by Lucy Gordon
He didn’t speak but his eyes said, You think so, do you? And for a moment the one kiss they’d shared flamed between them. With a great effort she put it aside.
‘Unless you’ve got a better idea,’ she said.
A faint gleam of humour crept into his rueful smile.
‘What must you be thinking of me?’ he asked.
‘That you’re reacting to situations that are beyond your control, as we all are,’ she said gently. ‘We just have to play everything by ear and hope we get it right.’
‘How will we know when we’ve got it right?’
‘When Liza smiles, we’ll know. That’s what it’s all about. We must never forget that.’
He nodded. After an uneasy moment he said, ‘I have something to give you.’
He went into his own room and she took the opportunity to change into her nightgown, relieved that she had chosen something plain and simple, not designed to be alluring. Her dressing gown, too, was elegant but not seductive.
When he returned he, too, was wearing a dressing gown, and carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses, which he set down on a small table.
‘Take these and keep them in a safe place,’ he said, reaching into a deep pocket and producing papers. ‘They’re your copies of the forms I signed this afternoon. Everything is now in order.’
She could see that it was. She was Signora Fallucci, now a wealthy woman in her own right and possibly heiress to a large inheritance. She was also named as the guardian of Liza Fallucci, and her joint trustee, with the lawyers, for an even larger inheritance.
Everything was provided for, down to the last comma, the work of a thorough lawyer.
But when she looked up he was holding out a fluted glass of champagne.
‘We drank champagne with our guests,’ he said, ‘but this is between us. My gratitude-for today, and for the future.’
The future which might contain his death, perhaps very soon. Neither said it, but each knew what the other was thinking.
They clinked glasses.
‘Any regrets?’ he asked.
‘Not yet,’ she said lightly. ‘I’ll keep you informed. At any rate, this is nice and quiet.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘It’s just that we seem unable to discuss anything without shouting,’ she said, still in the same light tone. ‘It’s practically a form of communication.’
‘Ah, you’re talking about my proposal.’
‘Yes, I suppose I am.’
‘And a few other things,’ he said, considering. ‘I don’t normally shout and get so worked up.’
‘Me neither.’
‘And I’m not the bully you might think from my behaviour.’
‘I know. You just like to have your own way.’
‘I shout when I’m scared,’ he said with a shrug. ‘It doesn’t happen often but-well.’
She nodded.
‘I’m not scared of Fortese, but when you refused to marry me-it was like trying to seize hold of something in the darkness, only the “something” kept darting away. Usually it’s easy. A judge can mostly get what he wants by signing a bit of paper and letting other people do the work. But it was clear that no force was going to control you.
‘Even when you seemed to be almost my prisoner I used to feel a moment of apprehension when I reached home in the evening, in case you’d mysteriously vanished during the day.’
‘I never knew that.’
‘I couldn’t afford to let you suspect. You’d have found it too easy to run rings around me. You didn’t find it very hard in any case.’
Holly stared. She had known none of this. He’d always seemed so totally dominant. Now he was revealing the weakness in his defences, and it seemed not to trouble him at all that she should know.
After a moment he went on in a reflective voice. ‘I think I realised how important you were going to be from the first day. I didn’t know how, but you appeared out of nowhere, and everything about you was inevitable. It almost makes me believe in fate.’
‘You? A judge, believing in fate?’
‘No judge is ever only a judge. He’s a man too, no matter how much he might sometimes wish…’ He checked himself. ‘Well, anyway-it’s been a long day and I expect we’re both tired.’
‘Yes,’ she said. She’d had as much as she could stand for the moment, and she guessed he felt the same.
They climbed into opposite sides of the bed, solemnly bid each other goodnight and turned out the lights. Almost at once Holly discovered that she really was worn out, and when she closed her eyes she was asleep in seconds.
She awoke because a strange noise was reaching out through her sleep, seeking her, imploring her attention. As soon as she opened her eyes she realised what had disturbed her. A low growl, almost like a moan, was coming from the other side of the bed.
Matteo was lying on his front, his face turned towards her, half-buried in the pillow. One hand also lay on his pillow, clenching and unclenching as choking sounds came from him. He was talking in a language that Holly didn’t understand.
‘Matteo,’ she said softly. ‘Are you all right?’
The reply was a torrent of unintelligible words, while his hand clenched convulsively. Only then did she realise that he was still asleep.
‘Matteo,’ she repeated, uncertain whether to awaken him or not. The feeling of pain that came from him was too intense to be ignored.
His voice changed, becoming sharp. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No-no-no-’
Then he gave a sudden, convulsive movement and threw himself over onto his back. He was breathing harshly now while, ‘No-no-no…’ poured from his mouth.
Acting instinctively, Holly seized his hand, holding it between hers until its jerky movements subsided. At the same time the heaving of his chest became less violent.
‘It’s all right,’ she told him softly. ‘I’m here-I’m here.’
Now he lay still. The only sign of his recent disturbance was the frown creasing his brow.
‘I’m here,’ she repeated. ‘It’s going to be all right.’
Slowly the frown faded and he seemed to breathe more easily, but his hand did not release hers. Holly eased herself down in the bed, trying not to disturb him.
She had embarked on this strange marriage with little idea of what might be facing her, but telling herself that she was ready for anything. Now she wondered if she had been too rash. He depended on her for something that might be beyond her power.
Too late now. She had made promises that bound her as irrevocably as the fingers clasped around hers, while he sank back into peaceful sleep, growing still. After a long time he released her, and she was able to draw her hand away. Then she stayed as she was, watching him, motionless, until she too fell asleep.
She awoke again later to find herself sitting up, unable to remember how it had happened, but instantly alert. She must have slept for hours because the room was filled with a soft, dim light that told her dawn was breaking. Cautiously she turned her head to where he slept.
Once again he’d taken her by surprise. After the disturbance of the night she’d imagined him sleeping curled up in a defensive position, his arms a barrier against a world that had betrayed him. Instead he lay on his back, his arms flung wide, his jacket open, revealing a chest that was thick with dark, curly hair, abandoned, unprotected.
In what other way was he different from how she had imagined? How many sides did he have, and would he live long enough for her to find out?
That was the reality, she reminded herself: he might die at any moment. She closed her eyes, trying to resist the anguish that shivered through her, but it wouldn’t be denied. Somehow, while she thought she was fighting him off, he’d secured a grip on her heart.
She’d told him once that her weakness was a longing to be needed, but that was when she’d seen him as too strong to need anyone. Her real feelings had pounced on her like a tiger leaping from the darkness, overwhelming her before she realised
.
The width of the bed should have been a protection. But one of his arms reached across the space between, the fingertips temptingly close. And there was no protection from the thoughts that crowded in on her. The one that hounded her most was the one kiss they’d shared on the night when the barriers began to come down, and he’d later revealed the truth about his torment.
They’d hastily replaced the barriers, but there was no way to blot out the memory of a kiss so fierce and thrilling that they’d both backed off, eyes wary, hearts in denial.
The moment had briefly glittered tonight as they talked, and she’d shut it away hastily. But in the dark warmth it had returned, taking advantage of her defenceless sleep to remind her how his body felt, pressed against hers. In just a few blazing moments he seemed to have imprinted himself on her so that he was still there, his lips touching her mouth, his hand firm in the small of her back.
That hand looked different now, relaxed, gentle. His face, too, was softer than she had ever seen it, although dark with a night’s growth of beard. His frown was gone, but she could see that the tensions of his life had not completely vanished. Beneath the surface peace was a wariness, as though life on the verge of disaster was the only kind possible for him.
While she was wondering if she should awaken him, Matteo opened his eyes and looked directly into hers. He didn’t move, but she had the feeling that a quietness had settled over him, as though he’d found what he wanted, and was glad.
‘Have you been there all the time?’ he whispered.
She nodded.
‘Yes, of course-stupid of me-’
‘Not stupid,’ she said. ‘We aren’t used to this.’
‘Thank you for being there.’
So he knew, she thought. He might not remember exactly, but somewhere, deep inside, he’d sensed her in the night, holding on to him.
His lips moved, speaking her name silently, and he reached up to touch her face, trailing his fingertips gently down her cheek. He looked almost puzzled, as though trying to understand how this had come about. When his hand settled behind her head she hesitated only a moment before leaning slowly down. She could feel him trembling and knew that he must be able to sense the same in her. This wasn’t wise but it was inevitable. She couldn’t sleep beside him all night and remain cool.
She moved slightly so that his free hand could drift naturally across her breast, and braced herself for the sweet sensation.
There was a knock at the door.
Then Liza’s voice called, ‘Can I come in?’
Matteo closed his eyes and a shudder went through him. Holly took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm.
‘Yes,’ she called brightly. ‘You can come in.’
Instinctively she tried to draw away from him, thinking only of calming the tingling in her body. But he held her, murmuring, ‘Remember what we said? Neutered cats.’
She could have screamed at the intrusion of the homely into what promised to be magic. But he was right. So she let him draw her down so that her head fell on his shoulder, and draped an arm around his neck, just managing to settle before the door opened and Liza came in.
She beamed at what she saw, then went back outside and returned pushing a light trolley.
‘I brought your coffee,’ she said.
Somehow they managed to say the right words, pulling themselves up in bed, smiling and acting as though nothing could give them greater pleasure. Which, in one sense, was true, Holly thought. This was all for Liza. Remember that.
But it was hard to stick to her resolutions when she was trembling with sweet urgency as never before. Whatever Matteo had promised about keeping his distance, in another moment he would have cast virtue and honour to the winds, and made love to her with her full consent.
She took her consolation in the knowledge that the vital moment was a success. Liza’s world seemed to have tilted in the way she needed, which meant that the arrangement was working.
And there was always tonight, she thought, feeling happiness creep through her. She tried to communicate that thought to Matteo, but he seemed anxious to get back to his own room, almost unable to meet her eyes.
That night his clerk called to say that the judge was working very late. By the time he arrived home she was asleep.
Two days later Galina returned to her own home. She never spoke of the dangerous subject again, but she smiled at Holly in a way that conveyed her meaning unmistakably.
Matteo travelled everywhere with a police escort, leaving early in the morning and arriving home late. Then he would spend his time with Liza, leaving little time for Holly.
Gradually she realised that her first suspicion was correct. He was avoiding her. Now he slept in his own room, with an alarm set for the early hours so that he could join her then, slipping in on the far side and staying there. Clearly the danger that had almost engulfed them once was not to be allowed to happen again.
In her odd moments alone, Holly watched the news compulsively. One evening there was a brief snippet about Fortese. She’d seen his face before, but only in newspapers that she had hastily put aside to keep them from Liza. Now she had the chance to consider him properly.
He might be a villain but he didn’t have the face of a thug. His features were narrow, gentlemanly, and all the more chilling for that. Eyes like ice, the smile of a dead man. He had committed several murders and always escaped by bribing or frightening witnesses or the judge.
But in Matteo he had met his match. On Matteo’s orders the witnesses received double the usual protection and, although clearly scared, they had given their damn-ing testimony.
Matteo could be neither bribed nor bullied. He had imposed a sentence of thirty years. Fortese had listened, motionless, to the sentence. Then, at the very last moment, he had spoken.
‘No prison can hold me,’ he said. ‘I shall find you and kill you.’
Commotion. The police pounced and hustled him out. Judge Fallucci showed no expression as he collected his things and departed.
Watching it now, Holly felt a chill of fear consume her. Matteo could take as many precautions as he liked. Fortese would win. That was the message.
That night she undressed thoughtfully, switched out the light and sat up in bed, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring into the distance.
On the other side of the door she could hear Matteo moving around. She listened, tense, wondering if he would come in, but, as she had expected, he made no move towards her. After a while the light under the door went out.
She waited, coming to a decision. It took all her courage, but she wouldn’t turn back now. She didn’t know how much time there might be left.
At the door she raised her hand to knock, then lowered it. He was her husband, and she was blowed if she was going to knock. She tried the door and, to her relief, it was not locked.
Like so many other things about him, the room surprised her. It was small, almost monastic. In the corner was a narrow bed, on which he sat, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped, his forehead drooped wearily against them.
He was too lost in his own thoughts to hear her enter, and didn’t know she was there until she dropped down on her knees beside him.
‘I’m sorry if I disturbed you,’ he said.
‘Why, because you’re afraid you might have to talk to me?’ she asked, looking up seriously into his face.
‘No, I just…’ but he gave up at once, confronted by the truth in her eyes.
‘I needed to talk to you tonight,’ she said. ‘There was a programme going back over your history with Fortese-’
‘Did Liza-?’
‘No, she knows nothing except that you’re unusually busy just now, but she doesn’t know why. We talk all the time, except when the physiotherapist comes to work with her leg, or a teacher comes to give her a lesson.
‘When I can be alone I read the papers or watch the news, and there are so many things I want to ask you, but you hide away.’
&
nbsp; ‘There’s nothing for you to worry about.’
‘Don’t patronise me, Matteo,’ she said, suddenly angry. ‘I’m not a fool. I know exactly what there is to worry about. Every day I listen for you to come home, knowing that one day you may not come. I tell myself that if it was bad news someone would telephone first, and if there’s no phone call then you’re on your way. I try so hard to believe that.
‘When you enter the house I want to run and see you, to touch you and make sure that you’re real, but I keep back and let Liza have you to herself. I have to be content with staying in the shadows, but I thought we’d have more than that. The first night-’
‘The first night I came close to breaking my solemn word to you-’
‘Be damned to your word!’ she said, so fiercely that he stared. ‘Stop being a lawyer all the time. All right, you promised to keep your distance but you didn’t swear an oath about it in court. That kind of foolish promise is made to be broken. What kind of man can keep such a promise with a woman he wants?’
‘Who says I want you?’ he demanded in a voice that was as brutal as he could make it. Much more of this and he would go mad.
But nothing worked with this woman. Instead of being dumbfounded she flung back, ‘You do!’ in a voice of pure rage. ‘You tell me every moment, and you tell me most when you’re trying hardest not to. You want me as much as I want you, so for pity’s sake give up the pretence.’
She was still kneeling beside him, her face upturned, the moonlight shadowing the hollows of her breast. Moisture gleamed on his forehead as he seized her shoulders in cruel fingers.
‘Will you stop this?’ he demanded. ‘I’m trying to act like a man of honour.’
‘Then be damned to your honour too. Forget it. If Fortese shoots you down, shall I engrave that on your tomb? Here lies a man of honour. He kept his word to the end, but he left his wife alone and desolate, with an empty heart.’
She drew a deep breath and took a calculated risk. ‘Unless, of course, honour is just another word for fear.’
‘Are you mad?’ he flashed at her. ‘Of course it’s fear. How can I not be afraid? Yes, I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time, and that first night I nearly took you. But I’m glad I didn’t because where can it end? We’ve grown closer than we meant to, you know that. But who am I to dare to get close to a woman? To dare to l-’
