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The housekeeper drew in a breath and then, exhaling slowly, she turned to look at Savannah. Her eyes were sparkling. ‘A very few,’ she agreed. ‘Let’s do it!’
They hurried off in different directions, snapping on light switches like naughty children, and they didn’t stop until the whole of the upper floor was flooded with light.
Down in the hallway Savannah could see more lights being turned on. It was like the curtain going up at the theatre, she concluded, feeling that same sense of wonder—but the only difference here was a glorious home was being revealed rather than a stage set.
The housekeeper rendezvoused with Savannah back at her room. ‘It’s amazing!’ Savannah exclaimed softly, gazing at the transformation they’d created.
‘Si, signorina. You have worked a miracle.’
‘A very tiny miracle,’ Savannah argued with a smile. ‘I only turned on the lights.’
‘Sometimes that’s all it takes,’ the older woman observed shrewdly.
They shared a smile before the housekeeper left Savannah, after asking her to promise she would call downstairs if she needed anything more.
Well, she would need all the friends she could find on the staff, if she stood a chance of leaving Ethan’s home happier than she had found it, Savannah reflected. But with all his beautiful treasures bathed in light she had to believe he would share her enthusiasm for ancient frescoes stepping out of the shadows, and carvings revealed in all their intricate detail after years of neglect.
But…would he be pleased, or would he be angry at her continued interference? She was only a guest, after all, and one that wasn’t here for very long. She suspected she knew why Ethan avoided light, but her concern was for the main thoroughfares where safety was an issue. The more intimate areas like Ethan’s rooms could remain discreetly lit. She could only hope he would agree it was a happy balance.
Deep inside, Savannah believed everyone needed light. And as for the palazzo, well, she’d already seen the results of the transformation Ethan’s staff had brought about in her rooms, and their instincts were right. There should be light, love and music in such a beautiful home. There should be life at the palazzo.
Savannah took a long, soapy bath. Now the excitement was over, she realised how hungry she was, and until supper arrived a bath was the perfect distraction from hunger pangs as well as from the likely repercussions of her interference in Ethan’s home.
Twiddling the taps with her toes, she sank a little lower in the fragrant bubbles. This story might not have a happy-ever-after ending, but she had fairy-tale accommodation for the night, and after the staff had gone to so much trouble it would have been churlish for her to refuse the setting they had prepared.
She had rifled through the full-sized luxury products on the glass shelves like a small child in a beauty salon, and now the scent rising from the steam had led her into a dream world of erotic images in which Ethan starred…
Wrapped up cosily in a warm robe some time later, she stared into the mirror. It was so easy to imagine Ethan’s dark face when she saw him in the shadows everywhere she went. It was torture, knowing he was somewhere close by, and almost impossible not to imagine him stripped and naked beneath an ice-cold shower. It would be cold water, because warm was too indulgent for him. And his bedroom would be spartan, she decided, because Ethan denied himself anything soft or superfluous—which didn’t leave her with too much hope, Savannah concluded wistfully.
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nbsp; Rubbing her hair vigorously, she walked back into the bedroom. Kneeling in front of the fire to dry her long hair, she thought about Ethan’s complex character. All he seemed to need was a clean bed and a floor to pace—perhaps with the addition of a giant television-screen in every room to catch up on any rugby matches he might have missed. Perhaps it was the legacy of those dreadful scars that made him so careless of his own comfort.
Thinking about them always made her so angry. Casting the towel aside, she began to pluck distractedly at the rug. Who would do that to him? Who could do that to a fellow human being?
Why don’t you ask him? Savannah’s inner voice prompted.
Because life isn’t that simple?
But it could be, if she went to him, and spoke to him…
Rolling onto her back, Savannah stared up at the ornate plasterwork. All the palazzo could be like this, cared for and fully restored, and always welcoming. Or it could remain cold and full of shadows. How lonely it must be to live in the dark.
Sitting bolt upright, Savannah hugged her knees and, resting her chin, she stared into the fire. It didn’t have to be like this if someone changed it around—if she changed it around. An impossible task, perhaps, but not if she had the help of Ethan’s staff. Even this gleaming fireguard, polished to a flawless sheen, was evidence of their care for him. They had to be as keen as she was to see the palazzo come back to life.
Impatient with inaction, she sprang up. She hardly knew where she was going, but as she crossed the room her spirits lifted. It was such a glorious ultra-feminine space it must have given Ethan a headache just to poke his head round the door. Everything that wasn’t gilded or twinkling glass was covered in silk, satins or velvet, and all in the most exquisite pastel colours. Stretching out her arms, she turned full circle, thinking it the most appealing space she had ever inhabited. She was still smiling broadly when she reached the door and opened it. ‘Ethan!’
‘Savannah.’
She knew immediately from his voice that Ethan was furious. She felt instantly guilty, as well as silly and awkward, standing barefoot in front of him in her towelling robe. Her lips trembled and her smile died instantly.
‘What have you done?’ he snapped.
Her gaze slid away. ‘I was taking a bath.’
‘You know I don’t mean that.’
Savannah drew her robe a little closer, conscious that Ethan’s stare was boring into her, demanding an answer.
