gave him his father’s name, but-’ she smiled sadly ‘I know he never uses it. He could have had a third of his father’s fortune. Lorenzo and Renato agreed that this was just.
‘But Bernardo refused. He accepted the property in Montedoro, because my husband had clearly intended it for him. But the rest, the vineyards, the orchards, the canning factories-none of this will he touch, not even the vineyards near Montedoro itself. He administers them, but only for a salary. He has wealthy brothers, but he insists on remaining a relatively poor man, for I don’t think the rents on the property up there bring in very much.’
‘But why?’ Angie asked, frowning. ‘I understand about his loyalty to his mother, but that’s hardly-I mean-’
‘It can only be part of the explanation,’ Baptista agreed. ‘There must be something else, but we’re not close enough for me to ask. Inside him, there’s something dark and dangerous, something that holds him back from too much human contact. He can be a generous man, but also a hard and unforgiving one. To the woman he loved he would show a face that nobody else would be allowed to see, but even for her he wouldn’t be easy to love. I know only that he is driven by furies, and-and one fury in particular.’
‘And that is?’
Baptista sighed. ‘It’s not my place to speak. I can only guess at his deepest secret, and I may be wrong. When he trusts you with it, you will know he truly loves you.’
Heather emerged from the fitting room in the dress which was as gorgeous on her as Baptista had predicted. In the bustle of preparing to leave, and receiving the diamond brooch Baptista insisted on giving to Angie, the subject was allowed to drop.
That night Heather awoke in the early hours and saw Angie sitting by the window.
‘What is it?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, there’s nothing wrong,’ Angie assured her. ‘I’m just enjoying a little laugh against myself.’
Heather got out of bed, pulled on a robe and came to sit beside her. ‘It’s Bernardo, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Angie said softly. ‘It’s Bernardo.’
Heather gave her a hug. ‘Why were you laughing at yourself?’
‘Because I thought I had love taped. I was the one who danced into romance and danced out again when it suited me. It was a game: flirtations, all played with men who were playing the same game, and no hearts broken on either side. Or at least,’ she added with rueful honesty, ‘not on my side, at any rate.
‘I thought Bernardo was going to be just another holiday love. I sized him up, decided he’d be a pleasant pastime for a few days, and took him on. Oh, boy, did I make a mistake!’ She gave a shaky laugh. ‘I’m not going to dance out of this one.’
‘Do you want to?’
‘No,’ Angie said, half laughing, half tearful. ‘I love him so much it hurts. I think about him all the time. He fills my heart.’
‘But you’ve only known him a few days.’
‘I know. That’s what makes it silliest of all. Just a few days was enough-or a few minutes. I think I knew as soon as we met in the airport. He was the one. He was the reason none of the others ever became too serious. They weren’t
‘But surely you won’t have to. I think he’s just as overwhelmed as you. Hasn’t he told you?’
‘He doesn’t use many words,’ Angie said, but her eyes told the rest.
‘I’m really happy for you. Are you happy?’
‘Oh, yes, yes, so happy. If only he’d say something to make it definite!’ Angie laughed wildly and buried her face in her hands. ‘Isn’t it a big joke? I kept them all dangling and it was only fun. But now someone’s keeping me dangling and it isn’t fun any more. Angie’s met her match.’ She raised her head. Her mouth was curved in a blissful smile. ‘But it’s a lovely match.’
Suddenly she was shaken by a fierce joy that had in it a touch of inexplicable anguish. She crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes, racked by the strength of her feelings. ‘Oh, Heather,’ she whispered, ‘it’s such a lovely, lovely match.’
CHAPTER FOUR
THE wedding day was bright and glorious. A stream of cars departed from the Residenza, taking the multitude of guests to Palermo Cathedral, and finally, Lorenzo the groom and Bernardo his best man. Only Renato remained, to give the bride away.
The bride was beautiful and the bridesmaid too. Angie’s gown was a cream silk of deceptive simplicity. Against it her skin glowed warmly, and her deep blue eyes sparkled. Heather saw that sparkle and read it correctly.
‘I believe some Sicilian wedding customs are the same as those in England,’ she teased. ‘Like the one about the bridesmaid and the best man.’
Angie had barely seen Bernardo since they’d parted the night before last. He’d appeared at the Residenza yesterday, but spent his time with his brothers in last-minute preparations, before the three of them had gone out for a stag supper.
The women had an early night, but Angie wandered out onto the terrace in the early hours and saw them arriving home. She hoped Bernardo would look up and see her, and when he didn’t she began to understand how intolerable the day had been without him. There were so many hours until she would see him in the cathedral.
Now the hours had narrowed down to a few minutes, and already her heart was beating in anticipation.
Slowly they walked downstairs to where the car was waiting. Heather and Angie climbed into the back and when Renato had joined them they were ready to go. Angie spent the short journey admiring Heather. That was how a bride ought to look, she thought: beautiful and glorious, glowing with happiness on her way to marry the man she adored. And he would be there at the altar waiting for her, gazing back down the aisle, watching his bride approach.
Bernardo would also be there today, at the groom’s side. But he wouldn’t be watching the bride. Angie knew that. He would have eyes only for herself. He might even give her one of the quiet, grave smiles that made her heart turn over. She would smile back, just a little, and the onlookers would see them and exchange knowing looks, for it was well known that one wedding sowed the seeds for another.
Then she wondered at herself. For it had been no part of her plan to leave her successful career in her own country, and come to live here for good. Yet it was either that or leave Bernardo, and her heart cried out at the thought. Only a few days ago she’d called him her match and, whatever it cost her, there was no turning back now.
She thought of her other romances, short-lived bursts of thrilling emotion, from which she’d escaped before danger threatened. But danger had threatened from the first moment of their meeting, and she hadn’t even tried to escape.
When the car stopped Heather stood while Angie adjusted her dress and veil to perfection, before walking into the Cathedral on Renato’s arm, Angie a few steps behind them. The dim light inside made her blink a little after bright sunshine. The organ pealed out in triumph as they prepared to start the journey down the aisle.
But something was wrong. Bernardo was hurrying towards them, frowning, saying that Lorenzo had vanished. Angie could hardly take in the monstrous words. This couldn’t be happening. Any moment now Lorenzo would appear to claim his bride.
But he didn’t appear. Instead, a teenage boy hurried in, thrust a paper into Heather’s bridal bouquet, and ran.
Angie watched as Heather opened the paper and read what Lorenzo had written. She saw her friend’s cheeks turn deadly pale, and she moved to where she could read it over her shoulder. Stripped to its essentials the letter said that he had never really wanted this marriage, but Renato had pushed him into it. They were terrible words for a bride to read on her wedding day.
Bernardo too had contrived to read it, and when Angie looked into his face she saw something that alarmed her. For a brief moment this wasn’t a civilised man, but a primitive force, a Sicilian, facing a situation that called for blood.
Baptista had joined them and was listening, pale and distraught. As it dawned on her that her son had
