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She looked out of the window and gazed at the dark ocean, only the distant flashes of foaming surf and the twinkling stars in the night sky differentiating one from the other.
Stefano came back into the room carrying two glasses of white wine. He joined her at the window, his arm brushing against her as he handed hers to her. ‘Are your feet hurting yet?’
Startled at his question, Anna looked down at the fabulous shoes that, now she thought about it, were crippling her feet.
She must have been mad to wear such high heels on an evening that required walking. If she hadn’t been so dazzled by their brilliance she would have worn flats and now her feet wouldn’t ache so much.
‘They’re killing me.’
He tutted. ‘I thought so. You always wear silly shoes.’
‘They’re not silly,’ she said in mock outrage. ‘I just happen to like nice shoes.’
‘You have nice shoes that don’t require you to cripple yourself wearing them.’
‘If I wear heels it stops people tripping over me,’ she said, deadpan.
He wiggled his left eyebrow in the way that always made her laugh, then took a large drink of his wine and put his glass on the low round table in the centre of the room. He took her hand and guided her to the rounded sofa that looked so much like a bed.
‘Sit down,’ he ordered.
‘Bossy boots,’ she said, deliberately taking a slow drink of her wine before obeying.
Stefano sat next to her, took hold of her ankles and put her feet on his lap.
‘What are you doing?’
He unzipped the heel of her left shoe and gently tugged it off. ‘Someone has to look after your feet if you won’t,’ he answered, a sparkle in his eyes. ‘You are lucky you have married a man who gives fantastic foot massages.’
‘And how do you know that?’
Her other shoe went the same way as the first. The relief to her poor feet was indescribable.
‘You told me,’ he said with a patient shake of his head, ‘because you always insist on wearing silly shoes and then complain your feet hurt.’
The retort she had ready on her lips died away when he pressed his thumbs to the sole of her foot and slowly pushed up to her toes.
Stefano noted the way her eyes glazed as he began to massage her feet and experienced a thrill of satisfaction. Anna adored having her feet rubbed and right then he wanted to do nothing more than give her pleasure and wipe away the memories of her past he knew were suffusing her.
He would have given anything to stop her from talking earlier. He hadn’t wanted to see her pain.
Dannazione, he shouldn’t be aching to comfort her and wipe her demons away.
He could feel himself losing control of the situation and was determined to regain it.
‘Put your head back and relax.’
A knowing smile playing on her lips, she placed her wine glass on the floor. Then she did as he’d suggested and lay with her head against the rounded softness of the sofa’s back and her body in recline.
After massaging her left foot for a few minutes he switched to her right.
Anna sighed and finally closed her eyes. ‘You really do give amazing foot massages.’
‘I know.’
A snigger escaped her lips before she gave another deep sigh.
When he felt he’d worked enough on her foot, he moved his hand up to her ankle and then to her smooth calf, kneading the muscles with the pressure he knew she liked.
