by Annie West
‘The well?’ His heart plunged into a pool of icy fear.
‘No. A sinkhole. I found her hair ribbon on the edge of it and some marbles.’
Domenico’s breath stopped. If she’d been playing too close to the edge and then leaned in...
‘I’ll go and check it out.’
Lucy shook her head, her hands clutching like talons. ‘No! I’ve done that. There’s no sound from below. We need a rope to reach her. Every minute counts. Please, trust me on this.’ He read her desperation.
He thought of the way she’d cared for Chiara as they played together, and her careful nurturing of Taddeo all those years ago.
He couldn’t waste precious time. He had to trust her judgement. A second later he was gone, pounding down the dusty path to the villa.
When he returned, laden with supplies, Lucy had disappeared. He found her half a kilometre on, at the edge of the narrow hole. She was leaning down, talking. As he sprinted to her he realised she was telling a story about a brave princess called Chiara who was rescued in her hour of need.
‘She’s spoken to you?’ He shrugged off the rope looped across his shoulder and put down the medical kit.
Lucy’s face was solemn. ‘No. But I thought if she comes to and hears a familiar voice she won’t be so scared.’ Her mouth was white-rimmed and she blinked hard. Domenico squeezed her shoulder.
‘Thank you, Lucy. That’s a great idea.’ He wasn’t sure he’d have thought of it.
‘Where are the others?’ She looked beyond him.
‘Still at the shore. They’ll be here soon. Chiara’s grandmother will have got the message to them by now.’ He looked around. ‘I’ll have to tie this to that old olive tree. You keep a look out while I’m down there.’
‘No. I’ll go.’
Domenico dropped to his knees and shone the torch down the hole but he couldn’t see anything. His heart sank but he quickly uncoiled the rope.
‘I said I’ll go down.’ As if he’d let her risk her neck down there. ‘My property. My risk.’
‘Have you seen the size of that hole? Your shoulders are too wide. You’ll never fit.’
Domenico turned to scrutinise the sinkhole.
Damn! She was right. In his youth he’d done some caving but the squeezes had become difficult as he’d grown. This hole was so narrow he wasn’t sure a grown woman could get down.
Nevertheless he opened his mouth to protest.
Lucy’s fingers pressed his lips. He tasted dust and salt and the familiar sweet flavour of her skin. His nostrils filled with her scent. Despite the crisis his body tightened.
‘Don’t argue, Domenico. If I’d come out to play with her this morning this wouldn’t have happened.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ Already he was looping the rope around her, securing it firmly. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong.’
Deep blue eyes met his and a flash of something passed between them. Something that pounded through his chest and into his soul.
‘Thank you, Domenico. But that’s how it feels. Now, how do I lower myself?’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it all.’
* * *
The next hour was pure nightmare for Lucy. She’d never been fond of small, dark places and being confined in a claustrophobically narrow hole evoked panicked memories of her first nights behind bars, when life had been an unreal horror.
She scraped off skin getting through the entrance but to her relief, the hole widened as she progressed.
Even better, she found Chiara conscious, though barely. Lucy’s heart sped as she heard her whimper.
‘It’s all right, sweetie. You’re safe.’
Nevertheless it took an age. First to undo the rope so Domenico could send down the medical kit. Then to assess Chiara’s injuries—grazes, a nasty bump and a broken wrist. Then to bind her wrist and reassure her while she secured the thick rope around her.
Lucy wished she could go up and hold her close but there wasn’t room for two. Finally, an age later, she tugged the rope so Domenico could lift Chiara free. Lucy bit her lip, hoping her assessment of minor injuries was right. They couldn’t leave her here much longer; already she was shivering from shock and cold. Goodness knew how long it would take to get a medic from the mainland.
The shadows had lengthened and the sky clouded over by the time Lucy entrusted herself again to Domenico’s strong arms. She was breathless with relief as he hauled her up to sit on the ground. A crowd of people was there, huddled around Chiara.
Lucy gulped lungfuls of sweet air, hardly daring believe she was on the surface again.
‘How is she?’ Her voice sounded rusty.
‘She’ll be fine, but she’s going to the mainland for a check up.’ The deep voice came from close by. Powerful arms pulled her higher then wrapped her close. A sense of belonging filled her, and sheer relief as she sank into Domenico’s hold.
Weakness invaded her bones and Lucy let her head drop against his chest. Just while she collected herself. Her heart pounded out of sync as she breathed deep, absorbing the peace she found in his embrace.
How could it be? He’d berated and duped her. He’d raised her up till she felt like a goddess in his arms, then reduced her almost to tears with cruel taunts.
Her body betrayed her. It never wanted to move again.
Dimly she became aware of noise and lifted her head to applause and cheers. They were all looking at her, smiling and clapping.
‘Thank you, Lucy.’ Rocco came forward and, turning her in Domenico’s arms, kissed her on both cheeks. ‘You saved our special girl.’
His mother came next, the friendly woman who’d been so kind to her, then a string of others, some she knew and some she didn’t. One by one they embraced her and kissed her cheeks. And all the while Domenico supported her as if he knew her shaky legs couldn’t keep her upright unaided.
Warmth stirred. A warmth Lucy hadn’t known in what seemed a lifetime of cold, miserable isolation. It radiated out till her whole body tingled with it. Something deep inside splintered and fell away, like ice from a glacier. Its loss made her feel raw and vulnerable and yet closer to these welcoming people than she’d felt to anyone in years.
Finally they moved away, bustling around Chiara.
Lucy stayed in Domenico’s arms, too exhausted, too stunned to move. A smile stretched her muscles yet she felt the hot track of tears down her cheeks. She didn’t understand why she cried, but she couldn’t seem to stop. A sob filled her chest then broke out, shocking her.
Domenico’s arms tightened.
‘It’s all right, Lucy. We’ll have you home soon.’
Home? Bitterness drenched her. She was the eternal outsider. She had no home, nowhere to belong. Then she stiffened. She had to get a grip.
Lucy blinked and saw Domenico looking down at her, no arrogance, no hauteur, no accusation on his face. There was an expression in his gleaming eyes that made another splinter of ice crack away. She shivered, realising how defenceless she was against him now.
‘Thank you, Lucy, for saving Chiara.’ He lifted his hand and wiped her cheek. She’d never seen him look more serious. ‘You risked your life for her.’
Lucy shook her head. ‘Anyone would have—’
‘No! Not anyone. Lots wouldn’t have dared. If it hadn’t been for you I dread to think how long it would have been before we found her and got her out.’
His thumb swiped her cheek again, then rubbed across her lip. She tasted the subtle spice of Domenico’s skin through the salt tang of tears.
‘I was wrong about you.’ His voice had lost its mellow richness. Instead she heard strain. ‘You’re not the woman I thought. What I said this morning... I apologise.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘Can you forgive me?’
Numb with shock, Lucy nodded.
Then sweet wonder filled her as he dipped his head. Their gazes meshed, their breaths mingled and something like joy swelled in her breast.
Domenico leaned in and kissed
her gently, tenderly, with a reverence that filled her heart with delight and eased her wounded soul.
CHAPTER NINE
‘OF COURSE TADDEO is welcome here as usual. Nothing will ever change that. He’s my nephew and as precious to me as a son.’
Domenico thrust his hand through his hair in frustration as his sister-in-law squawked her outrage down the phone line. She was family and, for his nephew’s sake especially, Domenico put up with her.
‘Yes, Lucy’s here. Far better she stays here away from the press than selling her story. Isn’t that what you wanted?’
He eased the phone from his ear as Pia unleashed a torrent of objections. Mouth flattening, he strode to the wide terrace and inhaled deep of the fresh sea air. Pia had read about Domenico rescuing Lucy from the press and demanded to know why she was still with him.
As if he had to clear his actions with Pia!
He’d only got involved in this situation because Pia had pleaded for him to intervene.
Though this had passed well beyond a simple business negotiation. He was...personally involved.
He thought of his overwhelming relief when Lucy had emerged from that dark hole. For heart-stopping minutes panic had filled him as it seemed to take a lifetime to haul her up. Domenico tasted rusty fear, remembering.
He’d gathered her close and hadn’t been able to release her even when her well-wishers crowded around. He’d needed her with him.
Domenico scrubbed a hand over his jaw. He and Lucy had unfinished business. Business he’d delayed. It had nothing to do with Sandro or Pia or the press.
‘Calm down, Pia, and hear me out.’
* * *
Lucy heard Domenico as she entered the house. She stopped, not to eavesdrop but because he had that effect on her. She’d given up pretending. She might be weak where he was concerned but she refused to lie to herself.
The sound of that rich macchiato voice pooled heat deep in her body. The memory of his tender kiss, as if he treasured her, made forbidden hope unfurl.
‘I understand your concerns, Pia, but she’s not the woman the press have painted.’
Lucy started, realising Domenico was talking to his sister-in-law about her. She went rigid, torn between curiosity and protecting herself. Since the rescue it had been hard to keep him at arm’s length. Yet she needed to because he could hurt her badly.
She was moving away when he spoke again.
‘That was years ago, Pia. People change. She’s changed. Did you get her letter?’
Lucy’s steps faltered.
‘You shouldn’t have destroyed it. She wrote to say how much she regretted Sandro’s death. She was genuine, Pia. I’m sure of that.’
Lucy’s heart hammered against her ribs, her hand clenching on the door handle.
Domenico was standing up for her against his sister-in-law! She could scarcely believe it.
‘I understand, Pia. But it’s time we moved on. For Taddeo’s sake.’ He paused as if listening. ‘We can’t change the past, much as we wish it. I know Lucy wishes she could. She’s genuinely sorry for what happened to Sandro.’
Lucy clung to the door handle as her knees wobbled.
‘That’s your choice, Pia. But think about what I’ve said. Living in the present is the best thing for your son. He’s a fine boy, one Sandro would have been proud of. You don’t want him growing up bitter and fearful, do you?’
Domenico’s voice dipped on his brother’s name, reminding Lucy this was a private conversation.
She released the door and crossed the foyer. Confusion filled her but it didn’t dim her smile and her step was light.
Domenico had stood up for her!
* * *
Sunlight filtered through spreading branches and Lucy leaned against her cushion with a sigh of contentment.
‘More?’ Domenico lifted a bunch of dark grapes with the bloom of the vineyard still on them.
‘I couldn’t.’ She patted her stomach. ‘I’ve eaten like a horse.’
His eyes followed the movement and fire licked her. She stiffened then forced herself to relax as his gaze grew intent. Domenico saw too much, especially now when her skill at hiding her feelings had disintegrated.
‘I’ll have some.’ Chiara skipped across the clearing. The plaster on her wrist was the only reminder of last week’s ordeal.
Lucy met Domenico’s rueful gaze and realised they shared the same thought. She smiled, sharing the moment of relief, and he smiled back. It was like watching the sunrise after endless night, warming her with an inner glow.
Her breathing snagged then resumed, quicker and shorter as she watched his eyes darken. Her skin shivered as if responding to the phantom brush of his hand.
‘Domi? Can’t I have some?’
Domenico dragged his attention to Chiara. ‘Of course, bella.’ He handed over the bunch then leaned back on his arms. Lucy’s heart pattered faster. If he shifted again they’d be touching.
Domenico hadn’t touched her since Chiara’s accident. That made her wonder if she’d imagined the strength of his embrace that day, or the way his hands had trembled as he held her. Her breath eased out in a sigh.
She’d never forget the magic of his kiss. Her fingers drifted to her mouth as she relived the brush of his lips.
It worried her how much she longed for him. How readily she responded now he treated her as a welcome guest. After hearing him defend her to Pia she hadn’t been able to quell effervescent excitement, or the conviction that things had changed irrevocably between them.
She looked up to find his hooded eyes gleaming with heat. It arced between them, pulsing darts of sizzling awareness to her breasts, her belly and beyond.
Lucy shivered and his mouth curled in a lopsided smile that carved a long dimple down his lean cheek. She curled her fingers into the grass, fighting the impulse to reach out and touch.
‘So, Lucy.’ He paused, glancing across to where Chiara sat with the flowers she’d gathered. ‘You approve of Italian picnics?’
‘I adore Italian picnics.’
‘You’ve only been on one.’
She shrugged and felt the soft breeze waft over her bare arms, the melting laxness in her bones. ‘What’s not to like? Sunshine and food fresh from the farm.’ She gestured to the remains of home baked bread, bowls of ricotta and local honey, prosciutto, olives and a cornucopia of summer fruits. ‘It’s heaven. Almost as good as our picnics back home.’
His eyebrows slanted high. ‘Almost?’
‘Well, there’s nothing like a sudden English rainstorm to liven up outdoor eating.’
He laughed, the deep rich sound curling round her. An answering smile hovered on Lucy’s mouth.
Smiling had become second nature lately. Because she’d been made to feel she belonged. By Chiara’s warm-hearted family and by Domenico. Gone was his judgemental frown, replaced by easy-going acceptance that banished so many shadows. He’d taken her snorkelling again, taught her to waterski and whiled away more hours than he needed to in her company, never once mentioning his brother or the story she might sell to the press. As if he trusted her.
Lucy could relax with him now.
No, that wasn’t right. This tingling awareness wasn’t relaxation. It was confidence and excitement and pleasure all rolled together.
Risky pleasure, when it lulled her into fantasy. When she found herself hoping the horrors of the past would vanish and leave them untroubled in this paradise.
A chill frisson snaked up her backbone.
It can’t last.
One day soon the real world would intrude.
Lucy marvelled that Domenico had taken so much time out from what must be a heavy work schedule. He’d have business elsewhere. And she...she’d have to go too.
Regret lanced her and she twisted towards Chiara rather than let Domenico glimpse her pain.
Its intensity shocked her. It ripped through her, stealing the breath in her lungs.
Lucy pressed a hand to her chest.
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‘Are you okay?’ Domenico moved abruptly as if sensing her discomfort.
‘I’m fine.’ This time her smile was a desperate lie. ‘Just a little too much indulgence after all.’
Panic stirred. This wasn’t just regret that the vacation was almost over. She’d known it would be tough trying to create a new life. She’d spent the last weeks facing the unpalatable facts of a future without family, friends, a job or anywhere to call home.
But the dread that made her skin break into a cold sweat owed nothing to that. It had everything to do with Domenico Volpe and what she’d begun to feel for him.
She felt...too much.
On a surge of frantic energy Lucy shot to her feet. Domenico was just as quick, his expression concerned as he broke his own unspoken rule and encircled her wrist with long fingers.
Instantly Lucy stilled, willing her pulse to slow.
‘What is it, Lucy?’
‘Nothing. I just wanted to move.’
Grey eyes searched her face and she held her breath, praying he couldn’t read her thoughts. She could barely understand them herself. Amazing as it seemed, she cared for Domenico in a way that made the idea of leaving him send panic spurting through her.
‘Liar.’ To her addled brain the whisper sounded like a caress.
The stroke of his thumb against her wrist was a caress. She clamped her hand on his to stop it, looking down to see his dark golden fingers cradle her paler ones.
They held each other, fingers meshing. Strength throbbed through her. How could she give this up?
Because she must.
‘You promised—’
‘I promised not to revisit the past.’ His breath was warm on her cheek. ‘But this isn’t about the past, is it, Lucy? This is about the present. Here. Now.’
Unable to stop herself, she turned her head and met his eyes. Molten heat poured through her as their gazes locked. The world receded, blocked out by the knowledge she read there, the awareness.
‘I can’t—’ Words clogged in her throat.
‘It’s all right, Lucy. You don’t have to do anything.’
‘Domi? Lucy? What’s wrong?’
Domenico looked down at Chiara and Lucy felt the sudden release of tension as if a band had snapped undone around her chest. She breathed deep, trying to find equilibrium. But Domenico still held her, his touch firm and possessive. A thrill of secret pleasure rippled through her.