same time the heaving of his chest became less violent.
‘It’s all right,’ she told him softly. ‘I’m here-I’m here.’
Now he lay still. The only sign of his recent disturbance was the frown creasing his brow.
‘I’m here,’ she repeated. ‘It’s going to be all right.’
Slowly the frown faded and he seemed to breathe more easily, but his hand did not release hers. Holly eased herself down in the bed, trying not to disturb him.
She had embarked on this strange marriage with little idea of what might be facing her, but telling herself that she was ready for anything. Now she wondered if she had been too rash. He depended on her for something that might be beyond her power.
Too late now. She had made promises that bound her as irrevocably as the fingers clasped around hers, while he sank back into peaceful sleep, growing still. After a long time he released her, and she was able to draw her hand away. Then she stayed as she was, watching him, motionless, until she too fell asleep.
She awoke again later to find herself sitting up, unable to remember how it had happened, but instantly alert. She must have slept for hours because the room was filled with a soft, dim light that told her dawn was breaking. Cautiously she turned her head to where he slept.
Once again he’d taken her by surprise. After the disturbance of the night she’d imagined him sleeping curled up in a defensive position, his arms a barrier against a world that had betrayed him. Instead he lay on his back, his arms flung wide, his jacket open, revealing a chest that was thick with dark, curly hair, abandoned, unprotected.
In what other way was he different from how she had imagined? How many sides did he have, and would he live long enough for her to find out?
That was the reality, she reminded herself: he might die at any moment. She closed her eyes, trying to resist the anguish that shivered through her, but it wouldn’t be denied. Somehow, while she thought she was fighting him off, he’d secured a grip on her heart.
She’d told him once that her weakness was a longing to be needed, but that was when she’d seen him as too strong to need anyone. Her real feelings had pounced on her like a tiger leaping from the darkness, overwhelming her before she realised.
The width of the bed should have been a protection. But one of his arms reached across the space between, the fingertips temptingly close. And there was no protection from the thoughts that crowded in on her. The one that hounded her most was the one kiss they’d shared on the night when the barriers began to come down, and he’d later revealed the truth about his torment.
They’d hastily replaced the barriers, but there was no way to blot out the memory of a kiss so fierce and thrilling that they’d both backed off, eyes wary, hearts in denial.
The moment had briefly glittered tonight as they talked, and she’d shut it away hastily. But in the dark warmth it had returned, taking advantage of her defenceless sleep to remind her how his body felt, pressed against hers. In just a few blazing moments he seemed to have imprinted himself on her so that he was still there, his lips touching her mouth, his hand firm in the small of her back.
That hand looked different now, relaxed, gentle. His face, too, was softer than she had ever seen it, although dark with a night’s growth of beard. His frown was gone, but she could see that the tensions of his life had not completely vanished. Beneath the surface peace was a wariness, as though life on the verge of disaster was the only kind possible for him.
While she was wondering if she should awaken him, Matteo opened his eyes and looked directly into hers. He didn’t move, but she had the feeling that a quietness had settled over him, as though he’d found what he wanted, and was glad.
‘Have you been there all the time?’ he whispered.
She nodded.
‘Yes, of course-stupid of me-’
‘Not stupid,’ she said. ‘We aren’t used to this.’
‘Thank you for being there.’
So he knew, she thought. He might not remember exactly, but somewhere, deep inside, he’d sensed her in the night, holding on to him.
His lips moved, speaking her name silently, and he reached up to touch her face, trailing his fingertips gently down her cheek. He looked almost puzzled, as though trying to understand how this had come about. When his hand settled behind her head she hesitated only a moment before leaning slowly down. She could feel him trembling and knew that he must be able to sense the same in her. This wasn’t wise but it was inevitable. She couldn’t sleep beside him all night and remain cool.
She moved slightly so that his free hand could drift naturally across her breast, and braced herself for the sweet sensation.
There was a knock at the door.
Then Liza’s voice called, ‘Can I come in?’
Matteo closed his eyes and a shudder went through him. Holly took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm.
‘Yes,’ she called brightly. ‘You can come in.’
Instinctively she tried to draw away from him, thinking only of calming the tingling in her body. But he held her, murmuring, ‘Remember what we said? Neutered cats.’
She could have screamed at the intrusion of the homely into what promised to be magic. But he was right. So she let him draw her down so that her head fell on his shoulder, and draped an arm around his neck, just managing to settle before the door opened and Liza came in.
She beamed at what she saw, then went back outside and returned pushing a light trolley.
‘I brought your coffee,’ she said.
Somehow they managed to say the right words, pulling themselves up in bed, smiling and acting as though nothing could give them greater pleasure. Which, in one sense, was true, Holly thought. This was all for Liza. Remember that.
But it was hard to stick to her resolutions when she was trembling with sweet urgency as never before. Whatever Matteo had promised about keeping his distance, in another moment he would have cast virtue and honour to the winds, and made love to her with her full consent.
She took her consolation in the knowledge that the vital moment was a success. Liza’s world seemed to have tilted in the way she needed, which meant that the arrangement was working.
And there was always tonight, she thought, feeling happiness creep through her. She tried to communicate that thought to Matteo, but he seemed anxious to get back to his own room, almost unable to meet her eyes.
That night his clerk called to say that the judge was working very late. By the time he arrived home she was asleep.
Two days later Galina returned to her own home. She never spoke of the dangerous subject again, but she smiled at Holly in a way that conveyed her meaning unmistakably.
Matteo travelled everywhere with a police escort, leaving early in the morning and arriving home late. Then he would spend his time with Liza, leaving little time for Holly.
Gradually she realised that her first suspicion was correct. He was avoiding her. Now he slept in his own room, with an alarm set for the early hours so that he could join her then, slipping in on the far side and staying there. Clearly the danger that had almost engulfed them once was not to be allowed to happen again.
In her odd moments alone, Holly watched the news compulsively. One evening there was a brief snippet about Fortese. She’d seen his face before, but only in newspapers that she had hastily put aside to keep them from Liza. Now she had the chance to consider him properly.
He might be a villain but he didn’t have the face of a thug. His features were narrow, gentlemanly, and all the more chilling for that. Eyes like ice, the smile of a dead man. He had committed several murders and always escaped by bribing or frightening witnesses or the judge.
But in Matteo he had met his match. On Matteo’s orders the witnesses received double the usual protection and, although clearly scared, they had given their damn-ing testimony.
Matteo could be neither bribed nor bullied. He had imposed a sentence of thirty years. Fortese had listened, motionless, to the sentence. Then, at the very last moment, he had spoken.
