That was the mantra he’d repeated obsessively during the last few days. She was playing games, which meant he’d done the right thing to get the hell out.
From that first startling moment at his father’s funeral he’d known that he couldn’t afford to weaken where this woman was concerned. Hard on the heels of that thought had come fierce regret that he’d ‘given’ her to Gino. He’d said it casually, arrogantly, thinking life was that simple. In truth he’d expected a female dragon who would scare his volatile brother off.
Then he’d met her and known that this was a job for a man, not a boy.
Their antagonism was a relief, giving him a breathing space. But she’d been clever, offering sympathy like water in a desert to a man who’d spent too long being strong for others. The feeling was so good that he’d almost weakened, but he’d escaped in time.
So he’d won, as he made sure he always did. But now he found himself in a wilderness, his victory nothing but ashes.
‘I don’t think she was just playing games,’ Gino said quietly.
‘Then why is she back in England now, planning her wedding?’
Gino had no answer. Looking at the weariness in Rinaldo’s face made him realise how depressed were his own spirits. The house had been quiet since Alex left, life had lost its savour.
After that there seemed nothing to say. Rinaldo fetched a bottle of old malt whisky, and they sat in companionable silence, sipping slowly, until Gino roused himself to say in a diffident voice.
‘There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while now.’
‘Go on.’
‘The day Poppa died-you were at the hospital first. By the time I arrived, it was too late. And I always wondered-what happened?’
‘Nothing, he was unconscious.’
‘I know but-he didn’t come round?-even for a moment?’
‘If he had I’d have told you.’
‘It’s just so hard to think of him just lying there, still alive but not talking.’ Gino sighed ruefully. ‘You know what a talker he was.’
Rinaldo closed his eyes, and through his memory there passed the picture of his father, terribly still, swathed in bandages.
Like Gino he had felt it impossible that a man so full of life could lie still and silent. At any moment he would open his eyes, recognise his son and speak. There would be-there
The picture swirled, blurred. He struggled to see clearly again but it was gone. As often before, he was tortured by the feeling of something there, just beyond the edge of memory.
Several times in the past he had come to the edge of this moment, but whatever it was always eluded him, driven away by the jangle in his head.
It had happened that day in the barn with Alex. Their brief moment of sympathy had caused a door of memory to start opening. But not far enough. And it would never happen again now. She had gone, and that was all for the best.
He would try to believe it.
‘I wish I had something to tell you,’ he said heavily. ‘I, too, find it hard that he just left us without a word of goodbye or explanation. But there’s nothing we can do but accept it. Now let’s get some sleep.’
They went upstairs to bed, and the house lay in silence for an hour. Then Gino awoke, uncertain why, but with a feeling that something was up.
Pulling on a robe he slipped into the corridor, where he found Rinaldo, dressed in shorts.
‘We have a burglar downstairs,’ Rinaldo said softly.
On bare feet they moved noiselessly along the corridor and down the stairs. Through the door they could make out part of the room illuminated by a bar of moonlight. The rest was in darkness, but they could hear the intruder moving about, then a crash, like a chair overturning.
‘Right,’ Rinaldo muttered.
He moved fast, not switching on the light but judging the position by sound alone, then launching himself forward, colliding with a body that reeled back, landing on the floor beneath him.
For a moment they fought in silence, gasping with effort and writhing madly together. Gino, coming into the room, heard a yell from Rinaldo as something caught him on the side of the head. Hurriedly Gino put the light on.
Then he froze at the sight that met his eyes.
Rinaldo drew in a sharp breath. ‘You!’ he said explosively.
From her position on the floor Alex glared up at him.
Breathing hard, Rinaldo pulled back from her, and stood up. Alex rose stiffly, supporting herself on Gino’s outstretched hand.
‘What the devil are you doing here?’ Rinaldo demanded.
‘I live here. I went away, now I’ve come back.’
‘I knew you wouldn’t just leave us and forget,’ Gino breathed joyfully.
‘When I left I didn’t know what was going to happen,’ Alex said. ‘I had to see how the land lay. Now I know, and I’m here to stay.’
‘What does the English fiance have to say about that?’ Rinaldo demanded, rubbing his face self-consciously. ‘Can we look forward to his descent on us? Shall I tell Teresa to prepare a room for him? Perhaps you mean to be married from this house?’
‘Oh, put a sock in it,’ Alex said firmly.
‘Excuse me? Sock?’
‘It’s an English expression,’ she explained. ‘It means don’t say any more. David’s out of the picture.’
‘You dumped him?’ Gino cried joyfully.
‘No, he dumped me. I found out on the night of the festival that he’d vetoed my partnership and got engaged to his mousy secretary. I went back to England to have the satisfaction of telling him a few home truths, face to face.’
‘I’ll wager you did it in great style,’ Rinaldo observed.
‘Oh, I did. In front of everyone. I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed that. My lawyer will go after the firm for a settlement. I’ve put my apartment on the market, and after that there was nothing left to do but come back here.’
‘You couldn’t have notified us that you were arriving, in a sensible, civilised manner?’ Rinaldo observed.
‘Where’s the fun in that? Actually, I didn’t mean to be so late, but I had to pick up the car I’ve bought on the way and that delayed me.
‘I didn’t mean to awaken you, so I arrived as quietly as I could. I didn’t slam the door when I got out, and I climbed in by that window over there, the one that doesn’t close properly.
‘So here I am. This is my home too now. Get used to me, gentlemen, because I’ve come to stay.’
CHAPTER NINE
SOME women would have splashed out on a new wardrobe. Alex had splashed out on a car that reduced both brothers to awed silence. It managed to be stylish, glossily expensive and ‘heavy-duty’ at the same time.
‘How much?’ Rinaldo murmured.
‘More than I could afford,’ Alex said happily.
‘I take my hat off to you.’
The car declared that she had come to stay, big time. She’d already said so in words, but this affirmed it.
‘I’m going to drive a lot over the next week or so,’ she said. ‘I want to see every single part of Belluna. You
