One Summer in Italy…

carry a stiletto.’

‘Not a bludgeon?’

His mouth twisted in irony. ‘I expect it’ll feel like one to him, but you wielded your knife with alarming skill. I’m sure you’re familiar with the term vendetta.’

Holly nodded. ‘Vengeance. Yes, I know what vendetta is. At least, I thought I knew until tonight.’

‘But now you’ve discovered it for yourself,’ he agreed. ‘And the reality is sweet, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she murmured, nodding. ‘It’s very sweet.’

‘Not just trading blow for blow,’ Matteo said, ‘but bringing down disaster on your enemy’s head, so that he knows he has more to fear from you than you from him. That is true vendetta, and I never saw a more cruelly effective example of it than tonight. My congratulations, Holly. I think you must have some Italian blood in you.’

‘Or maybe you’ve just misjudged the English,’ she mused.

‘That too is possible. Tell me, did you have no compunction about the fate you were preparing for him?’

‘None,’ she said harshly. ‘None at all. True, there was one moment when I wavered slightly-’

‘When he kissed you?’

She shook her head. ‘You over-estimate the power of a man’s embrace, signore.’

He gave a sudden grin. In that strange, cold light it had a wolfish look.

‘As do all men, so I’ve been told. We all believe that we have only to smile, to utter words of love, and the woman falls under our spell. The truth, of course, is that she despises us.’

‘It was his kiss that showed me the truth,’ she explained. ‘The magic was gone, and I could see the real man quite clearly.’

‘And then-?’

‘And then-’ she said slowly, ‘ven-de-tta.’

‘I will hope and pray never to incur your wrath,’ he said with grim satisfaction.

‘No need to hope. I’m in your debt.’

Together they walked back to the house, moving at a leisurely pace, like conspirators who’d brought off a successful coup and knew they could be at ease together.

In his study he poured her a glass of wine, and held it up in salute.

‘Magnifico,’ he said.

Holly laughed and clinked glasses with him, shaking her head as if in disbelief.

‘What is it?’ he asked, and she had the satisfaction of knowing that she’d baffled him, and it made him uneasy. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘I’m trying to understand what I’ve just learned about you.’

That bothered him, she was glad to see.

‘What-have you learned about me?’

‘I’ve just done something callous, unfeeling; something that nobody with a woman’s heart could do. Only a short time ago I loved that man, but tonight I revenged myself and tossed him into outer darkness. And I enjoyed every moment of it.’

‘I’m beginning to realise that.’

‘And you think better of me. Don’t try to deny it.’

‘I don’t want to deny it. Tonight you did several years’ growing up in one hour. I congratulate you. And you weren’t heartless. You defended yourself with sharp weapons, and he deserved his punishment.

‘Not that it’s a very terrible punishment. After a while he’ll give up searching and go away. He won’t have gained but he won’t have lost much either, and he’ll get off lightly. Your idea of outer darkness is really quite tame. But you’re a beginner. In time you’ll learn how to do it properly. But don’t ruin it now by blaming yourself. Would it be better to shrink into a corner and wail, “Poor little me!”’

‘No way,’ she said with a shudder. ‘It’s just that I’m not used to this “eye for an eye” business.’

‘Don’t worry. You’ve made an impressive start.’

‘How did you come to be there at that moment?’

As soon as the words were out she recalled, too late, that he visited his wife’s tomb every night.

‘It was pure chance,’ he said briefly. ‘I was taking the air. I’m glad it happened. Your conversation with your enemy was most illuminating. Don’t waste any tears on him, or anyone. It’s best if you get used to it. You’ll be safer that way.’

‘Don’t you ever forgive your enemies?’

‘Never,’ he said simply. ‘My enemy is my enemy for life. Basta! Once I know that, I would have no compunction about what I did.’

‘But that’s dangerous. What about the innocent who get caught in the crossfire?’

It was a remark at random, but it produced an astonishing effect on him. He backed off as though she’d struck him and his face grew visibly paler.

‘Mio dio,’ he whispered softly. ‘You know where to aim your stiletto. Do your eyes see every secret I have?’

‘No,’ she said, puzzled. ‘I can’t see your secrets. I’m not trying to pry. I only meant that you can’t simply give vengeance a free rein. It would be too cruel.’

‘This from a woman who’s just sent her lover out in the wilderness on a fruitless search.’

‘He deserved it. But I’d back off before hurting someone else.’

‘Then you’re different from most women who don’t care who they hurt.’

He saw her regarding him with a frown, and said quickly,

‘Perhaps it’s time to go to bed. I think we’ve both had enough for one evening.’

‘Yes. Goodnight.’

It was a relief to be alone. As she climbed the stairs, hearing her own footsteps echoing on the marble floor, she knew that something had happened tonight, something she needed time to think about.

Matteo’s voice was echoing in her head.

‘We all believe that we have only to smile, to utter words of love, and the woman falls under our spell. The truth, of course, is that she despises us.’

In a blaze of illumination, she realised whom he had been speaking of.

It was his dead wife.

Holly had soon discovered that Liza was good at drawing, and the two of them spent happy times together with pencils and sketchbook. It was a pleasure to teach a child who learned so quickly, but sometimes she stepped back and gave Liza her own space, interested to see what she would produce. The results were revealing.

Liza had a gift for figures, and after a while Holly realised that Liza was producing the same picture over and over. It showed a happy family consisting of a mother, a father and a little girl. Sometimes the mother and child were shown together, sometimes the father and child. But she never drew the parents alone together.

Of course, she wouldn’t know how they looked when she wasn’t there, Holly reasoned. But still, this reticence struck her as strange. When she ventured to mention it Liza didn’t reply but her face held a withdrawn look, such as Holly sometimes saw on her father’s.

There were other things to puzzle her. Although sometimes Matteo almost seemed to avoid his daughter, she was often aware of him walking in the garden, not approaching them, but watching them from a distance. Once she tried to beckon him forward, hurrying through the trees to where she thought he was standing, but she was only in time to see him disappearing in the distance.

The hardest thing of all was that, on her return, Liza asked eagerly, ‘Was that Poppa?’

‘No, there was nobody there,’ she said quickly, unable to tell Liza that he had avoided them.

One morning a parcel arrived for her. Puzzled and intrigued, she pulled it open, and stared.

It was the black cocktail dress that had tempted her before she forced herself to be sensible. And beneath it was the dark crimson dress-‘the second part of your order’ as a paper proclaimed.

She hadn’t asked for them, she thought wildly. Then how…?

Then she remembered Matteo walking behind her at the crucial moment. He had seen everything and added them to the order later.

Just then he came in and glanced at what she was doing.