by Lucy Gordon
‘What did I say?’ he whispered, so close that his breath touched her face.
‘I forget.’
Their lips were touching again and joy seemed to stream through her as though a window had opened onto sunlight. She had been so unhappy, and now it seemed as though everything might be given back to her. This time she would know how to protect and treasure it.
‘Come back to the villa,’ he murmured. ‘There’s so much we must talk about.’
‘All right.’
He led her back to the table. While she was gathering her things Helen was vaguely aware of Lorenzo lifting a paper that had been slipped under his wine glass. When she looked at him he was staring at it, frozen. She reached for it too quickly for him to stop her.
It was a swiftly drawn sketch, crude but effective, of a woman walking a poodle on a leash. The woman’s face was just recognisable as her own, while Lorenzo’s face had been substituted for the poodle’s.
‘That’s what they think of you because you act like a civilised human being?’ she raged. ‘And you ask what I’ve always held against this place. Doesn’t this explain it?’
He was deadly pale. ‘It doesn’t matter. I care nothing for them beside-’ He checked himself.
‘I’m not going to let this happen again, Lorenzo. I won’t accept a sacrifice. Please tell your mother that I’m sorry I can’t come over Christmas. In fact, I can’t see you again, ever. Can’t you understand that I mustn’t?’
He didn’t try to prevent her leaving. Just watched her go with a face that was dark with anger, and tore the paper into shreds.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
T HE Elroy-Palermo opened in a blaze of glory. Helen’s call to Frank had produced the goods in the form of a pair of Hollywood starlets about to tie the knot. After some negotiations they married in Palermo and held the reception at the hotel, courtesy of Elroys. The pictures were glorious and they appeared in magazines all over the world. Helen also managed a nifty deal on video rights, providing herself with the perfect publicity weapon.
‘Well done,’ Lorenzo said, taking her aside at the reception. ‘You’ve made a brilliant success.’
‘I didn’t know you were going to be here.’
‘It should have been Renato but I persuaded him to let me come instead. It was the only way I could get to see you since you’re avoiding us.’
‘I’m not-’
‘You wouldn’t come for Christmas, you wouldn’t join us for the christening in the cathedral. They named Bernardo and Angie’s baby Marta, by the way. After his mother. The whole family was there except you.’
‘How could I come, knowing what happens to you if we’re seen together? Or even if we’re not.’
‘That’s all over.’
‘You mean that crowd of punks don’t bother you any more?’
‘Of course not. They’ve lost interest.’
‘Lorenzo, I hear all the gossip in this place.’
‘And the gossip features me, does it?’ He spoke casually but she could see his chagrin.
‘In neon lights.’
‘It’s been two months since we saw each other,’ he growled. ‘You’d think they’d find something better to talk about.’
‘I’ll bet they send you things in the mail too, don’t they?’ He shrugged. ‘Oh, it’s unspeakable!’ she snapped. ‘Why don’t you do something to stop them?’
‘Like what?’ he demanded.
‘How should I know?’
‘Are we back to the blood feud again? My father had an old shotgun somewhere. I could look it out if you think my dignity demands it. Only I’ve never used it before, and if I aimed it at you I’d probably miss and break Mamma’s best vase, and then she’d get mad at me and-’
‘Not as mad as I’m getting. Why can’t you take it seriously?’
‘Because I can’t keep a straight face when you talk that vendetta nonsense. You’re a real hot-blooded Sicilian, aren’t you? You terrify me. Why don’t you get the shotgun if you’re so determined on action?’
She ground her teeth. ‘There’s no point in me taking action when you’re the one with the cause for a vendetta.’
He made a wry face. ‘I’m sorry, Helen. I guess I must be a real disappointment to you.’
There was no way past the shield he put up against her arrows. She recalled Heather saying how he’d once taken a tipsy swing at a British policeman. But that had been another Lorenzo. This was a man so rock-solid in his knowledge of, and confidence in, himself, that he could endure smarts that would destroy a lesser man.
She felt a sudden dread at the thought that he wasn’t doing this for her at all. Perhaps he was simply proving something to himself, and she was almost irrelevant. It hurt far more than it should have done.
She would have returned to the battle, but he drifted away, calling, ‘Congratulations on a great day,’ over his shoulder.
This so incensed Helen that the next day, with the praises of Head Office ringing in her ears, she fled the hotel, jumped into her car and drove out to the Residenza, just as she’d promised herself she would never do.
‘There’s no doing anything with him,’ she said stormily when Baptista had greeted her with pleasure, and settled her down on the sofa. ‘He’s totally unreasonable.’
‘I’m afraid he is,’ Baptista agreed.
‘He can’t talk sense about anything.’
‘He’s never been able to.’
‘And when it concerns me, he’s completely off his head.’
‘Since the day he met you, my dear,’ Baptista agreed placidly. ‘He tried to hide it, but I knew at once that “Elena” was special.’
‘He doesn’t call me Elena now,’ Helen said sadly. ‘It used to make me angry, but now I’ve realised that he called me that when he loved me. Now I’m just Helen.’
‘Which is what you wanted,’ Baptista observed.
‘It was what I wanted then. I hadn’t understood a lot of things-then.’
‘And that is the beginning of wisdom.’
‘What’s the point of my being wise now?’ Helen asked passionately. ‘When it’s too late. When I think of what he’s going through-’
‘Some stories reach me. He tells me nothing.’
‘The things that come in his mail-no, of course, he wouldn’t show you.’
‘His mail doesn’t come here. Lorenzo doesn’t live in this house any more. He moved out to the villa weeks ago.’
‘The villa? He lives there-alone?’
‘He has no other woman, my dear.’
She hadn’t been thinking of that. What hurt was the thought of Lorenzo alone in the house where they had planned to share love. Alone. Waking up alone. Going to bed alone. Lorenzo, a man who liked to be with people.
‘You really don’t understand him, do you?’ Baptista asked.
‘No. I used to think he was uncomplicated and easy to understand. But now he’s shut me out of his mind and I can’t follow any of his thoughts.’
‘It’s really very simple. This is still a very old-fashioned society where men and women are concerned. A man’s pride should matter to him more than anything else, more than any woman. As people see it, you insulted Lorenzo and he should avenge his honour. But he does not. Instead he champions and protects a woman who has publicly scorned him. And so they deride him as a fool.’
‘It’s so unjust, both to me and to him.’
‘True. But a man who shows that a woman matters more to him than anything else in life has a hard road to travel.’
‘Love,’ Helen mused wistfully. ‘I can’t hope that he still loves me.’
‘If he doesn’t, why do you think he endures humiliation for you?’ Baptista demanded, a little sternly. ‘Don’t question his feelings. Question your own. Lorenzo has sacrificed his pride for your sake. By doing so he has set you above his home, his rearing, his family, his country. Miu fighia, it’s a great responsibility when a man loves you as much as that. Even a great burden. Are you strong enough
for such a burden?’
‘Yes,’ Helen said decisively. ‘I thought I loved him before, but the feelings I had then look so shallow. Now, when he’s so strong and kind, caring for me without complaining or reproaching me, I’ve come to see him as a man I can admire and respect as well as love. Why, that was it,’ she said in a tone of discovery. ‘There was always something missing before, and that was it.’
‘And now it’s in place,’ Baptista said. ‘So you will know what to do.’
The little hotel stood in the heart of Palermo, its best room looking out directly onto the main square and its colourful life. From the window of that room Helen could judge her moment precisely.
She’d rented it three days ago, knowing that she would have to be patient, but also knowing that she wasn’t struggling alone. Angie and Heather were on her side, and both had given their husbands careful instructions. Baptista too had been involved in the organisation, which had prompted her to reminisce about how she had arranged Heather and Renato’s wedding, and the role she had played in Angie and Bernardo’s. She had ended by observing tartly that however clever her sons thought they were, none of them seemed capable of getting married without their mother’s help. Whereupon the four women had cracked open a bottle of champagne to toast each other.
Now the evening was here and everything was in place. She’d persuaded the baffled hotelier to bring up a small table to stand just to the side of the window, and a lamp to put on it. She made him shift them twice before she was completely satisfied, and then he fled downstairs to tell his wife that their guest was crazy.
She was wearing the dark red silk dress from the night they met, and her black hair was hanging about her shoulders. She usually wore it up these days, but tonight she cast aside her business self and became simply a woman with a man in her sights.
Spring hadn’t properly begun, but in Palermo the climate was mild and many bars and cafes had tables out in the open. There was one just below her, at right angles to her corner room, so that she could see the tables clearly.
The next moment Renato appeared, his hand resting on Lorenzo’s shoulder. He indicated a seat on the pavement, apparently suggesting that they sit here and have a drink. Lorenzo shrugged and sat down while Renato summoned the waiter and ordered drinks.
Well and good. The first of her allies was doing his part. Now all it needed was the second…
And there was Bernardo, right on cue, strolling into the square from a side street, accompanied by a little crowd of young men. Lorenzo looked up, and even from here Helen could discern his surprise at the company his brother kept. For there were Tonio and Enrico, Carlo, Franco and Mario-all Lorenzo’s tormentors. And Bernardo, the least sociable man in the world, was laughing with them, inviting them to sit down and drink at his expense, which they were eager to do. He even directed them to seats where they and Lorenzo had a clear view of each other.
Helen gave a little murmur of satisfaction. Bernardo’s role was the hardest but he was doing it perfectly.
‘You leave it to me,’ he’d said only yesterday. ‘I’ll round that scum up and deliver them just where and when you need them.’
So now everything was ready for her. All she had to do was step out into that square, play the part she’d set herself, and trust to Lorenzo’s reaction. Her heart almost failed her when she thought what that might be. Would he understand? Would he respond?
But even if it didn’t, she would have restored his dignity in the face of all Palermo, and that was worth any sacrifice.
She switched the table lamp on and pulled the curtains apart so that anyone standing below would have a good view of the window and just a little way inside. That was an essential part of her plan. Then, taking a deep breath, she left the room, went down the stairs and out into the square.
Lorenzo didn’t see her at first, but before she had crossed the short distance that separated them something made him aware of her. He raised his head from his wine glass and became very still as she strolled the last few feet to stand in front of him. She moved almost casually, deliberately unhurried, so that nobody should guess that her heart was thumping and her mouth was dry with apprehension. All around them a silence gradually fell. Lorenzo’s tormentors were watching closely, avid for any new ammunition.
Helen let them look, giving them time to take in her rich beauty and the fact that she’d come prepared for the fray. Lorenzo frowned a little, as though wondering why she’d chosen to confront him in these circumstances. In return for his frown she gave him a slow, luxuriant smile, implicit with a promise that no man could have misunderstood.
‘Did you want something with me?’ Lorenzo asked, puzzled and cautious.
‘Yes,’ she said in a clear voice. ‘I do.’
She didn’t move. She waited for him to rise and come to her. Very slowly he did so, standing close and looking into her eyes.
‘What can I do for you?’ he asked gently.
‘This,’ she said, drawing him quickly towards her with a movement that wasn’t gentle at all. She was kissing him before he had time to think, wrapping her arms about his neck, her fingers in his hair in a theatrical parade of seduction, and all the time she was praying that he would understand.
He didn’t kiss her back at once, but that was all right, she told herself. The point was to tell the world that she wanted him. So she put everything she had into it, enticing him with her lips and her hands, assaulting his senses so that they would yield before he could think straight.
She let her fingertips play on the back of his neck and felt the jolt that went through him. She was reminding him of memories he’d spent months suppressing, using all her strength, all the allure of which she was capable, to make him remember, and long for her. And the power of his arms about her told her that she was succeeding.
He was taking over the kiss, and she gladly let him do so, for his lips were caressing hers with an urgency she hadn’t dared to hope for again. He’d longed for her as much as she had done for him, and now anything was possible. Which meant the time had come for the next part of her plan.
She gently released herself and stepped back.
‘Is that all you wanted?’ he asked, watching her intently, beginning to understand, but not daring to hope…
‘No, it’s not all.’ She took a deep breath. Her heart was pounding at the risk she was taking, but nothing was going to stop her now. ‘I want you to go with me to the cathedral-and marry me,’ she said in a voice loud enough to be heard by them all. ‘Do you understand, Lorenzo? I want to marry you.’
His brows drew together a little. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ he murmured.
‘Yes,’ she said in the same clear voice. ‘I’m quite sure it’s a good idea.’ She took his hand. ‘Come with me, and I’ll show you just how good an idea it is.’
She began to walk in the direction of the hotel, moving languidly, but actually keeping his hand firmly clasped in hers. She knew now that he wouldn’t reject her in public. He’d divined part of her intention, but only a part, she thought with a small, private smile.
He followed her up the narrow stairs to the room she’d rented, and inside. She still held his hand, and when she’d locked the door she drew him over to the window where they would be in full view of the square. As she had hoped a little crowd had gathered below. Tonio, Enrico and the others were there, with Renato and Bernardo bringing up the rear, like shepherds corralling the sheep into place. As they appeared in the window a burst of applause floated up, which intensified as they went into each other’s arms.
‘I don’t want to kiss you in front of a crowd,’ he said.
‘But you need to. You need them to know that I’m yours-in any way you want.’
‘Do you think I care about them-or anything beside you?’
She touched his face. ‘I know. But we had to show them-together. Pull the curtains.’ He did so and a cheer reached them. ‘Now put out the light,’ she whispered against his lips. ‘It’
s there on the table, beside your hand.’
‘You had it all planned, didn’t you?’
‘Right down to the last detail.’
He switched out the little table lamp and the sudden darkness brought another cheer, louder than ever. But neither of them heard it. She was already working on his buttons.
‘Elena, are you sure this is what you want to do?’
‘Hush,’ she murmured, brushing her fingertips over his lips. ‘We have unfinished business.’
After that he had nothing more to say. As she finished his buttons he stood watching her with eyes full of love, then pulled the shirt off himself, and tossed it aside.
‘Your move,’ he said.
She laughed softly and ran her fingers tips lightly over his chest. Oh yes, she thought, feeling his trembling response. Oh, yes!
‘Elena-Helen-’
‘This is Elena,’ she assured him.
Helen was the cool, calculating woman who had measured her love to see how much it was wise to give. Elena was ready to give everything without counting the cost. From now on she would always be Elena. She drew him close so that she could rest her face against his neck, close her eyes and make the world vanish. In the darkness there must be only the two of them.
His fingers were working at the back of the red dress. It took only a moment to be rid of it, and his eyes widened with delight as he realised that she wore nothing at all underneath.
‘Why, you cheeky little-’
‘I was very determined to have you,’ she said. ‘Don’t keep me waiting.’
She was in his arms before the words were out, lifted high against his broad chest and carried to the waiting bed. Then they were lying together, her body against his, discovering each other. Looking at Lorenzo now she wondered how she could ever have doubted that he still wanted her. There was no mistaking the urgency of his desire. It was there too in the hands that shook as they touched her. She drew him gently over her, silently offering him everything she had, or was, or would ever be. And he accepted with passionate love and gratitude.
As he looked at her face on the pillow, her black hair spread out in disarray, he had a brief glimpse of the woman he’d met a year ago, tense, confused, hiding her uneasiness with courage and laughter. But he’d seen beneath them to her vulnerability, and it had made him all hers long before he knew it. Now, as he felt her moving against him, he knew that the pact was mutual: gift for gift, love for love, life for life.
