They both wanted it to last, but knew it was not going to be possible, this time, so Aphra savoured every second of those precious attentions as the one who must forfeit the blinding climax she had known before. It did not matter, for when he came to the end even before he expected to, the beat of his powerful body against hers was a reward in itself, and she found herself laughing silently with joy, content to have given him, and herself, those few blissful fleeting moments of undiluted happiness.
Chapter Ten
Aphra’s concerns that, in keeping Etta with her in Padua, she might be denying her the companionship of her husband were soon relieved when Santo’s prediction was seen to be an accurate reading of his mother’s generosity. So it was Signora Juna herself who insisted that, since Etta was to stay with Aphra here at Padua, then Nic and Sir George, Aphra’s father, ought to be with them, too, since she did not share her husband’s and son’s view that Bianca’s days should be dark, quiet and isolated from any kind of stimulation.
‘I have always said,’ she told them while Signor Lorenzo was in conversation with Leon, ‘that what the poor girl needs is company and something to do to keep her mind off the pain. Her mother tells me she reads and paints well, but of course she hasn’t done any of that since...well.’ Her face tightened as if the thought pained her.
‘Since she became ill?’ Etta said.
‘Since they were married.’ The flicker of her eyes towards Leon revealed less of the sympathy Etta and Aphra had expected and more the irritation of a mother disappointed in her son’s performance. ‘I cannot interfere,’ she whispered, almost to herself. ‘It’s not my place to interfere. But drugs and potions will only do so much, won’t they? And all they seem to be doing at the moment is sending the poor girl to sleep. Maybe that’s how he prefers it. What do I know?’
There were questions Aphra would like to have asked about Bianca’s illness, but Margaretta had told her it had begun while Leon was in England and there was a limit to the questions she might comfortably ask of Signora Juna, who could so easily have become Aphra’s own mother-in-law. It would be best, she thought, to exercise some discretion, the situation being still so new to those concerned.
Paul and Venetia, suffering the shock of Ben’s problem, had preferred to return to Venice with Flora. Leon had assured them that, as Marius’s twin, she need not be affected any more than their elder brother Walter, but it was clear to everyone that their decision to leave the boys was worrying them. Nevertheless, they were glad to have spoken to Leon and their waves as the boat was rowed down the canal lasted until they were lost in a mass of colourful awnings swaying on the water.
Dazzled by the bright reflections, Aphra turned away, looking down at her pink and gold ensemble. ‘This is all very well,’ she whispered to Etta, ‘but I had not thought to be wearing it for more than a day or so. It looks as if we shall have to play maid to each other, too.’
‘I’ve thought of that,’ Etta said. ‘They’re going to send our luggage tomorrow. Do you think we might get Bianca into something pretty?’
Aphra pretended to scribble on the palm of her hand as if it were a notebook. ‘Improvement number three,’ she mumbled. ‘First some light and air in that room.’
‘I think,’ Etta said, ‘that Master Leon should be first on the list, while we have him here. Do you think he’d talk about Bianca?’
Only a year ago, Master Leon had lived and studied for a time in the London home of Nic and Etta, then newly wedded, with Aphra as her cousin’s companion. They had known each other well enough to talk of sentiments as well as practicalities and, although so much had changed between them in that year, it concerned the cousins to see Leon’s misery. With some artful manoeuvring, they managed to steer the four men into a semi-circular alcove in a corner of the vast garden where embroidered cushions had been left on the marble benches, inviting them to rest. On purpose, Aphra sat next to her father rather than Santo, for until she knew more about her future, she saw no point in displaying her love, when her father would ask questions she could not answer.
But it was to Leon that Sir George directed a question, not his daughter. ‘Your father believes you may be offered a post here at the university, Master Leon,’ he said. ‘Would you take it?’
Leon’s gaze was far away as he replied, with little enthusiasm. ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ he said. ‘Father has always wanted his sons to live near him.’
‘But you,’ said Sir George, ‘is that what you want?’
It was well meant, but thoughtless. Santo came to the rescue. ‘My father believes that the connection between our family and Bianca’s was more important than Leon wanting to live in England. That’s the way one’s standing in society improves in Venice, these days. It’s probably the same in England, Sir George.’
‘Indeed. But there are occasions when one goes against those conventions, Santo.’
‘Leon had no choice. There was a betrothal. By our laws, that may not be broken except in very particular circumstances.’
‘I had a choice,’ Leon whispered. The group were startled. His intervention was unexpected. They had thought that Santo would speak for him, protecting him.
‘Can you talk about it, Leon?’ Nic said. ‘We’re all on your side.’
‘I think so. I don’t want you to take sides, though,’ Leon said. ‘My father is an honourable man, but think how it would have looked if I’d insisted on renouncing the woman I was betrothed to, who had become seriously ill while waiting for my return. My father wrote to tell me of Bianca’s illness, but I chose to ignore it, thinking that perhaps her family would withdraw from negotiations on the grounds of a serious impediment. It was foolish of me and selfish. My choice was whether to return to England...to Aphra...or to honour my promise to Bianca, who would have stood little chance of recovery otherwise. Which of them would be hurt most?’
‘You believe your wife will recover, then?’ Nic said.
‘I have to believe it,’ Leon said, quietly, ‘but...’ Here, the thought of the alternative was too bitter to be spoken, although the rest of the group could have finished it for him.
But she will never be the one I dream of and love. She might never bear me a son.
‘When I was in England, at the priory with Dr Ben, I realised then it was not the university life I wanted, but to do what he’d been doing, growing plants from the New World, discovering their properties, working on a system of naming them so that every botanist in the world could understand. That’s gone, now,’ he said, parting his hands to let it fly. ‘All gone.’
Listening intently, they had all identified in some degree with the life-changing decisions Leon had been obliged to make, if only to lessen the hurt to the most vulnerable of the two women. They could all have contributed comfort, advice, or empathy, but it was Aphra who could not contain her response. ‘Leon,’ she said, leaning forward to make him look up. ‘Listen to me. It isn’t all gone. Nor has fate dealt you the blow you seem to think. Bianca loves you.’ It was a risk, saying such a thing before others, not knowing how the private information might be received.
‘What?’ he said, only half-believing.
Santo added his opinion. ‘She does, Leo. I know she does. I’ve seen it, too.’
Leon sat up straight, looking from one to the other, saying nothing. His lack of response confirmed what they already suspected. Nothing unusual for an arranged marriage. One partner loved, the other did not.
Aphra kept up the attack. ‘She’s a lovely woman,’ she said. ‘You must have seen that, when you agreed to marry her. And I know your medications will help her with the pain, but she needs more than that, Leon. Surely there’s no reason for you to shut her up in a darkened room as if that’s all she...’ she was good for ‘...she could manage.’
Leon’s hand went to his forehead as he saw the picture in his mind. ‘I know, I know,’ he said, ‘but it’s all I ca
n manage. What else can I do?’
‘Saints preserve us, Master Leon!’ Sir George said, bringing some robust old-fashioned common sense into the conversation. ‘Is that where your wife is? In a dark room? Then get her out of there. Bring her out here into the garden.’
‘The sunlight hurts her eyes, sir.’
‘Well, put her in the shade, then. Carry her out on a litter. Sit her out here in the flowerbeds. Sit her by the fountain and let her hear the birds. Talk to her. Have a musician play for her. Bring her books. Does she read?’
‘I believe so.’ Leon had the grace to look guilty at not quite knowing.
‘Bianca paints, too,’ Aphra said. ‘Did you know that?’
‘No...no, I didn’t know that. Perhaps I should...’
‘There’s no “perhaps” about it,’ Santo said. ‘You have a wife up there we’re all eager to help. So now it’s time you stopped feeling sorry for yourself and realised how blessed you are. She could be a boon to you, if you’d only give her the chance. Mother would do everything she could to make your marriage work. You know that.’
‘We all would, Leon,’ said Aphra, softly.
His look was gentle and kindly as he replied. ‘Even you?’ he said.
‘Me more than anyone.’
* * *
If anyone had wondered how these plans would go down with Signor Lorenzo, they were not to be enlightened that evening as they sat around the long table for supper in the Datinis’ dining room where the display of sparkling glass was far superior to anything Aphra had been able to produce at Sandrock. Gilt-edged, enamelled and tinted, twisted, fluted and engraved, the bowls, drinking glasses, candelabra and plates seemed to be indicating to Santo what he could be director of, if he chose. On that occasion, however, nothing more was spoken about Santo’s or Leon’s futures if only because, this time, the host’s attempts to direct the conversation were diverted by three articulate men and three women. Even he could not speak over the top of them.
* * *
For Aphra and Santo, the effort of hiding their love from their parents was a strain that found a release later, after dark, when Santo slid quietly through Aphra’s bedroom door and into her waiting arms. When they found breath to speak, at last, they were both of the same mind. ‘We shall have to tell them soon, beloved,’ said Aphra, laying her cheek against the bare patch of chest showing inside his gown.
Santo agreed. ‘I have to choose the right moment to break that kind of news to my father. I cannot see that he’ll be so surprised, but it will certainly interfere with his plans for me. Meanwhile, sweetheart, I have my own plans for you.’
She knew what he meant. He had come to her in his long loose gown of forest-green velvet edged with satin, and she knew he wore nothing more beneath this than the exciting male scent of his warm skin. Unlike those early days when their talk was of anything but love, their moments together in Padua could not be squandered on discussion, even though she longed for some clarification of her part in Santo’s future.
Yet each time she allowed her need of his wonderful loving to override her uncertainties, she was placing herself in a very dangerous position, one that could change the direction of her life for ever, if she failed to exercise some caution. Unlike her cousin Etta, whose heart had been known to rule her head, Aphra was by nature more cautious. Her unfortunate dealings with Leon had shown how right she had been not to allow the same intimacies she had initiated with Santo. Twice, she had risked pregnancy when her love for him had cried out for expression and, even now, her body yearned to be possessed, fired by passion, consumed and sated. Here, in her room, they would have a whole night in which the risk could easily become a certainty, if she allowed it.
She didn’t want to put herself in that position when fate had given her a second chance at happiness, nor would she force Santo’s hand by loading him with an extra responsibility. His father was a difficult man to persuade, once he had formed his own plans, and who could tell whether Santo would be obliged to comply, as Leon had been, or go his own way?
As his powerful body lay half over her on the bed, it was some moments before she could make him realise that she was trying to hold him off, not the opposite. His kisses were already luring her towards a blissful forgetting and the effort of discontinuing what had begun so naturally and easily was more difficult than she had thought.
‘What is it, sweetheart?’ he whispered, kissing her temple. ‘Am I being too rough with you?’
‘No. But I have something to tell you, Santo.’
His body was easy to read. The pause. The hand stealing over her abdomen, waiting for a sign. The deep look into her eyes, waiting for confirmation. ‘Tell me?’ he said.
‘It’s not what you think,’ she said, unable to keep the smile from her voice, ‘but it has to do with that.’
He lay beside her, drawing her close to nestle in his arms, his mouth breathing warmth on top of her head. ‘That?’ he said.
‘We’re taking an enormous risk, Santo. It’s not one I can afford. Nor you.’
For some moments he made no response as his hand stroked the soft skin of her shoulder to show that words would come, eventually. ‘I’ve been selfish,’ he said. ‘I know the risks. It’s easy to pretend them away when I want you so much. I want you every time I look at you. Since that first time we met in the orchard, when you were so angry and upset. Then at last you came to me and the sky fell in.’
‘Perhaps I should not have done. I don’t regret it, beloved, and nothing came of it. That’s not why I’m saying this, but neither of us is in a position to tempt fate and, who knows, we may already have gone too far. Can we make love without it, or is that too much to ask?’
At the sound of a compromise, he reared up on one elbow to look down into her face which, in the summer night light, was as pale as the moon. ‘For your sake, my lovely, concerned, practical, sensible and utterly adorable woman, we will make love only so far and save those endings for when we are married. Then...wow!’ He growled, earthily.
‘Married, Santo? Is that what you said? You want to marry me?’
‘Of course I do. Did you doubt it, my love? Marry you and make you mine for ever, make a family with you when you’re ready, not before. A woman should always be allowed to choose her own time. I know you need to know what the future holds for us, but while I don’t wish to alienate my father, I shall not allow him to direct my life, or yours. We belong together and you belong at Sandrock. I have not lost sight of that, my sweet Aphra. Leave me to sort out the details.’
‘I knew there’d be complications, Santo. My being here, I mean.’
‘Nonsense, darling woman. Nothing a Venetian merchant cannot sort out.’ He kissed her lips, then thought of something. ‘But you’ve not said yes, have you?’
‘Haven’t I? How remiss of me.’ She laughed, drawing his face down to meet hers. Whatever words and half-words were attempted after that came to nothing in the heat of their delayed passion in which, at last, they could experience the delights of nakedness as if to make up for what they had just agreed to relinquish. Taking full advantage of the new diversion, they explored every surface using fingertips, palms and lips to fill their senses and to stir up reserves of excitement, new or long forgotten.
Finding a new reason for their lovemaking and with no particular aim in mind except that of giving and receiving pleasure, they rested at intervals to slumber before the next gentle awakening of hands, like an afterthought, to the accompaniment of more kisses and assertions of love. Until this, neither of them had known that two people could find such exquisite pleasure in the tender explorations of undulating surfaces, of crevice and muscle, bone, hair and those parts where hair begins, where ears fold, where a man is hard and a woman soft and yielding. Aphra had thought that Santo might find the situation too frustrating, but when dawn came and it was time for him to leave, she watched him, his muscle
s rippling, don his deep green robe and come to sit on the edge of the bed, bridging her with his arms. His tousled hair and devastating smile, catching the early light, melted her heart again.
She thought he would kiss her and be gone, but after gazing at her tumbled hair and sleepy eyes, he drew down the sheet covering her nakedness, sliding a hand over her beautiful body, fondling her breasts and watching the rosy peaks become firm and inviting. ‘So,’ he whispered, ‘that’s what they are!’ His head bent to her, kissing the delicate nubs, teasing them with his tongue before raising his head, softly laughing.
‘Idiota!’ she said, smiling and pulling up the sheet. ‘You must go now.’
‘I seem to remember you saying the same thing at regular intervals in England. Did you mean it?’
‘No,’ she said, shyly. ‘Not often, anyway.’
‘No, I didn’t think you did.’ He stood tall and slender in the new light of day. Like a god, she thought, following him to the door with her eyes and thinking also about how far they had come since his first visit to Sandrock.
* * *
Having made a start on Leon’s sorry expectations of what his life with Bianca had to offer, Aphra found no resistance from him over her plans to make the invalid’s days more comfortable, being convinced that living as she did would do her no good. For one thing, she did not think Leon would ever have agreed to marry a woman of little intelligence or character and, for another, she had seen in the somnolent bedridden wife a spark of life and coherent thought that, if gently fanned, could easily burn brightly enough to reveal her potential. Leon, she thought, had allowed his disappointment to cloud his compassion, for as his mother had remarked, drugs and potions were not the only cure.
So she and Etta lost no time in searching through Bianca’s chests of beautiful clothes, many of them still unused, to find something colourful, comfortable and flattering for her to wear. Administering only a fraction of Leon’s drugs, they discovered that Bianca could string many more sentences together, in English, without falling asleep and that the pain in her legs became less important to her than having her fine, long, fair hair dressed and braided with blue ribbons to match her gown. All this was achieved by the full light of day, the blinds having been removed so that, for the first time in months, Bianca could see the garden, the trees and sky, hear the birds and the water fountains.
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