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He didn’t blame her for being wary. He hadn’t exactly welcomed her onto the island, and now he expected her to expose the people closest to her.
It was too much too soon and, as he suspected she would, she quickly changed the subject.
* * *
Roman’s mood swings confused her. For a moment when his eyes had darkened, the strength of his unspoken feelings had frightened her. But some sixth sense had reassured her that those feelings had something to do with his past. Even so, it was a relief when some more people stopped by to chat with him and the spotlight moved off her. She didn’t want to share her feelings with him. She didn’t want to talk about her family to a man she didn’t know. She hadn’t planned on giving Roman Quisvada any sort of insight into who she was or what made her tick. She still didn’t. But she did have to admit that watching him talking to other people was an eye-opener. He seemed genuinely interested in everything they had to say, and part of her wished she could let him in just a little bit. He was engaged and animated, and obviously someone that the people here were glad to call their friend. She envied his easy way with people. She’d never had that knack.
‘Eva, I’d like to introduce you to—’
In fairness, Roman introduced her round as if she were a valued visitor, rather than a pain in the neck he would be only too pleased to throw off the island. Everyone made her feel welcome. Maybe she’d never given people a chance before, imagining she would be ignored or passed over for someone more interesting.
Roman had a real talent for bringing people together, she realised as one of the women called back to her, ‘Come and see us again soon, Eva,’ as her family closed around her to take her off to supper.
‘Oh, yes, please do come back again soon, Eva,’ Roman said with maximum irony.
‘You can cut out the mocking right now,’ she said, giving him one of her looks. ‘Or I will come back. I promise you that.’
He surprised her with a laugh, though they both knew it would be a cold night in hell before that happened.
‘So... Your family,’ he said.
Did this man ever give up?
‘You have two sisters, Britt and Leila, and a brother, Tyr. Your parents are dead, as are mine.’
She was all for changing the subject pronto, but as a shadow crossed Roman’s face her better self kicked in. ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ she said quietly.
‘And I for yours. It must have been hard for you when your parents were killed.’
‘My sisters were wonderful—Tyr was too, but it’s always hard to lose a parent.’ Why this sudden urge to reach out to him?
How could she not when Roman’s eyes showed the same loss she felt? Eva reasoned. The pain was something she never showed the world, but she guessed it must have been in her eyes too, because for once neither of them came up with a smart retort. In fact, just for a moment there was a real connection between them.
‘You don’t know where Tyr is, then?’ Roman broke the spell first.
‘He’s off doing whatever it is Tyr does.’ She felt a pang of loss for the brother who had been gone too long. ‘Tyr left home after our mother’s funeral and hasn’t been seen since.’
‘You’re smiling.’
‘Just remembering the riotous holidays when we were younger. Tyr’s idea of fun was skating on the frozen lake to see who fell in first.’
‘Risky but happy times,’ Roman guessed.
‘Yeah...’ She grew thoughtful, remembering that was before the mine had started failing and their father had turned to drink.
‘You okay, Eva?’
Roman was frowning. She refocused, realising he was concerned. To be truthful, she wasn’t sure if she was okay or not. A sense of loss had just hit her like a sledgehammer. Perhaps that was because the families here had made her realise she couldn’t keep living in the past, and the way she was heading she would never build a future.
She was let off the hook again by more people stopping by to talk to Roman. Laughing sloe-eyed signorinas flirted with him, while ridiculously good-looking men slapped him on the back. He had a good word for everyone—until one of the young men asked her to dance. For a moment she thought he might explode, but then he pulled back and shrugged as if to say, Good luck to you.
Good luck to her, or to the young man? Either way, having Roman’s stare on her back as she moved onto the dance floor was disconcerting, to say the least.
She was tense, but the youth kept a sensible distance between them. In deference to Roman, she suspected as he threw a glance through a gap in the crowd on the dance floor as if to reassure the count that he was taking good care of his companion. Roman was at the bar with friends, but every now and then she could still feel his stare. The youth was giving knowing glances to his friends as if to say: Have you seen who I’m dancing with? Yes. That’s right. The girl who came to the party with the count. So at worst she was a nuisance, and at best she was a meaningless trophy to a boy who hardly needed to shave.
