by Sara Wood
He crooked up an eyebrow. ‘Hmm. Haven’t tried a field yet.’
Despite herself, she giggled. ‘Doesn’t the grass in front of the summer house count?’
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘Must be a field.’
‘Without cows and cow pats.’
‘Tonight, then.’
She smiled and began to think of the things she could do with a blade of grass.
Three weeks later they were enjoying a post-theatre party in Stanford House. It followed a successful session where Vido’s talent and sensitivity had turned another bickering clutch of directors with clashing egos into a dynamic and enthusiastic team.
There had been an almost family atmosphere when the directors and Vido’s staff had all met up at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre for a production of The Taming of the Shrew. And the performances were so funny that their helpless laughter had created an even firmer bond between them all.
In the dark of the theatre, Anna had held Vido’s hand and, between laughing, had felt incredibly happy for him that his business was such a great success.
And now she was really wavering about Vido’s character. Watching him chatting to the eager directors, who had become willing recruits to his fan club, she had begun to seriously doubt that he could ever have acted without honour. Perhaps the school gossips had been wrong. Her grandfather too.
Except…she couldn’t believe he’d been interested in her as a person, not when she’d been so ugly.
‘Verdict?’ murmured Camilla, curving an arm around Anna’s waist and nodding at the animated Vido.
‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly.
‘For a sensible, feet-on-the-ground person, you’re incredibly dense,’ Camilla said with a sigh and drifted off to answer an insistent telephone in the study, the long skirt of her elegant gown trailing behind her.
Anna hitched up the skirt of her own rose-coloured dress and moved closer to Vido. She pretended to sort out the buffet but in reality she was listening to his conversation—just because she loved to hear his voice. There’s lovesick for you! she told herself wryly. And felt a tingle of joy when he detached himself from the group and came over to her.
‘Not tired with all this standing?’ he asked, his eyes solemn.
A little surprised, she laughed. ‘I’m not an invalid, Vido.’
‘No,’ he said quickly, lowering his gaze. ‘Of course not—’
‘Vido!’ They looked up, alerted by Camilla’s expression.
‘Trouble?’ Vido asked.
‘I’ll say. Just had a call from Barncoat’s,’ she said. ‘You’re not going to like this. Their shares are in free fall and they want you, pronto, Superman.’
Vido muttered a curse under his breath. ‘I was looking forward to a break. Can’t Batman go?’
‘Washing his Batmobile.’
‘OK. Come and help me pack, Anna,’ he said with resignation.
Her face fell. ‘Pack? Are they some distance away, then?’
‘New York,’ he threw back at her as they headed into the house.
Dismay brought her to a halt. New York! He’d be gone for ages. As she bunched up her silk skirts and ran to catch him up, she tried to stifle the urge to cry. That was silly. He’d be back.
Gloomily she trudged into his suite of rooms, only to be caught and lifted into the air. ‘What—?’
‘I need you,’ he muttered. ‘I’m going to miss you more than I can say.’
He was already sliding his hand up to her thigh and she was groaning, every fibre trembling as his skilled fingers aroused her.
And afterwards, when he’d thrown things into his case and rushed out with a curtly uttered ‘bye’, she lay on the bed and stared blankly at the Tudor carvings that decorated the sturdy posts.
Was it enough for her to be this sexy, ever-available woman?
She groaned. If she knew that he really was innocent, and as honest as the day was long, then she might see a future for them. They were great together, in every way, not only in bed.
The deep lines on her forehead cleared. She would go and talk to her grandfather. Get the exact story. Then she might be able to judge for herself.
Thoughtfully she rose and went to the window for some air. Below in the garden she saw Camilla and Joe, wrapped blissfully in a tender embrace, just staring into one another’s eyes.
She winced to see such love. And felt a deep spasm of bitter envy.
CHAPTER TEN
‘HURRY!’ Vido snapped, wishing he’d taken the wheel.
‘No point in taking risks. If we have an accident,’ Camilla said soberly, ‘you’ll be no use to Anna.’
He fumed. Wanted to rant and rave. But knew she was right. ‘She’s still upset, you say.’
‘I’ve told you everything on the phone, Vido.’
His chest was tight and hurting. Anxiety levels right up with the clouds. ‘Tell me again.’
She humoured him—and told him something new. ‘Shortly after you left she went to see her grandfather. When she came back she was crying because he’d become agitated and very upset when she’d questioned him about something important to her. He’d mumbled something she didn’t understand and patted her hand but she couldn’t make any sense of what he’d said.’
Vido’s hopes lifted a little. If Anna had tried to get her grandfather to explain what had happened, then she was beginning to question the facts at last.
‘And then.’
‘The next day, before she could visit the home, the hospital called to say he’d been taken there with a second stroke. When Anna arrived, he managed to smile at her as though his mind was at peace. Then he went to sleep, holding her hand. And passed away without waking up. The doctors said it was inevitable and a merciful release. He was a very sick man.’
Poor Anna. Compassion wrenched at him. ‘And…’ He checked his watch, fretting. ‘The funeral’s started!’
‘Yes.’ She was concentrating hard on the road. ‘Vido, haven’t you spoken to Anna at all?’
‘Every time I called, she burst into tears. Step on it. I want to be there with her.’
‘Alive,’ Camilla muttered grimly.
Vido barely heard. He was thinking of Anna, forlorn and miserable, devastated by her grandfather’s death. He wanted to make everything all right for her. To take away the hurt and unhappiness. The fact that he couldn’t achieve any of that was doubly painful for him.
His dark eyes stared sightlessly at the passing countryside. Never in his life had he felt so helpless, so torn by his own futile impotence at making the world a happier place for someone he loved. Not since his mother’s breakdown. And this equalled that. He lowered his head and covered his face with his hands as the truth hammered into his pounding skull.
He loved Anna.
‘We’re here.’
Dazed and bemused, he was out of the car before it came to a stop, half falling, stumbling, frantically regaining his balance and looking around for Anna. At the far end of the small churchyard he saw a small group of people and he ran towards them, only slowing out of respect when he came near.
His hand stole into Anna’s. She looked up at him, her face ashen, her eyes filled with tears. And she squeezed his hand so hard that it hurt. But his heart hurt more.
Slender and achingly beautiful in a dark suit, she bent to throw a handful of earth on the coffin. Her head bent in silent prayer and he stayed still and sombre beside her, emotions tearing at him. She seemed so frail. Her lower lip trembled and he had to stop himself from picking her up and whisking her away so that he could hold her and comfort her with the protection of his enclosing arms.
He remembered his own grief for his mother, the sense of anger that she’d died and his own raging frustration that she hadn’t lived to see his name cleared.
Anna must be going through some of those helpless feelings, wishing that she’d been able to discuss the past with her grandfather.
And now the old man was dead, she’d never know for sure.
Whatever happened between them in the future, she’d always have doubts about him. Dio. She might even leave at the end of the six months.
He put his arm around her drooping shoulders, overcome by the emotion that rose to suffocate him. All his instincts were clamouring at him to tell her that he loved her, and always had. But he took one look at her wan, distraught face and huge, dark-circled eyes and knew he couldn’t do that now.
It wasn’t the right time. He wanted her to believe in him and to accept his love—but she was too bruised and fragile at the moment for rational thought. Later, he promised himself. And felt a little better.
Somehow she kept herself together during the gathering in Stanford House afterwards. As cold and as distant as a zombie, she busied herself handing round snacks and numbly accepted the quiet sympathies of her family, friends and colleagues. At last everyone had gone—except Vido.
‘Thank you for coming back,’ she said in a small, defeated voice.
He cleared his throat. ‘I couldn’t stay over there, knowing what you were going through.’
She leant against the wall, utterly weary, emotionally drained. ‘What about the job in New York?’
‘Unimportant, compared to your needs. I’d done enough research to see what was wrong. I hurled a string of curt and telling directives at them and dumped my report on the chairman’s desk. Anna.’ His hand touched her shoulder in a gesture of gentle concern. ‘You look all in.’
‘I’ve got a terrible headache,’ she confessed.
‘Go to bed and I’ll bring up some hot milk.’
The tenderness in his voice almost made her lose control. Slowly she hauled herself up the stairs, to be overtaken halfway by Vido, who muttered something under his breath, then put down the glass of milk on one of the steps before carrying her to his bed.
Where she lay fully dressed, incapable of doing anything. Gently he removed her clothes from her limp body and sternly ordered her to drink the milk he’d retrieved.
Then he pulled back the sheets and tucked her in. ‘Sleep. I’ll stay here with you,’ he said softly.
Stroking her forehead, he watched her for a long time as she stared blankly into space. His heart ached for her. She’d taken this badly. It amazed him that she’d felt so deeply about her grandfather, who’d never shown her any love. Yet she was loyal, and he had been her only living relative.
At last she slept. Slipping away, he showered and hastily towelled himself dry before crawling back into bed with her. She stirred in her sleep and murmured his name.
‘It’s all right. I’m here,’ he murmured lovingly and took her in his arms.
‘Vido!’
Still in the haze of sleep, she reached out for his face and brought her lips to his. There was a desperation in her kiss that touched him profoundly.
‘Sweetheart.’ And in the anonymity of the night, while she was too drowsy to know what he was saying, he let the words of love rush out softly and fervently. ‘Mia cara. Amore mio, mi alma, mi vida, amanda mia…’
His voice broke. He touched her stomach, wondering if their child had begun to take form there. With all his heart he hoped it had. Silently he vowed that he would care for Anna and cherish her and do everything in his power to clear up the doubts that lay like dark pits between them.
‘Please.’ A pitiful, miserable mumble.
In the darkness, his control cracking, he put his hand to her face and felt the tears washing down in torrents even though he could tell she was still not fully awake.
‘Anna, Anna!’
Fiercely she kissed him, her hands clawing at his arms in a desperate frenzy.
‘Make love to me!’ she slurred piteously.
‘Gently,’ he said, his throat thick with emotion.
‘No!’ She seemed to wake. He could see the whites of her eyes as she gripped him with all her strength. ‘Please!’
He held her. Whispered soothingly in her ear. And as he did, he thought of the day when he’d plotted vengeance against her, when he’d felt such scouring lust that he’d wanted her to beg for him. But those feelings had gone. It was breaking his heart to see her so distressed.
‘Hush. Sleep,’ he breathed, lightly kissing her forehead.
And slowly she subsided. Her sobs that had brought tears to his own eyes grew less frequent and her muscles relaxed. Once or twice she gave a painful, juddering intake of breath, but otherwise she lay quietly in his arms and eventually fell asleep again.
She woke late in the morning. Vido lay beside her, his hair sticking up at odd angles as if he’d had a disturbed night. Careful not to wake him, she wriggled from his embrace and showered away the ravages of her tears from her face.
Darling Vido. He’d flown back from America to be with her. He must be shattered. Musing on his tenderness towards her, she dressed and padded down the stairs to prepare breakfast for him, collecting the post on the way.
While the coffee machine hissed away, she sifted through the mail, putting aside the letters for Vido. Only one was for her and when she saw the writing she froze.
‘Grandpa!’
She clutched at the table as the room whirled around. After a moment she felt able to focus again. She checked the envelope. It had been posted—presumably by a nurse—on the day she’d begged her grandfather to tell her just what had happened between him and Vido.
Hastily sitting down, she tore at the flap with shaking fingers, her hand going to her mouth in horror as she read the spidery, almost illegible writing.
It was a confession. He was begging her forgiveness. Saying that he knew he was dying and had to get this off his chest.
She reread the first few sentences, barely able to comprehend what her grandfather was saying. Gradually it became all too clear. The letter fell from her lifeless fingers, unheeded, to the floor.
Her grandfather had lied to her. Far from seeing her as a meal ticket and taking her grandfather’s bribe, it seemed that Vido had really cared for her. Only when her grandfather had claimed that she—she!—had planted the money in his locker as an act of pure spite, had Vido exploded and wished that she and her grandfather might rot in hell. But her grandfather admitted that it had been he who’d put the money in Vido’s locker to blacken him in her eyes.
‘Oh, Vido!’ she whispered, appalled.
She could almost see them together; her cold-eyed grandfather, the proud Vido reeling from the shock of her supposed treachery.
Typically, she thought, with a little wrench of her heart, he had rejected the bribe. But now she knew why he had eventually taken it. For his mother’s sake he had swallowed that great pride of his so that the ailing Sophia could go to Italy to be with her family. Presumably, Anna mused painfully, there had been nothing to keep him in England any longer.
‘How could you?’ she thought fiercely, aghast at what her grandfather had done. It was worse than she could ever have imagined.
Vido had believed that she was spiteful enough to have deliberately implicated him in the theft.
Suddenly she sat bolt upright, waves of horror crashing through her. No wonder he’d been so hostile when they’d met! He’d behaved as if he had some rather nasty plans for her. Plans…
She swallowed. Had he wanted revenge? Was that why he’d taken her on as his chef? Why he’d seduced her?
She wrestled with this, conceding that he’d been tender and loving, too. There was also the inescapable fact that she loved him. Could she really feel so strongly about a man who was hell bent on deliberately hurting her? Possibly. Her instincts had been wrong about Peter, after all.
Her head ached. She needed to think without interruptions. To be alone for a little while so she could make sense of all this.
Leaving the breakfast half-made, she hurried to her flat and threw a few essential items into a small case. Picking up her handbag, she scrawled a quick note saying that she hoped Vido would understand that she wanted time to herself.
‘Please leave me alone,’ she wrote. ‘I have th
ings to think through. Respect my need.’
Trembling, she placed the note on the kitchen table. Then she hurried out.
Tears blinded her eyes. He’d thought she’d been a bitch. That she’d deliberately shamed him and ruined his name—and his honour that was so precious to him. She didn’t know what to think.
Only that she loved him and that he had been very loving towards her. It couldn’t be an act—or could it? The questions nagged at her, making her head spin.
Arriving at the cottage, she opened the door and thrust her case into the hall then turned around and began to walk.
She trudged for hours along the narrow lanes, stumbling along, desperately ashamed of what her grandfather had done, weeping for all those angry years when she’d believed that Vido had been brutal and callous.
Her eyes had been opened these past few weeks. He cared about people. She was sure he cared about her, too.
One thing she’d learnt from watching Vido at work. You could never run away from your problems. They stayed with you. Never left your head. You had to tackle them head-on and find a way to solve them.
That was it. A burden seemed to lift from her shoulders. She’d go back to her cottage and ask him to come and talk to her. They wouldn’t hold anything back; the resentments, the anger…and whatever feelings they had now. She would tell him how much she loved him and take the risk that he’d laugh in her face.
He might confess that he had wanted vengeance, and that making her fall in love with him was what he’d wanted, so that she’d be hurt when he dumped her. She squared her shoulders. If so, at least she’d know where she stood—
It was then that her thoughts were abruptly cut off when something hit her with an almighty force, spinning her round and dragging her, screaming, along the ground. Dazed and confused, blinded by smoke and choking on acrid fumes, she felt a searing pain leap across her face.
And then everything began to blur till it felt as if she were swimming weightlessly into the depths of a dark blackness as hot as hell.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SOMEONE was talking. It was a soft Irish voice. A woman. In a fog, Anna listened, her eyelids too heavy to lift.
