by Laura Martin
‘I could provide you with assistance,’ Thomas said with a charming smile, ‘If you ask nicely. And tell me what you were doing climbing over the wall.’
She had a stubborn streak running through her, Thomas mused as she limped a few more paces with her head held high before relenting.
‘I was being held prisoner. Now, please will you help me?’
‘Well, that wasn’t the most gracious of pleas, but a gentleman can overlook these things.’ Thomas scooped her up into his arms, hiding a grin at her squeal of surprise and the initial stiffness of her body. ‘Where to, my lady?’
No reply was forthcoming and Thomas could see the thoughts tumbling through her head. For some reason she had felt she was being held prisoner by the well-to-do Di Mercurios and had manufactured her escape, but he would wager his entire inheritance that she hadn’t really planned beyond getting over the wall.
‘Maybe to the residence of the local magistrate so you could report your imprisonment?’ Thomas suggested, suppressing a smile as she tensed. ‘Or we could go straight to the governatore, the man in charge, seeing as they are such an influential family in the region.’
Still no reply from the woman in his arms.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
‘Miss Rosa Rothwell.’
‘Well, Rosa,’ he said, enjoying her scowl of indignation at his use of the overfamiliar form of address, ‘it is decision time. What’s the plan?’
‘I would be grateful if you would take me to a local pensione,’ she said decisively.
‘I don’t like to criticise a well-thought-out plan, but won’t the village guest house be the first place the Di Mercurios look for their runaway?’
‘I will ask the owner to be discreet.’
‘It will all come down to who has the bigger purse, you or the wealthiest landowners around the lake.’
Rosa fell quiet again and Thomas adjusted his grip on the pensive young woman in his arms.
‘Are you sure you can’t sort this feud out with the Di Mercurios?’ Thomas asked softly, the levity gone from his voice. ‘It would be the easiest way.’
‘No.’ The force behind that one short word told Thomas all he needed to know about Rosa’s predicament. She was in trouble, real trouble, and it wasn’t going to be sorted with an apology and a friendly handshake. He couldn’t imagine the Di Mercurios had actually kept Rosa locked up, they were a respected and important family, but he was well aware he didn’t know the details. ‘I need to get away from here,’ Rosa said quietly. ‘I need to get back to England.’
Thomas quickened his pace along the dusty road and felt Rosa squirm in his arms.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘I’m renting a villa about a mile from here,’ Thomas said. ‘You will stay tonight and arrangements can be made in the morning.’
‘I’m not sure that is an appropriate—’
‘You don’t really have a choice,’ Thomas interrupted her. ‘It’s this or the Di Mercurios finding you within the hour.’
‘I am a young woman of a good family,’ Rosa said stiffly.
‘Trust me, there is nothing further from my mind than ravishing you. You’ll be perfectly safe.’
Not that she wasn’t pretty enough, in a wholesome, innocent sort of way, but Thomas had not been tempted in a long time and he wasn’t going to let this dishevelled young woman be the reason he stepped off his predestined path.
Chapter Two
Thomas set her down gently on a wooden chair positioned on the terrace to the rear of his rented villa. Rosa was momentarily mesmerised by the view over the lake to the mountains beyond, the inky blackness of the water giving way to the solid outlines of the snowy peaks silhouetted against the starry sky. Although she’d been in Italy for a month she hadn’t seen past the walls of the Di Mercurio villa since her arrival.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Thomas commented as he caught her looking at the view.
She regarded her host for a few moments, trying to decide what she thought of him. He was confident and arrogant, a man used to getting his own way. She had bristled earlier when he’d made the decisions about her immediate future without really consulting her, but she’d bitten her tongue because...well, because she didn’t have anywhere else to go.
‘Who are you?’ Rosa asked as she took in the expensive furniture and no doubt expensive view.
‘Hunter. Lord Thomas Hunter. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Rosa Rothwell.’ Her name sounded seductive on his tongue.
‘Do you live alone here?’ Rosa asked.
‘Don’t worry,’ Thomas said, flashing her a lazy grin, ‘I meant what I said, your virtue is safe.’
Rosa instinctively laid a hand on top of her lower abdomen, stroking the fabric of her dress and thinking of the growing life that was to be her ruin. She’d lost her virtue long ago, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t hold some moral values. Staying in a house alone with a single, rather attractive gentleman was certainly on the list of Things a Young Lady Must Never Do that her mother had often recited to her when she was younger. Nevertheless, here she was, without any other option and ready to put her fate and her already sullied virtue into the hands of Lord Thomas Hunter. Her mother would be appalled.
Lord Hunter disappeared for a few minutes before re-emerging from the villa holding a bottle of wine and two glasses. Rosa watched as he pulled out the cork and filled both glasses, before pushing one towards her.
‘So, tell me, whatever have you done to make the Di Mercurios lock you away?’ He held up a hand as he took a mouthful of wine. ‘No, no, no. Let me guess. It’s more fun that way.’
‘It’s a private matter,’ Rosa said, watching as Hunter leaned back in his chair and swung both feet on to the table.
‘Did you steal something?’
Rosa refused to be drawn in and focused instead on her wine glass.
‘Something more scandalous, then,’ Hunter mused. ‘Did you insult one of the old women, the ones that look like mean English Bulldogs?’
‘Those old women are my grandmother and great-aunt.’
‘Oh, I am sorry. Well, maybe you won’t be quite so wrinkly when you’re older. All is not lost.’ He paused, then pushed on, ‘So they’re family, are they? The plot thickens.’
Rosa took a sip of wine and felt the warmth spreading out from the throat and through her body. It was warming and delicious and already a little intoxicating.
‘I was sent here in disgrace,’ she said eventually.
‘Your family sent you all the way to Italy? You must have done something pretty unsavoury for that amount of distance to be required.’
She supposed getting pregnant before marriage was pretty disgraceful, her mother at least had enough to say on the matter. Rosa was a disgusting harlot, an ungrateful wretch and as bad as a common streetwalker. The strange thing was, despite having been brought up with her mother’s strict set of moral values, Rosa didn’t feel disgusting or unsavoury, and she couldn’t summon anything but warmth for the small life blossoming inside her.
Uninvited tears sprung to her eyes at the thought of the venom in her mother’s voice as she’d told her she never wanted to see Rosa, or her child, ever again. They’d always had a difficult relationship, but the finality of her mother’s goodbye had hurt Rosa more than she would have imagined.
What had hurt even more had been the look of shock on her father’s face when Rosa had admitted her pregnancy. She and her father had always shared a close and loving relationship. It was her father, not her mother, who had played with her as a child, who often would call her into his study so they could spend hours discussing books. So when he’d been unable to rally on hearing the news that his only daughter was expecting a child out of wedlock Rosa had felt her heart rip in two.
Dipping her head, Rosa quickly blinked away the tears. She would not cry in front of a stranger, not about something that could not be changed.
‘I suppose it was unsavoury,’ she said, smiling sadly.
‘The Di Mercurios were meant to look after you?’ Hunter asked and Rosa was glad of his change of direction.
Rosa shrugged. She didn’t know what their instructions had been, but as soon as she had arrived it had been made clear she was not a welcomed guest.
‘They locked me in my room for a month.’
‘And fed you gruel, no doubt.’
She looked at him sharply, wondering if he was mocking her, but saw the joviality that had filled his eyes earlier had gone.
‘Well, sometimes they treated me to stew and a stale piece of bread.’
‘How generous. No wonder you wanted to escape.’
Rosa looked past her host, out over the dark water and to the night beyond and knew she would have put up with the cruelty if it hadn’t been for the threat of losing her child. On one of her daily walks around the grounds a maid had sidled up to her and whispered, ‘Don’t worry, signorina, the family they have chosen are kind and loving. Your little one will be well looked after.’
The girl had risked a beating for just talking to her and the words had meant to be reassuring, but Rosa had felt her heart fill with dread and known there and then she needed to escape. No one would take her child from her. She would fight with every ounce of strength and determination in her body and nothing would keep them apart.
‘So what is the plan, Rosa Rothwell?’ Hunter asked.
‘I will seek passage to England.’
‘Back to the family that sent you here?’
Rosa grimaced. She had no doubt her mother would pack her straight back to Italy the moment she turned up on the doorstep.
‘I have a good friend who will take me in, I just need to get to her.’
Rosa was aware of Hunter’s eyes scrutinising her. He did it brazenly, as if he didn’t even consider it would make her uncomfortable, or he wasn’t concerned if he did. Roaming eyes taking in her every movement, her every expression, making her feel exposed and as if he knew all of her secrets.
‘Time for bed,’ Hunter said abruptly, standing and draining the dregs of wine from his glass.
Rosa was just about to say she would stay on the terrace a while longer when Hunter’s strong arms whisked her up from her seat and carried her over the threshold into the villa.
‘What are you doing?’ Rosa asked indignantly.
‘Taking you to bed.’
‘Put me down.’
He ignored her, manoeuvring round the furniture in a plushly decorated living room before kicking open the door to a bedroom. Quickly he strode into the room and deposited her on the rather inviting four-poster bed.
‘I might not want to go to sleep,’ Rosa said.
Hunter shrugged. ‘You’re here now.’
Rosa clenched her jaw to stop the flow of uncomplimentary phrases that were trying to escape.
‘Only because...’ Rosa began, then stared in surprise as Hunter left the room, closing the door behind him. It was difficult to have an argument with a man who refused to listen half the time.
Rosa nearly struggled to her feet, thinking she would hop back out on to the terrace just to show she couldn’t be ordered around and sent to bed like a child, but her body was already sinking into the soft mattress and freshly laundered sheets. Tomorrow she would stand up to Lord Hunter, tomorrow she would thank him for his assistance but firmly insist she go her own way from now on. Tonight she was going to enjoy the comforts of Lord Hunter’s guest room and rather welcoming bed.
Chapter Three
Thomas tossed and turned, throwing the light sheet from his bed with a growl of frustration. It was nearly dawn yet he hadn’t slept for more than a couple of hours and now he felt groggy and unsettled.
Reaching out to the small table beside his bed he picked up the well-read letter, the real reason for his disturbed night. Every time he read the now-familiar words his conscience collided with his more selfish needs and he came away uncertain as to what course of action to take. And if there was one thing Thomas didn’t like it was uncertainty. With a sigh he sat up in bed and started to read again, wondering if he was just punishing himself or hoping for divine inspiration, a new point of view, knowing the words and the pleas would still be the same as all the other times he’d read it.
My darling son,
I hope you are well and are finding what you need to soothe your soul on your travels. It has been three years and eight months since I last set eyes on you—one thousand three hundred and forty-five days since you left. You must know I don’t blame you for leaving—I actively encouraged you to go—but I miss you every minute of every day that you are gone.
I am keeping as well as can be expected. My friends ask when I will come out of mourning...when I will start to move on. They don’t understand what it is like to lose a husband and a son. I don’t think anyone does, apart from you.
Ever since you left I have tried to be patient, tried to allow you to grieve and come to terms with the uncertain future in your own way. You know I have never pressured you to return, never pushed your responsibilities or the estate’s need for a master. I truly hoped you would find peace on your travels, revel in new experiences and return to me with a renewed passion for life, but three years and eight months is a long time to wait and now I want my son home.
I’m lonely, Thomas. I’m surrounded by friends, by extended family, by servants I have known for half my life, but without you it all seems empty. So I have decided to be selfish. I know you have lost a father and a brother, and I know you’ve needed to come to terms with a possibly cruel and difficult future, but now I ask that you think of me.
Come home to me. Fill the house with laughter once again. Allow yourself to think about the future, to hope. A wife and child might be too much to ask, I know that, but please consider returning home and taking up your birthright.
I live in hope that I might embrace you in my arms one day soon.
Your loving mother
He wanted to put the letter out of his mind, to forget the hurt and loneliness that must have triggered his mother to write in this way after allowing him to fulfil his own wanderlust for nearly four years without a word of protest. She had been the one who’d encouraged him to leave in the first place, who’d urged him to travel and experience a bit of the world so he would have no regrets about his own life. Thomas knew soon he would have to return to England, return to the memories and the half-empty family home. He was not cold-hearted enough to refuse a direct plea from his mother.
A swim, that was what he needed, a bracing and refreshing start to the new day. Maybe then he could find it in himself to start planning the long journey back home. Thomas jumped out of bed, grabbed a towel and tucked it loosely around his waist. He padded barefoot through the villa, resolutely not looking at the closed door to the guest room, and out on to the terrace. Even though the sun’s rays were just beginning to filter over the horizon Thomas could already feel the heat in the air. It would be another scorching day, the type that sometimes made him long for the cool breezes and cloudy skies of England.
It only took him thirty seconds to reach the lake, two more to stretch and brace himself for the icy shock of the water and then he dropped his towel to the ground and dived in. The blackness consumed him immediately and as Thomas glided deeper he could barely make out the shape of his hands a few inches in front of his face. The water skimmed over his skin, washing away the remnants of the restless night and invigorating him for a new day. Forty seconds in and his lungs began burning, but still he glided deeper. Fifty seconds and he felt the tremor in his muscles from lack of air. Sixty seconds and little grey spots began
to appear before his eyes. One more pull of his arms, and then another, the ultimate test of his mind’s control over his body. Only when his head began to spin did Thomas relent and kick powerfully to the surface, breaking free of the water and taking in huge gulps of air.
He floated on his back for a while, allowing his body to recover and his breathing to return to normal. As the sun started to rise over the hills and reflect off the water’s surface Thomas began to swim. He took long, leisurely strokes, propelling himself through the water at a moderate speed and focusing on the horizon.
This was his favourite time of day, whilst he was powering through the water he could plan and reflect without any distractions. It was just him, the early morning air and the silent lake.
He swam for about fifteen minutes before turning back, the villa now the size of a model house on the banks of the lake. It was still peaceful, but there were signs of life stirring around the edge of the lake. A farmer’s cart trundled along the dusty track, kicking up a plume of dirt. A young boy chased an eager dog down to the water’s edge and further away to his left the sleepy village was beginning to show signs of activity.
As Thomas reached the edge of the lake he paused, turning to look out over the murky blue water before pulling himself up the old wooden ladder on to the shore.
* * *
It was getting light when Rosa awoke and for a few moments she allowed herself to lie in bed and watch the soft light of dawn streaming in through the windows. She wasn’t a natural early riser—at home she would often indulge in breakfast in bed late in the morning—but these last couple of months she had found herself waking early with an entrenched sensation of nausea that could only be cured by a cold glass of water and something to eat.
Rosa knew she was lucky, many women at her stage of pregnancy spent their days vomiting and confined to their beds. A little early morning nausea was not something that stopped her from getting on with her day at least.
Rising slowly, Rosa straightened her dress, aware of the creases from where she’d slept fully clothed, and patted the loose strands of hair into place. She took a moment to examine her ankle, which had swollen overnight and had a purple hue to the stretched skin. Even placing it lightly on the floor made her wince in pain, but she gritted her teeth and managed to hobble to the door, leaning heavily on furniture as she went.
