Seduced by the Italian

by Fraser, Diana

  She hesitated at the edge of the small sun-scorched square, fringed by towering chestnut trees whose leaves rustled and stirred in the breeze, and vainly tried to stem the wave of nostalgia that threatened to overwhelm her.

  The late morning sun cast a protective light over the valley. It was the school holidays and children played in the river by the bridge at the edge of the village; old men gathered around wooden benches outside the small bakery, drinking coffee and reminiscing, while the business of every day ebbed and flowed around them. It was still home and would always be, whether she lived there or not.

  She looked up at the castello and saw the outline of a man looking down at the village from the edge of the terrazza. She walked quickly into the shadows of the shop awnings. Why had he returned? What the hell was it he wanted from her?

  Revenge for the way her parents had treated him? Her father had caught them making love one night and had had a furious argument with Luca during which her father had accused Luca of being a worthless, immoral bastard, not good enough for his daughter. She remembered the look in Luca’s eyes. Her father’s vicious words had got to him and he’d left. And she'd let him go without a word, too scared of what her father might do. Later, after she’d discovered she was pregnant, Luca had returned but by then it had been too late.

  Revenge. It must be his purpose. But he’d said not and whatever his faults, he’d always been honest.

  She stopped, arrested by a sudden thought.

  What if he’d returned for her? He’d not been able to keep his hands off her since he’d arrived; he’d kissed her within minutes of being with her again. And she’d responded. Like it or not, she’d responded like a woman starved of love. Which she supposed she was.

  If he wanted her only for a few months, what of it? Was it so bad? They would both go their own way afterwards. She’d had years to lose the vulnerability of her youth. She was older, tougher now. The thought of submitting to those lips, those hands, his body, sent shivers of desire tracking through her body. Just a few months...

  No. She continued down the street. She couldn’t do it. She had to avoid him. But as she absent-mindedly greeted passers-by, the thought persisted—he must want her still. He must have come here for her. There could be no other reason he’d insisted on employing her. And, despite her best arguments to the contrary, her body stirred in response to the thought of Luca wanting her, to the thought of Luca making love to her.

  Isabella shifted her feet and gestured in myriad small ways to try to convey to the two old ladies, without being rude, that she needed to move on. But one of the women put a surprisingly steel-like grip on her arm and continued to reminisce about how charming and handsome Isabella’s father had been. Isabella felt her smile stiffen on her face. Of course he had been, to most everyone else.

  The old lady continued, moving both herself and her companion to tears, as she petted Isabella’s arm and they moved on to their favorite subjects of death and illness in the village. Isabella wondered whether she’d ever succumb to the morose interests of the elderly. Her thoughts were interrupted by the shouts of boys and men and the laughter of women, moving like a wave toward her. It could only mean one thing.

  She flicked her sunglasses down onto her nose and turned the same way the two women were now looking.

  “Buongiorno signorinas! Filomena! And Luisa! Come stai?” Luca kissed both women on the cheeks and allowed them to surreptitiously feel the fine stuff of his shirt between inquisitive fingers and evaluate its cost with good humor while his eyes never left Isabella’s.

  “Contessa, good morning. You’re early for our meeting at Nonna’s house.”

  The old ladies clucked around him but he remained oblivious. Either that or he was very used to it.

  “I thought you might like me to make a start. Save you the bother of checking through her things.”

  His smile was tight. “So thoughtful. However this is something she wanted us to do together. So I’ll join you.”

  She shook her head. “No, really I—”

  “Contessa,” he dipped his head briefly to hers as he flashed a smile at the old ladies. “We have no choice in the matter. My grandmother requested it of us and I believe we should comply with her last wishes. Don’t you think we should?” He asked the ladies who nodded in agreement, obviously rapt to witness the exchange. “You see,” he linked his arm through hers as if he was afraid she’d escape, “I’m afraid you have no choice.”

  He pulled her away and, this time, the old ladies let them go. Isabella felt everyone’s eyes upon them but Luca seemed intent only on her.

  “Please don’t let me keep you from your important business. I’m sure someone as wealthy as yourself can ill afford to take time from his work.”

  “It’s nice that you concern yourself with me. But really you don’t have to. Someone as wealthy as myself can afford to have people do his work for him. Most of it anyway.” His grip tightened briefly on her arm and she didn’t know if it was an expression of affection or control.

  “How lucky for you.”

  “Luck, Isabella, has little to do with success.”

  Of course it didn’t. Her need to defend herself against his charm was making her say things she didn’t mean. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ve worked very hard for your success. I don’t mean to belittle it.”

  He stopped abruptly, the firm grip of his arm holding hers, pulling her to a sudden standstill. “Do you realize you’ve just said something pleasant to me? Progress, I think.” He grinned.

  She shrugged. “I guess.”

  “We’ll be having a civilized conversation next.”

  “Anything’s possible.” She smiled back. The smile drifted away as he inclined his head close to hers. His eyes, so full of warmth and promise, drew her into their depths.

  “It seems, contessa, there are rumors afoot about you and me.”

  Suddenly she was aware of indiscreet giggles, breaking the spell and allowing her to draw on all her willpower to pull away from his hot gaze. They started walking once more, away from the villagers and their innuendo.

  “Villagers always gossip, even if there’s no foundation.”

  “Do you believe there’s no foundation? Here we are, walking arm and arm to my grandmother’s house. Besides, what could be more fitting than a union between the dispossessed beautiful contessa and the wealthy prodigal son, returned?”

  “You’ve gone your way and I’ve gone mine. I’ll be leaving here in a few months and so will you. These people don’t know the ways of the world, like we do.” She withdrew her hand from his arm.

  “Indeed. But, you know sometimes,” he drew her hand back into his arm as they stopped outside his grandmother's house, “I wish we were innocent again.”

  She shivered despite the heat. “I was never innocent.”

  “Of course you were.” He frowned. “What is it, Isabella?” His finger swept her arm and he looked hard into her eyes. “Goosebumps. Are you cold? Frightened of something?”

  She shook her head and quickly withdrew her hand to pluck the old key from her pocket. She shook her head again, more decisively this time. “I just don’t want to go inside the house. It used to be such a special place for me, I can't bear to see it empty.”

  “Then don’t. There's no hurry. It can wait until tomorrow. Do you wish to leave it?”

  She bit her lip with indecision. It wasn't only that she was dreading returning to the home of her old friend. It was more than that. Nonna's house had always been her safe haven. It had been a place of comfort, where she’d been at her most relaxed. And she needed to keep up all her defenses when she was with Luca.

  “I must.” She lifted the key and saw that her hand was shaking. She dropped it quickly back to her side, hoping Luca hadn't seen.

  “In which case, let me help.” He took the key from her and fitted it into the lock, turning it until they heard the old latch retract with a solid clunk.

  Suddenly she realized
she couldn't do it. She placed her hand over his. “No. You're right. Let's leave it.”

  He grinned, locked the door once more and dropped the key into his pocket. “Good decision. The sun is high, why don’t we walk away from the house, the village, the castello. Just for a while. I’d like to see if we can make it to the dizzy heights of ‘civilized conversation’. What do you say?”

  She shouldn’t go; of course she shouldn’t. But looking into his eyes she knew she had no choice. She wanted to be with him and she wanted to know why he’d returned.

  The fresh breeze swept away the lingering memories as they left the last of the cottages and the castello far behind them.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Wherever we end up.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. No plans, no expectations. Let’s just enjoy the sun. It’s so long since I walked in the meadows round here.”

  Isabella blinked, trying to fight her need to know, to control. “Sure.” It was only when he laughed that she realized her tight, brief reply revealed her discomfort and she pursed her lips in a vain effort to conceal her smile.

  With each step away from the castello and the village, the sense of her surroundings diminished and her awareness of him grew. The uneven ground of the pasture invaded her thoughts only because he’d slipped his arm around her to prevent her stumbling. And when they arrived at the glade of tall willows whose high leaves shimmered above them in the sunlight, only some of the heat that flooded her body left, shaded from the external heat. And when she found herself at the old place beside the river she heard his sigh of satisfaction as if it were her own.

  He was full of life and it was so tempting to connect to that life once more. And it seemed that he wanted to connect with her. Otherwise, why had he brought her here?

  He grasped a handful of dried grass and leaned back against a tree, his fingers idly shredding the seeds of the grass and tossing them into the river, watching them as they floated away.

  “Shall we stay here for a while?”

  She shrugged. “Why? Do you wish to talk business? About the re-decoration and remodeling work?”

  He turned to her then and his face was relaxed, his expression faintly amused, curious even. “If you wish, of course. Naturally I’ll stop you once I’ve heard enough.”

  “Naturally.” She sat down, tucking her legs neatly under her.

  “If it’s the only way I’m going to enjoy your company then I’m prepared to bend my rule of not mixing business with pleasure.”

  “Is it a rule you break often?”

  Isabella took a deep breath of moist grassy air—tinged with the perfume of some late wild flowers—and waited for him to answer.

  “No, cara, it isn’t. I’ve never before felt the desire to put my arms around any of my business colleagues.”

  “And you want to now?”

  “Certamente.”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “Because I enjoy the feel of your bare arm under my hand. It’s as simple as that.”

  “That sounds complicated.”

  “No, it’s not, Isabella. You complicate things too much.”

  “That’s because they are complicated.” He didn’t understand. And why should he?

  He pushed himself off the tree and came and sat beside her. “Just for now forget about the complexity. There is just us, by the river, enjoying the peace. How much more simple could it be?”

  “Perhaps for now. Perhaps for a short time I can forget.” He reached out and brushed the palm of his hand lightly down her arm. “Yes, when you touch me I can forget.” His fingers curled around hers until they held her in a light grip.

  “Then I’d best not let you go.”

  She smiled and looked away. She knew the heavy burden of guilt and grief would always be there and could never be overturned. But perhaps on this glorious summer day she could have a brief respite. From his hand seemed to flow a warmth and certainty that suddenly made things very simple.

  “Rest, Isabella, sit back.”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine.” She remained with her legs tucked under her, her back straight, as she looked around. The world was peaceful under the shelter of the yellowing, sunburned leaves. Only the movement of the river stirred under the mid-day sun. “This place hasn’t changed.”

  “No, it hasn’t. But that's something a person returning should say. Not someone who has remained here.”

  She remained focused on the light bouncing off the water as it tumbled over moss-covered rocks. “I haven’t been here for a long time.”

  “Nor I.”

  “So, Luca, tell me, why the sudden change from anger to charm? Before, you were demanding; today you are conciliatory, gentle. What exactly is it you want?” There was a long pause in which Isabella’s thoughts turned full circle. He must have feelings for her; they were evident in everything he did when he was near her. Weren’t they?

  He laughed. “I’d forgotten how perceptive you were.”

  “It seems there are many things you’ve forgotten. Including that I know you well.”

  “Knew me well.” He corrected. “Past tense; past knowledge.”

  “Enlighten me then.”

  “I always admired your directness. You want to know, you ask. Most other women would not need to know the destination before we begin. But not Isabella.”

  “Just call me a control freak.”

  “I think I have. What can I do to make you relax, to make you enjoy yourself?”

  “I am enjoying myself, Luca. I’m just rusty. It’s been a while…”

  He reached over and picked up her hand in his. “The truth is, cara, I want to leave our past behind us. The truth is…” he hesitated, frowning before meeting her gaze, “I enjoy being with you.”

  It was only when she heard the words that she realized just how much she’d wanted to hear that he was here for her, because of her. He was here because he wanted to be. He didn’t need to live here to refurbish the place. He didn’t need to have hired her to re-design it. He was rich, powerful; his choices were vast. But he was here with her, now.

  He wove his fingers between hers, slowly driving them up to their hilt before wrapping them over the back of her hand with a gentle squeeze. Then he lifted their combined fists up until they were outlined against the dappled sunlight. He released her hand, steepling his fingers between hers and she echoed the movement: touching, strong, yet separate.

  “It’s been too long.”

  “I haven’t been anywhere. It’s you who’ve been away.”

  His fingers claimed hers once more. “But I'm here now.”

  “And what is it you want now?”

  Luca brought his head nearer to hers so he could breathe in her perfume and so she could feel him close. He knew she couldn’t prevent the instinctive reaction she had to him. He looked down and saw her chest rise and fall more quickly and the small, delicate place on her skin, revealed by the dark upward sweep of hair, pulse rapidly. He could almost feel her opening up to him, inch by inch, like a shy bloom facing the spring after a long, hard winter.

  “The same as you I think.”

  She tugged down her skirt over her knees with careful deliberation. “Tell me, Luca. Please.”

  “Ah, Isabella, if I only could.” He brushed the back of his finger down the side of her cheek and paused, waiting to see if she would speak but she sat, straight and stiff, as if unmoved by his words. “All I know is that when I touch you, I see you react and it’s a mirror of my own response.” He watched her body respond, more fascinated by the rise and fall of her breasts, of the bare skin of her arm, goose-bumping where his breath touched it, than trying to put into words the complexity of his feelings. He slid around so he was seated opposite to her. He could see her better now. He reached out and took her hand—so slender and refined—in his. Her only ornament was her gold Cartier watch inherited from her mother. No rings. He frowned.

  “Were y
ou never tempted to marry, Isabella? Seven years is a long time.”

  She looked up at him with fierce eyes. “None of your business.”

  She looked away again, across to the river that tumbled over the rocks in front of them. She had definitely changed. Seven years was a long time. Then, her cheeks had been softer, plumper, now they were lean and sharp. They revealed the beauty of her cheekbones. They also revealed the tension she held inside.

  He loved this place but had no interest in it now; he was mesmerized by her face, watching her eyes flicker around the scene and her mouth relax under its spell. The sun caught her cheekbone, leaving the other side of her face in shadow. A beautiful face, her English coloring soft in shade and texture, dramatically counterpointed by her dark hair, again drawn back tightly from her face. Some might say a hard face. Some might, but he wouldn’t, because he knew what lay beneath.

  He put his hand to her chin and gently turned her to face him. “You’re right of course.”

  What he saw stopped him in his tracks. He hadn’t expected to see fear. He immediately dropped his hand.

  “Cara, what are you so afraid of?”

  “You, of course, Luca. You. What are you doing? Do you plan to seduce me, have a little fun over the next few months before you move on? Is that the idea?”

  It was like a slap in the face, bringing him sharply to his senses. “I want… to be with you, without anger. I want to forget about the past. Is that too much to ask?”

  She parted her lips to speak but no sound came, just a jerky intake of breath. She jumped up and walked across to the river, as if seeking reassurance in the murmur of water on rocks. “I think it might be.”

  He followed and took her hand. He felt the tension and some, unfathomable pain he needed to take away. “Come, Isabella. Let me hold you.”

  With her eyes downcast she edged her body slowly to his chest and held herself there, rigid. It was the most surprising and awkward movement he could imagine. Like a small child, unused to love, putting herself forward for comfort. He tilted her chin and kissed her gently on the lips.