Читать книгу The Mediterranean Rebel's Bride - Lucy Gordon - Страница 6

FREDA had known little about Ruggiero except that his family lived in the Villa Rinucci, and Polly would have gone there on the morning after her arrival but for the chance of the hotel receptionist leaving open a Naples newspaper with a picture of Ruggiero just visible. Knowing no Italian, she’d asked the man to translate the piece, and found a description of Carlo’s wedding, with some background about the family, including a mention of the motorbike firm. She had decided to go there first, and the receptionist had called a taxi and given the driver the name of the firm.

At the factory the language problem had cropped up again, but after a certain amount of misunderstanding she’d discovered that Signor Rinucci was at the racetrack today. She’d taken the taxi on to the track, glad of the chance to observe him unseen. The place was closed to the public, but she’d arrived just as some employees of the firm were being allowed to enter through a side door, and by mingling with them she’d managed to slip inside.

As soon as she’d reached the stands she had seen him, showing a young woman to a seat in the front row. Polly had held back, wondering what place the woman held in his life. Suddenly he’d grinned, and something cold, almost wolfish about it had made her shiver. Then he’d departed and she’d been able to move down to the front row. The young woman had smiled at her.

‘Are you from the factory?’

‘No,’ Polly said cautiously. ‘You?’

‘No, I just came to see Ruggiero. He’s my brother-in-law.’

‘You mean,’ she asked in alarm, ‘he’s married to your sister?’

‘No, I’m married to his brother.’ She chuckled. ‘I can’t see Ruggiero ever getting married. He enjoys a wide choice of women without tying himself down.’

Polly sighed with relief. A wife or girlfriend would have made her mission much harder. She settled down to watch as Ruggiero, in the distance, mounted the fearsome looking bike, started up, gathered speed, then took off like a rocket.

Lap after lap she watched him with fierce intensity, admiring his ease in the face of danger. The track twisted and turned like a snake, so that he’d no sooner taken a bend, leaning far over to one side, than he had to swiftly straighten up and swing deep in the other direction, then back again, and again. Every move was performed with careless grace and no sense of strain.

In one place the twisting of the track brought him directly ahead, so that for a stunning moment he was heading right for her. Then he leaned deep into a terrifyingly sharp bend and was gone, vanishing into the distance, while the black visor still seemed to hang in the air before her.

Then a strange thing happened.

For no apparent reason she felt a sense of dread begin to invade her. Her brain was on red alert, saying that something was badly wrong. She knew nothing about bikes, but much about troubled minds, and every instinct told her that this man was labouring under a burden and fast reaching his limit.

She stood up, pressing against the rail, frowning as her brain tried to understand what her instincts could sense. He was right ahead again. Coming straight for her until he swung into the bend.

But it was as though he leaned in too deep and couldn’t get out. The next moment the front wheel twisted, jerking the machine into a scissor-like movement that sent him flying through the air.

All around there were shouts of horror, but Polly was galvanised into action. She was first over the barrier, racing across the track, dodging the lethally spinning wheels of the bike, lying on its side, and throwing herself down by Ruggiero.

‘Don’t move,’ she said, unsure whether he could hear her.

‘Hey—’ Piero Fantone had caught up and tried to pull her away.

‘I’m a nurse,’ she said, struggling free. ‘Get an ambulance.’

‘Ambulanza!’ Piero bawled, and turned back to her.

Ruggiero gasped and made a movement. Through the dark plastic of the visor Polly saw him open his eyes, saw the stunned look in them before they closed again.

‘Did he break anything?’ Piero demanded.

She ran her hands lightly over Ruggiero.

‘I don’t think so. But I’ll know better when some of this leather is removed. We need to get him inside.’

‘We keep a stretcher here. It’s on its way.’

From behind the visor a voice growled words she didn’t understand, but the gist of them was clear to Piero, from his urgent voice and attempts to restrain him. His reward was a stream of Neapolitan words that Polly rightly guessed to be curses.

‘He’s all right,’ Piero said.

‘It’s certainly reassuring,’ she agreed.

Ruggiero began to fight his way up, swinging his arms wildly so that Polly, kneeling beside him, was knocked off balance. He managed to get onto one knee before keeling over and landing on her as she raised herself. She reached out quickly, supporting him as he collapsed against her, his head thrown back. For a moment she thought his eyes opened and closed again, but it was hard to be sure.

‘We should take off his helmet,’ she said, laying him gently back onto the ground.

Piero gently eased the helmet off, and now she could see Ruggiero clearly for the first time. It was the face in the photograph with Freda, but older, thinner, his hair disordered and damp with sweat, making him look vulnerable—something she guessed was rare for him. His eyes remained closed, but she saw his lips move.

‘What’s he saying?’ Piero asked.

‘I can’t tell.’ Polly leaned forward, putting her ear close. She felt the warmth of his breath against her cheek and heard a whispered name that made her tense and look at him sharply.

‘Sapphire!’

‘What did he say?’ Piero asked.

‘I—I didn’t catch it. Oh, good—there’s the stretcher. Let’s get him inside.’

She backed away as several men lifted him and began the journey back across the track. Polly stood watching, frozen with shock, until Evie put an arm around her.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes,’ she said in a dazed voice. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

‘Come on—let’s follow them.’

His head was full of darkness, spinning at top speed, like an endless circle. In the centre of it was her face, smiling provocatively, as so often in their time together. But then the picture changed and he saw her as she’d been at the track, standing there, luring him on until he crashed.

But then she’d appeared beside him, taking him up in her arms, pulling open his clothes, speaking words of comfort. He’d groaned, reaching out to her, and she had vanished.

He opened his eyes to find himself lying on a leather couch, with Evie beside him.

‘Steady,’ she said.

‘Where is she?’

‘Who?’

‘Her. She was standing there—I saw her—where is she? Ouch!’

‘Don’t move. You had a bad fall.’

‘I’m all right,’ he croaked, trying to rise. ‘I’ve got to find her.’

‘Ruggiero, who are you talking about?’ she asked frantically, fearful that his wits were wandering.

‘That woman—she was there—’

‘Do you mean the one by the track?’

‘You saw her?’

‘She was in the stand with me. When you crashed she rushed over and helped you.’

He stared at her, scarcely daring to believe what he heard.

‘Where is she?’

‘I’ll fetch her. By the way, she only speaks English.’

‘English?’ he whispered. His voice rose. ‘Did you say she was English?’

‘Yes. Ruggiero, do you think—?’

‘Get her here, for pity’s sake!’ he cried hoarsely.

Evie slipped out.

While he waited Ruggiero tried to stand, but fell back at once, cursing his own weakness. But inwardly he was full of wild hope. It hadn’t been imagination. She had returned, her arms outstretched to him, as so often in hopeless dreams. Now it was real. At any moment she would walk through that door—

‘Here she is,’ Evie said from the doorway, standing aside to usher in a young woman.

At first he saw only a tall, slender figure with long fair hair, and his heart leapt. In a movement that afterwards caused him agonies of shame, he reached out an eager hand, said her name. Then the mist cleared and he found himself looking at a face that was gentle and pleasant, but not beautiful—and not the one his heart endlessly sought.

‘Hallo,’ she said. ‘I’m Polly Hanson. I was watching, and I’m a nurse, so I tried to help.’

‘Thank you,’ he murmured, dazed.

The world was in chaos. He’d thought he’d found Sapphire. Instead, here was this prosaic female whose passing resemblance was just enough to be heartbreaking. Once more Sapphire was only a ghost.

He knew he’d spoken her name—but how loud? Had they heard him? He fell back, passing a hand over his screwed-up eyes, wishing things would become clearer.

‘Thank you,’ he said again, forcing his eyes to open.

Piero looked in to say, ‘The ambulance is here.’

‘What damned ambulance?’ Ruggiero roared. ‘I’m not going to hospital.’

‘I think you should,’ Polly said. ‘You have had a bad accident.’

‘I landed on my shoulder.’

‘Partly. Your head also took a thump, and I’d like it properly looked at.’

‘Signorina,’ Ruggiero said through gritted teeth, ‘I’m grateful for your help, but please understand that you don’t give me orders.’

‘Well, the ambulance is here now,’ she said, riled by his tone.

‘Then you can send it away.’

‘Signor Rinucci, your head may be injured, and I urgently suggest—’

‘You may suggest what you like,’ he snapped, ‘but I’m not getting into an ambulance, so spare me any more of your interference.’

‘Such pleasant manners,’ said a voice from the door. ‘It must be my son.’

Hope swept into the room.

‘Mamma,’ Ruggiero said painfully, ‘how did you—?’

‘Evie called my cellphone,’ Hope said, also in English, taking her cue from the others. ‘And as I was shopping nearby I had only a little way to come.’

‘You just happened to be shopping nearby?’ Ruggiero growled.

‘Yes, wasn’t it a fortunate coincidence?’ Hope said smoothly.

‘If you believe in coincidences.’

‘Be quiet and watch your manners,’ his mother said firmly. ‘You’ve now been rude to everyone—’

‘He hasn’t been rude to me,’ Evie observed mildly.

‘Give him time. He will.’

‘Especially if she mentions an ambulance,’ Ruggiero retorted.

They argued. He was obdurate. In the end his mother sighed and gave in. The ambulance was sent away.

‘I’ll go home and rest,’ Ruggiero conceded. ‘And I’ll be all right for the party tonight.’

‘Or you may have passed out completely by then,’ Polly said, with the faintest touch of acid in her voice.

Evie hastened to explain Polly’s professional qualifications, and what she had done for Ruggiero.

Hope’s response was to embrace Polly fervently and declare, ‘We are friends for ever. So now I ask you to do one more thing for me. You must come to our party tonight.’

Beside her, Polly sensed rather than felt Ruggiero make a gesture of protest, and she knew that he didn’t want her in his home. He wanted to get rid of her as soon as he could. And she could guess why.

But Hope seemed oblivious. ‘Tonight I can thank you properly, and perhaps you’ll also be kind enough to—’ She gave her son a baleful look.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him,’ Polly said.

‘You will not,’ Ruggiero snapped.

‘Indeed I will,’ she riposted at once.

‘I won’t have it.’

‘Try to stop me.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ Hope said, pleased. ‘And, Signor Fantone, I commend you for your good sense in having a nurse at the track. I wouldn’t have expected it of you.’

Having praised and insulted him in one breath, she turned her attention back to Ruggiero. With relief, Polly realised that for the moment she could avoid explanations. Sooner or later everyone would have to know why she was really here. But not yet.

Hope took charge, arranging for Ruggiero to be helped to her waiting car, and leaving Evie to give Polly a lift to her hotel.

‘It’s a big family get-together,’ Evie explained as they drove. ‘The Rinuccis tend to be scattered, but we all returned for Carlo’s wedding yesterday. And, since Hope loves giving parties, she’s going to have another one tonight, before we all disperse again.’

‘Was it really chance that his mother was shopping nearby?’

‘Of course not.’ Evie chuckled. ‘She does it whenever he’s testing, and she always makes sure she has her cellphone, so that she can be fetched quickly if something like this happens. Of course he guesses, although he won’t admit it, and it makes him grumpy. I’m sorry he was so rude to you. He isn’t normally like that.’

‘He was feeling bad,’ Polly said, unwilling to reveal that there could be another reason for Ruggiero’s hostility to her.

A few minutes later Evie dropped Polly at her hotel, promised that someone would fetch her at seven o’clock that evening, and drove off.

In her room, Polly discovered a problem. She had travelled light, wearing jeans and a sweater, and carrying enough basic clothes for a few days, but nothing that would be suitable for a party.

And I’m not turning up looking like a poor relation, she thought. I think I’ll prescribe myself some shopping!

Even in that less privileged area, the clothes shops had a cheering air of fashion. A happy hour exploring resulted in a chiffon dress of dappled mauve, blue and silver, with a neck that was low enough to be ‘party’ and high enough to be fairly modest. The price was absurdly low. Even more absurd were the silver sandals she bought in the market just outside the hotel.

Glamorous cousin Freda, once married to a multimillionaire, would have turned her nose up at such a modest outfit, but Polly was in heaven.

As she dressed that evening she considered her hair, and decided that it would be more tactful to pin it back.

Perhaps I should have done that this afternoon, but I never thought. He might have forgotten her—no, men never forgot Freda.

For a moment she was back by the track, watching him approach, his face unknowable behind the black visor. What had he seen? What had it done to him to bring him so close to death?

It had felt strange to hold him in her arms, the powerful, athletic body slumping helplessly against her. Vulnerability was the last thing she had expected from Freda’s description.

‘He had enough cocky arrogance to take on the world,’ her cousin had said. ‘It made me think, That’s for me.’

‘But not for long,’ Polly had reminded her quietly. ‘Two weeks, and then you dumped him.’

Freda had given an expressive shrug. ‘Well, he’d have dumped me pretty soon, I dare say. I knew straight off that he was the love-’em-and-leave-’em kind. That was useful, because it meant he wouldn’t give me any trouble afterwards.’

‘Plus the fact that you hadn’t given him your real name.’

‘Sure. I thought Sapphire was rather good—don’t you?’

What Polly had thought of her cousin’s actions was something she’d kept to herself—especially then, when Freda had been so frail, her once luxurious hair had fallen out and the future had been so cruelly plain.

That conversation came back to her now, reminding her of Ruggiero as she’d seen him first, and then later. Cocky arrogance, she thought. But not always.

He’d said Sapphire’s name and reached blindly out to her before he’d controlled himself and pulled back. For him, Sapphire still lived—and that was the one thing Polly had not expected.

A chauffeur-driven car arrived exactly at seven o’clock and swept her out of the city and up the winding road to where the Villa Rinucci sat atop the hill. From a distance she could see the lights blazing, and hear the sounds of a party floating down in the clear air.

Hope came out to greet her eagerly.

‘I feel better now you’re here,’ she said. ‘Our family doctor is also a guest, but he’ll have to leave soon.’

‘I’d better talk to him first,’ Polly suggested, and was rewarded with Hope’s brilliant smile.

Dr Rossetti was an elderly man who’d been a friend of the family for a long time. He greeted Polly warmly, questioned her about her impressions that afternoon, and nodded.

‘He’s always been an awkward so-and-so. Now, Carlo—his twin—if he didn’t want to do what he was told, he’d get out of it with charm, and it would be ages before you saw how he’d outwitted you. But Ruggiero would just look you in the eye and say, “Shan’t!”’

Polly chuckled. ‘You mean he doesn’t bother with any of that subtlety nonsense?’

‘Ruggiero wouldn’t recognise subtlety if he met it in the street. His head has a granite exterior which you have to thump hard to make him believe what he doesn’t want to believe.’

‘And under the exterior?’

‘I suspect there’s something more interesting. But he keeps it a secret even from his nearest and dearest. In fact, especially from his nearest and dearest. He hates what he calls “prying eyes”, so don’t make it too clear that you’re concerned for him.’

‘No, I think I gathered that before,’ she said wryly. She glimpsed Ruggiero across the room and added, ‘From the way he’s moving his left arm I think his shoulder’s hurting.’

‘Yes—you might find it useful to rub some of this into it,’ he said, handing her a tube of a preparation designed to cool inflammation.

‘And I’m sure he has concussion.’

‘I doubt it’s serious, since he seems well able to remember what happened. But he needs an early night. See if you can get him to take a couple of these.’ He handed her some tablets.

‘They might do his headache some good,’ she said, nodding as she recognised them.

‘Headache?’ the doctor demanded satirically. ‘What headache? You don’t think he admits to having a headache, do you?’

‘Leave him to me,’ she said. ‘I’m used to dealing with difficult patients.’

They nodded in mutual understanding. Then something made Polly look up to find Ruggiero watching her, his lips twisted in a smile so wry that it was almost a sneer. Of course he knew they were discussing him, and he wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

Then Evie was by her side, taking her to meet the family. Carlo and Della, the newlyweds, had left for their honeymoon, but everyone else was there. While Polly was sorting out the clan in her mind, Hope appeared beside her.

‘Let me take you to Ruggiero.’

‘Better not,’ Polly said. ‘If he’s expecting me to descend on him like a nanny, that’s exactly what I’m not going to do.’

Hope nodded. ‘You’re a wise woman. Oh, dear! Why do men never listen to wise women?’

‘I suppose the other kind are more fun,’ Polly said with amusement. ‘Let him wait and wonder. I think I should meet some more people, just to show I’m not watching him.’

Hope took her around the room to meet the older, more distant members of the extended Rinucci clan. They all greeted her warmly, and seemed to know that she was there to look after one of their number. They were kind people, and open in their appreciation.

It didn’t take long for Polly to understand that they were taking their cue from Hope, who was the centre of the whole family, a charming tyrant, exercising her will so lovingly that it was easy to underestimate her power. Toni’s fond eyes followed her everywhere.

After a while Polly became aware of a glass being pressed into her hand. Looking up, she saw Ruggiero, surveying her grimly.

‘It’s only mineral water,’ he said. ‘Since I take it you’re not allowed to drink on duty?’

‘On duty?’

‘Don’t play dumb with me. You’re here to fix your beady eyes on me in case I go into convulsions. Sorry to disoblige, but I’m having a great time.’

‘A man with cracked ribs is never having a great time.’

‘Who says I have cracked ribs?’

‘You do—every time you touch your left side gingerly. I’ve seen that gesture before. Often enough to know what it means.’

‘And you think you’re going to whisk me away to a hospital—?’

‘There’s no need. If you’ll only—’

‘Once and for all,’ he said, with a touch of savagery, ‘there is nothing wrong with me.’

‘For pity’s sake, what are you trying to prove?’

‘That I’m fine—’

‘Which you’re not—’

‘And that I don’t need a nanny,’ he growled.

‘A nanny is just what you do need,’ she said, coming close to losing her temper. ‘In fact I never saw a man who needed it more. No—scrap nanny. Let’s say a twenty-four-hour guard, preferably armed with manacles. Even then you’d manage to do something brainless.’

‘Then I’m beyond help, and you should abandon me to my fate.’

‘Don’t tempt me,’ she said through gritted teeth.

She waited for a sharp answer, but it didn’t come. Looking at him, she saw why. He sat down, slowly and heavily, leaning his head back against the wall. She just stopped the glass falling from his fingers.

‘Time to stop pretending,’ she said gently.

For a moment Ruggiero didn’t answer. He looked as if all the stuffing had been knocked out of him. At last he turned his head slowly, to look at her out of blurred, pain-filled eyes.

‘What did you say?’

‘I said it’s time to go to bed.’

Hope appeared, looking anxious. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Ruggiero has told me he wants to go to bed,’ Polly informed her.

‘Did I?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘You did.’

He didn’t argue, but gave the shrug of a man yielding to superior forces and rose slowly to his feet. Then he swayed, and was forced to rest an arm quickly on Polly’s shoulder. She heard him mutter something that she didn’t understand, but she guessed it was impolite. Hope gave a signal, and at once Ruggiero’s brothers appeared, taking charge of him.

‘I’ll come and see you when you’re in bed,’ Polly told him.

He groaned. ‘Look, I don’t think—’

‘I didn’t ask what you thought,’ she told him quietly. ‘I said that’s what I’m going to do. Please don’t argue with me. It’s a waste of time.’

The young men wore broad grins, and the braver among them cheered. Then they caught their mother’s eye, and hastily escorted their injured brother to bed.