He went to the wheel and started the boat’s engine. She did not follow him but sat just outside the cabin admiring the play of scarlet ribbons across the turquoise water. Halfway across the stretch of water, she turned back and looked at the town. The sun was casting red streaks of light over the honey-coloured buildings, dancing across the terracotta roofs.
‘This is so beautiful,’ she called to Luca. He turned and looked at her.
‘Yes, it is, very beautiful.’
Something in the way he said it made her catch her breath. Did he really mean the town? He could not have been referring to her, yet if he was not why had he looked at her in that way. In what way? Her mind teased. As if he liked what he saw, a little voice echoed through her, very much. Nonsense, he does not care for me, he cannot forgive me for what he thinks I did. He is being nice because he wants something from me. And will you give him what he wants? The teasing question made her limbs melt; she felt the throb of desire deep inside her, parts of her body puckered as if for his kiss. What he wants, girl, her sensible side spoke up, is for you to be the perfect hostess for his dinner party. That is what he wants and nothing else.
*
On the morning of the party the palazzo buzzed with the sound of preparations. Delivery vans would come and go in rapid succession. Flowers were brought; Claudia had the girls polishing the silver, and then set the table, calling for Alva to inspect it when it was done.
She had ordered pink and cream roses as the centre piece, it was perfect, nicer even than she had expected. The napery was cream damask, the tableware the finest Limoges. Everything glistened and shone and looked elegant but welcoming. Tall silver candelabra housed long slender cream candles which, when lighted, would reflect on the fine crystal glassware. ‘It’s perfect,’ she said to Guido who was acting as butler. He had polished the huge chandelier and had raised it again and it shone in the patches of sunlight that spilled into the room, in a rainbow of light. Since she had been here they had never used the formal dining-room and she had not realized what a truly magnificent room it was.
She had just applied her make-up when a tap on the bedroom door disturbed her. Alva knew it would be her husband on the other side. Only the maids came to her room and they always just came in. Pulling the towelling robe more closely to her, she called, ‘Come in’. She was not disappointed but she was shattered to see him again. In black tie he was even more magnificent. Of course she knew immediately that she had seen him like that before. She could visualize it, the very first time she had seen him, a large room with a high ceiling, lots of people, clinking glasses and then there was Luca, and straight away she had known that he was the Conte Mazareeze.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, his voice kind.
‘I’m fine,’ Deciding to be honest. ‘I’m a little nervous.’
‘That’s natural but I do know you will be wonderful. You did not show me your dress but I thought that these would not come amiss — they would hardly clash with anything.’
He handed her a red velvet box. With nervous fingers she opened it. Diamonds sparkled up at her — these were no rhinestones, she knew that right off, there was too much fire coming off them. They were small and exquisitely set; a necklace and drop ear-rings. ‘They’re beautiful.’
‘They are a family treasure, permit me, Alva.’
She handed him the box and turned her back, lifting her hair off her neck. The diamonds were cold against her overheated flesh. ‘You smell good,’ she murmured, catching a whiff of cologne.
‘So do you,’ he murmured.
‘I haven’t perfumed up yet,’ she laughed nervously. His fingers, brushing against her flesh as he fastened the clasp, caused a pleasurable fluttering at her heart.
‘You don’t need to; your skin exudes … something’
‘Moisturizer,’ she murmured.
‘I wasn’t meaning that.’
‘I know but … just don’t, Luca.’
‘Don’t what?’
‘Tease me.’
He was silent, his hand moved from her neck and she heard him step back from her.
‘Of course, and you are quite right. I apologize, Alva.’
‘So you should!’ Alva could not stop the reprimand.
‘Alva, it is difficult to forget how once we were. But I know it would be taking advantage of you because you cannot remember — remember how it was!’
‘You think I can’t decide what I want because I can’t remember, Luca? You have a lot to learn about women if you do think that.’
‘A man always has much to learn about women. It was a man that said that women were made to be loved and not understood.’
‘Isn’t that contradictory?’
‘I am sorry?’
‘In your case.’
‘Oh, I see. Probably it is, but I was speaking generally.’
‘Well,’ she turned. ‘Perhaps I would like you to take advantage of me, Luca.’
She heard him gasp, or was it a groan.
‘This is not the time,’ he said at last, checking his watch. ‘Certainly not for this kind of conversation. I’ll see you downstairs, in the sitting-room, Alva. Our guests should be arriving any time now.’
‘I’ll be there. I don’t intend to make a grand entrance, you know. I have only to slip into my dress.’
He went to leave, only pausing at the door. ‘You don’t need to make a grand entrance, Alva. You will be sensational just being in the room.’ Then he was gone.
She undid her robe and found herself smiling. She had disturbed him; it was something that she liked to do and would most certainly do again.
*
Luca’s guests did not faze her. On the contrary, she felt quite at ease. At that brief moment when the first arrivals were brought into the sitting-room, Alva felt her heart lurch with a combination of fear and apprehension. They came across to her, a tall woman with brown hair and eyes, attractive more than beautiful, and the man, smaller than she, but with something of Luca in his features.
The woman — Luca’s sister in law — allowed her lips to form a smile, but her eyes did not light up and instead, they tore across Alva’s face, and then down over her gown, lingering on — her body tensing — the diamonds at Alva’s neck. Alva felt the dislike emanating from Sophia Mazareeze but she found herself able to ignore it. Her husband, Paolo, also had little warmth but he hid it better than the woman. It was their slight antipathy towards her that gave Alva a spurt of courage. It doesn’t matter, she thought, they are nothing to me. They never were. I’ve done this kind of thing before. In the job I had there were a lot of backstabbers and envious people, I didn’t let them get me down and got on with my job. At school I faced up to some bullying too. These thoughts flashed in and out of her mind like a flickering reel of film but she felt them lodge in her mind. She could examine them later; they were not going to fade away.
Curtis Trevor and his wife Maryanne were delightful. They had that open friendliness of Americans and at once their attitude to her gave her even more confidence. They knew nothing, they saw only the contessa. They had no previous experience of her and she could be herself and need not worry about what they were thinking. Some of the other people had known her before, apparently, but only slightly. Curtis, a film producer, was hoping to persuade Luca to allow him to film on the island.
Looking across at Luca, as it had passed the time they should be sitting down for dinner, she saw him anxiously looking at his watch. Obviously, there was another guest. Whoever they were, it was extremely rude to be late and not to call.
Excusing herself from Curtis and Maryanne she crossed the room to where Luca was standing. He was in conversation with his brother.
‘Excuse me, Luca but what is happening?’
It was Paolo who answered. ‘We are waiting for someone, isn’t that obvious.’
‘Paolo!’ Luca hissed between his teeth. Paolo turned his back and went to where his wife was standing.
‘I must apologize fo
r his rudeness, it seems.’
‘Not at all, he can apologize himself, but I doubt he will. We are waiting for someone then?’
‘Yes, it is — ’
But there was a flutter and a little cry of delight from Sophia Mazareeze. ‘Rosa!’
In the doorway stood a small, slender woman. She was dark and alluring. Her gold and green dress draped her perfect little body, enhancing the gentle curves. Her hair was swept showing her face off perfectly. Feature perfect, the woman seemed well aware of the impact her entrance was having and stood still to prolong the moment. Her dark eyes scanned the room, alighted on Luca and her full red lips parted in a smile. ‘Luca,’ she exclaimed. ‘Forgive me … ’ She came towards them, her hands outstretched. Luca accepted her hands and bending kissed her cheek.
‘My car would not start; I was in such a panic.’
Alva watched the performance and indeed that was what it was and did not believe it for a moment. Had her car really refused to start she would have called. What she had wanted was to create impact and she had succeeded.
‘Rosa, you remember Alva?’ He stood to one side, giving Alva full stage.
‘Oh yes, of course, but Alva will not remember me,’ she flicked a look at Alva, and then returned her gaze to Luca. Possessively, she slid an arm through his arm. Turning back to Alva she murmured. ‘Luca and I are very old friends.’
‘Are you?’ Alva murmured back. ‘That must be nice for both of you. Would you care for a drink, Rosa, or will you be ready to eat?’
‘I do not drink, Alva.’ She squeezed Luca’s arm. ‘I have very few vices.’
Just one or two, Alva thought, flirting, posing and being completely in love with yourself. But she showed no animosity. Anyway how could she? Luca did not belong to her. Their marriage was over. He could do as he liked and with whom. Oh, my, but did it have to hurt so much?
Rosa d’Casta dominated the dinner table; she flirted outrageously with the men and ignored the women, apart from Sophia who anyway seemed to hang on to her every word. What an obnoxious woman, Alva thought. Obviously, whatever she was in my past, a friend she was not.
Curtis Trevor though remained unimpressed; he and his wife spent the time talking to Alva. He said, flirting with her, ‘You ought to be in pictures, you know. The camera would love you.’
‘I bet you say that to all the girls.’
‘He’d better not,’ Maryanne laughed.
‘No, honey, have no fear. What did you do before becoming the contessa, Alva, were you an actress?’
‘Heavens, no. I believe I worked for a politician.’
‘You believe?’ Maryanne asked puzzled.
‘I really think I should explain,’ Alva said. ‘I was in an accident. A hit and run. I lost my memory; I only know what Luca has told me.’
It was good to be able to explain to someone sympathetic and the couple were kind and very supportive. When she had finished Curtis asked who Rosa was.
‘I have no idea, a friend of the family I think.’
‘Gee, she’s some — ’
‘Curtis,’ Maryanne cautioned.
‘Yeah, sorry. So how do you cope, it must be so strange?’
‘Well, I need to try to get better,’ she glanced down the table. Rosa was now in deep conversation with Luca, pouting and widening her eyes. ‘For Luca’s sake, if not my own.’
It seemed very old-fashioned to Alva, but after dinner Luca took the men off to the library. Of course she knew the reason, he wanted to talk business, but she found she was a little uncomfortable with some of the women. As if sensing her unease Maryanne came and took her arm. ‘I would love to see the garden, will it be too dark?’
‘The garden adjacent to the house? We have light; of course we can go … ’
She made no excuse and drifted away through the glass doors. They walked along the covered terrace, arm in arm, and down through the rose garden. It was a warm evening, warmer than it had been the whole time she had been in Santa Catarina. It was hard to believe it was late October.
For Alva, just having a normal conversation about gardens and plants and Italy in general was a pleasure. Feeling relaxed for the first time that evening, Alva forgot all about the spiteful Rosa and her unfriendly in-laws.
Luca came to find them to announce that their guests were leaving. He seemed cold and distant and his attitude drove the pleasant feelings out of her.
After the guests had left, leaving behind Sophia, Paolo and Rosa, Alva apologized but said she was feeling very tired and would need to go to bed.
‘We won’t disturb you,’ Rosa said, barely hiding her pleasure at the news that Alva was leaving the party.
‘I am quite sure that nothing will disturb me, Rosa. Goodnight.’
She was seething, the anger boiling away inside her. If she had been herself, then Alva knew, with certainty, that she would have been well able to put out Rosa’s fire. Instinct told her that the old Alva was no pushover. If she had held down a good job in the world of politics it was obvious she was no shrinking violet. If she could survive that kind of backstabbing atmosphere, then she could certainly hold her own with a spiteful, pampered person like Rosa. However, she was not herself. She hadn’t the energy to fight and was not even certain that she wanted to, or even if she had the right to. Luca was not hers and nor was this palazzo anything to do with her any more. She was as much a guest in its luxurious walls as was Rosa.
Once in her room, she peeled off her beautiful gown and carefully hung it in the wardrobe. Slipping out of her silk lingerie, she changed into a scarlet satin robe. As she sat at her dressing-table brushing her hair, she realized the diamonds were still about her neck. Putting down the brush and raising her hands, she unclipped the clasp. Carefully, she laid the sparkling gems on the dressing-table top. They were beautiful. In the soft light of the dressing-table lamp they gave off a whole kaleidoscope of colour.
The door creaked open and, turning she was surprised to see it was Luca. He had not knocked. Still angry about Rosa d’Casta, she reminded him that he had omitted to knock.
‘Why should I knock, you are my wife. I don’t have to knock on doors to see my wife.’
‘I am your soon-to-be ex-wife, Luca.’
‘But you are not yet. What are you doing?’
‘Getting ready for bed I — ’
‘I don’t mean that!’ he snapped. ‘I mean by disappearing and leaving guests to fend for themselves? Going to bed as soon as the Americans left.’
‘The Americans left with some Italians, Luca. I can hardly be branded a racist for that! Besides, you had your surrogate hostess, you did not need me.’
‘What do you mean, my surrogate hostess? Do you mean Rosa?’
‘You know very well who I mean. God, I can smell her on you from here!’
He came across to her, walking quite serenely. He is not even going to bother to deny it, she thought. He reached her side and looked down at the sparkling diamonds. He lifted them from the table top and slipped them in his pocket.
‘I didn’t intend to keep them; there was no need for you to come here for them.’
‘I will be putting them back in the safe. Have you any idea how much they are worth?’ But he spoke mildly.
‘No idea and I could not care less.’
‘No, you never did — I used to like that about you.’
‘Like what?’
‘Your unmaterialistic attitude to life.’
‘Oh, something I got right!’
He was standing behind her now she watched his reflection in the mirror — he was staring at her really hard, his mouth a hard line. He is angry with me, she thought.
His hands went on to her shoulders; she watched fascinated as they massaged the heavy satin of her robe; it felt good to have his hands doing that, easing her tension but awakening something far more potent. The manipulating of the material caused it to gape a little; he saw it, saw the shadowy darkness between her breasts. Bending his head he captured her ear
in his mouth, his tongue seeking out every little crevice. She leant back against him, her head against his belly. Slowly, his hands slid down her front, parting the material as they went, exposing her breasts, her nipples were hard and at the alert, revealing their eagerness for his touch. He did not disappoint, the hands slid down and cupped each breast, his thumbs moving over the hard peaks.
He drew her up slowly out of the chair, turning her to face him. Her bottom rested against the dressing-table for a microsecond, until his hands went there, beneath the satin robe, to cup the globes of her behind, drawing her into an embrace that left no doubt of how he felt about her just then.
Eagerly her body arched against him though she half did not want to be this way with him, wanted not to be so available, part of her wanted to send him away, yet that other part of her … the womanly had … different ideas and more powerful urges.
‘I want to smell of you,’ he groaned, ‘I want to fill myself with your essence. I want you all over me, do you know that, Alva … do you?’
She moved her head in denial, her lips parting, her tongue flickering over her lips provocatively. ‘Alva,’ he moaned. ‘Alva … ’ He bent his head, taking her lips in his, sliding his tongue deep in her mouth, where her tongue met and played with his. Her hands travelled him, forcing up his shirt, seeking his back, playing her fingers along his spine, moving around his front, down his pants, over the hard firmness of his belly, feeling the luxurious tickle of body hair, that hair that she knew arrowed down his belly, spreading between his thighs.
‘Don’t do that … not yet — ’ He gasped against her hair now, dragging out her hand and holding it tight while he bent her backwards and fitted her pulsating centre against him. She moved against him, unashamedly allowing him to know just what she desired.
Shadows of the Past Page 7