‘Don’t you understand?’ he demanded fiercely. ‘That’s how much I love you, enough to stop being a man and become a beaten dog, trailing after you, begging you to let me stay with you on any terms. I might turn my back on those who need me, and try to lead your life, hating and despising myself more with every day.’
Angie paled. ‘Do you really think I’d let that happen?’ she asked. ‘Do you think I’d want you to be less than a man, on your terms. If that’s so, it’s no wonder you’re ashamed of loving me.’
‘I’m not-’
‘But you are,’ she said, her temper rising. ‘Don’t you realise, that’s exactly what you’ve just revealed? You say “that’s how much I love you”, but to you love means being a beaten dog, because you equate it with giving in to a woman, and you’re so arrogant that you don’t really think any woman is worth it. Why do you love me if you despise me too? Or is it only because I’ve got money you despise me?’
‘Don’t say that,’ he begged hoarsely. ‘That isn’t what I-’
‘It’s not what you meant to say, but it came through. You want to love me just so much and no more, counting every grain to see if you’ve given me more than you think I deserve. That’s not what I understand by love. I’d have given up everything to be here with you, and been proud of loving a man who was worth the sacrifice. But you-’
‘Don’t!’ he said fiercely. ‘Don’t say any more.’
‘I wasn’t going to. What else is there to say?’
She turned and ran out of the house. For the next hour she walked the streets, trying to believe that this was really happening. But of course, it wasn’t. It was a bad dream, and when she returned she would find him there, smiling at her. She would go into his arms and they would plan their lives together.
But when she returned to the Residenza and saw him watching anxiously for her she knew, with a sinking heart, that nothing had changed. He was doing something that tore him apart, but he would do it anyway. Because he was the man he was, and he could do nothing else.
She ran into his arms, which opened for her, then closed tighter than ever.
‘I’m sorry for what I said,’ she whispered.
‘Say what you like of me,’ he said huskily. ‘But try not to hate me, and understand that I have no choice.’
There was no longer anything to stay for. Heather was remaining in Sicily at Baptista’s insistence, so Angie made one reservation on the flight from Palermo to London. Bernardo took her to the airport, and they waited in sad silence for her flight to be called. It was like being at a funeral.
At last it was time for her to go to the Departure Lounge, where he couldn’t follow.
‘Forgive me,’ he said huskily. ‘I would break the barrier down if I could, but it’s stronger than I am. I still love you. I will never love another woman. But I have no power against this thing.’
She didn’t answer in words. But she put her hand up against his cheek, watching him with eyes that were gentle and tender. He placed his own hand over hers, and turned his head so that his lips were against her palm. She had called him arrogant, but he didn’t look arrogant now. Rather he seemed ill and crushed by his agony, as though all his strength had gone. With another man she might have hoped that he would yield at the last moment. But she knew that Bernardo had never been further from yielding. However beaten down he seemed, the core of the man remained steely strong and stubborn.
‘Bernardo-’ she whispered.
‘Go,’ he begged. ‘Go before my heart breaks.’
Angie had deferred a decision on several job offers until she returned to England, meaning to consider them at leisure. But within an hour of landing she had accepted work at her father’s clinic, for no other reason than that she could start at once. The thought of spending time at home with nothing to do was intolerable.
It was a good decision. The work at the Wendham Clinic was far more demanding than anyone would have thought who looked only at its well known patients and sky high costs. Harvey Wendham was a brilliant surgeon who’d made his reputation by being the best in his field. He set about training his daughter as his assistant, and his demands filled her life.
But there were still too many evenings with no distraction, and gradually her work at the clinic ceased to act as a charm against misery. She soon mastered it, and as the demands grew, so did her skill. Her father was delighted. Her brothers congratulated her. In the midst of success she felt lost in a dreary desert.
As always, she had no shortage of admirers. Most of them she refused, but she allowed one man to buy her dinner, and another to take her dancing. They had all the social graces that Bernardo lacked, plus smooth tongues that prevented them ever saying the wrong thing. At one time she would have been charmed by them, if only briefly. Now she kept comparing them, to their disadvantage, to a man with no company skills, who said only what he thought, even if it offended people. After one date she never saw either of them again.
Everything she did seemed pointless, even, sometimes, her work. She gave it her best shot, because that was her way, but there was no sense of satisfaction to help her bear her sadness, no fulfilment to blot out Bernardo’s torturing image.
At first she’d hoped that Heather would follow her soon, but through telephone calls she followed the incredible story that was happening in Sicily. To everyone’s amazement Baptista had come up with her own solution to the mess-an arranged marriage, with-
‘That’s what I told her,’ Heather said. ‘I said all I wanted was to kick his shins. She says when we’re married I can do it every day.’
Angie gave an unwilling laugh. ‘You’ve got to hand it to Baptista. She’s like no other woman.’
‘The way she sees it, her family has insulted me, and must make amends.’
‘But that’s medieval.’
‘These people are Sicilians, Angie. They’re not like us. In fact, they’re not like anyone else in the world. There
‘Oh, yes,’ Angie sighed. ‘I know that.’
To escape Baptista’s matchmaking, Heather moved into Bella Rosaria. Angie had a vision of her living there alone, like a mysterious lady in a tower, while her suitors prowled around outside. But it wouldn’t last. Some day soon Heather would return to England, and at least she would have some friendly company in the intolerable emptiness of her life.
But instead, the phone rang one evening, and it was Heather, with the incredible news that she had agreed to the marriage. ‘And I’d like you to be my bridesmaid. Can you get away?’
‘Yes, I’m sure I can.’ She could hardly breathe enough to ask the next question. ‘Heather-does Bernardo-?’
‘He doesn’t know I’m asking you, and I’m not going to tell him.’
‘But is he-?’
‘He’s very unhappy. It could be just the right moment for you to come back.’
When she’d hung up Angie threw herself back on the sofa, her hands over her face, and gave herself up to longing. To see Bernardo again, to hear his voice and perhaps feel his arms about her. It might not be wise to take him by surprise, but she was powerless to refuse. She discovered that she was crying, which was absurd. She was happier than she’d been for weeks, but it was a bittersweet kind of happiness that carried the promise of more grief.
Stop being ridiculous, she told herself sternly. She who dares, wins! And I’m going to dare!
When she asked for the time off her father took one look at her pale face and granted it. She flew into Palermo Airport the evening before the wedding and found Heather waiting for her.
‘Bernardo’s still in Montedoro,’ she said. ‘He won’t be down until early tomorrow morning. But we’ll eat out and slip into the house later by a side door so that none of the servants see you.’
Over supper in a little restaurant Heather tried to explain why she was marrying a man she’d always seemed to dislike.
‘Baptista arranged everything,’ she said. ‘She’s determined to keep me in the family. She even gave me her estate of Bella Rosaria, to be my dowry for Lorenzo, and when we broke up she wouldn’t take it back. I have to marry him to return it to the family.’
‘What’s Renato’s angle?’
‘He’s getting Bella Rosaria back, which he wants.’
