Читать книгу Swept Away! - Lucy Gordon, Daphne Clair - Страница 11

A SOUND from inside the house made them look up quickly, but it was only Primo, come to say goodnight before taking Olympia back to their apartment. Ferne took the chance to slip away among the trees. She needed to calm her thoughts and, more than that, calm her emotions.

For now there was a howling wilderness inside her, and she wanted to scream up to the heavens that it couldn’t be true. It mustn’t be true, for if it was true she couldn’t bear it.

She’d wanted to know Dante’s secret, and here it was. He was probably dying, and he knew it. At any moment of the day or night he could collapse without warning. That was the fact he lived with, refused to duck from, even laughed at. That was the quick-step he was dancing with fate.

Now she understood why he’d gone back into the burning house when anyone wiser would have stayed away. Inwardly he’d been yelling, ‘Go on, then, do your worst!’ to the gremlins who haunted him, trying to scare him, not succeeding.

If he’d died that day, he’d have called it a blessing compared with the fate he dreaded: permanent disability, being as dependent as a child, pity. To avoid that he would do anything, even walk into the fire.

This was why he chose light relationships. He couldn’t allow himself to fall in love, nor would he risk a woman falling in love with him. He was at ease with her because she fended him off with laughter and seemed in no danger of serious feelings, which was just what he liked; it was safer for them both.

But he’d miscalculated, she thought in anguish. The news of his being in danger had brought a rush of emotion to her heart. Deny it though she might, the misery of knowing that he might be brutally snatched from her at any moment was tearing her apart.

She should fly this place now, run from him while she might still have even a little control over her feelings. Instead she had agreed to stay in his company, to watch over him, vulnerable to his charm which seemed even more potent now that she understood the tragedy that lay behind it.

She would probably fall in love with him despite her determination not to. And how would she bear what might happen next?

Flee! said the voice in her mind. Forget what you’ve promised.

‘I can’t,’ she whispered, resting her head against a tree.

To go was to abandon him to whatever was waiting, leave him to face it alone. The fact that he’d chosen it that way would make it no less a betrayal.

‘No,’ she murmured. ‘No, no, no!’

Suddenly she knew she couldn’t keep her promise to Hope. She’d been mad to say yes, and there was still time to put it right. She would hurry back now…

‘There you are,’ came Dante’s voice. ‘Why are you hiding?’

She turned to see him walking towards her. He had the rumpled look of a man who’d recently been asleep.

‘I came out for some air,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely out here at night.’

‘It is beautiful, isn’t it?’

He didn’t put his arms about her, but leaned against the tree, regarding her quizzically.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, fine,’ she said hastily. ‘What about you? How’s your head?’

‘There’s nothing wrong with my head. Why do you ask?’

‘When you went to bed early, Hope thought—’

‘Hope’s a fusspot. My head is fine.’

Was his voice just a little bit too firm? She shouldn’t have raised the subject. It was a careless mistake, and she must be more careful.

‘You can’t blame her for fussing,’ she said lightly. ‘You of all men, going to bed early! What kind of earthquake produced that?’

‘I’m probably still suffering a touch of smoke inhalation. Even I’m not superman.’

‘Now, there’s an admission!’ she said in as close to a teasing voice as she could manage.

She longed to take his face between her hands, kiss him tenderly and beg him to look after himself. But anything like that was forbidden. If she stayed she would have to guard every word, watch and protect him in secret, always deceive him. The sooner she was out of here, the better.

‘Dante,’ she said helplessly. ‘There’s something I must—’

‘Oh yes, you were trying to tell me something this afternoon, weren’t you? And I never gave you the chance. Too full of myself as always. Tell me now.’

It would have to be faced soon, but before she could speak blessed rescue came in the form of a commotion. Ruggiero’s toddler son, Matti, came flying through the trees as fast as his short legs would carry him. From behind came Ruggiero’s voice, calling to him to come back, which he ignored.

‘I used to escape at bedtime just like that,’ Dante said, grinning. ‘Some rotten, spoilsport grown-up always grabbed me.’

He seized Matti and hoisted the toddler up in his arms, laughing into his face.

‘Gotcha! No, don’t kick me. I know how you feel, but it’s bedtime.’

‘It was bedtime hours ago,’ Ruggiero said breathlessly, reaching them. ‘Polly looked in on him and he made a run for it.’

‘Parents can be a pain in the neck,’ Dante confided to the tot. ‘But sometimes you have to humour them.’

Reluctantly Matti nodded. Dante grinned and handed the child to his father.

‘You really know how to talk to him,’ Ruggiero said. Then, fearing to be thought sentimental, he added, ‘I guess it’s because you’re just a great kid yourself, eh?’

‘Could be,’ Dante agreed.

Ferne, watching from the shadows, thought that there was more to it than a joke. Dante was part-child, part-clown, part-schemer, and part something else that she was just beginning to discover. Whatever it might turn out to be, he was a man who needed her protection. Somewhere in the last few moments the decision had been made.

‘Now we’re alone again,’ he said, ‘what were you going to say?’

Ferne took a deep breath and faced him with a smile.

‘Just that I really enjoyed working with you. When do we leave?’

Be careful what you say in jest: it may return to haunt you.

That thought pursued Ferne over the next few days.

She’d teased Dante about being a perfect gentleman at all times, and he’d responded with an encouraging dismay. But as time passed she began to realise that he’d taken her seriously and was being, as he’d promised, ‘just friendly’.

He bought a car, a solid, roomy vehicle designed for serious travel, and quite unlike the frivolous choice she might once have expected him to make. They headed south to Calabria, the rugged, mountainous territory at the toe of the Italian peninsular. One of Dante’s techniques was to seek out places that had been on the market for a long time and offer his services.

‘There are three villas there that my research tells me have been for sale too long,’ he said. ‘Let’s try our luck.’

Their luck was in. The owners were getting desperate and were eager for Dante to add their properties to his books. They spent several days working up a sales pitch for each house, complete with glorious pictures. At the end of it, Ferne was exhausted.

‘I seem to spend my life climbing stairs and walking mile-long corridors,’ she complained. ‘If I’d known it was going to be this tiring, I wouldn’t have come.’

Dante himself didn’t seem at all tired, and was clearly in such blazingly good health that she wondered if she was crazy to be watching out for him. He had a fund of funny stories which he directed at her over dinner, reducing her to tears of laughter, after which he would take her hand to lead her upstairs to their separate rooms, kiss her on the cheek and bid her goodnight.

No man could have behaved more perfectly. No man could have been more restrained and polite. No man could have been more infuriating.

For this she’d turned down the chance of a lifetime?

Mick Gregson hadn’t been pleased.

‘What were you thinking of?’ he’d bawled down the phone. ‘This man carries influence in film land. If he’d liked your work, you could have done anything you wanted.’

But I’m doing what I want, had been her silent thought.

‘Ferne, I can’t go on representing you if you’re going to act like this.’

‘That’s your decision, Mick, and of course I respect it.’

They had parted bad friends.

Now she was on the road with a man who’d promised ‘just friendly’, and who seemed infuriatingly determined to keep his word.

There was no justice.

But one thing had changed—now she understood the true reason for Dante’s restraint. He wouldn’t make advances to her because his personal code of honour forbade him to ask for love when he might die without warning.

Here was the explanation for the way he slipped quickly in and out of relationships, never getting too close to any woman. It was his way of being considerate.

And he was right, she assured herself. If she wanted more from him, that was her problem.

‘Where do we go next?’ she asked as they turned north again, leaving Calabria behind.

‘A place near Rome that I’ve promised to take a look at. There are some two-thousand-year-old ruins, plus a huge villa that the owner insists on calling a palazzo, that’s “only” six centuries old. It may not be easy to shift.’

‘If it’s antique and historical, won’t the atmosphere of romance help to sell it?’

‘An atmosphere of romance is all very well in theory, but people tend to want decent plumbing as well. I know the owner, Gino Tirelli, and he assures me that it’s in a good state of repair—but he might, just possibly, be biased. Luckily I’m not due there until next week, so we can give ourselves a few days by the sea.’

‘That sounds lovely. This heat is really getting to me.’

‘Of course, we could always go sight-seeing in Rome. There are some really interesting historical buildings.’

‘The sea, the sea,’ she begged faintly.

He laughed. ‘The sea it is, then. Let’s go.’

A few hours’ driving brought them to the Lido di Ostia, the beach resort about fifteen miles from Rome. It was a sunny place of level, pale-yellow sands that were adorned not only with umbrellas and loungers but the other trappings of civilization: wine bars and cafés.

Their hotel was close to the sea with a view over the ocean.

‘They’ve got single and double rooms available,’ Dante told her after a talk at the desk. ‘A double room’s cheaper.’ In reply to her raised eyebrows, he said, ‘How long can a man behave perfectly?’

‘I think I can afford a single room.’

‘You don’t give an inch, do you?’

‘You’d better believe it,’ she said, laughing.

Not for the world would she have admitted her relief that his defences were finally crumbling.

The hotel had a shop that sold beach items. She lingered over a bikini that—for a bikini—was relatively modest, and a respectable one-piece. Dante eyed her hopefully as she hovered between them.

‘Why don’t you try it?’ he suggested, indicating the one-piece.

She was slightly surprised that he urged her to try the modest garment rather than the revealing one. Afterwards, she realised that she should have been more suspicious.

In the dressing-room she donned the costume, regarded herself in the mirror and sighed. It was elegant and showed off her figure, but didn’t do her total justice. No one-piece could have done that. But, until she was sure how far along this road she was going to let Dante whirl her, she couldn’t risk being a tease. That wouldn’t be fair to him.

Nor was it fair on her, she realised, trying to calm the pleasure that fizzed through her as she thought of his eyes dwelling on her nearly naked body. It wasn’t the only pleasure she was denying herself right now, and soon she must decide why.

She dressed again and went out, handing the costume to the assistant for wrapping. ‘I’ll take this.’

‘I’ve already paid for it,’ Dante said, whisking it out of her hand and putting it into a bag he was carrying. ‘Now, let’s be off.’

‘I can’t let you pay for my clothes,’ she said as they crossed the road to the beach. ‘It wouldn’t be proper.’

‘If we’re going to have another discussion about propriety, I’d rather do it later over champagne.’

‘Oh, all right.’

The sand was glorious, soft and welcoming. He hired a hut, two loungers and a huge umbrella, then handed her the bag with her purchase and stood back to let her enter the hut first.

When she opened the bag, she was reminded that this man was a talented schemer.

‘They’ve given me the wrong costume,’ she said, going outside again. ‘Look.’ She held up the bikini. ‘But I don’t see how it happened. I saw you put the other one into the bag.’

‘I guess this one must have already been in there,’ he said, eyes wide and innocent.

‘But how…?’ Light dawned and she stared at him indignantly. ‘You didn’t?’

‘If you’ve learned anything about me, you know that I did,’ he said unanswerably. ‘I bought the bikini while you were in the changing room.’

‘But how dare you?’

‘A case of necessity. You were going to buy that middle-aged thing that doesn’t do you justice, so I paid for them both and slipped the bikini into the bag before you came out.’

‘But what about the one I chose? Where is it?’

‘No idea. It must have escaped.’

‘You—you devious—’

‘No such thing. Just a man who doesn’t like wasting time. Now, are you going to get in there and change, or are you going to stand here all day talking about it?’

‘I’m going to get in there and change,’ she said promptly. And vanished.

It might not have been modern and liberated to let a man make her decisions, but that was a small sacrifice in return for the look in his eyes. He’d behaved disgracefully, of course, but all things considered she would forgive him.

The mirror in the hut promised everything to the beauty who gazed back, wearing just enough to be decent. Restrained as the bikini was, it didn’t hide the way her tiny waist developed into curved hips, or the fact that her skin was perfect. Turning, she studied her rear view over her shoulder, noting that perhaps her behind was a fraction too generous.

Or, then again, perhaps not.

At last she was ready to make her grand entrance. Throwing open the door, she stepped out into the sunlight, only just resisting the temptation to say, ‘Ta-Da!’

He was nowhere to be seen.

Oh, great!

‘Ah, there you are,’ he said, appearing with cans of liquid. ‘I’ve been stocking up on something to drink. We can keep these in the hut until we’re ready.’

‘Do I look all right?’ she asked edgily.

‘Very nice,’ he said in a courteous voice that made her want to thump him.

But his smile as he studied her told another story, so she forgave him.

While she waited for him to emerge, she let her eyes drift over the other men on the beach. Sandor had once told her that there were few men who appeared at an advantage in bathing trunks. He’d spoken with self-conscious grandeur, from the lofty heights of physical perfection.

But when Dante appeared she forgot everything else. He didn’t show off; he didn’t need to. His tall, lean figure was muscular without being obvious, and he seemed to have the tensile strength of whipcord.

Ferne’s brief contacts with his body had hinted at power, not flaunted but always in reserve. Now she saw the reality and it pleased her, especially the long legs that moved with a masculine grace that hinted at his ability as a dancer.

For a moment she was back in his arms as they danced across the floor, feet between feet, spinning and twirling with never an inch out of place, because his control had been perfect. Watching him now, his body almost naked, she felt again the excitement of that night begin in the pit of her stomach and stream out to her fingertips.

‘Shall we go in?’ he asked, reaching out.

She took his hand and together they ran down the beach, splashing into the surf. She yelled aloud with ecstasy as the water laved her, and joined him in a race out to the horizon.

‘Careful,’ he said. ‘Don’t go too deep.’

But she was beyond caring. The feel of the water was so good that she wanted more and more.

‘Yee-haa!’ she cried up to the sky.

He laughed and plunged after her, keeping close, ready for the moment when she pulled up, treading water and puffing.

‘All right now?’ he called. ‘Got it out of your system?’

‘No way. Here goes!’

Kicking hard, she projected herself up as high as she could go, then dropped down deep into the water, down, down, until at last she kicked to start rising again.

But she was deeper than she’d guessed, and she didn’t seem to be climbing fast enough. She became alarmed as her breath began to run out.

Suddenly there was an arm around her waist and she was being yanked up to the surface fast, until mercifully her head broke free and she could breathe again.

‘All right, you’re safe,’ came Dante’s voice. ‘What were you thinking of, you crazy woman?’

‘I don’t know—I just wanted to—Oh, goodness!’

‘Steady. Relax. I’ve got you.’

He trod water while keeping her well above the surface, holding her tight against him, his hands almost meeting about her waist.

‘All right?’ he said, looking up.

‘Yes, I—I’m fine.’

It was hard to sound composed when the sensation of her bare skin against his was so disturbing. Her thighs were against his chest, his mouth was just below her breasts, and the waves were moving them about so that their contact constantly shifted; with every new touch the tremors went through her.

‘I’m going to let you down,’ he said. ‘You can’t touch the ground, but don’t worry. Just hold onto me. Down—easy.’

She knew he meant only to be gentle and reassuring by lowering her slowly, but the feeling of her flesh gliding against his was just what she didn’t need right now, she thought frantically. Control. Control.

‘Ouch!’ he said.

‘What?’

‘You’re hurting me, digging your nails into my shoulders.’

‘Sorry!’ she said wildly. ‘Sorry—sorry.’

‘OK, I believe you. Let’s get back to shore. Can you swim, or will you hold onto me?’

‘I can manage fine,’ she lied.

They made it back to the shore without incident, and she set her feet down on the sand with relief.

‘All right?’ Dante asked.

‘Yes, thank you. You can let me go now.’

‘I’ll just support you until we reach the lounger. You had quite a shock.’

Her legs felt weak, but that was natural after her alarm. It surely couldn’t have anything to do with her burning consciousness of his left hand about her waist while his right hand clasped hers?

What happened next was really annoying. By sheer ill-luck an unevenness in the sand made her stumble so that Dante had to tighten his grip to stop her falling.

‘Let’s do it the easy way,’ he said, lifting her high into his arms and carrying her the rest of the distance.

This was even worse. Now she had no choice but to put her arms about his neck, which positioned her mouth close to his and her breasts against his chest, something a sensible woman would have avoided at all costs.

At last he eased her down onto the lounger and dropped on one knee beside her.

‘You gave me a fright,’ he said. ‘Vanishing below the water for so long. I thought you’d gone for good.’

‘Nonsense,’ she said, trying to laugh it off. ‘I’d have been bound to float up eventually.’

‘Yes, but it might have been too late.’

‘Then it’s lucky for me that you were there. You do the “rescuing damsels in distress” thing really well.’

‘It’s my speciality,’ he said lightly. ‘And, just to show you how good at it I am, let me dry you off.’

He tossed the towel around her shoulders and began to dab.

‘I can manage, thank you,’ she said in a strained voice.

‘All right. Do it properly, and I’ll get you something to drink.’

He poured her some wine in a plastic container.

‘Sorry it’s a bit basic, but the wine is good,’ he said.

She drank it thankfully, wishing he’d move away and not kneel there, so kind, so sweetly concerned, so nearly naked.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I feel better now. You don’t need to hover over me.’

‘Am I being too protective? I can’t help it. I keep thinking what it would have been like without you, and I don’t like that thought at all.’

‘Really?’ she asked quietly.

‘Of course. How could I manage without your brilliant pictures?’

‘My pictures?’

‘You really enhance my work in a way that nobody else has managed to do. We make a great team, don’t you think?’

‘Fantastic,’ she agreed dismally.

‘So I’ll just keep on watching out for you.’

Her head shot up. ‘What—what did you say?’

‘I said I’m watching out for you. You obviously need someone being protective. Hey, careful. You’ve spilled wine all down yourself.’

She seized the towel out of his hands and dabbed at her bare torso. Her head was in a whirl, and her senses were in an even worse whirl.

‘Did you say you’re keeping a protective eye on me?’ she said.

‘I think I need to, don’t you? And it’s what friends do, isn’t it?’

‘Oh yes, of course they do,’ she babbled.

‘It’s time you had a rest.’

‘Yes,’ she said with relief. ‘I think that’s what I’ll do.’