The Italian’s Rightful Bride

by Lucy Gordon

  Renata shook her head vigorously.

  ‘Well, perhaps you should. After all, think how lonely he must be! You’re all he has left. How can you think of leaving him all alone in this great place?’

  For a moment she thought she’d got through. Renata’s face cleared for a moment, but then she said, ‘But Papa made Mamma and little Toni go away. Why would he do that if he was going to be lonely?’

  ‘I don’t think it was quite like that. Perhaps you should ask him to talk to you about what happened.’

  ‘But I try to talk to him. He just puts me off and won’t tell me anything properly, so I know he’s lying to me.’

  ‘He’s not lying. There are just some things he finds very difficult to talk about. He needs you to help him, and look after him.’

  ‘Look after Papa?’ Renata said in a tone of disbelief. ‘He doesn’t need anyone to look after him.’

  ‘Oh, if you only knew how wrong you are!’

  Renata jumped to her feet.

  ‘I’m not, I’m not. I hate you, and I hate Papa. I hate everyone but Papa most. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!’

  She jumped up and ran away. Billy came out of the tent and started running after her.

  ‘Not in this heat!’ Joanna called.

  ‘It’s all right.’ That was Hal, heading for the nearest truck. ‘I’ll catch them up and take them back to the house.’

  ‘Thanks, Hal.’ She went to the tent entrance. ‘Everyone back to the house for lunch.’

  As she’d hoped they jumped at her suggestion. The next moment the cars were roaring away towards the house, leaving Joanna and Gustavo alone.

  He had walked a little way off, stopping beneath the shade of a tree, his back to her. She could only imagine the agony this must be for him. To hear the child he loved more than anything in the world scream that she hated him. Could there be any pain greater?

  Torn with sympathy for him, she walked up and touched him gently on the shoulder.

  ‘It doesn’t mean anything, Gustavo. All children say these things.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, not turning round. ‘They say them in tantrums about trivial things, but this wasn’t trivial. Her heart is breaking, and she meant every word.’

  Then he looked round, and she could clearly see that he had been weeping. He was past trying to hide it. The tears were still on his cheeks.

  ‘Thank you for what you tried to do,’ he said huskily.

  ‘You know I’ll help you all I can, Gustavo, but I don’t understand. Where does Renata get this fixation from?’

  ‘When Crystal walked out Renata saw her leaving and came flying downstairs, trying to hold on to her. Crystal said she’d send for her “later” and got into the car. Renata tried to get in with her, and that was when I grabbed her, to stop her getting hurt.’

  ‘So that’s the origin of the story of you keeping her away from Crystal?’

  ‘Yes. I’m not sure she even remembers the reality any more. I’m the monster who snatched her from her mother’s arms, and she’s told herself that so often that it’s become “fact”. Crystal never did send for her, and this is the only way she can cope with it.’

  ‘I’ll talk to her again when she’s calmed down,’ Joanna promised. ‘Or maybe I’ll route some of it through Billy. She might listen to him.’

  He tried to smile and speak normally.

  ‘I’m lucky to have you two here, because without you I don’t…’ But it was too much. The next moment he broke.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ he whispered. ‘Help me, Joanna. I’ve nobody else to turn to. Help me!’

  She put her arms around him, holding him consolingly, feeling him cling to her tightly, desperately.

  ‘My dear, of course I will. I’ll do anything I can. Hold on to me. It’ll be all right, you’ll see. I promise it’s going to be all right.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WHEN evening came Joanna didn’t go back to the house for dinner, but stayed at the dig while the sun set. More than anything she wanted to be alone now. The events of the day had shaken her.

  She’d come to Montegiano prepared to fight off any renewal of the old passionate feelings. What she hadn’t anticipated was finding him wounded, so that her heart yearned towards him in sympathy. That would be harder to resist. Perhaps impossible.

  She looked up as she heard his car approach. She’d wondered if he would come seeking her, and decided that he probably would not. The moment when he’d come into her arms seeking comfort had not lasted. Afterwards he had been edgy, nervous, insisting on driving her back to the house for lunch. That was another reason why she had avoided dinner that evening.

  As he got out of the car he was smiling as though everything was normal, and she realised that he was determined to act as if nothing had happened. He was probably ashamed that she’d seen his ‘weakness’, she thought wryly.

  ‘I brought you some food,’ he said. ‘They told me you weren’t at supper.’

  So he hadn’t been there either.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘but you didn’t have to bother. I’ve had a sandwich and I’ve got a beer.’ She waved the can.

  ‘That’s not enough for someone working long hours in the heat,’ he said, unwrapping some chicken for her. ‘You’ll be ill if you don’t take care.’

  ‘I’m invulnerable,’ she said lightly. ‘Nothing ever hurts me.’

  ‘It’s people who talk that kind of nonsense who get hurt,’ he informed her. ‘You should have more common sense.’

  ‘Oh, stuff! I was always famous for my common sense. People used to say of me “She may be as dull as ditch-water but you’ve got to admit she has common sense”.’

  ‘Then I guess you lost your common sense when you stopped being dull,’ he said. ‘Except that you never were.’

  ‘Didn’t I bore your head off, talking history all the time?’

  ‘Nobody bores me by talking about my home,’ he said. ‘Even then I was impressed by your knowledge.’

  ‘But we were supposed to be a courting couple,’ she reminded him, teasing. ‘And there we were, talking about Julius Caesar.’

  ‘It wasn’t always Julius Caesar.’

  ‘That’s right. We touched on Lucrezia Borgia as well. There’s something not quite right about that, if only I could put my finger on it.’

  He joined in her laughter. They had slipped back into their usual way of talking, which, she guessed, was what he’d wanted.

  She put the beer can to her lips, throwing her head back and draining it like a man, finishing with a sigh of pleasure.

  ‘You’ve got foam on your mouth,’ he said, taking out a clean handkerchief.

  ‘Thank you.’ She stood quietly until he’d finished dabbing her lips.

  ‘I don’t think you take proper care of yourself,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t need to fuss about myself. I have everything I want. Look.’ She indicated the half-revealed foundations stretching away from them.

  As she said it a different look came over her face, as though she could see something that was hidden from him.

  ‘Joanna,’ he said uncertainly.

  She touched his hand and moved away slowly, descending the few shallow steps that led down to where the foundations were beginning to show, and even some tiles. As he watched she dropped to her knees and ran her fingertips over the tiles, where the outline of a pattern was just visible.

  Then she stood up and looked out over the whole dig, stretching over most of an acre, her face blazing with pride. She did not speak, but she didn’t need to. She couldn’t have said more clearly, This is my kingdom.

  ‘Joanna,’ he said softly.

  When she did not seem to hear him he took hold of her shoulders and turned her towards him.

  ‘Joanna,’ he said again, giving her a little shake. ‘Where are you?’

  She gave him a smile, but there was something dreamy about it.

  ‘I’m here,’ she assured him.

  ‘I
don’t think so. Sometimes I think the real world isn’t very real to you at all.’

  ‘You think this is the only real world?’ she asked in surprise. ‘Isn’t the past real? It should be to you of all people. I thought you understood the excitement of passing into another universe where the rules are different.’

  ‘But not more real than the present,’ he said with a touch of urgency, for the hairs were beginning to stand up on the back of his neck at a kind of strangeness that had come over her.

  ‘It’s like travelling, exploring wondrous places. It’s the greatest excitement there is.’

  ‘I think your world is inhabited by some very strange creatures. It’s alarming.’ He searched her face. ‘You’re a little alarming yourself.’

  She looked up at him, smiling. The glow of the sun was on her face. Hardly knowing what he did, or why, he drew her hat off, so that the sun touched her hair too, seeming to turn her to gold. The sight of her held him still.

  Joanna could not have moved if her life had depended on it. Gustavo was looking at her as he had never done before, as though she had his whole attention, even without his will. His expression was startled, unguarded, almost defenceless, and she knew that, for the second time that day, she had broken through to some inner place that had always been barred to her in the past.

  She was flooded with warmth, although whether from the sun or from some other cause she did not know. She only knew that it was beautiful and sweet, and she wanted it to last forever.

  ‘Joanna-’ he whispered again.

  The shrilling sound from her pocket seemed to go through them both, breaking the spell.

  ‘What’s that?’ he asked tensely.

  ‘My cellphone,’ she groaned, pulling it out and answering it.

  ‘Jo? This is Etta.’

  ‘Who?’ Her mind was blank.

  “‘Who?” she says! Henrietta Rannley, your second cousin once removed. I’m calling from England. Now do you remember me?’

  ‘Of course,’ Joanna said, trying to pull herself together.

  Etta was the daughter of Lord Rannley, the earl whose stately home had been the background for the drama twelve years ago. Then a child, she’d been Crystal’s bridesmaid.

  For a moment Joanna had to struggle to remember all this, because after the last few minutes Etta seemed as distant as though she were on another planet.

  ‘I’ve been waiting to hear from you,’ Etta said reproachfully.

  ‘I’m sorry-about what?’

  ‘About my wedding, of course. Are you coming or not? You were supposed to let me know.’

  ‘Oh, heavens! Etta, I’m sorry, I really am-’

  ‘But you got involved with some old bones so of course they came first.’ She sounded amused. Like all Joanna’s friends and relatives, she had learned to be tolerant.

  ‘It wasn’t like that-’ Joanna began helplessly.

  ‘Yes, it was. I know you. Anyway, can you tear yourself away for a couple of days?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll try.’

  ‘Good. I’ll put you down as a definite.’

  Joanna hung up, to find that Gustavo had walked away. It might have been simply courtesy, leaving her alone with her call, but she knew that for him the moment was over, and whatever it might have meant was gone.

  Whatever it might have meant.

  But something in her rebelled at the thought of going down that path again. She was no lovesick girl, to succumb easily to the sweet, dangerous magic. If she was wise she would escape this place while she could. A few days away would help her get everything in perspective.

  ‘I think I’d like to go back to the house after all,’ she said, joining him. ‘I need a proper meal.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said politely. ‘Let me drive you.’

  On the way she began talking about indifferent things, and by the time they reached the house she had almost persuaded herself that she’d imagined it.

  Over the next few days she wavered about whether to go back to England for the wedding. She told herself that she was needed here, although she knew her expert team could manage without her for a week, as they had done many times before.

  Gustavo began spending more and more time at the dig, watching details emerge, as intently as though his salvation depended on it. Which in some ways it did, Joanna realised. It hurt her to see the tension in him, and to know that his dearest hopes were unlikely to be realised. To her this place was rich with history, but it was unlikely to bring him the hard cash he needed.

  ‘It’s not really like you read in books, is it?’ he said to her one day. ‘You dig up a brooch and it’s worth a fortune.’

  ‘We aren’t likely to be finding things like that,’ she told him gently. ‘This is tiles and bricks.’

  ‘Dull stuff.’

  ‘To outsiders, yes.’

  ‘No ancient remains? No valuable coins?’

  ‘I’d find them for you if I could, but mostly it doesn’t work like that.’

  ‘I guess not. I’m sorry, Joanna. Take no notice of me. You have your job to do, and I’m not making it any easier.’

  If she could only put her arms around him, and promise to find something that would make everything all right. The longing to do that swept over her with startling force, showing her the dangerous knife edge on which she was walking.

  Abruptly she got up and walked away.

  But almost at once there was a blinding flash.

  ‘Was that lightning?’ Hal asked, realising how sharply the temperature had dropped.

  ‘I think it was,’ Joanna said, her words almost drowned out by a crash of thunder.

  ‘We get violent summer storms sometimes,’ Gustavo said. ‘Best get out of here quickly.’

  But it was already too late. The next moment the heavens opened and rain poured down in sheets, soaking everyone at once, turning the soft ground into mud. After the heat there was a certain pleasure in simply standing there, pounded by cool rain. Joanna looked up to the sky, raising her arms in almost ecstatic welcome.

  People were trying to reach the edge of the dig and make for the refuge of the cars, but they slipped and slid around, clinging on to each other, laughing.

  With their hair plastered to their heads nobody looked like themselves any more. Sodden clothes became transparent, revealing that some of the women were naked beneath their shirts. They clutched their arms across their chests while the young men competed to assist them.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Gustavo called to Joanna.

  ‘It’s in my eyes; I can’t see. Oh, heavens!’

  She reached out and he took hold of her arm, shouting through the din, ‘Hold on to me.’

  She clutched wildly and felt his arms go around her just as her foot gave way in the mud. Floundering, she seized him, but her hands slipped on his sodden shirt and she had to grasp hard.

  She had the sensation of a hard, muscular body beneath her palms. It belonged to a stranger. The young Gustavo had kissed her with restraint and she’d forced herself to respond in kind, her arms demurely about his neck. She hadn’t dared yield to the impulse to run her hands over him, the way she seemed to be doing now.

  It was a startling discovery, almost like touching him for the very first time. This was a man who concealed power beneath expensive clothes.

  ‘Are you all right?’ came his voice in her ear.

  ‘I think so,’ she said through the pounding water.

  With one hand she was holding on to his arm, while her other was about his neck. And he was laughing. She could feel it along his arm, then her arms, and deep in his chest, pressed against hers. It seemed to go through her again and again, and she answered it with her own laughter, melting into his, so that there was no knowing where he ended and she began. And all the time she couldn’t see him.

  ‘One step at a time,’ he said. ‘Careful.’

  She moved gingerly forward, one step, then two.

  ‘I can’t see where I’m going,’ she c
ried.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m holding you.’

  ‘But how can you see?’

  ‘I can’t,’ he shouted cheerfully. ‘But sooner or later-Hey!’

  The last word was a yell as his foot slid out from under him, so that he had no choice but to go down into the mud, taking Joanna with him, still clasped in his arms. She landed on top of him and they lay there, helpless with laughter.

  The others, seeing what was happening, surged back to rescue them. Hands reached out and hauled them both up.

  At last she managed to get her eyes clear and look around. Gustavo was sitting on the edge of the shallow bank, wiping his eyes and trying to brush his hair back.

  He was covered in mud. It soaked his clothes so that they clung to him, revealing every line of his body. Now she could clearly see what she had only sensed before. His body was perfectly proportioned without an extra ounce anywhere. His sodden trousers clung to him so closely that he might as well have been naked.

  Looking down, she saw that the same was true of her. Her breasts were outlined in vivid detail. She reckoned she must be light-headed because it was suddenly clear to her why female wrestlers used mud and why men cheered them on. But Gustavo wasn’t cheering. He looked astounded.

  Another flash of lightning announced an even harder downpour. In seconds everyone was in vehicles heading back to the house. Joanna travelled with Gustavo but his attention was taken up with the road, which seemed to slip and slide away from the car.

  Once inside they all headed for their bedrooms to dive under showers with cries of pleasure and relief. Joanna let the hot water lave over her, feeling good as the mud drained away, followed by soapsuds. But she was acting mechanically. With her eyes closed again, she was playing back what she had seen, playing it over and over, relishing every moment.

  She had forgotten that Gustavo came from a line of princes, men who had lived in splendour while ruling ‘their’ people ruthlessly. To the world they presented an appearance of elegance. You had to get close to sense the leashed power, even menace, that lay beneath.

  It almost made her laugh out loud to think that an accident had revealed more of his body than she had learned as his fiancée. But it had come years too late, when there could no longer be anything between them.