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'You are staying long, Sorcha? ' asked Letizia suddenly.
'I... ’ Sorcha glanced up at Cesare, sending out a silent appeal that he come to her rescue, but his black eyes remained flinty and obdurate. 'No, ' she finished.
An awkward silence fell over the table, broken only by a distant low rumble of thunder. Letizia had succeeded in making her feel like the kind of desperado who would stoop to any means to ensnare a captivating and eligible bachelor like Cesare. The kind of woman who would jump on a plane and turn up announced.
They said that eavesdroppers never heard any good about themselves—well, maybe gatecrashers fared no better. For all she knew, he might have been planning to spend the night with Letizia.
Her face paled as she realised that she was trapped. She had let the taxi go. Beneath the table, her fingers gripped convulsively at the heavy linen napkin. Surely Cesare would not be so insensitive as to put her in one of the spare rooms while he took the luscious Letizia off to his own to spend the night making love to her?
But why shouldn't he? Whatever he and Sorcha had had between them was over—or at least Cesare thought it was. They were not bound by any word or convention. No promises had been made, nor vows.
The clap of thunder was still distant, but loud enough to startle them. The baby began to cry as the candle flames started to dance manically.
'Cara, the storm! ' said Pia to her husband.
A drop of rain as warm as bathwater and as big as a euro plopped down onto Sorcha's hand.
Pia stood up. "We must go. ’
'Stay’ said Cesare. 'Don't drive in it.'
'If we go now we'll miss it/ said Luca. 'It's miles away.'
'Not that far’ warned Cesare, with a glance skywards.
Another drop of rain fell and one of the candles went out with a little hiss—like a villain suddenly disappearing through a trapdoor at the pantomime. And in the urgent scurry with which people began to scramble to their feet Sorcha heard Letizia ask Cesare a question in a low voice.
'No’ he said to her.
Sorcha was not a betting woman, but she would have staked a fortune on the certainty that Cesare was telling Letizia to go.
Because an unexpected and unwanted guest had turned up?
She said goodbye to them all as the wind began to whip at the tablecloth, but decided to stay behind on the terrace and help Stephan clear the table. At least she could make herself useful—and she wouldn't have to see whether Cesare was kissing Letizia...
Raindrops were thundering onto the wooden table now, napkins and bread were getting sodden, and as she ran back to the table for a return journey she saw a tall, dark figure appear in the doorway. Her sleeve caught a crystal glass and sent it crashing to one of the flag-stones, splintering into a hundred glittering shards. She bent down towards it.
'Don't touch it!'
His voice rang out and was caught up by the gathering wind. Sorcha looked up into his face—his dear, beloved face—which was now as hard and as forbidding as granite. His words sounded as if they were little bits of the stone he had chipped off and flung at her.
He strode over to her and caught her by the wrists, but it was an unequivocal capture—there was no tenderness or softness as his fingers bit into her flesh.
'And now you'd better start giving me some kind of explanation!' he ordered.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sorcha stared at Cesare as the rain came down in great sheets and lashed across their faces, but he didn't seem to be aware of the weather—nor of the fact that if he hadn't been gripping her wrists she might have fallen.
All she could see was the whiteness which had appeared beneath his olive skin, and the way the raindrops had made his eyelashes into little points, so that his eyes looked like dark stars. But there was no smile nor welcome on his face, just the glitter of accusation and of challenge.
"Well? ' he demanded, when she did not answer him.
Her breath was coming in shuddering and painful gulps, and the clouds of jealousy which threatened to engulf her were darker than the storm clouds which were hurling down their contents. She thought about what might have happened if she hadn't turned up here tonight and she felt faint. "Were you going to sleep with her?' she moaned.
His fingers gripped her even tighter. "Who? '
"Who? Who? Letizia, of course! '
