A black cashmere sweater shaped his impressive torso, the hem riding up to reveal a tantalising glimpse of olive-toned flesh when he stretched his arms above his head and yawned. The sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, exposing strong, hair-brushed forearms…arms that had held her with such care and tenderness.
‘The Bolognese was lovely.’
‘You had some?’ His genuine pleasure and the warm intimacy of his smile made her tingle all over. ‘I’m glad. Is there anything else I can get you?’
‘No, thanks. I hope you don’t mind, but…’ Polly paused, hating it that she was still so afflicted by the conditioning of her childhood.
As Luca gave her his full attention and slowly closed the gap between them, Polly’s heart fluttered. ‘Mind what, zingarella?’
‘I, um…’ Again her words trailed off and she fought the inbuilt programming that encouraged her to deny what she most enjoyed. ‘I did take some cheesecake.’
‘Of course I don’t mind. I told you to help yourself to anything you wanted.’ Her skin tingled and she sucked in a shaky breath as his hands cupped her face. ‘Why do you feel it is wrong if you enjoy something?’
Polly shook her head. The question hit right at the heart of one of the main issues she was trying so hard to understand and reconcile. One of those ghosts Kate said she had to face if she was ever to move on. She looked into dark, dark eyes, warmth stealing across her cheeks as he studied her intently. His perception and instinctive reading of her were scary. She was aware the instant his expression changed. The blood turned thick and hot in her veins as Luca grazed one thumb across the sensitive skin at the corner of her mouth.
‘You have some blackcurrant here.’
‘O-oh…’
The pad of his thumb pressed against her mouth, silencing her mumbled reply. Her lips parted instinctively to the gentle pressure and his voice dropped to a throaty purr as he issued his instruction. ‘Lick.’
Polly told herself to resist the temptation to obey, but her body had a will of its own. Her disobedient tongue peeped out, shy at first and then bolder as his thumb slipped between her lips to meet it and the tangy masculine taste of him exploded in her mouth. Luca slowly moved his moistened thumb and wiped at the fruit stain he had found. Without breaking eye contact he raised the thumb to his own mouth, his eyes half closing as he sucked on it, as if savouring her.
It was a simple gesture but so incredibly erotic that an involuntary whimper escaped as Polly watched him. Every part of her was on fire, and an aching knot of need tightened deep inside her, driving her crazy. One tiny taste of his skin had left her craving more. His touch, his closeness, his subtle earthy aroma…everything about him robbed her of common sense.
‘Luca—’
Polly heard the hitch in her voice. Everything was so jumbled up inside her, her emotions raw and near the surface, especially after the last twenty-four hours, and having Luca witness her loss of control. And now, as if she hadn’t enough to resolve, her feelings for Luca were confusing her.
Before she’d had a chance to regain her equilibrium, Luca held out a hand, waiting patiently for her acquiescence. While part of her mind questioned the way she had so meekly allowed him to take charge, she found herself sliding her hand into his, feeling at once enveloped by his strength. Switching out the kitchen light, Luca led her to the cosy living room which had a surprisingly high beamed ceiling, pastel-painted walls and a Cornish bluestone floor covered with rugs. A welcoming fire burned in the stone and slate fireplace. Luca added a couple more logs, dimmed the lights and then, before she could draw breath or raise a protest, Polly found herself lifted off her feet and cradled in his arms once more.
Choosing a comfortable armchair, he sat down with her on his lap. One arm supported her back, the palm of his hand cupped possessively over her hip, while his other arm draped across her legs, his hand resting on her leg, just above her knee. She was acutely aware of every point of contact—acutely aware of him. For a few moments the only sounds penetrating the silence were the crackling of the fire. Tense and uncertain, Polly stared into the flickering flames.
‘I hope you know that neither Kate nor I would betray any confidences,’ Luca said, reclaiming her attention, the sincerity in his voice undeniable.
‘I know.’ And she did. Even if she was confused about everything else. ‘What did she say when she rang earlier?’
‘That the two of you had an emotional time together yesterday.’ The hand at her knee stroked up and down her thigh, soothing yet arousing. ‘Does that have anything to do with what happened this afternoon?’
Polly tried to refocus her scattered thoughts. ‘Indirectly.’ What she couldn’t tell him about was the big secret Kate had confided to her.
She was still in shock after those revelations. And exhausted from the tears both she and Kate had shed as they had hugged each other. First had come the stunning confession that Nick Tremayne was Jem’s real father, followed by the circumstances that had brought it about on the fateful night of the big storm eleven years ago. How had Kate coped, carrying that burden for so long? Yet she had raised Jem alone, and lived with the grief and guilt. How Polly wished she had known and could have done something to help all those years. And how could Kate have thought for one moment that she, Polly, would judge her or hate her? Never! More tears had flowed.
Kate had explained the awful circumstances that had led to Nick learning the truth about his son fifteen months ago—and how badly he had behaved to Kate and Jem since. Polly still felt emotionally raw and shocked, but she couldn’t share any of that with Luca because she had promised to keep Kate’s confidence. Only a handful of people besides Kate and Nick knew the truth…and now she did too.
On top of learning Kate’s secret, there had been the talk of the beach picnic, Polly’s eating issues and her reaction to Luca and his daughters. With mention of her own past, her return to Penhally and the ghosts she still had to face, it had been an emotional roller-coaster—and that had been without laying open the wreckage of her marriage or touching on the no-go area of her lost daughter. In view of all that, it was hardly surprising that last call to The Towans had been a shock too far.
‘Talk to me, zingarella.’ Luca’s softly voiced words brought her crashing back to reality. ‘You’d been on edge all day, but it was when that last call came in that you zoned out on me. I suspect sheer force of will made you hang on until we reached the flat. If it was nothing to do with your visit to Kate yesterday, what was it?’
How much could she tell Luca? It was scary to even consider opening herself up to inevitable pain reliving old memories would cause, and to making herself so vulnerable to another person. But maybe Kate was right—however difficult, maybe it was time to face some of her demons. Perversely, Luca was both the first and last person in whom she wanted to confide. The first because even in such a short time she had come to trust him, and although she had tried to keep herself apart, the deep connection between them was impossible to deny. And the last because exposing dark secrets and opening herself ran the risk of him thinking less of her.
Releasing a shaky breath, she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, her face so close to his neck she could breath in his musky male scent and feel the warmth of his smooth, olive-toned skin.
‘I don’t know where to start,’ she finally whispered, resolved to divulge at least some of her past. ‘Or what you’ll think.’
Polly’s softly spoken words brought a lump to Luca’s throat.
‘Do you trust me?’ he asked, relieved that her nod of assent came with no hesitation. It humbled him. ‘Thank you.’
Polly raised her head and looked at him, puzzlement evident. ‘What for?’
‘I don’t think you trust easily, or often, so I’m honoured…’ He lifted his hand from her thigh, his fingers stroking the softness of one pale cheek. ‘I won’t let you down.’
‘You’ll probably wish you’d never met me.’
Her attempt
at light-heartedness fell flat, her words revealing a genuine fear, one he was determined to set to rest. ‘Look at me, zingarella.’ Slowly, reluctantly, her lashes opened to reveal bruised blue eyes. Luca cupped her chin, holding her gaze, praying she would recognise his sincerity. ‘I care about you, I respect you, and I admire you. You can talk to me about anything, at any time, and nothing you say will change how I feel. Nothing. OK?’ he finished, feeling emotional himself as Polly nodded again and he saw the unshed tears she was battling to contain.
Luca breathed a sigh of relief at the small gesture of Polly’s trust in him. Everything he had learned about her these past two weeks had shown him it was not something she granted lightly. It was a small breakthrough, and he welcomed it, but knew it was only one step on what might be a long journey.
Thank God for Kate. He thought back to the moment earlier in the evening when he had answered Polly’s mobile phone. He had explained what had happened without giving more away than necessary, relieved when Kate had given him her wholehearted support.
Without breaking any confidences, the older woman had managed to impart some useful tips. One of which had been her advice not to make an issue of food, and to leave the room if he wanted Polly to eat anything. It had sounded strange, but he had followed Kate’s guidance, and it had worked. Just to make sure, he had peeped round the kitchen door to see her tucking into a plate of spaghetti Bolognese with relish. He had been relieved she was eating, grateful to Kate for the guidance and even more intrigued about her relationship with food.
‘Can you tell me now?’ he asked, eager for her to begin talking. ‘What happened today? What was it about that last call that brought things to a head?’
Luca felt a shudder run through Polly’s slight frame. ‘I—um…The house…’ Again she broke off, one hand fluttering nervously. He caught it, linking their fingers, trying to convey his support.
‘The house,’ he encouraged.
‘Yes.’ Her eyes closed briefly and when they opened again, they were so full of pain that the breath locked in his chest. ‘It was the house I lived in for the first seventeen and a half years of my life. I’d not been there since I left Penhally and being called out there was so unexpected. Having to walk through that front door again brought everything crashing down around me. It was even more of a shock because although there was a long delay in selling it after Reg died four years ago, I assumed the new owner would have improved and redecorated it by now. That it wouldn’t mean anything to me. Seeing it, cleaner but otherwise much as it was when I lived there, really hit me and threw me back to the horror of that time.’
As an involuntary shudder rippled through Polly, her fingers tightened painfully on his, but Luca didn’t care. Any short-lived discomfort was as nothing compared to that which Polly had so clearly endured. No wonder she had reacted so strongly, being confronted with her past that way. He had so many questions but he forced himself to silence, waiting for Polly to take this at her own pace, feeling the tension in her fragile frame.
‘Kate told me that Reg Searle was a handsome man when he was young, a charmer, a master of manipulation and used to getting whatever he wanted,’ she began, her voice shaky and uncertain. ‘And he wanted my mother. She was just out of school, quiet and shy, clever and beautiful, and she fell for Reg, five years older, in an instant. She became pregnant with me very quickly, married Reg and gave up every dream she ever had for herself and her career as a teacher.’
‘Scusami…I am sorry,’ he murmured, raising their joined hands and brushing his lips over the inside of her wrist, feeling the steady, over-fast beat of her pulse.
Polly bit her lip, her eyes closing momentarily before she opened them again. ‘Reg very quickly became bitter and resentful.’ She turned her head to stare at the fire.
Luca followed her gaze, wondering what she saw in the flickering flames. He noticed how she never referred to the man as her father. A tight knot formed inside him—anxiety at all the things he had yet to learn about the man and his effect on Polly’s development.
‘Reg expected everything to be handed to him on a plate, blaming his failings on everyone else, chasing one hopeless get-rich-quick scheme after another and hating to see others succeed. That other people worked hard for what they had didn’t seem to register with him,’ she continued after a moment, shaking her head. ‘He needed to control everything and everyone, most especially my mother, blaming her for his downfall, for holding him back. More and more he turned to drink and to gambling. He wasn’t physically violent, but he was verbally and emotionally cruel. Quite early on he lost everything, including his looks and his charm, and he became an embittered, lazy, unpleasant man. And when my mother died, he turned all that frustration and resentment on me.’
‘Polly…’ Her name whispered out on an agonised breath as a painful image formed in Luca’s mind of a fragile child—hardly older than his own girls were now—left in the charge of a bullying man who had no right to call himself a father.
‘The first sign of what was to come was when he took Barney away.’ Her explanation rushed on, as if she would never start again if she stopped. ‘At four, I didn’t understand. All I recognised was his perverse pleasure in making other people miserable. Me especially. I soon learned that anything I enjoyed or took pleasure in was taken away or spoiled or forbidden. Over the years, any academic or other achievement was punished, because having someone, especially a child, do well or be successful, served only to highlight his own failures.’
Luca turned his head, nuzzling the graceful curve on her neck, breathing in her scent, wishing he could have been there to make a difference to Polly’s life. ‘What happened?’ Somehow Luca forced the words out, not at all sure he could bear to learn more of Polly’s unhappy background, but knowing he needed to, for her sake as much as his own. He couldn’t change her past—but he hoped to find a way to make her future a happy one.
‘With Reg it was verbal abuse and control. When it goes on for so long and is so insidious, it wears you down and you believe it. He belittled me constantly, about everything, from being stupid to the way I looked…’ As she paused, Luca worried what slight she was remembering. ‘It was all about him having control over me. I don’t like to admit it, but I learned to be sneaky and to lie, to deceive him. If I hid the things I liked most, like books and animals and learning, they weren’t taken away from me. And if I pretended to like the things I really hated, I could avoid them.’
‘Self-preservation. You were one smart cookie even then,’ he praised, rewarded when she turned her head and met his gaze, a tiny smile curving her mouth. A mouth he could not help but drop a swift kiss upon.
A hint of pink washed her cheeks and she ducked her head, relaxing more in his arms, her fingers still linked with his. ‘There were constant putdowns about how I looked and acted and behaved. I never had friends. Or things—money was so tight and whatever he had went on his drink and gambling. The house was filthy and falling into disrepair, much to the annoyance of the neighbours. I think I knew, even quite young, that education was my way out. If only I could hang on until I left school.’ A humorous laugh escaped. ‘I must have been the only child with a parent who was angry if I got good grades and a favourable report. That’s where Kate and my headmistress, Ms Stanbury, really triumphed,’ she added, a genuine smile acting like a sudden sunny break in the clouds.
‘What did they do?’ Luca asked, intrigued.
‘I confided in them about the reports and grades, and from then on, until I finished school, Ms Stanbury kept my real reports locked away in the safe for me to take when I left, and made sure that a false report, one with poor grades and worrying about my lack of ambition and success, was sent to Reg.’
Luca wanted to hug Ms Stanbury for the stroke of ingenuity—one which could have landed her in trouble had she been found out. ‘Did it work?’
‘Like a charm. He would open the report and—’ She broke off, a shiver running through her, and Luca tightened
his hold.
‘And?’ he prompted as she settled again.
She ran her free hand over her face as if trying to scrub away an image or a memory. ‘I can see the sly, mocking smile now as he told me how thick and stupid I was, that I’d never amount to anything, just like my mother. There were times I longed to tell him the joke was on him, but I never did. Somehow I always managed to hold onto the bigger picture…counting down the days until I could get away.’
‘How did you survive it, zingarella?’ he asked, haunted by the thought of what she had been through.
‘By turning into a person I didn’t like…a bad person.’
Luca shook his head. ‘You are not a bad person,’ he insisted, stroking her hair as she turned her face into his shoulder.
‘I hated him,’ she admitted, her voice rising. ‘For years all I had inside me was hate and anger. I wished he was dead and not my mother. Everyone loathed him, and me by association. He never lost an opportunity to belittle me in front of other people and I hid from everyone, trying not to be noticed.’ She paused, drawing in an angry breath. ‘I looked for ways to get back at him, but he took everything from me that mattered, Luca.’ A sob escaped and his throat tightened at her distress, making it hard to breathe.
‘Those photograph albums Kate mentioned—they were the only pictures I had of my mother, including a few of me with her. I stashed them away, tried to protect them until I could sneak them out to Kate. But Reg found them. He said I was a thief, that the pictures weren’t mine and that I had to be punished. I was seven.’ Tears spilled down her cheeks, and Luca’s heart broke for her. ‘He took me outside, holding me by my hair as I fought him, laughing as he burned all the pictures and made me watch. I tried so hard to hold onto her but I can’t remember her face clearly now.’
Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 4 Page 59
