Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 4

by Various Authors

  Luca wrapped his arms around her, feeling guilty that he had pushed her to talk and opened up all this pain. ‘That’s not your fault, zingarella. It’s one of the painful effects of loss. I make sure the children have pictures and memories of their mother, but after nearly four years, the images in my mind are becoming fuzzier around the edges, and more and more I need the pictures to help me remember,’ he told her, and she raised her head, understanding and empathy in tearstained eyes.

  ‘It hurts,’ she whispered.

  ‘I know, mio amore. I know.’ Facing his own pain, he laid more of himself bare in the hope of giving her comfort. ‘I didn’t have the problems you did growing up, but my parents were archaeologists. They were both Italian, but they met when studying at university in Cambridge. Their work meant they spent weeks, months at a time out in the field, and when I came along—unplanned—I was a hindrance, in the way around digs, so as I grew older, I was left behind. At first I stayed with my only surviving grandparent, my mother’s mother, but after she died when I was eleven, I was sent to boarding school in England. I always felt different. Apart. That I had only myself. Which was the case when my parents were killed in an accident in South America when I was sixteen. I saw them so rarely, I hardly remember them.’

  ‘Oh, Luca…’

  He shook his head, moved at her capacity for caring and kindness, even at the height of her own distress. ‘My situation was nothing like yours. I shared it only to try and show I understood the emotions and the importance of photographs and memories. I just wish there had been someone who could have helped you. Why did no one intervene?’ he demanded hoarsely, feeling continuing rage that Polly had been treated so badly.

  ‘Kate tried, but Reg made life difficult for her and her husband James, and kept them from seeing me. As I got older, I’d find ways to meet Kate without Reg knowing, but it was risky,’ she told him, her voice thick with emotion. ‘Ms Stanbury tried, too. But although he was mean and had a nasty temper, Reg was sharp enough never to do anything physical to hurt me that would have allowed the authorities to step in. Even when I was ill…’

  ‘You were ill?’ Anxiety gripped him as her words trailed off. ‘What happened?’

  She exhaled a ragged breath, and Luca kept her close. ‘From the age of eleven to seventeen I had…’Again she hesitated, and Luca held his breath, waiting for her to continue. Lashes lowered, hiding myriad emotions, while her fingers clung ever more resolutely to his. ‘I was anorexic,’ she finally whispered, hiding her face against him.

  Luca took a moment, wrestling with an array of thoughts or feelings, one of which was a strange kind of relief because so much was now explained. But he needed to know more. Equally important was the need to show Polly his support. He eased her head up, his heart squeezing at the embarrassment and shame shadowed in her eyes, emotions he desperately wanted to erase.

  Cupping her chin, he leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, drawing back as he felt the answering response within her. ‘You felt food, and what went into your body, was the only thing you could control?’ he asked softly, seeing her eyes widen in surprise at his understanding.

  ‘Yes. That was one aspect of it.’

  ‘Tell me,’ he invited, adjusting their positions so she was resting comfortably against him, feeling the sigh that shuddered through her.

  ‘It was a combination of things. Control, as you said. Also punishment…for Reg. And self-punishment for me.’

  Luca frowned. ‘Why for you? Nothing was your fault.’

  ‘You live like that for so long and things become twisted,’ she explained. ‘The harsher and more verbally abusive Reg became, the stricter my eating regimes. He ran me down so much that I felt worthless, and during my early teens his taunts just echoed in my head, even when he wasn’t around. I had no friends. I tried to shrink myself, to hide. I was the skinny kid who kept in the background, never speaking, always with her nose in a book. And Reg’s words went round and round that I didn’t deserve anything.’

  ‘Polly—’

  ‘It was drummed into me from the age of four that I didn’t deserve nice things, that I couldn’t have what I wanted or enjoyed, and I somehow turned that round in my own mind to use food as a control,’ she told him, shaking her head, the fingers of her free hand picking at the hem of her pyjama top.

  Luca didn’t know what to say. He was scared at what could have happened to her, filled with admiration for all she had overcome, and utterly determined that she should have everything she wanted—all the good things she deserved—to make her happy for the rest of her life.

  ‘You’re an amazing and inspirational young woman, Polly Carrick.’

  Luca’s husky words, and the sincere admiration and warmth in his eyes, took Polly’s breath away. She shook her head. How could he say that after what she had told him? ‘No, I—’ Her protest was silenced as two fingertips pressed against her lips.

  ‘To have overcome your childhood with such a brutish man is extraordinary enough, but to add in five or six years battling against anorexia while still keeping up your education is incredible, zingarella,’ he insisted, her skin awash with sensation as his fingers trailed across her cheek and down her neck, making it hard for her to concentrate. ‘You have shown such strength of character to face and overcome all you have. You should be proud of yourself.’ Smiling, he brushed another soft and tantalising kiss on her mouth. ‘I’m proud of you.’

  Polly didn’t know what to say. It had been harrowing, dredging up so much from her past, things she had tried to suppress for so long because they hurt so much, but which her return to Penhally and especially revisiting the house she had lived in had brought back to the surface. Facing old demons was tough, but Luca had been the amazing one, offering her support and understanding.

  ‘And now?’ he queried, still keeping her as close as was possible in the confines of the chair. ‘Do you still have issues with food? Do you still deny yourself the things you like?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  A heart-stopping smile brought the dimple to one lean cheek. ‘How exactly?’

  ‘I’m mostly OK with food now.’ She hesitated, her gaze sliding from his. She wished she could lie, but he was scarily insightful. He was also non-judgemental and that gave her the confidence to carry on. ‘I find it difficult eating in public or in front of people. There’s still a tiny part of me that feels I have to deny myself things I most want, that I can’t be extravagant or enjoy anything but the basics.’

  ‘Thank you, again, for trusting me.’

  ‘Thank you for listening,’ she whispered back.

  She didn’t know who moved first, but the small gap between them narrowed and her lips met his in another slow, lingering, gentle kiss. Red-hot passion and urgent need shimmered around the edges, but as if they both shared a silent agreement, it didn’t get out of hand. Yet. For Polly it was almost more erotic and sensual. It was also important, like the silent sealing of some kind of vow.

  ‘It’s late,’ Luca murmured when they finally broke apart, one hand stroking the wavy strands of her hair. ‘I think you’ve had enough for one day. If I make us some hot chocolate, will you drink it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Her agreement earned her another special smile. As she slid off his lap, she immediately missed the closeness. She went to use the bathroom, her mind in a whirl as she thought back over the evening and how wonderful Luca had been, how easy to talk to. It had been hard and emotional to face many of the issues, but she was surprised to find she felt much better for having confided in him. Some barrier had been crossed tonight. She knew it, was scared by it, and yet there was no urge to run away from it.

  Unable to resist, she peeped in the doorway of the twins’ bedroom. She had been given a tour of the room earlier by the girls who were proud of their space, especially the feature wall that depicted a forest scene with lots of exotic animals. Polly had been amazed to discover Luca had painted it for them, revealing a tal
ent she hadn’t known he possessed.

  Now the room was in darkness, save for the nightlight on the chest between the twin beds. Near it, Polly knew, was a photo cube that contained several photos of Elaine. She had experienced mixed emotions looking at the images, seeing for the first time the woman Luca had loved and lost, who’d been so much the opposite of herself. Elaine, she’d discovered, had been tall and athletic and curvy, with auburn hair, green eyes and a wide, vibrant smile. Polly had felt dowdy and inadequate and unfeminine in comparison. And despairing. How could Luca possibly be interested in her, having been married to such a woman?

  Sighing, she looked down at the shadowed shapes of the twins. Toni was sprawled on her front, one small hand clasped round the leg of a soft, plush grey elephant who sat protectively on the pillow. Smiling, Polly straightened the duvet. Her gaze switched to Rosie who was on one side and curled in a foetal position, one arm wrapped around her favourite companion, a cuddly Winnie the Pooh. Neither of the girls stirred. For a moment Polly listened to the sound of their breathing, her heart squeezing with emotion. She was alarmed how much they and their father had taken over her life in two short weeks.

  Exhaustion overtook her as she left the girls and walked along to the far end of the upstairs corridor to Luca’s bedroom. The spare room had yet to be furnished, he had told her earlier, and they had already had one debate about using the sofa, which she had lost. She sat on the edge of the huge bed and knew she didn’t want to be there alone. But…

  Luca’s arrival forestalled her thoughts. ‘Thanks.’ She accepted the mug and sipped her drink, watching as he went to a chest of drawers and pulled out a T-shirt and pair of boxers. Setting down his own mug, he disappeared into the en suite. The low ache deep inside her begun to tighten, and her hands gripped her mug as she listened to the sounds of him undressing. When he returned to the main room, she kept her head down, anxious not to be caught staring at him.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  His voice broke the growing tension that had descended. She shook her head, unable to ask.

  ‘Polly?’ He hunkered down in front of her, taking her empty mug and setting it aside before cupping her chin and tilting up her face. ‘Talk to me.’

  She stared into deep brown eyes and feared he now owned he soul. ‘I don’t want to be alone, but…’

  ‘But you’re not yet ready for anything else to happen between us,’ he finished for her with gentle understanding, his fingers stroking her cheek. ‘Do not worry, mio amore, I had no intention of leaving you. Now, into bed with you.’

  As he moved and turned back the duvet for her, she slid underneath, trying to mask her nervousness with a light-hearted comment. ‘You must be used to putting little girls to bed!’

  His chuckle resonated to every nerve-ending. ‘I can assure you, Polly, that you are not a little girl in my eyes, and I do not feel remotely fatherly towards you,’ he added, the sexy rumble of his voice causing the breath to stutter in her lungs. ‘I want to make love with you,’ he continued huskily, sliding into bed and making her pulse race as he snuggled up behind her and wrapped her in his arms, drawing her back into him. ‘I hope it will happen when we are both ready. But there is no pressure, zingarella.’ He was silent for a moment, but then his next words, so softly spoken, shocked her. ‘I have not even looked at another woman since Elaine, let alone held or kissed or slept with one. I’ve waited nearly four years. I can wait a bit longer, OK?’

  ‘OK.’ Tears stung her eyes as the enormity of what he had said sank in. And he knew, his fingers there to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry. I never cry. Not usually.’

  ‘These are not usual times, mio amore. You are going through a difficult process to lay the past to rest that’s never easy. I meant what I said,’ he continued, his whole being cocooning her in warmth and safety in the darkness. I am proud of you. And I’ll be here with you every step of the way. If you want me to. I know there is more you need to deal with—here in Penhally, and with whatever it is that makes you sad when you look at the girls—and I’m here to listen whenever you are ready.’

  Her throat was so thick with emotion that a hoarse ‘Thank you’ was all she could manage.

  ‘Sleep now, zingarella. I will not let anything happen to you.’

  Instinctively Polly snuggled deeper into his embrace, breathing in the scent of his musky male aroma, feeling safe, but also on the cusp of something dangerously exciting. She had still not dared to ask what his nickname for her meant, but that he said it in the same affectionate tone as he did the loving endearments for his children made her feel warm and cherished for the first time in her life.

  Luca was wonderful and she didn’t deserve him. Or his girls. He had taken everything she had thrown at him and he said he was ready for more. In the darkness, she listened to his steady breathing and the regular beat of his heart. Her hands clung to the arm wrapped strong and sure around her waist.

  A silent tear squeezed between her lashes and trickled down her cheek.

  What would he say—and would he still be there—when he found out that she had killed her baby?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘THANK you, Polly. It takes a while to stir these old bones to action.’

  Jane Watson smiled her appreciation as Polly held the Zimmer frame steady and helped the older lady rise stiffly to her feet. Once up, she paused a moment, a faint grimace on her face as she allowed painful joints to adjust and settle.

  ‘Just take your time.’

  Glancing through the front window of the ground-floor flat in the sheltered-housing unit, Polly could see Luca chatting to Brian Watson as he ushered the twins out to the car. As always when looking at him, her breath hitched, her pulse raced and myriad conflicting thoughts and emotions filled her mind.

  The news that they were to visit to the twins’ grandparents on Sunday morning, before going to the riding stables, had terrified Polly. How could she possibly go with Luca and his children to visit his late wife’s parents? A second question had followed closely on the heels of the first. Whatever would they think? Of her—and of her inclusion as part of their group?

  As it turned out, she had been taken aback by the warmth of the Watsons’ welcome and their ready acceptance of her presence. She had been grateful for Luca’s silent support and encouragement, and she knew instinctively that he was watching out for her. But it hadn’t been necessary. As he had promised her, there had been no awkwardness at all. Elaine was remembered with love and affection but Polly sensed all was being done to move on and make life normal and exciting and full of promise for the children.

  Polly had been concerned by the frailness of both Jane and Brian, and understood Luca’s relief that the older couple were now living somewhere that allowed them to maintain some independence and yet had help on hand twenty-four hours a day. With Brian’s heart condition and Jane’s rheumatoid arthritis and asthma, it was a miracle they had kept so active for so long and had managed any care of the twins in the early years. Polly hoped that now the couple were settled in the sheltered-housing flat, they would follow Luca’s advice and register with the Penhally Bay Surgery. She would be honoured to be part of the team to care for them.

  ‘Can I do anything for you before we go?’ Polly queried now.

  ‘No, my love, but bless you for asking. Oh, it’s been so wonderful meeting you!’

  Surprised, Polly found herself drawn into an awkward embrace, the Zimmer frame between them. ‘Thank you and Brian for making me so welcome. And for sharing with me your memories of my mother,’ she added, her voice tinged with emotion.

  She had been amazed to discover that Jane had known her mother, had been her teacher at school—a little surprise Luca had dropped on her as they had arrived that morning. To hear anecdotes wholly new to her about Yvonne and Kate as young teenagers had been a special and unexpected gift she would treasure.

  ‘I hope we can now look forward to seeing you often,’ the older woman said as she made h
er way slowly towards the door. ‘Brian and I are so grateful to you.’

  ‘To me? But why?’ Polly exclaimed in astonishment.

  Jane’s smile was engaging, almost girlish. ‘You have brought happiness and real smiles to the faces of Luca and the girls these last two weeks. Forgive an old woman her interference. Luca hasn’t shown interest in anything but the girls or his work. Of course his grief and his mixed emotions over all that happened were natural when Elaine died—it was a shock and a loss for us all.’ She paused a moment, sadness evident in her eyes. ‘Brian and I have been worried as more time has gone by and Luca has continued to ignore his own happiness. We’ve spoken of it to him, he knows he has our support when he is ready to move on. But he showed no sign of it. He’s a wonderful man and an excellent father.’ Her deep affection apparent, Jane’s gaze moved to the tableau outside the window.

  ‘Yes, he is,’ Polly admitted softly, watching him tease Toni.

  Shifting position to make herself more comfortable, Jane turned to face her and Polly couldn’t look away from the warmth in the older woman’s gaze. ‘A lot of female doctors and nurses at St Piran Hospital tried to get themselves noticed, but Luca was blind to them all. Brian and I despaired. Then, two weeks ago, Luca met you.’

  ‘Oh, but…I don’t think…’ Polly’s confused reply came to a halt when Jane smiled and laid a hand on her arm.

  ‘I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, my love. Far from it. I just wanted you to know that Brian and I have no reservations—quite the opposite. You have our blessing.’

  Embarrassed and unsure, Polly was saved from answering as the door opened and Luca stepped inside. ‘Are you ready to go?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Polly met his gaze, noting how his eyes narrowed as he studied her, as if he could read her agitation. ‘I was just on my way out.’