‘If you leave now-so soon after last night-’ he gave a bark of laughter. ‘That’ll give the gossips something to talk about. And also-’ he grew quiet again ‘-it would hurt my mother badly.’
‘I won’t leave-for the moment.’
‘Thank you.’
Suddenly he leaned forward, resting his head against her in an attitude of despondency, almost of despair, she thought. Her arms went about him and she held him close, longing to comfort him, but knowing that there was a part of him she still couldn’t reach. She dropped her own head, resting her cheek against his dishevelled hair, and tried to tell him, through the strength of her embrace, that she was there for him. She thought she felt his arms tighten about her, as though he’d found something he needed to cling to.
They sat motionless while the warmth stole through her. Not the warmth of passion: something quite different and far more alarming. While they fought she could hold out against him, even in the face of her own desire. But his sudden vulnerability shook desire into a fierce longing to protect him that was suspiciously like love.
Disaster! She hadn’t meant to love him, wasn’t sure she wanted to. It was a trap and she’d fallen into it before she knew it was there.
Why couldn’t you have gone on driving me nuts? she thought. It was easier then. This isn’t fair.
He stirred and she released him. He pushed back his hair, which immediately fell over his forehead again. ‘I suppose I look like a tramp?’
‘A bit,’ she said tenderly.
He started to get up and winced. ‘I’m stiff!’
‘If you’ve been here all night I’m not surprised. Let me help.’
He slipped an arm about her neck and got painfully to his feet, scooping up his leaf-stained jacket.
‘The ground’s damp,’ she said. ‘You could catch pneumonia like this.’
‘I used to sleep out a lot when I was a kid. Just over there in the woods, there’s a place where I’d make a camp and pretend I was an outlaw.’
‘Show me.’ She wanted to prolong this gentle time with him.
‘All right.’
Still with his arm around her shoulders he guided her through the trees and up a steep slope to a clearing. ‘This is where I used to sleep out under the stars,’ he said.
‘It’s a wonderful view.’
‘Yes, “the enemy” couldn’t approach you unaware.’
‘Unless they came from above,’ she pointed out. ‘But I expect you posted sentries. How many of you were there?’
‘Just me. I used to envy Leo and Guido who were brothers and had each other. Actually they were separated when Guido was ten, and Uncle Francesco took him to live in Venice, leaving Leo in Tuscany. But I always thought of them as having each other.’
‘It’s a pity you didn’t have any brothers and sisters.’
‘My father died early, and Mamma never wanted to marry again.’
‘But surely you had some friends?’
He shrugged. ‘At school.’
But none for his fantasy life, she thought, pitying the lonely little boy. She thought of how much easier he was when surrounded by the rest of the boisterous Calvani family, like a man who would gladly be one of them, but always felt slightly apart.
‘You can see almost as far as Rome from this spot,’ he said. ‘At night I used to sit under this tree and watch the lights. Just here.’ He put his jacket on the ground and indicated for her to sit on it beside him.
‘You too,’ she said, making room for him.
They sat quietly together as the light expanded and the sound of birdsong grew louder. His hand had found its way into hers.
‘This is a wonderful place,’ she said. ‘I can understand you wanting to come here often.’
There was no answer, and she became aware of a weight on her shoulder. Turning, she found his head lying against her, his eyes closed again.
Now she saw something else in his face. He was weary in a way that had nothing to do with missed sleep. Strain and tension had fallen away, but they left behind a bone-deep exhaustion that looked as if it had been there a long time, perhaps years.
She’d never thought to pity Marco, but she pitied him now in a way that she didn’t entirely understand. But there would be time to learn about him, and reach out to the trouble deep within him. Gently she brushed the hair back from his forehead.
He stirred and opened his eyes, looking straight into her smiling ones.
‘You fell asleep again,’ she said tenderly.
‘Yes-’ he sounded unsure of himself. ‘How long?’
‘Just a few minutes.’
Then she saw the look that she’d dreaded, as though shutters had come down. Light faded from his eyes, leaving a deliberate emptiness as he withdrew back into the comfortless place within himself. He pulled away from her and got to his feet, not letting her assist him this time, but offering his own hand to help her up. She took it, rising so quickly that she almost lost her balance. He steadied her with his other hand on her arm, but didn’t draw her close, as he could so easily have done.
With dismay she realised that it was all gone, the warmth and communication that had been there before. Now his eyes were watchful. Perhaps he was even more wary of her because he’d allowed her to draw near.
‘What time is it?’ he asked, consulting his watch. ‘Past seven. I’ve got to be going. I’m sorry for putting all this onto you.’
‘I’m glad we talked,’ she said, seeking a way back to him. ‘I understand you better now.’
He shrugged. ‘What is there to understand? I behaved badly, for which I’m sorry. You’ve been very patient, but there’s no reason for you to put up with my moods. I won’t inflict them on you again.’
She nearly said, ‘Not even when we’re married?’ but the words wouldn’t come. Everything that had seemed certain a moment ago had vanished into illusion. She no longer knew him.
She made one last try. ‘Moods aren’t the worst thing in the world. Maybe people shouldn’t be polite all the time. I wasn’t very polite to you last night and you-’
‘Overreacted I’m afraid. But it won’t happen again. Now, can we leave it?’
He rubbed his stubbled jaw. ‘I’d better get inside and put myself right. I don’t want my mother to see me like this. I’d prefer that you didn’t tell her.’
‘Of course not.’
They walked back in silence. Within sight of the house he said, ‘Take a look first, and signal me if it’s clear. No, wait!’
He grasped her arm and pulled her back into the trees as Lucia appeared at the rear door. Her voice reached them.
‘Who left this door unlocked? Surely it hasn’t been like this all night?’
‘It’s all right,’ Harriet said, advancing so that Lucia could see her. ‘I opened it. I’ve been out for an early- morning walk.’
She ran up the steps, kissed Lucia and drew her inside, chattering, apparently aimlessly, but actually manoeuvring her deep into the house. She resisted the temptation to look back, but she thought she heard the faint sound of footsteps going up the stairs.
Half an hour later Marco joined them for breakfast, showered, impeccably dressed and apparently his normal self. He thanked his mother charmingly for the successful party and complimented Harriet on her successful debut in society. He made no mention of anything else.
A few days later an invitation arrived to a party at the Palazzo Manelli.
‘We’ve never been invited there before,’ Lucia observed in surprise.
‘It’s Harriet he really wants, Mamma,’ Marco said. ‘She’s after his collection.’ He gave Harriet a brief smile. ‘This will make your name. Nobody’s ever been so privileged before. Of course we must accept.’
Nobody could have faulted his manner, which was charming, but impenetrable.
Life at the villa had settled into a contented routine. Lucia, whose days were filled with committees, was happy
