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Delight made her shiver in his arms. ‘Always.’
‘My fantasy is waking up with you. Together, in a bright new morning. Taking some time just to hold you, and then watching you dress. Making breakfast...’
That was a great fantasy. ‘I’d like that too. Only I’d like to watch you shower.’
‘Yeah. That can be arranged.’
‘We’ll have to have an early night.’
‘That’s what I was thinking. Come to bed?’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MATTEO WAS HAPPY. As long as he didn’t think too much about the past or the future, which was no real difficulty, the last six weeks had been perfect.
He an
d Rose hadn’t spent their time glued to each other, and if anything that had made it so much more exciting. He’d taken to driving up to the site a couple of evenings a week after work, and she showed him the finds and the emerging pattern of the villa. At the weekend he took Rose and William to the market or the beach, or they went sightseeing.
Amongst their friends, there was a tacit understanding that they were a couple, but no one ever said it in so many words. Rose and William had spent time up at the vineyard with Matteo’s family and Rose had cooked for them at his house, a traditional English Sunday lunch, which Nannu Alberto had pronounced perfect in every way. They’d hosted a barbeque that everyone from the dig had attended and which had spilled out onto the beach for most of the evening, and a dinner for a group of Matteo’s friends and their children. And in all that time they’d hardly touched, happy just to be in each other’s company.
But for one night during the week, and one at the weekend, after Rose had taken William home and put him to bed, he had her to himself. Matteo found himself looking forward to it all day, watching her get out of her car and walk towards him, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Then as soon as the front door closed behind them, sizzling heat took over. Fire was capricious and could be quenched, and Matteo had come to the conclusion that it was inadequate to describe it. This was molten lava.
* * *
Today had been yet another perfect day, a trip to a Roman amphitheatre, lunch and then a lazy afternoon spent in the shade of the patio. Matteo had taken William up onto the roof with a pair of binoculars while Rose had prepared tea for them. In the cool breeze of the evening they were walking barefoot on the beach.
‘He really seemed to enjoy this morning.’ Matteo was strolling with his hands in his pockets, and Rose walked beside him.
‘Yes, I’m surprised. I thought he might think it was just a pile of old stones.’
Matteo laughed. ‘You thought that he’d see a struggle for life and death. And that he’s too young for that.’
‘Yeah. Maybe I did.’ Matteo had given him an alternative, if not quite accurate, historical perspective. ‘I’m not sure he quite got the logic with the princesses. He’s only four.’
‘I suppose I should have said that the winner of the fight gets a gold coin to spend at the market and the loser gets to marry a princess. He’s not old enough to appreciate the value of a princess...’ Matteo grinned at her. ‘A principessa...’
The last time he’d called her that he’d been staring into her eyes, locked together in lazy lovemaking. Rose smiled at the thought of it because after she’d taken William home Matteo would be waiting for her, ready to do the same all over again.
They strolled in silence, both lost in the same dream. One that shattered suddenly when William’s high-pitched scream sounded above the noise of the waves. Before she even knew what she was doing, she was running along the beach towards her son, who had staggered into the sea, seemingly intent on washing something off his leg.
Matteo got to him first, picking him up, clear of the waves. The boy was wriggling and screaming, and Matteo was trying to hold him still to look at his leg.
‘Don’t come into the water. And watch where you’re putting your feet.’
Rose looked down and saw a pink-edged bubble with a mass of dark tentacles in the sand next to her. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s a Portuguese man-of-war. Don’t touch it.’
He was holding William tight, bending over the water but holding the boy well clear of it. Rose could see a red weal already beginning to form on William’s leg, and there seemed to be a bit of tentacle sticking to it. Matteo pulled it off with his thumb and forefinger, wincing as he flung it away.
‘Okay. Okay, I know it hurts. We’ll make it better, I promise.’
William didn’t stop crying, but he clung to Matteo, his arms around his neck.
‘Come out of the water...’ Rose wanted to snatch William away from him and hold her son, but she knew that Matteo was the one he needed at the moment.
‘One minute.’ Matteo’s voice was calm. He scooped seawater up in his hand and poured it over William’s leg, rinsing the area around the sting thoroughly. Then he straightened and walked out of the water.
