another, and so her whole evening was taken up, and she didn’t have to look at Renato, or wonder who he was dancing with.
The world was shrouded in mist. Through it she was vaguely aware of strong arms carrying her down steps, laying her on a bed, hands moving over her bikini, stripping it from her body. She felt the slight breeze on her naked flesh, a towel dabbing her dry, her breasts, her thighs-
And then, piercing the mist, the man’s face, his eyes defenceless, appalled at his own thoughts.
Suddenly it all vanished, and Heather found she was sitting up in bed, shuddering, her body alive with unwanted sensation. ‘No,’ she gasped.
‘What is it?’ Angie asked, scrambling out of her own bed and hurrying to her. ‘Heather, what’s the matter?’
‘Nothing-just a dream-’
Just a dream in which the memory she’d fiercely suppressed had forced its way into view. She hadn’t dared remember how she’d lain naked in Renato’s arms, or how he’d looked at her. But part of her would never forget.
‘I’m going for a walk,’ she said.
‘Shall I come with you?’
‘No, thank you. I-I need to be alone.’
Throwing a light robe over her nightdress, she slipped out onto the terrace. The house was quiet and dark, and here in the cool night air she might soothe the fever that consumed her. It was two in the morning. Her wedding day. And she had been wrenched awake by a dream of another man.
In her heart she’d always known Renato was dangerous. But it would pass once she was married. In Lorenzo’s arms, in his bed, she would forget everything else. She
She looked over the terrace rail to the one below and what she saw filled her with relief. ‘Lorenzo,’ she called in a whisper. ‘I’m coming down.’
She returned through her room and slipped out, along the corridor, down the stairs. He was waiting for her in the hall, his arms open to receive her as she flung herself against him.
‘What is it, darling? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. I just wanted to say how much I love you-love you-
‘There’s no need to sound so upset about it.’
‘I’m not upset. Everything’s perfect. But I had to tell you that I love you.’
‘And I love you, so everything’s all right.’
He kissed her. Heather gave herself up to that kiss, trying to find in it everything she wanted. But no kiss could give that. They were both too full of tension. Things would be different when they were on the boat, drifting beneath the moonlight.
She jumped at a sudden sound from the darkness. ‘What was that?’
‘Only Renato. That’s his study. He’s actually in there, working.’
‘Could he have heard us?’
‘Probably. What does it matter? Forget him. Why, darling, you’re trembling.’ Lorenzo’s arms went around her. ‘Let me take you upstairs. Just a few more hours, and we’ll belong to each other for ever.’
The wedding dress was made of silk-satin, designed in a subtly medieval style, with the skirt falling in heavy folds from her waist, and the slight fullness coming from the huge amount of material that had been used. At the back it stretched out into a long train embellished around the hem with French lace. The sleeves were plain to the elbows, then flared into more lace. The veil stretched almost down to the floor, held in place by the pearl tiara. The effect of it with the dress was elegant and breathtaking.
The sensation of becoming a new person, that had come upon her gradually since she’d been here, was stronger now. Her day on the boat had bleached her light brown hair to gold; her lightly tanned skin made the whites of her eyes glow with brilliant effect. For the first time in her life she was not merely pretty but beautiful, even glamorous.
The heat of Sicily had done this to her, as it had also warmed her body, awakening her to physical sensations that had lain dormant in the mists of England. It was the heat of the furnace, and some northerners wilted in it. But Heather had flowered.
As bridesmaid, Angie wore a simple cream silk that brought out the glow of her skin and her dark eyes, full of pleasurable anticipation. Heather smiled at her.
‘I believe some Sicilian wedding customs are the same as those in England,’ she teased. ‘Like the one about the bridesmaid and the best man.’ Bernardo was the best man.
There was a knock on the door, and Renato called. ‘Everyone has gone to the cathedral. Bernardo and Lorenzo left several minutes ago. I’m waiting for you downstairs.’
Angie presented Heather with her bouquet of white roses. ‘You look fantastic. Lorenzo will keel over when he sees you.’
Heather smiled. In the bright sunlight her troubling fancies had faded. She loved Lorenzo and he loved her. That was all that mattered.
They made a slow procession along the corridor, then a slight turn so that Heather was looking down the broad staircase. Every servant in the house seemed to be gathered there to see her entrance, all beaming up at her with approval. And there was Renato, gazing up as the bride began her stately descent. His face bore a rigid look, as though he was holding his breath. Then he stepped forward, extending his hand. She placed her own hand in it, and he steadied her down the last few steps, while the servants applauded.
The limousine was waiting. Heather climbed carefully into the back and sat while Angie settled her dress and veil perfectly about her, then got in beside her. Renato joined them, and they were ready to go.
At first she looked out of the window at the scenery as they glided slowly down towards Palermo, trying to take in that this was really happening to her. Renato was silent, and she thought he too must be preoccupied, but when she turned to him she found his gaze fixed on her. In his eyes was the same stunned look she’d seen earlier.
They had reached the outskirts of Palermo and the car was making its way through the streets until at last the great cathedral was in sight. Both cars were drawing to a halt, the doors were opening.
She stood in the bright sunlight while Angie straightened her dress, then fell into place behind her. There was a little crowd nearby. They stopped to look at the wedding party. Some of them applauded, and Heather heard the whisper,
Renato looked at her.
‘Are you ready?’
‘Quite ready.’
‘No doubts?’
‘Why do you ask that?’ she cried.
‘I don’t know,’ he said abruptly. ‘Let’s go.’
She took the arm he offered, and they walked across the piazza and into the cathedral together.
After the brilliance outside the dim light was like darkness, but then her eyes focused on the magnificent interior full of guests, all turning to watch her arrive. Beyond them she could see the choir, and the archbishop waiting by the altar to marry her to Lorenzo.
High overhead the organ pealed out. She took a deep breath, her hand tightened unconsciously on Renato’s arm, and she prepared for the first step.
‘Wait,’ Renato said softly.
Then she saw Bernardo hurrying down the aisle towards them. He looked worried. ‘Not yet,’ he said in a low, urgent voice. ‘Lorenzo isn’t here.’
‘What do you mean?’ Renato demanded. ‘You arrived together, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but then he slipped away. He said he needed to have a word with someone, and he’d be back in a moment but when I went to look for him, nobody knew where he was, and-’
‘And what?’ Renato asked harshly, for Bernardo seemed unwilling to continue.
‘I spoke to a woman outside. She’d seen a young man get into a taxi. From the description-but it might have been anyone, of course-’
‘Of course it might,’ Renato broke in. ‘A storm in a teacup. Lorenzo will return in a minute.’
But behind the apparent conviction Heather heard the uneasy note in his voice, and she saw that Bernardo
