Desire Has No Mercy

by Violet Winspear

  'What am I really like, my dear?' He lounged against the parapet wall and with the sunlit sky behind him, his eyes became shaded by his black lashes and brows.

  'A devil who trades on his charm,' she replied, and thought again how alike he was to that painting of the underworld lord who carried off Proserpina as she plucked flowers in a field.

  'So you think I have charm—that at least is encouraging.'

  'It's a natural perquisite of Italian men,' she rejoined. 'Look at your gardener!'

  'I fear it doesn't come natural to me, looking at other men. Do you often look at him, my dear?'

  'Why not?' She gave a flippant laugh. 'He's so obviously on show with his bare torso and his neck chain, not to mention his tattoo.'

  'Julia,' Rome spoke her name softly, 'don't ever encourage the attentions of other men.'

  'When I'm like this?' She swept an expressive hand down her figure. 'Don't you Italian people call this a state of grace, which makes me holy and untouchable except by—' She bit her lip. 'There's only one man whose attentions I sought and you—you made it seem as if I was one sort of person at the gallery, and another sort behind his back. You never gave me a chance to speak privately with Paul—'

  'What would you have told him?' A rather brutal note came into Rome's voice. 'That you were seven weeks gone with the child of your dago lover?'

  'Rome!'

  'His sort likes his belongings all pristine and cool behind glass. He has the collector's obsession with chastity.'

  'Haven't you?' she demanded. 'You've just implied that it would upset your sense of possession if I looked at another man.'

  'You're my wife, but had I been in Wineman's shoes the day I told him you were marrying me, I'd have done a darned sight more than smoke a cigarette in a holder and offer polite congratulations. Especially if he had reason to believe you cared for him—and you say you did.'

  'We were going out together and Paul knew I didn't socialise with a man unless I liked him.'

  'Liked, my dear?'

  'Loved,' she quickly corrected. 'I didn't expect Paul to be demonstrative—he's rather a shy man and extremely courteous. We had a lot in common and our companionship was congenial. You wouldn't understand—'

  'No,' Rome agreed. 'The idea of being with an attractive woman and treating her as if she might break if I breathed on her is certainly a mystery to me. In my experience women like to be shown they have sex appeal.'

  'As I've mentioned before, Rome,' Julia's voice had sharpened, 'don't confuse me with your other women. I'm sure they're legion, but you will recall that I didn't throw myself into your arms. I did my utmost to get out of them!'

  'I wonder, Julia, why you insist on believing yourself a frigid woman? Maybe you felt you had to react like that with Wineman, but now you're with me, and I'm a very different sort of man.'

  No two men could have been more dissimilar, she thought, not only in appearance but in their attitudes to life. There was in Rome a vital need for what was alive and sensuous; he was impatient of the things that gave pleasure to Paul; works of art didn't breathe and couldn't feel and so he dismissed the painted flower for the real one; the sheen on porcelain for the warmth of a woman's skin.

  'You're an earth subject, Rome,' she said. 'It has nothing to do with your upbringing, for I don't imagine you'd have been sensitive to art had you been reared in the National Gallery.'

  'I don't know whether to accept that as a compliment or an insult. Anyway,' he glanced at the gold quartz watch on a leather strap dark as the hairs of his wrist, 'intriguing as the subject is, I have to be on my way to Naples.'

  And then, before she realised his intention, he drew her into his arms and holding her with firm insistence found her mouth with his. His kiss was purposeful, parting her lips and making her accept the sensual intimacy for endless moments.

  Then he put her away from him and gave her a brief bow. 'Arrivederci, carina. I shall be gone about three days, so take care!'

  Julia watched silently as he strode from the terrazza, tall and dark in his stylish grey suit, leaving her with a hand pressed to her body as his child moved so disturbingly deep within her. Three days, he had said, and he had neither admitted nor denied that he had a girl waiting for him in Naples.

  The stillness was such that she heard the roar of his car when he drove away from Domani. He would drive at full speed along the highway, taking those sweeping curves with nerveless skill. He was admittedly the most alive person Julia had ever known, and as she edged her tongue around the sensitivity of her soundly kissed lips she wondered what a woman felt when she abandoned herself without reservation to the passion in Rome.

  As the silence settled around her Julia turned to gaze at the sea, so deep and boundless under that calm-looking surface, but so dangerous if it wasn't treated with caution. Rome was like that, she realised. He was deep and vital with forces it was dangerous to disturb, and yet when she was with him she felt driven to disturb him until the atmosphere between them was tense as a live wire that might snap furiously at any moment.

  With Paul she had never felt like that; she had listened attentively when he talked of art and literature in his cultured voice, aware that he thought her as elegant and cool as the jade he collected. She had known how much he liked her when he told her that she reminded him of his favourite piece of jade, the oriental goddess which he had purchased while on a trip to Peking, which had pride of place in a softly lit niche of a carved cabinet three centuries old.

  Paul wouldn't think now that she reminded him of his jade goddess, and Julia smiled ruefully as she moved a hand against her body. He wasn't the type of man to care much for children, he had too many rare and lovely objects in his apartment and was too sophisticated to lounge on the floor and romp with a child, building a house of bricks, fitting together the tracks of a train set, or reading about gnomes from a book which was sticky from jammy fingers.

  Julia stood lost in thought there in the warm sunlight, mesmerised a little by the silvery flicker of the sea. She felt a sense of unreality, as if there had been a subtle change in her personality so that she found it hard to associate herself with the poised saleslady she had been, clad in a slim-fitting dark blue dress, handling objects as if they were more precious than people.

  A sigh escaped her… she felt so mixed up, and the only certainty was that Rome was to blame; he was the culprit who did this to her and was unaffected himself by the changes taking place in her. He came and went and ran his life along chosen lines he didn't allow anyone to disrupt, and it was his freedom that Julia envied. He had tied her down, but his own wings were as unclipped as they had ever been and even as she stood here, he was speeding to a rendezvous which she felt convinced had nothing to do with the casino.

  'Signora?'

  Julia came out of her reverie with a start and turned from the parapet to find Giovanni's daughter looking at her in some curiosity. Maddalena was sloe-eyed and her skin was smooth as honey; her earlobes were pierced by small gold rings and she was audaciously pretty and very aware of her effect on men. It hadn't escaped Julia's notice that the girl flirted with Rome, who accepted the attention in a lazily amused way. Julia naturally wondered if his attention was less indolent when she wasn't present at one of his encounters with Maddalena. As the girl's parents had worked at the villa for three years, he had known her since she was a schoolgirl and he would hardly have failed to notice that she had grown up to be extremely attractive.

  As Julia gazed enquiringly at Maddalena she recalled Rome's answer when she had asked if he had a girl-friend in Naples. 'What if I had one in Campania?'

  Maddalena glanced at the terrazza table where Rome's newspaper lay crumpled. 'The signore has left already for Naples?' she asked. 'He promised to take with him my crucifix and chain to be repaired.'

  'He was in rather a hurry,' Julia said drily. 'I expect hell take your trinket with him the next time he goes there. Can't someone in the village mend it for you? There's that little shop
where clocks and watches are repaired—'

  Maddalena shook her head so the sun caught her earrings. 'It was purchased in Naples by the signore when I had my eighteenth birthday. It is gold—Tullio broke the clasp with his clumsiness and when I told the signore he said at once that he would see to it that it was repaired as good as new. I very much value it, you see.' The girl blinked her long dark lashes and ran her bands down the taut sides of her fawn-coloured dress, with lace edging the short sleeves. She refused to wear the cap that matched the dress, and Julia applied no pressure on the girl. She had glossy hair with a natural wave in it, and Julia had long ago developed a dislike of servility, stemming from that day when Grandma Van Holden had so curtly dismissed Rome's mother from her employ.

  'You spoke of Tullio's clumsiness,' Julia said. 'I hope he doesn't bully you in any way. He looks a very tough young man.'

  'He forgets his own strength,' Maddalena replied, a smile curling on her lips. 'And he is also jealous because the signore gave me a present of gold.'

  'That was generous of the signore.' Suddenly the slim shapeliness of the girl made Julia very conscious of the own loss of grace, and she felt a stab of resentment that of all the women in his life Rome had to ensure that she bore the brunt of his passionate lovemaking. Others got away with trinkets, but she got saddled with his progeny, and from the feel of the infant it was going to take after him for size!

  'There is no one as nice as the signore.' Maddalena let her eyes rest on Julia's waistline. 'You must be very proud, signora, to be having his son.'

  'It could well be a daughter,' Julia replied, though somehow she had the instinctive feeling that she carried a boy.

  Maddalena smiled and shook her head. 'A man like that, he has a son the first time, signora. We notice it a lot in Italy. The men are very definite, you see, very masculine, and they like to establish the family name. The signore will make a very good father.'

  'What makes you so sure of that?' Julia asked curiously.

  'Because he is kind.' Maddalena looked surprised by the question. 'The signora must know better than anyone how kind he can be. When his mother was here at the villa he was as good with her as the nurses she had to have when her illness grew worse. He would sit with her at night and held her in his arms, and that was how she died, peacefully and quietly with him, and later when I took coffee to him in his study he was sitting there at his desk, having arranged the funeral, and there were tears on his face. He didn't try to hide them. Real men cry when they are hurt, and we all knew how much he loved his mother. Every day until the burial there were flowers in her room, masses of them, especially lilacs which she very much liked. In his black suit at the funeral he looked so tall and sad and distinguished it's a shame he didn't have a wife at the time to console him. He lived away from the villa for quite a long time and we feared he might sell it. My parents like working for him and the village people like to think of him as their padrone.'

  'I thought that was a position of heritage,' Julia said.

  'Not always, signora. Country people will apply the title to a man they respect and admire.'

  'He runs a gambling casino!' Julia exclaimed.

  'Si, but who in Italy doesn't gamble?' Maddalena made an expressive gesture with her hands. 'If you were not the wife of the signore, then most of the village would be holding bets as to whether you carry a boy or a girl.'

  'It must have come as a disappointment to everyone when he brought home an American wife?' Julia couldn't help wondering how much of a disappointment it had been for the pretty Maddalena. She made no secret of her admiration for Rome and seemed to regard him as someone to be looked up to. Julia didn't doubt the care and kindness he had lavished upon his mother, but that didn't excuse him in her eyes. He was still the man who had been merciless towards her on account of an incident in their childhood; all his growing years he had harboured his grudge until he found an opportunity to satisfy it. She had no reason to respect and admire him!

  'A lot of the girls were disappointed,' Maddalena said unsmilingly. Her gaze dwelt consideringly upon Julia and she obviously knew that Julia had become pregnant some time before her wedding day. 'Of course, the signore would marry a woman if he had to do so.'

  With these rather insolent words she went to the breakfast table and began to pile the crockery on to a tray. Julia should have reprimanded her, but it seemed absurd to take someone to task for speaking the truth. Rome had married her because he had to… they had never exchanged words of love, and if there was a girl in Campania who loved him, then she had been badly let down.

  'Tullio wished to know if you would like roses for the salone?' Maddalena stood there holding the laden tray, so darkly pretty in her fawn dress that she might well have fancied her chance of becoming the mistress of the villa.

  'Yes, roses always look best when they're cut and used in the house. You can arrange them, Maddalena. I'm going down to the beach for a couple of hours.'

  'But you can't, signora! The signore said he didn't like the look of those steps and you weren't to use them until the cliffside was shored up—'

  'I shall be careful. It's such a lovely morning and I want to laze in the sun and breathe the sea air.'

  'But, signora, if anything happened to you while the signore is absent he would blame us for not taking proper care of you—and the child.'

  It was Maddalena's mention of the precious child that decided Julia. The beach looked too inviting to resist, and the cliffs weren't likely to shift until the next rainfall. It had been the heavy rain of the other evening which had caused a slippage of earth and rock, but for the past two days the weather had been flawless.

  'I shall take care and see that no harm comes to the son and heir,' she said lightly.

  'Why not rest by the pool, signora, or take a swim in it?'

  Julia took a look below at the beach whose sands looked like warm tawny velvet upon which she had an urge to stretch out. 'I want to feel the sand between my toes.'

  'Tullio can always fetch up a bucketful for you to tread in,' said Maddalena, with a touch of humour.

  Julia smiled, but felt obstinately disinclined to be told she must stay up here in the villa when she felt like enjoying the beach. Who, she thought cynically, would have cared what risks Rome's foreign wife took if she hadn't been carrying his child?

  'I'm going indoors to fetch a few things. Don't try and thwart a mother-to-be, next time I might demand pickles and jam.'

  'Signora—'

  'Take the dishes to the kitchen, Maddalena, then go and talk to Tullio while he cuts the roses. You're a lucky girl, you know. He's very good-looking.'

  'And he knows it,' Maddalena retorted.

  'Don't they all!' Julia walked from the terrazza into the hall, and as she passed one of the onyx tables she saw a letter lying on a salver and paused to examine the envelope in case it was addressed to her. It was pale mauve, expensively thick, and Rome's name was upon it and the handwriting was a woman's. Julia put it to her nose and smelled a delicate perfume. She set her lips and examined the postmark —Madrid. Spain! Her devoted husband certainly believed in spreading wide his net! She returned the letter to the salver and continued on her way to the bedroom, where she was collecting together such items as a sunhat and sun-oil when Lucie came into the room carrying a sewing-box.

  'That's right, miss,' she said, 'you relax in the sun by the pool. It will do you the world of good, especially as you didn't get much sleep last night.'

  'I'm going down to the beach,' Julia said casually.

  There was a significant silence, and then Lucie placed the sewing-box on the bed stool and returned to the door, where she stood firmly against the handle. 'Over my dead body, miss,' she said.

  'Please get away from the door.' Julia could feel herself beginning to tremble slightly. The beach had become an issue, and all because of the baby… it wouldn't do for anything to happen to Rome's baby!

  'Please move out of my way,' Julia said tensely.

&n
bsp; 'No, miss!' Lucie had set her stocky body determinedly against the door. 'That cliffside has become hazardous and you know it! You could be hurt—why, I'd never forgive myself if any harm came to you!'

  'You mean the baby, don't you?' Julia had gone so pale that only her eyes seemed to hold any colour. 'Rome's precious infant!'

  'Don't talk like that, Miss Julia. The baby means just as much to you and you wouldn't want to hurt it by risking yourself on those beach steps.'

  'You think not?' Julia tossed her hair and hardened her eyes. 'I never wanted this child in the first place—he forced it upon me and I hate him, do you hear? I hate him!'

  'Miss Julia!'

  'If you knew what he did—'

  'I don't believe Mr Rome ever did you a day's harm.'

  'No, he did it at night, and he made sure I had nine months of misery to endure.' Suddenly the tears were spilling over and Julia no longer cared about pride and keeping her feelings to herself. 'Y-you can't imagine how unhappy I am! I'm a prisoner in this house, condemned to live here until I have the child before I can be free—and I mean to be free!'

  Through her tears Julia saw the shocked, unbelieving look on Lucie's face, then generously she was holding open her arms and like a child again Julia was running into them, not with skinned knees or a broken toy, but with an aching and bewildered heart that needed comfort.

  'My poor lovey,' Lucie stroked her hair, 'I could see there was something amiss between the two of you, but I never dreamed it was making you this miserable. So you married Mr Rome because you had to?'

  Julia nodded and it was such a relief to have someone at last to confide in. 'He ruined everything for me, Lucie. There was someone I liked so much, the sort of man who would have had Grandma's approval, and then this happened and I had no option but to marry Rome—'

  'What I don't understand,' Lucie drew her brows together, 'you were never the sort of girl to get yourself into that kind of trouble. Miss Verna was more flighty in that way, but you—you were always such a proud little person, with respect for yourself and others that always made me extra fond of you. You weren't cut out for affairs with men—'