At last satiated and happy, she turned and made to leave the sea, her silken underwear clinging to her slender curves. It was only as the water reached her knees that looking at where she had left Star she saw the horse was not there.
Panicking, she ran from the sea, holding her hand up to shade her eyes she looked along the beach but the horse was nowhere to be seen, nor were her clothes. Wherever the horse had gone she had gone with her clothes still across the saddle. Obviously, the mare had not galloped or the clothes would be on the sand. Alva ran up the beach quickly, heading to where the path was that she had taken.
Star was there but the horse was not alone. A large black stallion was keeping her company and standing holding on to the reins of both horses was Luca. His eyes raked her from the top of her sea-sodden hair to the tip of her pink-painted toenails and, lingering on the journey, over the curves of her body. She would not look down at herself and she did not realize that the thin silk left nothing whatsoever to the imagination.
‘What do you think you are doing?’ he asked, imperious and yet oddly angry.
‘Swimming,’ she answered pertly.
‘I know that. But in that — ’ He brushed a hand in her direction.
‘You said it was a private beach.’ Yet had he said that? She was not certain that he had ever said anything about the beach; it was Claudia with whom she had talked about the beach but perhaps no one had said it was private, maybe she had remembered it was.
‘Does that make it any better?’ he asked.
‘Of course it does. Anyway I do have something on, and I’m not exactly nude.’
‘Aren’t you?’ he asked darkly, raising an eyebrow.
He released the reins on the horses, taking her clothes that, remarkably, were still on Star’s saddle. The horses moved away towards some grassy plants on the small dune.
She had the urge to tuck her hands across herself; there was something in his look, a kind of proprietary insolence that made her tremble, but if she did that she had the feeling that he would have won. Instead of behaving modestly, she opted for the bold, holding his gaze and letting her hands relax at her sides.
‘We don’t have a towel,’ he said.
‘We don’t,’ she said, trying to keep it light. ‘But if you will excuse me, I’ll get dressed in that dune,’ she nodded her head. Silently he handed her clothes to her. Turning, she ran up the dune and down the other side. The sun was up now and it was deliciously warm in the shelter of the huge sand hill. She peeled off her silk underwear and then slipped into the trousers and shirt.
She left the shelter of the dune, running down with more energy than she had experienced for some while. He was still there, his long-fingered hand caressing her horse. ‘I believe we had a meeting arranged,’ he said, handing her the reins of the horse.
‘You were late. I was tired of waiting.’
‘I had important business to attend to. You can’t always gauge how long these things will take.’
‘Something that was more important than talking to me about our dead baby?’ She taunted recklessly.
He stared back at her now, raising a brow, his appraisal was damning. She knew she was behaving badly yet something inside her was demanding that she cause some kind of reaction from him. She needed him to lose his cool, to be emotional, to show some kind of feeling even if that feeling were anger. Yet why did she need this? He was nothing to her. But if the conte was nothing, why did he stir up all these wild emotions?
‘Alva,’ he said sternly.
‘What?’
She knew he had changed what he was going to say — there was something in his expression that gave it away. There had been censure in the way he said her name, now when he spoke there was nothing but a reasonable tone. ‘Of course it was not, Alva. However, things did not go as planned.’
‘Oh really?’ She wanted to stop this, to put an end to her bad behaviour, yet she was out of control. She could remember nothing about this man, yet somehow he stirred something up inside her that was not unpleasant, in fact just then the feeling inside her made her feel breathless, as if she was excited. Something was tugging at her, at the sensitive area of her lower stomach. There was a throbbing too, deep inside her, that made her twist a little to one side and then to twist back again.
‘One of my tenants had an accident, a serious accident; I had to arrange to have him flown to the mainland.’
‘Oh.’ Her lips pursed a little. ‘What happened?’
‘He was doing some repairs to the roof of his bam, I am afraid he fell and he has fractures in both legs. Thank God he did not damage either his spine or his head.’
‘Yes, that is — well, sort of lucky.’
His lips moved in a small smile. ‘Fortunate more than lucky,’ he said.
‘Sorry,’ she murmured.
‘I have some coffee, would you like some before we ride back?’
‘Yes, please.’
He went into his saddle-bag and produced a flask and two tiny cups. ‘Shall we sit a moment?’
‘Yes.’
Alva sat a little away from the horses. The sun was glorious now — it was so still and peaceful and perfect. His horse nuzzled her horse’s neck affectionately; she thought it lovely and said so.
‘If horses feel emotion, then you could say that he has always had feelings for her.’
He poured their coffee; it was thick and dark and hot, deliciously so.
‘This is good. I’m sorry.’
‘Why are you sorry that it is good coffee?’
She mumbled a little laugh. ‘No, I mean about running off.’
‘You seem to have a habit of doing that, Alva. It is nothing new.’
‘Did I do that before?’
‘Yes, you did.’
‘Why?’
‘We would have a disagreement and you would go off. Other times you would just … ’ He shrugged.
‘What?’
‘Just disappear for hours, I could never find you.’
‘Pretty childish, eh? Playing hide and seek, or maybe not. Perhaps I just needed space. I imagine all this,’ she moved her arm expressively, ‘was so new to me. Or was it just stupid childlike behaviour?’
‘Not necessarily that. I think you needed time on your own to reflect.’
‘And of course living in a two up and two down, I had to leave the house.’ She could not resist the statement. He under-stood and he smiled.
‘Perhaps you thought that you had no stake in the palazzo.’
‘Well I didn’t really did I?’
‘It was your home as well as mine,’ he stated firmly. ‘But you had issues with that.’
‘It’s hardly surprising. I mean from all accounts I am just an ordinary girl.’
Now he chuckled. ‘Am I an extraordinary man?’
She wanted to say of course you are, how could you not be? You are the most handsome man I am sure I have ever seen, you are rich, you are titled and you ooze Italian sex appeal. But she couldn’t say that to him. Instead she said. ‘I imagine I thought you different. I mean, an Italian aristocrat is hardly Bill Brown from Battersea.’
‘Who is he?’ he asked. ‘An old boyfriend?’
She laughed. ‘No, I mean just an ordinary man.’
‘I am an ordinary male. As you found, I think.’
‘What do you mean?’
He sighed and stared ahead, looking at the blue ocean and pondering on how to answer.
‘That if you cut me I bleed.’
She gasped. She had not expected that. ‘I hurt you, is that it?’
‘You hurt my pride, Alva. That is different from hurting me.’
‘What did I do?’
‘Alva, I don’t want to do this. Suffice to say we had our problems. When you regain your memory you will know what you did and why. If I were to tell you, you would only have my side of it and that would be unfair.’
She grabbed a handful of silvery sand and let it trickle through her fingers. The grain
s were her past; it had spilled away from her, would she ever get it back? Did she even want it back?
She bowed her head, sighing softly. This blank page was terrible. The churning feelings inside her were terrible — the whole was such a mess.
His arm came around her, it was the first time he had touched her. She felt the skin at his wrist touching her neck, and it gave her a fizz of delight like a little electric shock.
‘I think we should go now, Alva. I am sorry, I should have spoken to you before, but it has been painful for me too. That is a selfish statement, but I can’t help it.’
Alva glanced at him and then nodded her agreement, he moved his hand from her skin and she felt very cold and very alone. Daring herself to look at him Alva was not surprised to see that she could not read his expression, yet felt that same kind of melting feeling that would be her undoing if she let it.
‘Do you need help?’ he asked.
‘For what?’ she dared herself to be reckless and funny.
‘To mount your horse.’
‘Me? Of course I don’t.’ And as if to prove a point she went to her horse, took the bridle and in one smooth jump after putting her foot in the stirrup, mounted the animal. ‘There,’ she announced and in case he had been doubtful added. ‘How about that?’
‘Perfect,’ he said, and went to do the same.
They rode in silence back the way she had come; he was a little in front of her. It seemed that the stallion might be fond of Star but he wanted to show the mare who was boss, rather like his owner, she thought.
They left the horses with the groom and Luca suggested they go and shower and meet in half an hour.
‘We can talk at lunch,’ he said, ‘or before we eat if you prefer.’
‘I’d prefer that,’ she said, ‘before lunch I mean.’
‘I’ll see you in the sun lounge.’
He left her standing in the hall, not running up the stairs at her side but going through one of the doors off the lounge. Shrugging, she ran up the stairs and when she got to her room pulled off the shirt and trousers, leaving a thin layer of sand on the tiles in the bathroom. Her wet underwear she put in the sink, put in the plug and filled the bowl with warm water.
Catching a glance of herself in the mirror above the sink, she saw that her eyes looked larger and her cheeks flushed. There was something different about her; perhaps it was the exercise and the fresh air. She determined to do more. She had to get well and fit and then escape this place. There was something about it … she shivered, trying to wonder where that had come from. Of course she had lost her child here and then her marriage, but there was something more, there had to be! In frustration, Alva rubbed her temples as if this would release what was buried but there was nothing but an intuitive thought that there was more to everything than she was seeing. People were tiptoeing around her, masking the truth.
After her shower, she went to the wardrobe and took out fresh underwear and a pale green silk dress. It skimmed her body, fitting at the waist but with its boat-shaped neckline looking fetching but definitely not sexy. Eschewing make-up, she left her bedroom and went downstairs. Luca was already there, he had a drink, something pale and light. He asked if she would like some — it was wine, from his own vineyard. She rarely took wine at lunch as it made her sleepy but because of her state of mind she decided to make an exception.
‘Alva,’ he said her name softly, almost like a sigh. ‘I get no pleasure out of telling you this.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It isn’t pleasant and I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘I can take it. I have to take it. I don’t want to live in a void, not knowing what happened to my baby.’
‘Sit down.’ It was a command. She thought for a moment to disobey him but realized that this was the wrong time for such one-upmanship. It was important she let him talk and not get him so angry that he changed his mind.
Sitting on the two-seater sofa, she nervously composed herself, holding her knees tightly together. He did not sit next to her, but chose one of the armchairs, after dragging it close to the sofa.
‘You were very ill, I mean really sick. You could not eat without vomiting and that went on for a long time. You had all the bad things and none of the good. We went to a specialist but there was nothing they could do for you. When you got over the sickness, you grew quite quickly, for someone so slender … ’ He shrugged. ‘You said you felt like a beached whale and I am sure that is how it was. Of course you were depressed — no one could blame you, Alva, least of all me. I felt so inadequate, which for me is a rare feeling. I think you were more depressed than I realized. It went deeper than surface depression. When you lost the baby … ’ He paused, looking deeply into her eyes. Her heart swelled in her breast, there was an ominous thud and then there was a rush of pain, almost as if she could remember how it felt. Luca looked so tortured and surprising her, she felt pain because of that too. She did not want him to experience this pain again and yet she needed to know, had to know everything.
‘Was that why we split up? I mean because I was depressed when I lost the baby?’
He studied her, seeming to peel away all the layers she had built up to protect herself from revealing her feelings. She wanted to claw at the black veil that was keeping things from her. Luca did not want to go on, she saw that and she wondered why that could be. She knew she had fallen down the stairs, which had caused her baby to die moments after his birth.
Alfredo had told her that she had gone through a long and terrible labour, that he had wanted her to have a caesarean section but she had not wanted it, fearing that might make it more dangerous for her baby. He lived for a moment, Alfredo had told her and she had seen his tiny little body but then he was gone and nothing they did could revive him.
‘How did you feel?’ She asked Luca. ‘When you heard that your son died, brought into life too soon because I was stupid enough to fall down the stairs!’
She saw his complexion pale, his lips thin. ‘I was there, Alva. I was there all the time. You see, then I didn’t know how bad it had been. I only found that out a day later.’
‘Found out what?’ she demanded. ‘Luca, you have to tell me everything. It’s so unfair that I’m living my life in this blackness. I need to know everything; surely you have to understand that?’
‘Alva,’ he murmured. ‘You should really wait until you are stronger.’
‘Well, that’s going to do me good, knowing there is something that I am too weak to understand! You have to tell me now, Luca, please, don’t make me beg.’
‘Beg. Do you think I want that? I just wanted you to have a safe haven until you regained your memory. That’s all. I did not want to drag you through it all again.’
‘Luca,’ she warned. ‘Please do not prevaricate.’
‘I’m sorry — I’m sorry I have to say it now and I am sorry that I am going to make you suffer. Believe me, Alva I don’t want to do this. You did not fall down the stairs, Alva, you threw yourself down.’
*
He did not believe her and she was making herself even angrier by demanding that he did. No, she cried, no definitely no! She could not do something like that. Not only was it a despicable thing to do, she would be too afraid to do such a thing. Only yesterday she had been terrified by what could have happened when she had fallen down the stairs. She would never have done it deliberately.
‘Why won’t you believe me?’
‘Because you were not alone, Alva, someone saw you do it.’
‘No! Who was it?’
He stared at her, his eyes revealing nothing of his feelings. ‘Was it Renata? Renata and you believed her, even though you knew she hated me.’
‘Hated you? She might have disliked you but she was a girl and hate is too strong a word.’
‘Oh yes, it would be. You always took her side against me, I can see it all now; that’s why I was depressed and unhappy, it had nothing to be with how I felt physically.’
‘Alva, you can remember nothing so you can’t know that. And,’ he paused, ‘it was not Renata.’
That came as a blow for she could not imagine anyone else who would want to lie. Not any of the servants. She had been at the palazzo only days but she knew the servants liked her. There was no one on the staff who had an interest in telling lies about her, unless — ‘Who was it?’
‘Antonio.’
‘Antonio? But you said he was my friend, or you implied as much.’
‘He was someone you used to talk to, quite a lot actually but I would hardly call him your friend.’
‘And he said he saw me throw myself down the stairs, deliberately?’
‘He tried to catch you.’
‘I’m sure he did,’ she murmured. How could she know she did not do that? She tried to scale the blank walls in her mind. It was instinct that guided her and instinct she believed more than her husband. Oh, maybe he had been told what she had done — but that did not make it the truth. There was nothing in her that told her she could do that — cowardice? No, far more than that, a sense of morality. She could not have killed her own child, no matter how depressed or unhappy she was. She could not.
‘The baby was a boy. I called him Alessandro, for my father, and he is buried here. Close to the summerhouse.’
She felt it inside herself now, the rush of feeling, the reason she had been lured to the spot. Some foggy memory, some need to be there.
‘What did I do?’
‘You never came home again. You left.’
‘From?’
‘You were in the hospital on the mainland. You stayed there about three months.’
‘Oh yes? Incarcerated, was I?’
‘That is rather dramatic, Alva.’
‘Was I being treated for a mental condition or not?’
He sighed. ‘You were treated for depression.’
‘How fortunate I was not imprisoned.’
‘Why would you be imprisoned?’
‘I murdered my son.’
‘Alva … ’
‘That’s what you believe, that’s what I’m accused of!’
Shadows of the Past Page 5
