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He laughed. ‘The clue’s in the name.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘I know it’s called that. But lots of things have names that sound like one thing and then they turn out to be completely different. Like Leeds Castle,’ she said triumphantly. ‘Leeds is in Yorkshire but the castle’s in Kent.’
There was short, taut silence, and then he said quietly, ‘It was built next to a village in Kent which is also called Leeds. That’s why it’s called Leeds Castle.’
‘How do you know that?’ She stared at him in astonishment but he simply shrugged. For a moment she hesitated. This definitely had nothing whatsoever to do with sex but— ‘Are you interested in castles, then?’ she said tentatively.
His pace had slowed, and she sensed that he was deciding whether or not to tell her something. Finally, after several strides, he shook his head.
‘I went to school in Kent. One year my class had to do a project on Leeds Castle.’ His voice was flat and he was staring straight ahead. ‘That’s how I know so much about it. I don’t actually remember much about the castle itself, except that it has a maze and a moat.’ He smiled stiffly and let go of her hand. ‘But then I was only seven, and seven-year-old boys find history pretty dull.’
Flora looked at him blankly. ‘I didn’t know your family lived in Kent. I thought you grew up in Italy. What were they doing in England?’
There was a stilted pause and then Massimo frowned. ‘My family didn’t live in Kent. I went to boarding school there. They were in Rome.’
His heart was beating slowly, like a funeral march. He gritted his teeth. What the hell was he doing? She didn’t need to hear this stuff any more than he wanted to remember it. Except that saying it out loud, sharing it with Flora, made it feel different somehow.
He’d always thought that talking about it would bring back the pain. And it had. Only not in the way he’d imagined. It still hurt—how could it not? But this was not the dull, throbbing pain of loneliness and rejection. It felt more like the prickling ache that came when a wound was healing.
He felt her turn towards him and then saw her look away.
‘Oh!’ She swallowed. His words had shocked her, but it was the tension in his voice that made her flinch. ‘Wow. That must have been quite hard for you. I mean, I still get homesick now and I’m twenty-seven. I can’t imagine what it would have been like, going away from home when I was that young.’
He shrugged, holding up his hand almost defensively, as though to deter her sympathy.
‘I didn’t know any different. And it was actually a very useful life lesson. It taught me that you can only ever rely on yourself. That you don’t actually need anyone in your life.’
Flora nodded. It was a brief, too brief glimpse into his mind and she badly wanted to ask him more. But the cool inflexibility of his voice was like a shutter coming down, and she knew that the topic was no longer up for discussion.
She smiled at him weakly, stunned and saddened. It might have been the slimmest of revelations but it went a long way to explaining the man he was. No wonder he was so detached and clinical. His parents hadn’t just sent him away to school. They’d sent him to a different country. But they must have had some reason, she thought shakily. Only she knew that her own parents would never have made that choice.
‘Fantastic. Lunch is ready!’
Massimo’s voice bumped into her thoughts and, looking up, she felt her feet stutter to a halt.
Across the sand a huge canvas canopy was rippling gently in the breeze. Beneath it large, brightly coloured velvet cushions were strewn across a huge Persian rug. And in the middle, laid out on a low wooden table, was lunch.
Her hand flew up to her mouth.
Turning, Massimo studied her face as though assessing her reaction. ‘I know I said I’d take you out to lunch, and I hope you’re not disappointed, but I thought it would be more fun to have a picnic.’
His mood seemed to have lightened, and she felt a warm rush of relief. She didn’t exactly know why, but she wanted him to feel happy. Maybe because he had made her happy. Her gaze drifted over the suckling pig, roasting over a pit of ash, and then moved back to the bottles of champagne chilling in a huge copper ice bucket. Who wouldn’t be happy with this?
‘It’s not a picnic. It’s a banquet!’ she murmured.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind about the restaurant?’ His face softened. Reaching out, he ran his thumb gently down her arm. ‘I wanted it to be just the two of us. I didn’t want to share you.’
His gaze slid slowly over her throat, dropping down to the curve of her breast, and then his eyes locked on to hers and she felt her heart beat faster beneath their shimmering, teasing gaze.
She breathed out slowly. He was probably just talking about sex again, but still, they could have just stayed on the yacht. So it had to have been his choice to bring her to this beautiful, idyllic beach...
Her shoulders stiffened. But perhaps he brought all his conquests here. After all, what woman could resist paradise?
‘No,’ he said softly, lifting up his hand to touch her face. ‘I’ve never brought anybody else here. That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it?’
She stared at him. ‘There are a lot of islands in the world,’ she said grittily.
‘And there are a lot of women. But I haven’t taken any of them to any island.’ His eyes gleaming, he drew her into his arms. ‘But I love it that you care that I might have done.’
