by Lucy Gordon
But sweeter than anything else was the knowledge that Lucio was watching her with a knowing smile on his face. His eyes, too, were full of a message that made her heart beat faster. Pleasure, admiration, satisfaction—they were all there.
But she also sensed something else, something to which she couldn’t yet put a name, but which she was determined to pursue and make her very own.
Brooding on the way home, she knew the task she’d set herself wasn’t going to be easy. Lucio was passionately attracted to her, yet in a strange way he feared her. What she’d seen in his eyes was a secret that he wasn’t ready to disclose. She would have to lure it from him, even against his will.
At the vineyard he immediately immersed himself in work. His manner was kind, gentle, considerate, but he came to her room only for a few moments to say goodnight. He would kiss her cheek when other people were there, but never when they were alone. Nor did he ever take her in his arms. He was a perfectly behaved gentleman, but not a lover.
She guessed that he kept his distance because he was determined not to be tempted again. But it hurt that he could resist so successfully. Within herself temptation raged. At night she would listen for the moment when he put his head around the door, longing for him to come right in, sit on the bed, talk to her, give her the chance to reach out to him. But he would smile and be gone. Recalling what she’d seen in his arms at her moment of triumph she even wondered if she’d imagined it.
No, I didn’t imagine it, she told herself fiercely. I won’t believe that.
Lying in the darkness, she would wonder about the future, and the many different ways it could turn out. Was Lucio restrained only because he dreaded to hurt her? Or was there another reason? Was he avoiding her emotionally? When he’d said that meeting her was a stroke of luck, had he only been talking about business?
Once he’d said she was wonderful.
Would he ever say it again?
CHAPTER SEVEN
TWO days later Lucio set off to visit one of his other vineyards, accompanied by Charlotte. The place was fifty miles south, in Umbria, and she looked forward to visiting an area of Italy she hadn’t seen before.
She found the trip interesting rather than enjoyable. As Lucio had warned, he would be working morning, noon and night, and there was no time for pleasure. She accompanied him whenever possible, learned all she could about the different varieties of grapes and listened to endless work discussions.
The trip was valuable for the insight it gave her into him. Before her eyes he turned into someone else. She’d known him first as an elegant man-about-town, then a skilful and imaginative lover, and then an efficient manager. Now that final aspect was growing harder, sharper, revealing a man who lived for nothing but business and shrewd, sometimes harsh dealing. For this he had the admiration of his tenants who ran the place, but not their affection. Nor did he apparently want it.
She remembered the night they’d spent in Enrico’s palace, when he’d remarked how many different aspects there were to her personality.
‘You’ve already shown me several different faces,’ he’d said, ‘and I’m curious to know what surprises you still have in store for me.’
She was beginning to understand what he meant. Her view of him was exactly the same.
As they drove home he asked, ‘What did you think?’
Receiving no answer he glanced at her briefly and saw that she was asleep. He nodded. He didn’t blame her.
He had two more visits coming up, but she gently declined the chance to go with him. He didn’t protest and she had the feeling he was glad of her decision.
At home she concentrated on learning about life there, and fitting in with it. Fiorella took her to meet the neighbours, most of whom were kindly and pleasant. One family surveyed her with suppressed hostility, which Fiorella explained thus.
‘Those two daughters had set their sights on Lucio, and they’re furious that you’ve snatched him from under their noses. Good for you. I prefer you to them any day.’
Three times Lucio called her, asking how she was, assuring her that he was thinking of her. But there were always distractions in the background that caused the call to end soon.
When he returned to the Vigneto Constanza he embraced Charlotte, then stood back with his hands on her shoulders and regarded her closely. ‘How are you?’
‘Doing fine,’ she told him.
‘That’s good because I’ve brought a couple of guests home with me. We’ve got a lot of business to do, but they’re anxious to meet you.’
The guests took up his attention through the meal and the rest of the evening, but as she was going to bed he came into her room and opened his arms to her. She threw herself in gladly, and felt him enclose her in a fierce hug. Her heart leapt.
‘How are you? Are you really all right?’
‘Ready for anything,’ she said, hoping he would detect her real meaning.
But he only said, ‘That’s the best news I’ve had. I drove Fiorella crazy every night demanding to know how you were. But you look fine. Come here.’
He enfolded her in another hug. She held her breath, waiting for the sweet feel of his hands drifting over her, but they never moved until he said, ‘Go to bed now. Sleep well.’
He put her to bed, pulled the covers up over her and departed.
She was left staring at the ceiling, coming to terms with the discovery that while he’d called her only three times, he’d checked on her by calling Fiorella every night.
For the next few days he was preoccupied with his guests, and she decided to spend some time looking around the area, especially Florence. Lucio arranged for Aldo, one of the workers to drive her there and wait for her. But when they reached the town she sent Aldo home. He looked uneasy and she guessed Lucio had told him to stay with her if possible.
‘Tell your boss I’m all right,’ she said, adding firmly, ‘Goodbye.’
She had an enjoyable day in Florence. When it was time to get a taxi home she paused, considered, then made her way back to the hotel where she’d stayed when she first arrived here, and where she had hired a car. As she had hoped they willingly hired her another one.
This was better, she thought as she drove back to the estate. She was happy with the welcome she’d received from the family, but she also felt a little swallowed up by it. Now she would have some freedom and independence.
She had to admit that driving across the estate was a little confusing. The roads were unlit and twice she lost her way. But at last she saw the house, high on the hill, gleaming with lights in the darkness, and heaved a sigh of relief.
As she drew closer she saw Lucio standing there, watching her until she halted, when he strode over and opened her door.
‘Where have you been?’ he demanded.
‘What’s the problem? I’ve spent the past few months finding my own way around Italy and I can manage these few miles. And I called to say I’d be late.’
‘Yes, Fiorella told me, but I didn’t expect you to be as late as this. Can’t you understand that I—?’
He stopped, clearly searching for words and not finding them. The next moment he reached for her and pulled her fiercely against him, holding her in a grip of iron. His breath was hot against her cheek.
‘Hours and hours and you didn’t come home,’ he growled. ‘Anything could have happened to you.’
He drew back a little to look at her, and she was shocked at the torment she saw in his face.
‘I’m here now,’ she whispered. ‘It’s all right. Lucio, it’s all right. It’s all right.’
‘Yes...yes—’
His mouth was fierce on hers, kissing her again and again while his arms grew even tighter.
‘Let me breathe,’ she gasped, laughing and delighted.
‘You think it’s funny to put me through the wringer?’
‘No, I don’t think it’s funny. I’m sorry, Lucio, I never imagined you’d be like this.’
‘Didn’t imagin
e I’d want to protect you? Don’t you understand that I—? I don’t know...I can’t explain...I can’t—’
She was overwhelmed by a feeling of protectiveness. At first she’d thought he was angry, but he was distraught. Gently she took his face in her hands and kissed him.
‘It’s all right,’ she repeated. ‘And it’s going to stay all right, I promise.’
‘But you’re not going to drive that old banger,’ he said, indicating the hired car.
‘Hey, you’re not telling me what I can do, are you?’
‘No, I’m telling you that I’m going to buy you a decent car. Think you can put up with that?’
‘I guess I’ll try.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘And I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘When you didn’t come back... These dark, unfamiliar roads—you could have had an accident. You could have—both of you.’
She nodded, touching her stomach. ‘Yes, there are two of us, aren’t there? I guess I wasn’t thinking straight. I like my freedom, but I should have remembered that when you’re pregnant you lose a lot of freedom.’ She gave a rueful sigh. ‘It’s not just me any more. I did get lost, just for a little while.’
‘Only because the roads are unfamiliar. When you’ve driven in and out of Florence a few times you’ll know the way and have no more problems. Now come inside and have something to eat. You must be famished.’
He kept his word about the car, escorting her to the showroom next day, watching her reactions to vehicle after vehicle, until he saw her face light up with pleasure.
‘That one?’ he said.
‘That one. Oh, no, look at the price!’
‘Let me worry about that.’
The test drive confirmed her best hopes, and within an hour she was the owner.
‘Now you can drive me home,’ he said.
‘But what about the car we came in?’
‘Aldo can pick it up. Come on. This time I’m going to be the passenger.’
He did everything in his power to make her forget his agitation of the night before, and all seemed well.
But when she thought how distraught he’d been she knew there was something there that she didn’t understand, something that suggested another, deeply mysterious man, tormented and troubled to the point of agony, lurking below the surface.
Who was he? How often did he emerge? And why?
* * *
Now her life was contented, even happy. Not only was Fiorella friendly but Elizabetta and all the servants combined to spoil her. They knew about the coming child, were delighted by it and would do anything to make sure she enjoyed living with them.
The only disturbances were tiny things, impossible to predict, such as the time she opened a cupboard door and found a picture of a young girl.
She knew at once that this must be Maria, and gazed, fascinated. Maria had been not merely pretty but glorious, vibrant with youth, seeming to sum up in one delicate person everything that would make life worth living.
She then saw Lucio in the photo, clasping Maria’s waist and standing behind her. She couldn’t see much of his face, but she could just make out that he was smiling ecstatically, and his attitude was one of triumph, the victor holding the trophy.
She put the picture carefully back and closed the door, guessing that it had been hidden away so that she should not see it. Doubtless it was kindly meant, but she couldn’t help thinking that it had the perverse effect of warning her that Maria was still her rival for Lucio’s heart: a rival who had no intention of giving up easily.
She lowered her head, her eyes closed, a prey to a sudden feeling of weariness, almost despair. Once again she was on the outside looking in. Her family, Don. They had all made her feel excluded. But recently things had changed. Here in Tuscany, at the vineyard, with Lucio, she had been made welcome. Or so she’d thought.
But the welcome was not complete. Suddenly the door was barred against her again, and the one who stood there, warning her that she would never get past the barrier into Lucio’s heart, was Maria.
But she would refuse to yield to the treacherous feelings. Giving in was for weaklings. She was ready for the fight. If only Lucio was here, so that battle could commence.
One evening she came home to find he had arrived a day early. He greeted her cheerfully with a kiss on her cheek.
‘Been exploring again?’
‘Yes, but mostly the towns, which isn’t what I want.’
‘Surely towns are interesting. All those delightful fashion shops—’
‘Yes, I’ve visited a few. And the shop that’s going to be your wine store. But I haven’t seen much of the place that interests me most.’
‘And where would that be?’
‘It’s called the Vigneto Constanza,’ she said, her head on one side as she reminded him of his own estate. ‘You must have heard of it.’
He scratched his head. ‘It seems vaguely familiar.’
‘Everyone says it’s the biggest and the best. I’d really like to explore it properly.’
He grinned. ‘Then I guess I’ll have to oblige.’
It was little more than a month since she’d come here to find him, but already she could see a new lushness in the grapes that would one day be Chianti wine. As they strolled down an alley he said, ‘Do you remember this place?’
‘Yes, this was where I told you I was pregnant. You were standing down there.’
‘Watching you walk towards me from a great distance. I knew even then that you were going to cause an earthquake, but I had no idea how big it was going to be.’
‘Neither had I. I knew I was pregnant but this—’ She made a flourishing gesture, taking in the view for miles. ‘This makes everything different.’
‘Do you like it here?’
‘Oh, yes, it’s lovely. I’ve been learning as much as I can. I go online, and read books. I know that you’ll harvest these grapes in October, and store them for two years before they can be wine. But that’s just facts. Standing here amid all this beauty is different. But I suppose you see it more practically.’
‘You think I can see only the money, but I can feel the beauty, too. When I first came here I spent a night sleeping under the stars in one of these fields. It was pure magic, and next morning I went to ask for a job because I knew I never wanted to leave. I’m glad it affects you, too.’
They strolled on, both enjoying their shared warmth and contentment. But, as often happened, it died in an argument only a moment later.
‘There’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how you’re fixed financially, but I don’t want you to have any worries about that. So I’ve opened a bank account for you. Here.’ He handed her a chequebook. ‘It’s all set up and I’ll be making regular payments.’
But instead of eagerly taking the chequebook she stepped back and shook her head.
‘No, thank you. I’d rather not.’
He stared. ‘What did you say?’
‘I’ve already opened an account for myself. I’m not in need of money, my family are fortunately very wealthy and I’ve saved quite a bit from my job back in New York. I wouldn’t have started this trip if I couldn’t finance it without help.’
‘But you’re carrying my child. It’s my job to look after you.’
‘And you’re doing that. You’ve given me a home. I don’t need any more. I appreciate you thinking of me, and I’m not ungrateful, but I won’t take your money, Lucio.’
‘But why?’ he demanded.
‘Why should I? Not all women want to take a man’s money. Let’s take it easy. There’s a lot we still don’t agree about.’
‘Do we have to agree about everything?’
‘Not about everything, but some things matter.’
‘All right. Have it your way.’ He sighed and thrust the papers back into his pocket, making a wry face. ‘After all, why should I object? I can spend the money you�
��ve saved me on riotous living.’
‘Naturally. That’s what I hope you’ll do.’
‘You’re the most maddening woman, do you know that?’
‘Of course. I work at it.’
‘Why work at it? You have a natural gift for awkwardness.’
‘I’m not the only one. That’s one of the things we still have to negotiate, whether my awkwardness and yours can live with each other.’
‘Would you like to take bets on who’ll be the winner?’
‘No, that would be boring.’
He grinned. ‘That’s one thing I’m never afraid of with you. I’ll let you win this time.’
‘Coward,’ she jeered.
‘Whatever you say. Come on, there’s a lot for you still to see.’
Charlotte wondered at herself. Lucio seemed to have offered her a gesture of acceptance, the very acceptance she was eager to find. Yet was it her he sought to bind to him, or only the child?
With all her heart she longed for him to want her for herself, and until she was certain of that she would retain some independence—however perverse and awkward she might seem, not only in his eyes but in her own.
* * *
These days she was often in contact with her family in the States, not just through email but with a video link on her new laptop.
Ellie had much to tell. She had been to see their Calhoun relatives in Larkville, Texas.
‘Clay had four children,’ she told Charlotte. ‘Two daughters, Jess and Megan, and two sons, Holt and Nate. I haven’t met all of them yet but that’s going to be the next thing. Every year in October Larkville has a festival. This year it’s going to include a celebration of Clay Calhoun’s life, to mark the first anniversary of his death. His children really want us to be there, so I’m going to stay here for it, especially now I’ve met Jed, and you must come, too.’ Ellie had travelled to Larkville earlier in the year wanting to know the truth about her father and had fallen in love with Larkville’s sheriff, Jed Jackson.
‘But I can’t,’ Charlotte said. ‘My baby’s due about then. I can’t take a long flight so close to the birth. Just imagine Lucio’s reaction to that idea.’
