Guiseppe was too exhausted by the journey to talk much that first evening, but the next day Maisie kept him company and got to know him while Jenny spent rapturous quality time with the foal and the proud parents. Maisie had phoned a friend who had married a Welshman and was living in Wales for help in choosing an appropriate name for the little animal. It had to be Welsh, to begin with and mean something nice, she’d told them—and the name Ithel, meaning generous lord had been drawn from the pot. Jenny had pronounced herself delighted with the name so Ithel it was.
It was in the late afternoon, when Maisie and Guiseppe were sitting on the veranda drinking some of Liliana’s delicious homemade lemonade and watching Jenny cavort in the paddock with the horses, that Guiseppe told her that things were all right between Roberto and himself now.
‘I’m glad.’ Maisie smiled into the tired eyes. ‘And I know his family will be.’
‘I have been a foolish man, Maisie. Oh, yes, I have,’ he added as though she had been about to protest. She hadn’t. She agreed with him. ‘But Roberto has promised to bring his wife and children and grandchildren out to Italy at the end of the summer. It seems strange to realise I have grandchildren and even great-grandchildren I knew nothing about.’
So much wasted time. Maisie didn’t say what she was thinking because there was no point in rubbing salt in the wound, but Guiseppe must have guessed anyway because he said, ‘There are always consequences to our foolishness, are there not? I have missed what could have been a wonderful time because of my stubbornness. I thank God for Jenny, do you know that? She had been saying for years I should make my peace with my son, but I was too proud to make the first move. Crazy, eh?’
‘Very.’ She smiled to soften the word. ‘And I think your son was just as bad.’
‘Sì, sì.’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘My elder son takes after me rather than his mother, this is true. His mother was a sweet gentle soul; she would have despaired of the pair of us, I think. Now Blaine is very much a mixture of Jenny and myself and this is good.’
Maisie didn’t know about that. She thought there was far more of Guiseppe than Jenny in Blaine. Again her face must have given her away because Guiseppe’s eyes were suddenly keen on hers as he said, ‘What is it? Blaine has upset you in some way?’
‘Not at all.’ Maisie forced a bright smile. ‘I’m going to Capri with him the day after tomorrow, as it happens. He wants to show me a little of Italy before I have to go back home.’
Guiseppe continued to examine her for some moments. Then he said, ‘I see.’
She doubted that very much but she could hardly say, But we’re only friends, or else that would look as though she was thinking Guiseppe suspected something else. Which she did think, of course, but she couldn’t let him know that. Instead she said, a little lamely, ‘I split up with my fiancé just before I came out here, you see. I think Blaine feels a bit sorry for me.’
Guiseppe looked at the smooth-skinned pretty girl in front of him, her silky hair caught in a high ponytail, which made her look little more than a teenager and her large brown eyes velvet dark and shadowed by thick lashes. His voice was dry when he murmured, ‘Blaine is not in the habit of feeling sorry for people.’
Maisie knew her cheeks were burning, but other than blurting out everything that had passed between her and Blaine—which was so not an option—she knew she couldn’t say anything to convince him he was on the wrong tack. ‘I’d better see about feeding the dogs and cats,’ she said, standing up and so dislodging Humphrey, who was sitting on her foot as usual. And she would make sure she took the dogs for a long walk later, about the time Blaine would call in on his way home. He had told Jenny he’d do that the night before and at the time her heart had leapt at the thought of being able to see him for a while. Now she knew it wasn’t a good idea, not till he’d put his father straight about them being just good friends anyway. And if she was out of the way she was fairly sure Guiseppe would mention it.
She didn’t breathe easy until she had escaped from the house just before Blaine was due. The dogs were quite ecstatic when they all set off, but by the time she had walked their paws off in an effort to make sure Blaine would be gone when she got back, they weren’t so frisky. She had told Jenny and Guiseppe she didn’t want any dinner; she had a headache, she’d lied, and wanted a long walk in the fresh air to clear it, so it was getting dark when she returned to the villa and she was absolutely ravenous.
She was going to be as thin as a rake at this rate, she comforted herself later in the privacy of her room, demolishing the two apples and banana in the fruit bowl on her dressing table in two minutes flat. She had eaten the orange and other banana before she left the house. It was scant reward for missing seeing Blaine. She sighed heavily to herself as the telephone rang and someone in the house picked it up.
A moment or two later there was a discreet tap at her door. When she opened it, Liliana said, ‘The telephone, Maisie. It is for you, sì?’ She gestured to the extension next to the empty fruit bowl.
‘Me?’ Must be Jackie. ‘Thanks, Liliana.’
‘Your headache? It is better after the pills?’
Guiseppe and Jenny had retired when she’d returned to the villa ten minutes or so ago, but Liliana had still been busy in the kitchen. To avoid having to talk, Maisie had kept to her story of the headache and had taken the two painkillers Liliana had insisted she swallow before coming up to bed. ‘Much, thanks.’
Shutting the door again, Maisie then picked up the phone. ‘Hallo?’ she said, quite expecting Jackie to answer.
‘Hallo, Maisie.’ The deep smoky voice definitely wasn’t female. ‘How’s the headache?’
She found she was regretting the headache story more every time someone asked her how it was. ‘Much better, thank you,’ she lied again, ignoring the bolt of electricity that had shot through her at the sound of Blaine’s voice.
‘Good.’ There was a pause and then he said, ‘I didn’t know if you were avoiding me.’
‘Avoiding you?’ She gave a trill of a laugh she was quite proud of in the circumstances. ‘Why ever would I be avoiding you, Blaine?’
The pause was even longer this time. ‘I wasn’t sure if you were…comfortable about coming to Capri with me.’
About as comfortable as being stretched over a bed of nails. ‘Of course, why wouldn’t I be?’ she said brightly.
He didn’t answer this. Instead he said softly, ‘It wasn’t the same without you at the house. Too quiet.’
Oh, no, she wasn’t doing this. She had virtually thrown herself at him the other night and he had made it abundantly clear there could never be anything between them. Apart from friendship. And even the friendship thing had come from her, if she came to think about it. ‘It was only quiet because the dogs were out,’ she said. ‘Nothing to do with me.’
‘Right. I never thought of that.’
Maisie frowned into the phone. He might at least have had the grace to argue the point. ‘Why are you calling, Blaine?’
‘If you were a girlfriend—rather than a friend without the girl before it—I’d say it was to hear the sound of your voice.’
‘But I’m not and you aren’t, so why did you call?’
‘Are you in a bad mood?’ he asked silkily.
‘Not in the least.’ Irritating, impossible man.
‘So this is you in a good mood with nothing at all wrong then?’
‘You know what’s wrong. I’ve got a—’
‘Headache,’ he finished for her. ‘But I thought it was better?’
‘I said it was much better, not that it had gone. And how much better it is depends on how bad it was in the first place. And it was bad. Terrible.’
‘Then I had better leave you to sleep. You must be tired after your hike in the hills, sì?’ he said smoothly.
She had been feeling quite tired but now there was enough adrenaline surging about her body to keep her awake until dawn. ‘Liliana gave me two painkillers,’ she said,
glad that at least that was the truth. ‘They do make one drowsy.’ That wasn’t.
‘Sweet dreams, mia piccola.’ It was gentle, almost tender.
‘Goodnight, Blaine.’ Maisie found her hand was shaking when she put down the receiver. So what had all that been about? She sat down on her bed with a plump and after rerunning their conversation in her mind several times found she was no nearer as to why Blaine had called. She had asked him but he hadn’t answered; in fact he had sidestepped the question very neatly.
It was when she found herself pacing the room that commonsense kicked in. What was she doing? What on earth was she doing? Very probably Blaine’s father had said something about him taking her out for the day, as she had thought he might, and it had set Blaine wondering if she was OK about this platonic matey thing. He had been ringing to see if she wanted to back out of seeing him, that was it. Probably he’d been rather hoping she might. And as for that note in his voice when he had said goodbye, that was her fooling herself. If you were desperate enough you could make yourself believe anything.
Not that she was desperate, not really. She liked him, of course, she liked him very much and certainly the attraction thing had opened her eyes to a side of life she’d previously only read about in books, but that boiled down to lust, plain and simple. Only it wasn’t plain; it was very, very complicated and confusing, and it certainly wasn’t simple.
She stood scowling with her hands on her hips for a full minute before walking into the bathroom and running herself a warm bath. This time she stayed in the water until it was almost cold, graphic pictures of Blaine naked in that wicked bed—or in the shower, or even cooking with just a small apron to protect certain vital parts from splashes—running through her mind and ensuring she left the water as tense and upright as when she’d slid under the warm bubbles.
She would have to stay around tomorrow night when he called in to see his father, especially as they were going to Capri the next day. After drying her hair and pulling on a thin nightie, Maisie slid under the cool cotton covers and tried to relax. And she had to stop getting herself into such a state over this man. It was ridiculous; she had another few weeks in Italy yet, and she couldn’t carry on like this. The ground rules had been set, the situation was clear, everything was straightforward. It was only her silly feelings that were muddying the water. Well, all that stopped right now. She began the breathing exercises she had learnt during a yoga phase some years previously and, to her surprise, they worked. Within five minutes she was fast asleep.
She supposed she should have expected that Blaine’s mother might ask him to stay for dinner the next evening and that he might accept, but nevertheless she felt a moment of acute panic when it happened. As it was, it turned out to be a very pleasant meal in a convivial atmosphere, due mainly to Guiseppe’s ongoing improvement, with no awkward silences or long pauses.
Maisie was more convinced than ever that Blaine had set his parents straight about there being no romantic involvement possible between them as the evening progressed. Which was fine, just fine, she told herself firmly. It removed the likelihood of any misconception for a start. Now, when Jenny praised her for how well she cared for the animals and how even the cats had been persuaded to succumb to their grooming without their normal spitting and cuffs, Maisie knew it was because Blaine’s mother really meant it. And when Guiseppe commented over the dessert that her presence in the house had made him think they had missed out by not having a daughter, she knew he wasn’t just trying to be nice for Blaine’s sake.
On her part, she found herself liking Jenny and Guiseppe more every hour of every day. Never having got on with her own mother, she found Jenny’s easy warm nature a delight, and Guiseppe, although undeniably fiery and somewhat difficult, was essentially a kind man with a loving heart.
All through the meal, however, even as she chatted and laughed and joined in the flowing conversation, she was vitally aware of the tall dark man on the other side of the table. Blaine was one of those men whose every action, every look or expression was just totally masculine. He exuded maleness—virile, flagrant maleness—and it made her toes curl.
She had prepared herself once she sat down at the table, though, and when their glances happened to meet or if they talked to each other she kept a tight rein on her surging hormones. She was not going to make a fool of herself over him again, she had promised herself that.
Once the meal was over it was obvious Guiseppe was very tired. The major heart surgery he had undertaken had been an enormous shock to his body, and when Jenny insisted on saying goodnight to Blaine and Maisie and ushering Guiseppe to their quarters he didn’t object too much. Blaine and Maisie sat finishing their coffee in the ornate grandeur of the dining room, and for the first time that evening Maisie found herself tongue-tied. Probably because she had caught herself fantasising about what it would be like for a woman to lose her virginity to a strong sexy man like Blaine Morosini. Bad idea. Not the losing of it, of course, but the thinking about it.
‘I’m looking forward to tomorrow,’ Blaine murmured after several tense moments.
Tense on her side, Maisie noted irritably. Blaine didn’t seem bothered at all.
‘It has been a long time since I showed off the beauty of my country to a visitor,’ he added lazily.
Which was the only reason he was looking forward to a day spent in her company? Charming. Maisie’s edginess melted into impotent anger. She smiled sweetly. ‘Me, too,’ she said very calmly. ‘It’s always so much better to see the sights with a friend who knows the area.’ She reached for one of the glaringly calorific homemade chocolates Liliana had brought in with the coffee earlier. She needed the comfort factor.
‘We will spend another day in Amalfi, I think.’ Blaine smiled at her and her traitorous nerves buzzed. ‘Do you know how the town got its name?’
Maisie shook her head. She didn’t much care either, but if it kept him here with her an extra few minutes she’d even listen to talk about football or cricket.
‘According to tradition, Hercules fell in love with a beautiful nymph called Amalfi,’ Blaine said softly, ‘but they only had a short time together before she sadly died. Hercules decided to bury his love in what he considered to be the most beautiful place on earth, and to immortalise her he gave it her name.’
‘That’s very sad.’
‘Most legends are.’ Blaine grinned at her. ‘But Amalfi is worth a visit. We will go on a Friday evening, I think. In the cathedral there the atrium leads to the lovely Chiostro del Paradiso, the Paradise Cloister, an Arabian structure built in the thirteenth century and the setting for piano concerts in the summer months on a Friday evening. You will enjoy this.’
Maisie stared at him. How often had he gone there with Francesca? Or other women?
‘Then there are the exquisite ancient mosaics and Roman treasures in the museum in Naples, the ruins of Pompeii, the cathedral at Ravello where the blood of St Pantaleone miraculously liquefies twice a year…’ He paused. ‘And so I could go on. You will fall in love with Italy. I guarantee it.’
She had fallen in love. And not just with Italy. As the thought struck her stomach clenched and she bent to pick up her napkin, which had fallen on the floor, to hide her expression from him. She loved him. It had been staring her in the face for days but she hadn’t wanted to believe it. This wasn’t an emotional rebound thing or a holiday infatuation, it was real. It made the way she had felt about Jeff, Gary too, so lukewarm as to be laughable.
She sat up again, placing the napkin on the table and smoothing her hair from her face as she said, ‘Blaine, I’m supposed to be working for your mother. I can’t just go gallivanting off every day.’ Not that she didn’t want to be with him, but every minute she was there was the very real danger she would betray herself. And that humiliation would be too much to bear on top of everything else.
‘My mother adores you; it is not a problem. Besides which, it will not be every day,’ he said in a reasonable to
ne which suggested she was grossly exaggerating. ‘Now—’ he stood up and Maisie wondered why it was some men could move with the grace of one of the big cats ‘—I will be here for you at seven o’clock in the morning, sì?’
She nodded, following him out into the hall and then to the front door. He opened it before turning round and skimming her cheeks with his warm mouth. The Latin caress was the same as he had given his parents before they had retired for the night and she knew it meant nothing; nevertheless it set every nerve clamouring. It took every ounce of will she possessed to betray nothing but neutrality when she said, ‘Goodnight, Blaine.’
‘Goodnight, mia piccola. Sleep well.’
She stood watching him as he walked to his car and she was glad of the shadows as her eyes suddenly pricked with tears. Why couldn’t it have been different? Why couldn’t she have been so beautiful, so desirable, that all his fears about getting involved faded into nothing? Why did she have to be Maisie Burns?
She stood on the doorstep in the quiet warmth of the scented evening long after Blaine’s car had disappeared. And then she sighed heavily, shut the door and walked upstairs, telling herself she must, she must, get her crazy feelings under control and just take each day as it came and be thankful for it. To live for the minute, the hour, without thinking beyond that.
In a few weeks she would be returning to England, just in time for the autumn chill to begin and for winter to start making its presence felt with the usual icy rain and fogs and damp mornings. All this would seem like a dream then. Blaine Morosini would seem like a dream.
Once in her bedroom she didn’t immediately start undressing but stood at the window, gazing out at the black sky twinkling with a thousand stars.
He had made it crystal clear how he felt. She could expect nothing. And if she was foolish enough to hope for more it would be her own fault when she was disappointed. And if, being a man and an Italian one at that, he flirted a little during the coming days when he took her out she had to accept it as a compliment to her femininity and nothing more.
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