, “It’s called Lake Orta. To reach it, we have to swing around the southern end of Lake Maggiore, and we’ll continue to follow its western bank a little way northward before striking west again.”
She studied him. “How many times have you traveled this route?”
He actually had to think before replying, “Possibly as many as a dozen trips.” He glanced at her. “I told you I was stationed in Venice for a good part of a year. I often had to run documents between Venice and London, and I always found this route the most… amenable to preserving my health. Consequently, I know all the bolt-holes along this stretch.”
