Pleasured by the English Spy

“You’re lost in thought.” Olivia drew him back to the present.

“I find myself swamped with reflections,” Andrew admitted. “I’ve been away from this life for a long time, not all of it by choice. Being here today brings it all back.”

“You were raised here?” She queried, somewhat surprised by the reference. He’d mentioned earlier that he’d spent some time in this area, but being raised here was far different from merely paying a visit.

“Near Fiesole. I lived with my mother’s parents until I was fifteen. My father was English. He left when I was two. He had a brother who needed him in England, and my mother did not wish to leave her home. By then the romance had dried up between them. If she’d ever changed her mind about joining him later, the growing wars with Napoleon put paid to any such notion.” Andrew shrugged in the darkness. His father’s desertion had always been something he’d tried to treat with nonchalance but had yet to succeed.