by Kim Lawrence
Francesco was raised on one elbow. The sheet that had been covering his body had slipped down to waist level. Not looking would have been too obvious, and also as it happened impossible.
He was quite simply magnificent.
She dragged her eyes back to his face, her colour significantly heightened, her expression carefully neutral.
Back to my room.
Even though they had just made love, looking at her staring at him with those big eyes sent a stab of desire through his body. He consulted the clock on the bedside table, and raised a brow in surprise when he saw four hours had elapsed since he had kicked the door closed.
He sprawled back with indolent grace and, allowing his eyes to travel up her body, thought about the taste of her, the silky softness of her skin as it glided against his own. What are you wearing?
Erin touched a self-conscious, not quite steady hand to the lapel of the male shirt she wore. My things were wet.
Sodden on the floor of the shower, to be precise, where they had fallen when he had stripped them from her body two hours earlier.
A memory surfaced in her head. A memory of Francesco standing in the shower, naked, his face lifted to the warm spray.
She had stood there mesmerised, unable to take her eyes off him until without warning his hand had shot out and he had dragged her inside under the warm jets of water.
What are you doing? she gasped, tilting her face up to his as she pushed the wet strands of water-darkened hair from her face. I told you it was a mistake. It cant happen again. I know its totally my fault
I think I had some minor input.
Valentina and Samthe stafftheyll be back any time. Im dressed, she added weakly when none of the perfectly good reasons made any impact.
Francesco gave a wolfish smile that made her heartbeat quicken in anticipation. Not for long, he promised.
Im out of here, she retorted, blinking away the wetness from her lashes and not moving an inch.
She could see that lifting her arms as he peeled the wet top off might lead him to believe she wasnt totally serious in her threat. He might even imagine she wanted him to drop to his knees and pull her jeans and pants down over her hips. An impression that might have gained credence when she grabbed his head and moaned when he pressed his mouth into the damp curls he had exposed.
The memory of the hot, searing sensation as his tongue and fingers had slid between her thighs sent a wave of heat washing over her skin.
Closing her eyes, Erin pushed the erotic images from her head. The effort brought a visible sheen of moisture to her skin. I hope you dont mindabout the shirt.
Actually I do.
Startled by his response, she narrowed her eyes warily.
I think I might want to claim my property right now.
Erin swallowed and crossed her hands over her chest in an unconsciously protective gesture.
Are you talking about me or the shirt? Her laugh only just stopped short of hysteria, but then trying to sound amused while she had a mental image of him slowly unpeeling the shirt to reveal her naked body had always been a non-starter.
One corner of his mouth lifted, but the smile didnt reach his eyes; they held a restive glitter that was in stark contrast to his indolent posture.
Ill start with the shirt. One hand tucked behind his head, he used the other to pat the bed that still bore the scent of her body. Erin wanted more than she could admit to respond to the invitation in his eyes. Come back to bed.
Conflicting emotions were tearing her in several directions at once. Just looking at him awoke a lustful ache low in her abdomen. And imagining never spending another night in his arms filled her with panic.
At the same time she knew they had no futurethe bottom line was he only wanted her back because of the baby.
This shouldnt have happened. Tears formed in her eyes because she didnt have the faintest idea where to go from here. Look, Im not pretending it wasnt verynice
A look of blank incredulity stole across his lean face. Nice ? he echoed, pulling himself into a sitting position in one smooth motion that sent the quilt slithering to the floor exposing him totally.
She took refuge in flippancy. Well, what do you want me to saythat it was a life-changing experience?
His face darkened with displeasure. Almost anything would be an improvement on nice. he snapped. Remind me not to come to you for a recommendation.
Oblivious to his naked state, he swept aside the hank of silky dark hair that fell into his eyes.
All right, she conceded, her eyes falling to avoid the sardonic glitter in his stare. Relax, you were marvellous, though I had no idea that your ego required such delicate handling. Sex with you was always spectacular, but thats all it is. It couldnt be anything else.
You want more than I gave you? he challenged with the arrogant confidence of a man who had heard the words of extravagant, breathless praise that had spilled unchecked from her lips when she had lain sated in his arms.
I did. I dont anymore. Who are you trying to convince?
Francesco studied her set face with a baffled expression. Could you be slightly less cryptic?
I loved you, I dont anymore, the sex is still great, but I can walk away. I just hope my knees heard that, she thought, afraid that they were going to fold under her any minute. And Im going to. Im not going to Italy with you.
He rose from the tumbled bed naked and breathtakingly magnificent to tower over her. You loved me, but you dont anymore, which is why you slept with me? He shook his head slowly. Do you expect me to believe you mean a word of that? Or actually imagine Im going to let you walk away with my child without a fight?
She would have walked barefoot over hot coals before she let him see how much the warning scared her. I hope youre a good loser, Francesco.
I wouldnt knowIve not had any practice.
And she believed him. You mean youre a bully.
He watched one tear escape and slide down her cheek. If you think tears will work
Im not crying, she denied huskily.
Another tear joined the first and, with a muffled curse, he turned away.
Erin wiped her cheek and watched uncertainly as he pulled a robe from the open wardrobe and belted it loosely around his waist.
When he turned back to her there was no trace of gloating male triumph remaining in his face, but there was something else, another emotion that eluded analysis.
He reached out and dabbed a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. This is going to happen, Erin. Why dont you stop fighting it?
Into the palpitating pause that followed his words there was a tap on the door followed by a female voice.
Francesco?
My God! Erin snapped, Its Valentina. She cant find me here like this! she exclaimed, appalled at the idea.
Why not?
Dont ask stupid questions, Erin begged. Id be mortified!
Mortified? he echoed, a dark scowl forming on his lean features.
Will you stop talking and just do something? Make her go away! Or
Francesco looked at her, smiled and cleared his throat. Come in, Valentina.
Erin stared at him for a moment, transfixed in horror, before taking to her heels and fleeing to the bathroom. She stood there with her back against the wall, her heart hammering. It was several moments before she had regained enough composure to actively eavesdrop on the low-voiced conversation going on in the other room and then it turned out to be mostly in Italian.
Just as she was about to give up on trying to figure out what they were saying she heard Francesco say in English No, Erin doesnt blame you at all.
Well, I hope not. I really hope you two sort things out, Francesco. In my opinion Erin is the best thing that has ever happened to you. Just dont rush things; give her time. You cant just click your fingers and expect her to come running, she scolded.
Erin gave a mortified grimace at an image of the tumbled bedclothes in her mind. Click his fingershe hadnt even had to make that much effort!
Rafael would have liked her, dont you think?
Erin, picking up on the name she had never heard before, waited curiously to hear Francescos reply. It was a long time coming.
Rafe would have loved her.
A few remarks in Italian followed. Erin listened with half an ear wondering about the odd note in Francescos voice.
She waited until she heard the door close behind Valentina before walking back into the room. Francesco was sitting on the bed.
Who is Rafe? she asked.
He gave a thin-lipped smile. You heard that, then?
It was hard not to.
Rafe was my twin brother.
She was totally stunned by the information. You have a brothera twin ? Why didnt you ever mention?
In a voice that was flat and totally expressionless he cut across her. Had. Rafe died.
Erin gulped and swallowed, her blue eyes softening with compassion as she went to sit beside him on the bed. Oh, Francesco, Im sorry. I had no idea.
Though he didnt respond directly, he picked his wallet up from the bedside table and, withdrawing a snapshot, handed it to her without comment.
The edges of the snapshot were creased and curled as though it had been fingered a lot, but the faces of the two young men in the photo were clear. Francesco was standing, his brother sitting. Francesco had his arm slung across the shoulders of his brother. They were both laughing.
You were identical twins!
My God, it would be bad enough to lose a sibling, but she couldnt even begin to imagine the horror of losing an identical twin.
Almost nobody could tell us apart.
Erin was surprised to hear him say this. To her mind the differences between the two men were obvious. Francescos mouth was wider and firmer and his chin more squarely resolute. His brothers features were probably more regular, and to her seemed softer and less aggressively masculine.
Im sorry, I had no idea
When Francesco turned his head and looked at her the emptiness in his eyes frightened her. Her heart aching with empathy, she reached across and laid her hand over his.
We looked alike, but that was on the surface. We werent really alike at all. He took the photo from her fingers and looked at it. Rafe was the imaginative, sensitive one. Ill show you some of his paintings some time if you like. He was very talented.
He was an artist?
He did a lot of things; he wasrestless. I think our parents thought that marriage would make him settle down.
He was married?
Francesco, his expression darkening, nodded. He was, but it was not a success. Rafe spent four years trying to cling to her, desperately trying to change himself into the sort of man she wanted him to be.
It had destroyed him.
It was obvious from the tension in Francescos manner that he didnt enjoy speaking about his brother. Erin hesitated before gently asking, How did he die?
He killed himself.
A short static silence followed his abrupt and shocking words. A tiny gasp escaped Erins parted lips.
He took an overdose.
She lifted a hand to her mouth and her blue eyes filled with tears of sympathy.
When I found him he looked as if he was sleeping. He looked so peaceful, Francesco recalled.
Erins eyes widened with horror. Not only had his twin killed himself, Francesco had found the body! She ached to comfort him, but what, she wondered, could you say that didnt sound like a pathetic platitude?
He came to see me, you know, earlier that week asking for my advice.
That in itself had not been unusual. His twin had always turned up when hed had a problem; admittedly sometimes Francesco had had trouble recognising the things Rafe had lost sleep over as problems. And if he was brutally honest with himself the dramatic spin his brother had put on relatively trivial incidents had frequently annoyed him.
It seemed to him that Rafe had lurched from one drama to another. Rafe didnt meet a beautiful woman, he met a goddess!
Francesco had never met a goddess and he had definitely never felt the desire to place a woman on a pedestal. When Rafe had only half-jokingly accused him of having no soul he had not disagreed.
You want to know what I told him? What I told my suicidal brother? Erin shook her head and felt totally inadequate in the face of the anguish that was written in every line of his face. I said, Pull yourself together, Rafe. I told him that people dont die of broken hearts, but it turned out they do.
The official verdict, of course, had been different.
It had emerged at the inquest that Rafe had recently been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and had convinced his doctors he had been taking his medication for the condition. His family, Francesco included, had known nothing about his disorder and this, they had concluded, had been the main factor that had led to his tragic suicide.
But Francesco knew different; he could have changed things. He should have changed things.
Horror-stricken, Erin could only sit and listen as the words spilled from him. She had the impression he had forgotten she was even there; it made her wonder how long hed had these feelings locked inside.
My brother needed me and all I could come up with was worthless platitudes. His voice shook with self-loathing. He loved that woman more than life itself and I said, Dont sit there moping. Be toughgo and get her. So he did and she told him that she loved someone else and he killed himself.
As he closed his eyes Francescos head fell forward. She watched his shoulders heave. You stupid idiot, Rafe! Dio , what a waste. What a total bloody waste! he raged.
Unable to bear his pain any longer, Erin got to her knees on the bed and came up behind him, pressing her body up against the curve of his spine and, resting her head against his neck, linked her hands across his chest.
It was little enough but the physical contact seemed to help him regain some degree of control over his emotions because the shudders that racked his body gradually stopped.
As he straightened up Erin loosed her grip and leaned back on her heels, her grave blue eyes trained on his face as he swept the blue-black hair back from his brow.
I cant even begin to imagine what it must feel like she said softly.
You really want to know? he yelled, turning his seething anger on her. Will that satisfy your grubby, prurient curiosity? Youre just like all the others, pretending sympathy while enjoying the misfortunes of another!
Erin flinched at the bile in his tone but did not try and defend herself or protest this very black view of human nature.
If you want to tell me, Francesco.
She realised he had never stopped blaming himself for his brothers death.
I wake up every morning and theres a dark empty space inside mea black hole. He pressed a hand to his chest and turned eyes that were filled with bitter self-reproach to Erin. It hurts knowing that I will never see him again, never hear his voice again, and the worst part is I could have stopped it. I should have known. He swallowed, the muscles in his brown throat working as he closed his eyes.
Hand pressed to her mouth, Erin watched as he fought to regain control. She was shocked and horrified. How long, she wondered, had he been carrying around this guilt and pain?
It never even occurred to me that he was ill.
Certainly when Rafe had turned up at his place looking the personification of a tragic hero Francesco had been more irritated than alarmed. The state of his brothers marriage, like his mood, had see-sawed violently between bliss and dark, brooding despair.
Why didnt I see that his mood swings were getting worse?
Why should you?
Francescos head came up; he gave her a guarded look. Why ?
Yes, why?
I should have.
We dont analyse minutely the behaviour of the people close to us.
Maybe Rafe didnt want me to see, and who could blame him? Its not as if Id been wildly sympathetic before.
Erin flung up her hands in frustrated exasp
eration. Francesco seemed totally determined to blame himself for what had happened to his twin. Did you tell him everything?
Francesco dismissed the question with an impatient gesture. Thats not the same thing. If he hadnt felt he had to hide his illness from me teeth clenched, his features rigid, he ground his clenched fist into the bed frame if I had known I would have made sure he took his medication. If Id thought before I doled out advice Rafe might still be alive.
Thats a lot of ifs, Francesco. When bad things happen we look for a reason, she began, choosing her words with care. Its human nature, but sometimes, she said sadly, there simply isnt one to find. Bad things just happen; they happen to good people who dont deserve it. You cant blame yourself for what happened to your twin, Francesco. It isnt your fault.
He gave a twisted smile. Thats what the doctors said, he admitted. They talked about chemical imbalances, but it wasnt a chemical imbalance in his blood that killed Rafe; it was black despair. His voice shook with the depth of his feelings and raw emotion. And I stood by and watched it happen.
Erin could not bear to hear any more of this. Thats nonsense and you know it! she protested. Do you really think your brother would want you to beat yourself up over this? she demanded.
He looked startled by the question. I never really
Thought about it like that? Well, thats obvious, because if you had youd have realised that he wouldnt have any more than you would have wanted him to if the situation had been reversed.
Rafe was always there for me. He always had time for me
This hair-shirt look really doesnt suit you, Francesco. In fact all this self-flagellation is pretty self-indulgent. Ashamed of yelling at him when she ought to have been soothing him, she added a guilty-sounding, Sorry.
He schooled his laboured breathing to something that approached normality. No, it is I who should be sorry. It might be his imagination but Francesco was conscious of feelingfor want of a better word lighter than he had in a long time.
What for? Im the one who scolded you.
I needed scolding, he reflected, a shadow of a smile lifting the sombreness of his expression. Youre rightI am wallowing in self-pity.
I didnt say that.
No? He arched a dark brow and shrugged, one corner of his sensual mouth lifting in a crooked smile that just tore at her sensitive heart. Maybe you should have. Erin, the things I said he began, his manner uncharacteristically awkward as he met her eyes. I should not have shouted at youThe thing is it is difficult for me to speak of my feelings. Rafe used to say that my aurahe was very into that sort of stuffmust have so many keep out signs that it would take a very brave person to get close to me.