AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Well?’ The blue eyes blazed into her.
‘OK,’ she nodded, and drifted back into a fitful sleep.
He stood and watched her for a time, until her breathing grew more even and her strained expression had relaxed with the onset of deep sleep. And only then did he lean over her to plant the lightest of kisses on her forehead. Then he moved silently from the room, his face dark with loss and pain.
Giovanni hired a plane the following day. He would not countenance the thought of the noise and bustle of airports, with Kate having to change planes and wait for connections. She was still pale, he noted with a pang—and quieter than he had ever known her.
She forced a smile. ‘I’d better pack—’
‘No, I’ll pack some clothes for you,’ he said.
‘I’m not an invalid,’ she protested.
Her wan little face made mockery of her words, and his heart clenched. ‘I know that,’ he agreed quietly. ‘But I intend to look after you, Kate.’
It was ironic that the things she had always wanted to hear him say were now hers for the taking. Until she remembered that he didn’t mean them—not long-term, anyway. He was falling into a role which he seemed to suit very well—that of macho protector. But it was only a temporary role, and one which he would relinquish once he was satisfied that she had recovered from her ordeal.
They flew out from the grey of a wintry English day and arrived to the warm, sensual air of a Sicilian spring. Kate hadn’t known what to expect, and as the plane came in to land she could see hills awash with green—greener than she could ever have imagined.
He saw the surprise in her eyes. ‘It is springtime,’ he explained softly as the plane kissed the runway. ‘And the very best, most beautiful time of all. You should see it in the summer when it gets diabolically hot, and the land becomes parched and brown and the harsh, unremitting wind they call the sirocco blows all around. Then Sicilians hide themselves indoors and away from the sun as much as they can.’
He had a car waiting, which he drove himself after carefully settling her into the back seat, a light cashmere rug tucked around her knees.
‘But—’
‘I know. You’re not an invalid. Just enjoy it, won’t you, Kate?’ he added in what came pretty close to a plea—and how could she ever resist that?
The car began to mount the hills outside Palermo, where wild flowers of every imaginable hue studded the green hills. It was as pretty as anything she had ever seen, and Kate felt a great tug of something like longing. The land of his birth, she thought, and bit her trembling lip.
Towards the very top of the hill the car passed through wrought-iron electronic gates which slid silently open and closed behind them, just as silently and a beautiful long, low villa awaited them.
They were greeted at the villa by an elderly woman, dressed in a plain black dress, her face openly curious as she opened the door to them.
‘This is Michelina, Kate.’ He switched rapidly to Sicilian, and the woman inclined her head at Kate as Giovanni introduced them.
‘Michelina has worked for my family in some capacity for many years,’ he explained as he showed her along a shady passageway and into a luxurious marble-floored bedroom. Its windows were shuttered against the light of the day, and a large bed covered with an exquisitely embroidered cover loomed large in her vision. She turned to look at him with a silent question in her eyes, knowing that here lay another potentially painful moment of truth.
‘This is where you will sleep,’ he said abruptly, wondering if she was trying to test his resolve with that dewy-eyed look at him.
He felt the quickening of his heart. Was she trying to break him? To see whether he would repeat his outrageous behaviour of that terrible night when he had made such passionate love to her? Trying to break a man driven solely by his baser instincts, who could not nurture the woman who carried his child within her?
‘And you?’ she questioned, because she needed to know.
His mouth hardened. ‘I will be along the corridor.’
So that was that. Looking after her would not include holding her in the night, and she must force herself to recognise—and to accept—that that side of their lives had come to a natural end. Perhaps it was for the best—at least this way she would be able to wean herself off him slowly.
Kate dressed for dinner that evening, wondering if she could bear it, and questioning her own sanity. For how could she possibly make a complete recovery if inside her heart was breaking?
But Michelina’s presence meant that outwardly, at least, she was forced to behave as the perfect guest, and it quickly became tolerable for her to actually feel that way. She praised the wonderful food—though it was rather ironic that the housekeeper had chosen to present her with pasta con le sarde for her first evening.
‘It is our national dish,’ she told Kate with a smile, in her faltering English.
And Giovanni had glimmered a look across the table at her. ‘Kate has heard of it,’ he smiled.
‘It’s delicious,’ she said, and it was. She had eaten barely anything of her own attempt at making the dish. She resolutely pushed that particular thought away, since looking back would not help her.
‘You have many gastronomic feasts in store for you, Kate,’ murmured Giovanni as he poured her a glass of wine. ‘Sicilian food comes hotter, spicier and sweeter than the rest of Italy.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘For which we must thank our Arab conquerors.’
