Her Last Night of Innocence

by India Grey

  His lips curved into a sudden self-mocking smile as he realised he wasn’t actually thinking of the landscape at all.

  Alexander stopped suddenly, tugging on Cristiano’s arm as he bent to pick something up from the sand. It was a flat piece of grey rock, sharp and jagged, like slate.

  ‘Maybe a fossil?’ Alexander asked hopefully.

  Cristiano turned it over in his hands, pretending to consider the possibility. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘I take it to Mummy, just in case,’ Alexander said firmly, letting go of his hand and running forward.

  ‘Mummy! Quick, Mummy—look at this!’ he shouted as he got closer.

  Kate raised her head quickly, an expression of alarm on her face as she stumbled to her feet. Too late Cristiano realised that she’d been asleep. There was a red mark on her cheek where it had been resting on her knees.

  ‘What?’

  The anxiety was there again, sharpening her tone. Cristiano stepped forward, taking hold of her shoulders as she swayed slightly, holding her steady. ‘It’s fine. Just a stone, that’s all’.

  He felt her relax then, becoming pliant beneath his hands. The concern that he was increasingly feeling for her instantly flared into something far less noble.

  ‘Maybe a fossil, Mummy,’ Alexander repeated importantly. Oblivious to the sudden crackle of tension in the air, he held it out to her, his expression grave. ‘You check.’

  Twisting from Cristiano’s grip, Kate took the stone, stumbling away from him to the rocks beneath the cliffs. Her heart was pounding, partly from the momentary panic she’d felt when she’d woken up and heard Alexander calling her like that, but mostly from Cristiano’s touch. She could just about cope with it when she was prepared, when the barriers were in place, but he’d caught her off guard just then, hazy with sleep, her head still filled with the images of him playing on the sand with Alexander.

  She’d watched them for a long time before she’d closed her eyes, her heart aching as she’d seen the joy on her son’s face at having someone to play with him—really play, with the kind of carefree wholeheartedness that it seemed she was always too preoccupied to properly achieve. And seeing Cristiano—as beautiful as a sun-kissed god who had fallen to earth in the wrong place—standing with Alexander at the edge of the sea, the two of them outlined against the vastness of the ocean, had taken her breath away.

  Gathering herself, she tapped the stone sharply against a rock until she felt it give a little, and then peeled it apart.

  ‘You’re right—look, there it is.’

  She held it out. There on the dull grey surface was the faint but unmistakable outline of a leaf.

  ‘Yes!’ Alexander cried in triumph, running off again. ‘Now I find another one!’

  Left alone, Cristiano came towards her, shaking his head ruefully. He was different here, she thought with a tug of wistful longing. The diamond-hard, competitive edge that defined and drove him had softened. The icy reserve he used to keep people at a distance had melted.

  ‘I admire him for not saying I told you so. I thought there was no way he could be right. It just looked like a lump of stone to me.’

  Kate dropped her gaze. ‘Different’ also meant harder to resist.

  She had been so determined to resist him, because she’d thought she was doing the best thing for Alexander. During those interminable hours when she had sat beside him in the hospital she had promised that she would never put herself, her own interests, first again.

  But suddenly everything looked very different. Suddenly it felt as if this was the best thing for Alexander. The three of them—together.

  ‘There are lots of fossils down here.’ Her voice was slightly breathless, as if she’d spent the afternoon running on the beach too. ‘We find them every time we come.’

  ‘Really?’

  She nodded, pulling his coat around her. ‘I bet you could find one within reach of where you’re standing.’

  ‘I never turn down a challenge.’

  He bent and picked up a piece of jagged slate that was sticking up through the sand. ‘OK—let’s see if you’re right.’

  He brought it over to her. Their fingers brushed as she took it from him, and Cristiano felt the tremor that ran through her body. It shook him like an earthquake. Quickly she hit the slate on the rock, and he watched her long, clever fingers work into the seams, opening it up like a book.

  ‘There—look.’ She held it out to him, her voice a low murmur. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘Is there one?’ he said hoarsely. ‘I don’t see it.’

  ‘That’s because you’re not looking.’

  Fixed on his, her eyes gleamed. There was a note of laughter in her voice that he hadn’t heard for a long time. It sounded good. It made him feel good to know that he had put it there, for a moment chasing away the shadows and the sharpness and the fear. A slow smile spread across his face.

  ‘I’m looking at something far more beautiful.’

  They were standing in a hollow in the cliff face, sheltered from the wind and from the rest of the wide, empty beach. Impulsively, putting his hands flat against the rockface behind her, he made a prisoner of her, lowering his mouth to the angle of her jaw, sighing against the warmth of her skin.

  ‘Cristiano, we can’t…’

  ‘Can’t what?’ He spoke against her neck. ‘If you mean I can’t strip off those incredibly sexy jeans and make love to you right here on the sand, then I’d have to agree. We are, after all, parents, and although I’m pretty new at that I have an idea that would be pushing it too far. However, if you’re saying I can’t do this…’

  He moved his lips along to her earlobe, biting it gently, breathing out a gentle sigh that made her gasp and giggle.

  ‘Stop. What about Alexander…?’

  ‘It will do him the greatest good to see his mother happy for a change. Almost as much good as it’ll do me to make you happy.’ He pressed a line of kisses along her jaw. ‘Dio, Kate, I want you. I spent every minute, every mile of that drive from Courchevel to Yorkshire wanting you. It’s all I could think of.’

  Kate felt her resistance crumble, eroded away like the cliffs against her back by a force that was simply too great to withstand. With a whimpering sigh she let her head fall back, opening her mouth to him and bringing her hands up to grasp the collar of his shirt, her fists closing around it, twisting the fabric, pulling him closer as his lips worked their magic. His hands were cupping her face now, infinitely tender, warming her skin just as the strength of her longing was warming her from the inside. The noise of the wind was drowned out by the roaring of the blood in her ears, the pounding waves lost beneath the crashing of her heart as a tide of hot, slick desire swept through her.

  ‘Mummy, I got one!’

  Alexander’s shout was like a bucket of cold water. Gasping, Kate pulled away just as Alexander came running around the jut of rock that had hidden them.

  ‘I got one—look!’

  Cristiano regained his composure instantly, stepping forward to take the piece of stone from him, shielding Kate with his body long enough for her to gather herself.

  ‘Fantastico,’ he said gravely, looking down at the small fragment of slate and tracing his fingertip over the delicate spiral imprint on its surface in a way that almost made Kate envy the long-extinct creature whose outline it was. He held it out to Alexander again. ‘Well done, fossil hunter. That’s the best one yet.’

  ‘It’s for you,’ Alexander said easily, stretching his arms out as he attempted to balance on one leg. ‘If you keep it in your pocket it will bring you good luck.’

  ‘Grazie.’

  Alexander toppled over, landing with a bump in the soft sand. ‘What does gratsy mean?’

  Cristiano went to sit beside him. His bare feet looked very tanned against the pale sand, but Kate noticed that they were just a couple of shades darker than Alexander’s. ‘It’s Italian for thank you.’

  Alexander looked up at him, his brown eye
s filled with curiosity. ‘Are you ’Talian?’

  Cristiano met his gaze unflinchingly. ‘Yes.’

  Oh, God. Kate felt as if invisible hands were closing around her throat as she looked on, knowing that the moment she had thought about, dreamed of, wished for and dreaded for four long years was bearing down on her like a giant tidal wave. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing as Alexander turned to her.

  ‘Mummy, am I ’Talian?’

  She met his artless chocolate-brown gaze directly. ‘You’re half-Italian,’ she said evenly, ‘and half British. Because I am British and—’

  But Alexander had stopped listening. ‘Yippee—I’m same as you!’ he yelled, getting up in a shower of sand and throwing his arms around Cristiano’s neck. ‘Is it teatime soon? I’m hungry.’

  Cristiano stood up in one effortless movement, Alexander clinging to him like a little monkey. Over his shoulder, Cristiano’s eyes met Kate’s.

  ‘So am I,’ he said softly. ‘Absolutely starving.’

  They stopped at a little pub on the coast road, overlooking the stretch of grey sea to Whitby Abbey in the distance. It was too early for the main crowd of evening drinkers, but the flagstoned bar was already filling up with walkers and tourists who had read about the pub’s reputation for excellent food in one of the many restaurant guides. Even so, the landlord—who had seen the Campano turning into the car park and was a huge motor racing fan—showed Cristiano and Kate to the best table in the bay window, near to a glowing log fire. Alexander sat between them, his sandy legs swinging as he held a huge glass of Coca Cola in both hands.

  ‘He’ll still be bouncing off the walls at midnight if he drinks all that,’ Kate said with wry softness over his head.

  ‘Dio, really?’ Cristiano held her gaze for a long moment, the expression on his face changing from one of amused horror to something altogether more serious and intense. Then he bent his head to Alexander’s and whispered, ‘Your drink looks much nicer than mine. Could I share some?’

  They ordered plates of fresh lobster and a bowl of thick golden chips, taking it in turns to pass bits of succulent pink meat to Alexander. Sipping ice-cold white wine in the warmth of the fire, Kate was aware that her cheeks were flushed and glowing.

  But it was nothing compared to the way she felt inside, she acknowledged with a thud of helpless desire.

  With Alexander between them, she and Cristiano didn’t touch at all, but she was painfully aware of his presence—the long fingers tearing into the pink flesh of the lobster, the length of his thigh on the velvet seat next to Alexander’s. Every now and then their eyes met over the top of their son’s head, and Kate was impaled with a longing so sharp she had to bite her lip to stop herself gasping out loud. Her mind raced ahead, counting the minutes until they could be alone.

  Eventually, as Alexander was scraping the very last traces of chocolate ice-cream from his bowl, Cristiano got up to pay. Hazy with wine and warmth and need, Kate watched him walk across to the bar, ducking his head to avoid the beams, her mouth going dry as she watched him pull his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.

  ‘I like Cristiano,’ said Alexander wistfully beside her.

  ‘So do I,’ Kate said softly, gathering him up into her arms and holding him very tightly. ‘So do I.’

  None of them spoke on the way home. The magic of the day hung like a fragile spell over them all.

  Sitting beside Cristiano in the passenger seat, Kate felt her whole body screaming out for his touch. Unconsciously she seemed to gravitate towards him, so that as he changed gear his hand brushed her knee, making lust explode inside her like a meteor shower bright enough to light up the black moors spread out all around them. She didn’t dare glance across at his perfect profile, outlined by the lights of passing cars. Already she was hanging onto control by a thread.

  Alexander’s head was drooping with tiredness, but he snapped back into full consciousness as Cristiano pulled up outside the house. Blinking, he looked around him.

  ‘Home?’

  ‘Yes, home,’ Kate said, undoing her seatbelt and trying desperately to sound normal. ‘And it’s bedtime for you. Come on, let’s get you inside and brush your teeth.’

  As she leaned awkwardly into the back of the car to undo the straps on his car seat her fingers tangled with Cristiano’s, leaning in from the other side to scoop him up and carry him inside. Electricity crackled between them.

  Cristiano gathered his son’s small body into his arms, silently praying for the ache of his arousal to subside. Dio, he had never wanted a woman so much, for so long.

  He’d known immediately that having a child would affect his life profoundly, in lots if different ways, but the impact on his libido wasn’t something he’d anticipated, he thought with rueful amusement as he carried his small son into the house. He’d been used to having sex pretty much whenever his appetite demanded. This protracted craving was new to him, and it was as exquisite as it was excruciating.

  Being near to Kate and not being able to touch her had driven him nearly to distraction. The most ordinary things seemed to take on extraordinary sensual significance—the way she’d smoothed her hair behind her ear when she was bending over to feed Alexander a morsel of lobster at dinner, the glimpse of a pale pink bra-strap against her creamy skin as she’d sat back, sipping wine, with the glow of the fire reflected in her eyes.

  He wanted to peel off her clothes and examine the body that had carried his child. He wanted to cup her breasts that had fed his son in his hands and stroke them. He wanted to make her his again.

  He reached the top of the stairs, ducking his head to avoid knocking himself out. Three doors opened off the landing, but Cristiano could tell which one was Alexander’s room because it had a wooden plaque in the shape of a car with a letter A on it. The house was so small that he’d have to make love to Kate very, very quietly later on…

  ‘Not tired,’ said Alexander firmly as Cristiano pushed open the bedroom door with his shoulder. ‘Want a story. Want Cristiano to read me a story.’

  Maledizione o ostia.

  He hadn’t even seen it coming. Carefully keeping his expression blank, he put his son down on the bed and switched on the lamp. Soft light illuminated a small room in which everything from the bedlinen to the frieze painted around the top of the walls was a homage to cars.

  Kate appeared in the doorway behind him. Her voice was hushed and soothing.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart. Pyjamas, then teeth.’

  Diving under the pillow, Alexander pulled out a pair of soft blue pyjamas, unsurprisingly featuring a picture of a racing car on the front. Tucking them under his arm, he raced out of the room.

  Left alone, Cristiano stood in the centre of the room. His heart was thudding and the palms of his hands were suddenly slick with sweat. A tall bookcase stood behind the door, crammed full with books—serious-looking ones, with gold-embossed spines, mixed in with millions of slim, brightly coloured ones.

  He should have anticipated this. How could he have been so stupid?

  That was easy, he thought with an inward laugh of bitter despair. Hadn’t he always been stupid? For the last twenty years he’d put everything he had into running away, trying desperately to prove that he was something other than the worthless failure he had been labelled by the teachers at school and by his disappointed mother. But this tiny room, with the frayed carpet and the line of toy cars on the windowsill, was where his demons had caught up with him at last. Where he finally had to admit that there was nowhere left to run.

  Alexander came in again. He was wearing his pyjamas and his face was scrubbed clean of chocolate ice cream. As he climbed into bed he looked unbearably small and sweet. Looking down, Cristiano could see the hollow at the nape of his fragile neck, the bumps of his spine. His heart felt as if it was splitting open.

  His child.

  His son.

  Alexander looked up at him with liquid brown eyes that were full of trust. ‘Please can you re
ad me a story?’

  ‘I—’

  The words dried up in his mouth. Cristiano thrust his hand through his hair. He felt slightly faint.

  ‘No story tonight.’ Kate’s voice was firm as she crossed the room, bending swiftly to turn out the light and give Alexander a kiss. ‘It’s late, and you’re tired, but if you lie down I’m sure Cristiano will talk to you for a little while about the racing cars he drives.’

  ‘Si. Of course.’

  As Kate walked past him to leave the room she glanced up at him. In the half-light from the landing his face bore an expression that was somewhere between relief and despair.

  ‘I love you, Cristiano.’

  ‘I love you too. Ti amo, piccolino.’

  Pulling the door shut gently behind him, Cristiano stood out on the landing. Leaning against the wall, he exhaled heavily, despair weighing on him like a curse.

  I love you.

  He had never said those words before. He wasn’t even sure that he had felt them before—not in the fierce, primitive way he had felt them just now, when he had bent to kiss his son’s cheek. The impact of what it meant to be a father had hit him with the force of an avalanche, and he knew that he would do anything—anything—for his child.

  If he could.

  But what about the things he couldn’t do? What about those? Could he really be a good father? Or was it just another thing that he was destined to fail at? Was he going to let his son down in the same way as his mother?

  He had got away with it tonight, thanks to Kate’s lucky intervention. But how long could he hide it? How long could he go on fooling her that he was something he wasn’t?

  A shaft of light fell across the dark landing, and suddenly a shadow moved across it. He watched her move, watched the outline of her body perform its silent shadow-dance across the floor, and his spiralling thoughts stilled.

  Arousal hardened him, temporarily blotting out the bitterness and the doubts.

  A floorboard creaked as he moved across the floor, and the shadow twisted and undulated as she came to the door. And then he forgot about the flat monochrome outline of her because she was there in front of him, the lamplight turning her skin to warm honey and her hair to molten gold.