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‘It never even occurred to me that he was ill.’
Certainly when Rafe had turned up at his place looking the personification of a tragic hero Francesco had been more irritated than alarmed. The state of his brother’s marriage, like his mood, had see-sawed violently between bliss and dark, brooding despair.
‘Why didn’t I see that his mood swings were getting worse?’
‘Why should you?’
Francesco’s head came up; he gave her a guarded look. ‘Why?’
‘Yes, why?’ ‘I should have.’
‘We don’t analyse minutely the behaviour of the people close to us.’
‘Maybe Rafe didn’t want me to see, and who could blame him? It’s not as if I’d been wildly sympathetic before.’
Erin flung up her hands in frustrated exasperation. Francesco seemed totally determined to blame himself for what had happened to his twin. ‘Did you tell him everything?’
Francesco dismissed the question with an impatient gesture. ‘That’s not the same thing. If he hadn’t felt he had to hide his illness from me.’ teeth clenched, his features rigid, he ground his clenched fist into the bed frame ‘… if I had known I would have made sure he took his medication. If I’d thought before I doled out advice Rafe might still be alive.’
‘That’s a lot of ifs, Francesco. When bad things happen we look for a reason,’ she began, choosing her words with care. ‘It’s human nature, but sometimes,’ she said sadly, ‘there simply isn’t one to find. Bad things just happen; they happen to good people who don’t deserve it. You can’t blame yourself for what happened to your twin, Francesco. It isn’t your fault.’
He gave a twisted smile. ‘That’s what the doctors said,’ he admitted. ‘They talked about chemical imbalances, but it wasn’t a chemical imbalance in his blood that killed Rafe; it was black despair.’ His voice shook with the depth of his feelings and raw emotion. ‘And I stood by and watched it happen.’
Erin could not bear to hear any more of this. ‘That’s nonsense and you know it!’ she protested. ‘Do you really think your brother would want you to beat yourself up over this?’ she demanded.
He looked startled by the question. ‘I never really.’
‘Thought about it like that? Well, that’s obvious, because if you had you’d have realised that he wouldn’t have any more than you would have wanted him to if the situation had been reversed.’
‘Rafe was always there for me. He always had time for me.’
‘This hair-shirt look really doesn’t suit you, Francesco. In fact all this self-flagellation is pretty self-indulgent.'Ashamed of yelling at him when she ought to have been soothing him, she added a guilty-sounding, ‘Sorry.’
He schooled his laboured breathing to something that approached normality. ‘No, it is I who should be sorry.’ It might be his imagination but Francesco was conscious of feelingfor want of a better word—lighter than he had in a long time.
‘What for? I’m the one who scolded you.’
‘I needed scolding,’ he reflected, a shadow of a smile lifting the sombreness of his expression. ‘You’re right—I am wallowing in self-pity.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘No?’ He arched a dark brow and shrugged, one corner of his sensual mouth lifting in a crooked smile that just tore at her sensitive heart. ‘Maybe you should have. Erin, the things I said.’ he began, his manner uncharacteristically awkward as he met her eyes. ‘I should not have shouted at you … The thing is it is difficult for me to speak of my feelings. Rafe used to say that my aura—he was very into that sort of stuff—must have so many “keep out” signs that it would take a very brave person to get close to me.’
His dark eyes flickered across her face before his chin dropped to his chest. ‘Someone who goes where angels fear to tread,’ had been Rafe’s exact words.
‘Or a really stupid one,’ she muttered under her breath as she drew back the fingers that hovered just above his dark hair. Her heart ached to see him so vulnerable. ‘It must have been a terrible time for you and your family,’ she said huskily.
‘It was not good.’ He gave a twisted smile. ‘But at the time there were things to do … arrangements … no time to think. Later it was harder and my parents took it very badly.’
And everyone expected Francesco to cope, Erin thought, looking at his broad shoulders and thinking of the problems people offloaded on them.
‘My mother especially.’ He lifted his head, dragging a hand through his tousled dark hair before revealing, ‘There was always a special bond between her and Rafe.’ Nothing in his expression or manner suggested he had in any way resented this special relationship. ‘She hasn’t been the same since.’
‘She still has you!’ The indignant protest died on Erin’s tongue when, without warning, he reached across and took her face between his hands.
‘You had me, too, cara, but you didn’t want me.’
Didn’t want him? God, if only that were true. If she had ever fooled herself into believing she didn’t love him the last few minutes had destroyed that illusion. Seeing the depth of pain in his eyes had torn at her heart. She had felt his grief and loss as though it had been her own … and had felt helpless.
