burnt to a frazzle.’ His shoulders shook.
She’d never seen him so happy — it wrung her heart. Oh damn, damn Cable.
They drove past vineyards and olive groves shimmering like tinfoil, past Braganzi’s fortress and up into the mountains. When they’d gone as far up as the car could go, Matt got out.
‘Come on,’ he said, taking her hand and leading her up a steep path to the top.
Below them stretched a mountainous waste of Old Testament country. The sun moved in and out of the clouds lighting up village and farms. To the right like a judgement on an ungodly people, a great furnace was licking over the hillside. Bits of ash fluttered like snowflakes through the air.
‘It’s beautiful,’ breathed Imogen.
‘I always make a pilgrimage up here every year,’ he said. ‘It’s sort of insurance that I’ll come back again.’
The highest rock was smothered in undergrowth. Matt pulled away the brambles and the wild lavender to reveal a plaque with a list of names on it.
‘Who were they?’ asked Imogen.
‘The local resistance fighters in the last war,’ he said. ‘I ought to add your name, oughtn’t I?’
‘My name?’ she said in a stifled voice.
‘Yes, sweetheart, for resisting the advances of three of the most formidable wolves in the business. Not that you were exactly resisting Larry the other night.’
She had a feeling he was laughing at her again.
‘What are you talking about?’ she muttered.
He sat down in a hollow in the rocks and pulled her down beside him.
‘Matt,’ she said desperately, ‘there’s something I must tell you.’
‘Tell away then.’ He put his hand under her hair and was gently stroking the back of her neck.
‘Don’t do that,’ she sobbed. ‘I’ve got a letter for you — from Cable.’ She pulled it out of her pocket and almost flung it at him.
He picked it up, studied it lazily and tore it into little pieces which the wind scattered in an instant.
‘Now arrest me for being a litter-bug,’ he said. ‘I know what’s in that letter. I don’t even have to open it. Cable, driven to distraction by my appalling behaviour and lack of consideration, has pushed off to Rome with Antoine.’
Imogen looked at him in bewilderment — a faint hope flickering inside her.
‘I tried not to get uptight about you and Antoine,’ he said. ‘But in the end I knew I’d go crazy if I didn’t have it out with him. So I rang Milan. He gave me a run-down on last night, corroborating your story word for word. He said you were enchanting, but entirely preoccupied with someone else.’
Imogen blushed.
‘I’m sorry I was so bloody to you last night, little one. It’s that Coleridge thing about being wroth with one we love working like madness in the brain. But I’m glad it happened. It showed me how hung up on you I’d got without realising it. I never felt a fraction of that white-hot murderous rage when I caught Cable being unfaithful.’
His voice was as soft as an Irish mist, and as he took her face in his hands, they smelt of wood smoke and wild lavender.
‘Funny little Imogen. You were like a little girl, running after the rest of us crying, “Wait for me,”’ and he bent his head and kissed her very gently. Next moment she flung her arms round his neck.
‘Oh, Matt! Oh, Matt!’
Much later she said, ‘But I don’t understand. I thought Antoine and Cable loathed each other?’
‘Did they? Animosity as intense as that often means the other thing. Neither will trust the other farther than they can throw them, which seems a good basis for a relationship.’
‘But she’s expecting you to follow her.’
‘She’s got a long wait in front of her then. If you keep turning a light switch on and off, on and off, like Cable did, the fuse blows in the end. There’s nothing left.’
A suspicion crossed Imogen’s mind. ‘Matt, you didn’t put Antoine up to it?’
He grinned. ‘Not exactly. Let’s say I planted the seed.’
‘And what about Nicky?’
‘Rumour has it that Nicky has been casting covetous eyes at some nymphette at the waterskiing school. And Tracey’s due back this evening, so I don’t think he’ll be inconsolable for very long. Which leaves you and me.’
Imogen looked down at her hands. ‘But you’re going back?’
His face became serious. ‘I’ve got to, darling. The Foreign Desk rang me this morning. This business in Peru’s going to explode at any moment. They want me to fly out tomorrow.’
Imogen went pale. ‘But you might get hurt.’
‘Not I. Matt the cat with nine lives. Besides I’ve got something to come home for now, haven’t I? I got a ticket for you too. I’m sorry to rot up your holiday, but I can’t leave you here alone at the mercy of every passing wolf and gendarme.’
‘You’re taking me back to London with you?’ she asked incredulously. Everything was crowding in on her. She couldn’t take so much happiness at once.
Matt picked up the Coke tin that had fallen on to the ground and wrenched off the silver ring used to open it.
‘You can go home to Yorkshire if you like. Or better still,’ he looked at her under drooping lashes, ‘you can shack up in my flat and look after Basil and make up my mind where you want to go for a honeymoon.’
Imogen opened her mouth and shut it again.
‘It’s all right. Don’t rush into anything. Kick the idea round for a bit. You might not like being hitched to a journalist. It’s a rough life. But I warn you, I don’t give up easily. Anyway, people keep telling me I ought to hang on to you — Gilmore, Antoine, the Duchess, Braganzi, Tracey. You’ve got a lot of fans, sweetheart.’
‘I have?’ she said in amazement.
‘Yep, and I’m the biggest one.’
He picked up her left hand and slid the Coca-Cola ring on to her wedding-ring finger. Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
‘I love you,’ he said softly, ‘because you’re gentle and good, and because I know you love me.’
He looked at his watch. ‘Christ. We’d better step on it, if we’re going to catch that plane.’
Imogen grumbled and snuggled up to him, wanting to be kissed some more.
‘Come on,’ said Matt, pulling her to her feet. ‘It’s a great day for the Irish, but I can’t answer for my actions if we stay here necking much longer, and I can’t have you getting blase.’
As he drove back into the town, she sat, her fingers clutched over the Coca-Cola ring, half-stunned with wonder at what was happening.
As he stopped the car outside the hotel, however, she looked at him with troubled eyes. ‘Matt, are you sure you’re over Cable?’
‘Darling,’ he said, flinging his arms out in a fair imitation of Al Jolson. ‘I’d run a million miles from one of her smiles. Come here, if you don’t believe me.’
It was a few seconds before they realised Yvonne was tapping angrily on the window.
‘Matt! Matthew!’
Matt turned round. ‘Yes?’
Yvonne looked in horror, suddenly realising it was Imogen he was kissing. ‘What on earth’s she doing?’
‘Just getting into training.’
Yvonne pursed her lips. ‘Where’s Cable?’
‘I’m not quite sure.’
‘Well, most of my wardrobe seems to be missing. .’
THE END
