‘Hard woman.’ Blaine winked at Maisie as he picked up her things and walked to the stairs. ‘Which guest room, Liliana?’
‘The blue.’ Liliana ushered Maisie after Blaine. ‘Come and see your room.’
Maisie felt distinctly odd as she followed Blaine up the winding staircase. The little exchange with the housekeeper had revealed yet another side to him and this one was perhaps more disturbing than the others. He had seemed almost tender with the small woman and his teasing had been gently affectionate. There had been nothing of the egotistical playboy about him then. In fact, she had found herself envying Liliana, which was perfectly ridiculous!
The blue room turned out to be more of a small suite overlooking the grounds at the back of the house. It held a small sitting room with a two-seater sofa, bookcase, TV and coffee table, and beyond this a large double bedroom with its own en suite bathroom in cream and blue marble. Maisie was quite overwhelmed. ‘But I didn’t expect anything like this,’ she stammered. ‘I’m here to work; I’m not a guest. This is just lovely.’
Liliana had been looking hard at her and now she suddenly smiled. It was an amazing smile which lit up her face. Maisie realised the small woman must have been beautiful in her youth. ‘This is a good girl,’ she pronounced to Blaine, who was standing with his back to the window staring at the pair of them with unfathomable eyes. ‘I like your Maisie.’
‘The lady in question would object to being called my anything,’ Blaine drawled lazily, moving across the room as he spoke and touching the housekeeper’s arm as he passed her. ‘I will leave you two to get to know each other. Goodnight, Liliana. Maisie.’
‘Oh. Good…goodnight.’ The suddenness of his departure had taken Maisie aback.
Liliana followed Blaine out of the room. ‘I will leave you to unpack and freshen up,’ she said quietly. ‘Come downstairs when you are ready and we can have a glass of lemonade on the veranda. I am glad you are here, signorina.’
‘Thank you.’
Maisie stood for a moment, looking at the door Liliana had closed behind her. Was there more to those last words than just face value? she thought. The tone of Liliana’s voice could lead her to believe so. And then she shook her head at herself. Liliana spoke wonderful English but she was Italian through and through; it was just the older woman’s inflexion which had thrown her. It had been a polite welcome, that was all. How could it possibly be anything more?
Chapter 4
By the time Blaine’s mother arrived home much later that evening Liliana had shown Maisie all over the beautiful house and well-kept grounds. Of her own volition she had met the two horses, a stallion and a mare, both with coats as black as jet and liquid, heavily lashed eyes. She had been surprised to see the mare was heavily pregnant; no one had mentioned this thus far. After giving them a couple of sugar lumps to make friends, she had stood watching them for some time, Liliana long since having returned to her kitchen.
The evening shadows turned from gentle violet and mauve to velvet charcoal as she stood observing the two horses, the stallion standing with the mare half leaning against him, their two heads nuzzling every so often.
The air carried the delicate perfume of the orange groves beyond the horses’ paddock and stables and it was very quiet and tranquil, the sky pierced with stars and the heat of the day mellowed to a warm breeze.
Something in the stallion’s attitude to the mare touched Maisie deeply. He was protective of her, as though he sensed her time was nearly upon her and that she was carrying his foal. He probably did. Maisie was of the opinion that all animals, but especially horses and dogs, knew far more than human beings gave them credit for. They were also a lot nicer than some people she could name.
The thought of Jeff spoilt the peacefulness and, cross with herself for allowing him to intrude at such a moment, she turned and began walking back to the house. She had almost reached it when a tall woman dressed casually in a shirt and jeans came out on the veranda from the sitting room French windows.
‘You must be Maisie.’ The woman stretched out her hand, her attractive face breaking into a warm smile. ‘I’m Jenny, Blaine’s mother. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you personally but you know how things are. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to come and look after the children for the next little while.’ The American accent was a strong southern drawl.
For a startled moment Maisie wondered if there was something Blaine hadn’t told her, then she realised his mother was referring to her animals. ‘I ought to be thanking you,’ she said as they shook hands. ‘You’ve already made me so welcome. I don’t feel I’m here to do a job.’
‘Good.’ Blaine’s mother’s smile widened, her greeny-blue eyes just like her sons. ‘That’s as it should be. Look, I’m going to have to leave very early in the morning; they’ve brought Guiseppe’s operation forward. Roberto is with him now and I’ve called Blaine to go and see him tonight. Just…in case.’
Maisie nodded. She was glad she was here but the circumstances which made it necessary were awful.
‘I need to tell you all about the animals—exercise, feeding and so on. I’m afraid, because some of them had poor starts in life, they’ve got little idiosyncrasies and so on. Nothing you won’t be able to handle, but it’s better you know.’
Jenny rubbed her hand across her forehead and it struck Maisie that Blaine’s mother was tired—very tired. She was the sort of woman who just got on with things, though; that much was obvious already. ‘I’ll handle everything just fine. Blaine told you I’m a veterinary nurse?’
Jenny nodded. ‘Just as well, because Liliana won’t be of any help,’ she said ruefully, indicating a seat on the veranda and, once Maisie had sat down, sitting down herself. ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong, she’s a swell housekeeper and a dear friend, but on the subject of the children we have to differ. Normally it doesn’t matter but it’s proved to be a bit of a problem in recent weeks. She can just about tolerate the dogs and cats, although she won’t feed them unless she absolutely has to, but she’s terrified of the horses and nothing I can do will make her go anywhere near them. And they’re such sweet babies too.’
Maisie remembered the stallion’s height and lethal hooves. Sweet he might be, a baby he wasn’t. But on the subject of babies…‘I saw the mare is due to foal soon?’
Jenny nodded. ‘I have to admit that with all this with Guiseppe I didn’t realise for a time, then it’s just got swept aside. I don’t think I’ve even told Blaine. But my vet is excellent. I’m sure nothing will happen yet but if you were worried at any point he would come immediately. His name and number are on the notes I’ve left for you. Shall I get them and then we can go through everything?’ she added, stifling a yawn as she spoke.
‘You look exhausted,’ Maisie said gently. ‘If you’d rather we could do it in the morning when you’re fresher.’
‘But I’m leaving very early. I shall breakfast about six.’
‘I’m an early bird normally, always have been. You can fill me in while we eat if you like.’
‘That’d be great.’ Jenny looked at her a little helplessly.
‘And please, don’t worry about anything here. I promise you everything will be under control, OK? I won’t let you down. Just concentrate on getting your husband well. It’s absolutely right you’re with him at a time like this, and soon both of you will be home and this will seem like a bad dream.’ Maisie found herself patting Blaine’s mother’s hand. ‘Try and get some sleep now.’
Jenny tried to smile but her tired eyes filled with tears. ‘I don’t think I’ve slept for weeks,’ she admitted shakily.
‘Come on.’ As Maisie helped Jenny to her feet she found herself thinking that she would never have believed she’d be in this position a week ago—a strange country, a strange house and she was providing the shoulder to cry on. Life had suddenly gone topsy-turvy and it was all down to Blaine. She didn’t know if she wanted to thank him or blame him.
The next morning Maisie awoke to the sweet sc
ent of honeysuckle and jasmine drifting in through the open window, and after she had padded across the room and peered out she saw the whole of the back of the house was engulfed in the rich-smelling flowers. ‘What a gorgeous place.’ She breathed the words out into the perfumed air and felt like pinching herself to make sure it was all real. This time yesterday she had been in a grotty little bedsit in London; today she was in another world.
After a quick shower she pulled on a pair of jeans and a light top, looped her hair into a high ponytail and was downstairs and in the breakfast room by ten to six. It was only as she was greeted by Liliana and led to the table where two places were set that she realised she might have committed her first faux pas. It was clear Liliana did not eat with the family and she had all but invited herself to share breakfast with Blaine’s mother. She was employed to do a job the same as the housekeeper. Why hadn’t she considered she might eat separately with Liliana the night before?
When Jenny joined her a moment later Maisie knew she had to set the record straight immediately. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She stared at Blaine’s mother in an agony of embarrassment. ‘I should have realised I wouldn’t eat in here with you. I just wasn’t thinking last night.’
‘Oh, Maisie.’ Jenny’s hand had gone to her breast. ‘I thought you were going to say you’d changed your mind and wanted to go home. Of course you will eat with me and Guiseppe when he comes home. We’ve been trying to persuade Liliana to sit with us for thirty-five years, but she’s adamantly stuck in the old ways and won’t budge from her kitchen.’
Jenny plumped herself down at the table, her voice soft when she added, ‘For the first time in ages I slept well last night. I’m sure it was because my mind was at rest about things here and I knew I could concentrate on Guiseppe without having to dash back and forth from the hospital.’
Maisie smiled. Blaine’s mother was a darling.
The two women talked through everything they needed to while they ate, and then Maisie and Liliana waved Jenny off and went back into the house, Liliana to see to her kitchen and housework, Maisie to see to the indoor pets and then the horses. Jenny had promised she would ring as soon as she knew Guiseppe was all right but it was almost evening before the call came.
Liliana answered the telephone and when after a moment or two the elderly housekeeper burst into tears, Maisie stared at her, horrified. Liliana passed her the phone before throwing her apron over her head and rocking herself to and fro. ‘Hallo?’ Maisie didn’t know what to say. ‘Is that you, Jenny?’
‘It’s Blaine.’ The deep rich voice was dry. ‘My father is doing very well after what turned out to be a bigger operation than they’d thought. I think you need to make Liliana a cup of coffee with something strong in it.’
‘I’ll do that.’ Maisie was so relieved her legs felt weak. ‘I’m so pleased, Blaine. Give your mother and Roberto my best wishes.’
‘How are you coping that end? Any problems?’
Maisie thought of the frenzied pace of the veterinary practice where she had worked and the hundred and one jobs, all urgent, which would pile up the minute her back was turned. Being here in Italy was a holiday in every sense of the word. ‘Everything’s fine,’ she said reassuringly. ‘Tell your mother the children are all fed and watered and the dogs had a lovely long walk this afternoon.’
‘You took all seven out?’ he asked incredulously.
It felt good to have surprised him. ‘Of course,’ she said airily. ‘They were as good as gold.’
‘Even Humphrey?’
‘Especially Humphrey,’ she said firmly. The little mongrel was already her favourite. ‘He’s a perfect angel once you understand him.’
She thought she heard a slight groan before he said, ‘I feel like I’m talking to my mother.’
Well, that wasn’t very nice. ‘Goodnight, Blaine,’ she said evenly.
‘Goodnight, mia piccola.’
His voice had been very soft and Maisie hesitated a moment before she replaced the receiver. She glanced at Liliana, who had stopped crying long enough to wipe her eyes with her apron. ‘Come on,’ she said quietly. ‘Blaine says you’ve got to have a cup of coffee with a kick in it.’
‘Scusi? A kick?’
‘A spot of brandy,’ Maisie clarified. ‘And, before you say no, I’m going to make one for myself too.’
Somehow, though, she felt it was going to take more than the odd measure of brandy to help her deal with her increasingly disturbing feelings about life in general and Blaine in particular over the next weeks.
The fact that Liliana allowed her to make the coffee told Maisie the little elderly woman was even more shaken up than she appeared. It had only taken Maisie an hour or two to understand that the kitchen was utterly and totally Liliana’s domain; even Blaine’s mother had tiptoed about in it that morning before she had left the house. But Liliana was a softie under her capable and somewhat gruff exterior, Maisie thought, as she handed the older woman her coffee, which had a double shot of brandy in it. She had obviously been worried to death about Guiseppe and had been hiding her concern most of the time; hence the reaction when she’d learnt he was going to be all right.
Liliana said much the same as they sipped their coffee together on the veranda, Maisie digging into a batch of the wonderful sticky sugary pastries Liliana had made earlier that day. ‘I needed to be strong for Jennifer,’ Liliana explained as they looked out over the warm summer evening, the heady smell of honeysuckle and jasmine and climbing roses heavy in the slumbering air. ‘You understand? To be her, how do you say it, her rock?’
Maisie nodded. ‘Yes, I understand,’ she said, wondering what magic Liliana used to make such incredible melting pastry.
‘She is a good woman, and brave, but she has had so much to contend with.’
Maisie nodded again. It was clear Liliana needed to talk and to have her listen, and with the plate of pastries within reach she had no argument with that. The dogs were all spread out around their feet, Humphrey in prime position on her foot as usual, waiting for any crumbs that might fall. Like the cats, they knew enough to keep very quiet and still around Liliana unless they wanted to be shooed off.
‘It hit both of them very hard, the trouble with Blaine. He tried to shield his mother, of course, but…’ Liliana shrugged, her thin black-clad shoulders eloquent.
Maisie pricked up her ears. Liliana obviously thought that as a friend of the family—as she had been described, apparently—she knew more than she did. She wondered if she ought to warn Liliana that she didn’t know anything about Blaine—it would be the right thing to do. Morality warred with curiosity. No contest. Maisie bit into another pastry and looked sympathetic.
‘Not that I thought Francesca was right for him.’ Liliana had lowered her voice as though she thought if she spoke too loudly it would reach Blaine’s ears umpteen miles away. ‘She was a sweet girl, of course, well brought up, but just because the pair were childhood sweethearts it does not follow that all will be well. But Jennifer and Guiseppe being Francesca’s godparents, and the two families such friends…’ She sighed. ‘My poor Blaine. Tragic.’
She took another sip of coffee, her face contemplative, and Maisie wanted to snatch the cup away from Liliana’s lips. Don’t stop. Go on. But it appeared Liliana had finished. She drained her coffee and stood up, her manner suddenly brisk. ‘I shall go to early mass tomorrow and give thanks to the Holy Mother,’ she announced with dramatic intensity. ‘She has spared my family more pain.’ And with that she disappeared into the house.
Maisie licked her fingers. She was tempted to follow Liliana and see if she would say more; the brandy had obviously loosened the old woman’s tongue. But then that would be somewhat sly and underhand, she admitted, refusing to acknowledge the little voice that said she had been less than honest in letting Liliana rattle on in the first place.
She had just listened, she told herself. Had provided a sympathetic ear at a time when Liliana needed one. That was all. She frowned
to herself. And really she knew little more than she had initially, except that Blaine’s old love had been Italian and dearly loved by his parents by all accounts.
Francesca. Beautiful name. Probably beautiful woman. Long black hair, hauntingly lovely face, stunning figure. Model-thin.
There were two pastries left on the plate and Maisie divided them between the ecstatic dogs, the three she had already eaten now screaming their calories in her head. As Humphrey stood guard over the last of the crumbs on the floor, fur bristling as he almost choked trying to lick up every morsel before any of the others nosed in, she smoothed her hands over her rounded hips. OK, so she wasn’t grossly fat but she would never be a supermodel. She was, as boyfriends in the past had described her, cuddly.
She sighed, staring across the lawned garden directly in front of her to where the two horses were standing in the paddock in the distance under the shade of a big old green oak tree. The sunlight was already dappled; within an hour or two the vivid blue of the sky would begin to mellow and her first full day at the villa would come to an end. She wasn’t going to like it when she had to return to England.
The thought brought her out of the doldrums with a jolt. What was the matter with her? she asked herself crossly. She had weeks and weeks to look forward to in this glorious place; why on earth was she whining about having to go back home now?
It was the emotion of the last hour, she decided, rising to her feet and then smiling as the dogs rose expectantly, tails wagging and tongues lolling. ‘Just a walk down to see your slightly bigger friends then,’ she told them, picking up a couple of apples for the two horses from a bowl on one of the small tables on the veranda.
As she stepped out of the shade into the blaze of late afternoon sunshine she lifted her head to the heat. The foreign brightness to the quality of the light and the overall intensity of colour about her made her feel alive from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She was going to stop analysing everything, she told herself firmly. From now on she would just take each day as it came. No more heart-searching. No more regrets. Blaine was right. Jeff would never have suited her in the long run, nor she him. But she was free, free and footloose and independent. Mistress of her own destiny and answerable to no one. Anticipation and excitement flooded her blood.
The Italian Tycoon's Bride Page 6
