Wife By Arrangement

by Lucy Gordon

  He raced away and plunged back into the water while she dried off her hair, and swung it in the sun for a moment. When she looked out to sea again he’d vanished. The water was clear and level, and there wasn’t a sign of Renato.

  Slowly she got to her feet, feeling as though a dark cloud had covered the sun. It was like waking in a lunar landscape where everything was bare and desolate, and no life would ever live again.

  Then his head broke the surface and the world was bathed in her relief. He waved and she waved back, discovering that she’d been holding her breath.

  ‘You scared me,’ she accused him as he walked up the beach.

  He grinned. ‘Sorry. I like to swim under water for as long as I can.’

  He towelled himself dry, and sat down beside her. The movement gave her a good view of the ugly scar near his wrist, and she shuddered.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘It’s healed. See.’

  He held out his hand and she took it between hers, turning it to see the scar better. As he’d said, it had healed beautifully, but now she saw how large the wound had been, how close he had come to death. His big, forceful hand looked strange against her slim, delicate ones. By tightening it he could have crushed her, but he let it lie there while she gently brushed the sand from it.

  ‘I always said no woman would ever leave a permanent mark on me,’ he mused. ‘But now one has.’

  ‘It’s not really funny.’ Something inside her chest was aching.

  ‘All right, then I’ll tell you something serious. What happened that night told me all about you. One minute you were telling me to jump in the river. The next you were saving my life as cool as a cucumber, despite having been knocked about yourself. And when you did weaken, just a little, you pulled yourself together so that you could clear the driver.’

  ‘That’s my English reserve and efficiency,’ she teased. ‘We’re well known for keeping our cool.’

  ‘Does anything throw you off balance?’

  ‘Probably nothing you could think of,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘By God, I did the right thing bringing you here!’ he said suddenly.

  ‘You? It was Lorenzo who brought me here.’

  ‘Of course, of course. I think we should eat now.’

  The picnic was magnificent and Renato explained that Fredo had outdone himself in her honour. As they sipped the cool wine, the slight movement of his face drew her attention to another scar. It made him look as though he’d tangled with a wild animal and emerged battered. She wondered how the animal would look. He caught her gaze and he rubbed it self consciously.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, horrified at herself.

  He shrugged. ‘It makes no difference. Nature didn’t make me a beauty to start with. Then I played the fool on a motorbike and got what I deserved.’

  ‘You did that on a motorbike?’

  ‘I was wild as a boy. I bought a fast bike and rode it to the limit. The police warned me time and again, but I was a Martelli and that has its privileges. Then I took a mountain bend at an insane speed and nearly killed myself. Luckily nobody else got hurt, and I was left with this scar on my face as a reminder not to be a damned fool.’

  ‘I can’t picture you wild, somehow. You seem so much in control.’

  ‘I learned the consequences of not being in control the hard way. Besides, my father was dead by then, and the firm was being run by an uncle who wasn’t very good at it. Somebody had to get a grip while there was still time.’

  ‘So the firm had to become your life?’

  ‘It’s a more useful life than dashing about getting myself half killed. And now I find it very satisfying.’

  She noticed that ‘now’ and wondered how hard it had been for a young man addicted to excitement to put on a suit and chain himself to a desk.

  He said casually, ‘My mother told me that you were reluctant to accept her gift yesterday.’

  ‘The pearl tiara, yes. It’s a family heirloom. You’re the eldest son. Surely it should go to your wife?’

  ‘Who doesn’t exist, and never will. The single life suits me too well to give up.’

  ‘Oh, yes, Elena, Julia and the rest of the crowd. I don’t believe it. It sounds so immature, and I don’t think you are immature.’

  He grimaced wryly. ‘I didn’t always feel this way. There was a lady once-her name was Magdalena Conti-the story is nauseatingly sentimental. I was much younger, and I believed in things I don’t believe in now. She taught me a lesson in reality from which I benefited enormously.’

  ‘Is she why you think all women are fortune-hunters?’

  He shrugged. ‘Possibly. She was beautiful, tender, loving. She was also greedy, manipulative and deadly. She aimed her arrows at me for money. I fell for it. She told me she was pregnant. I asked her to marry me. I’d have asked her anyway, but fatherhood thrilled me. I indulged in many dreams in those days.’

  He fell silent, looking out over the sea. His eyes might have been fixed on the horizon, or maybe on some other horizon, inside himself.

  ‘And then?’ Heather asked softly.

  ‘Then she met another man, much richer, and in films, which she found exciting. At our final meeting I learned for the first time how much I bored her. Then she went off with him.’

  ‘And your baby?’

  ‘She never gave birth. I know that much. Perhaps the child was an invention, or perhaps she-’ He shrugged. ‘I prefer to think she was lying about the pregnancy, but the truth is that I shall never know.’

  Heather was silent. There was nothing she could have said that wouldn’t have sounded like a mockery of his pain. And the pain was unmistakable, even after so long. Suddenly the air about her was jagged with suffering. At the same time she was wondering about the woman who could be bored by this man.

  ‘Now the only woman I trust is my mother,’ he finished. ‘Lorenzo is fortunate to have found you.’

  ‘So you think I can be trusted? Then surely, other women can?’

  ‘Lorenzo still knows how to give trust. But I don’t. I would invite betrayal by expecting it, and-forgive me-such expectations are always fulfilled in the end. I made my decision, and I’ll stick to it. Take my mother’s gift. No woman will ever challenge you for it.’

  She refilled his glass and he accepted it with a slightly forced smile.

  ‘Do you think you’ll be happy here, Heather?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘I’ve known it from the first moment. It’s not like me to be so impulsive, but Lorenzo made me feel so wanted.’

  He looked at her intently. ‘Had nobody ever made you feel that way before?’

  ‘There was someone else, quite recently. We were engaged for a year, and he called it all off a week before the wedding. I suppose it left me feeling a bit bruised and rejected.’

  Then a dreadful thought occurred to her. ‘But don’t think I accepted Lorenzo on the rebound. It’s not just because of Peter. It’s Lorenzo himself, the way he is-so loving and warm-hearted.’

  To her surprise Renato was frowning as though something troubled him deeply. At last he said, ‘Heather, if ever you’re in trouble, promise that you will come to me.’

  ‘But why should I when I can go to him?’

  ‘He’s a fine fellow, but if you need an older brother’s help, please remember that I’m here.’

  She would have turned the moment aside with a laugh, but something in Renato’s manner stopped her. There was a strange intensity in his eyes.

  ‘Promise me, miu soru,’ he urged.

  ‘What was that you called me?’

  ‘Miu soru. It’s Sicilian. It means, “my sister”, for that’s what you must be now.’

  ‘And what is “my brother”?’

  ‘Miu frati. Promise your brother. Give him your word.’

  There was something in his urgency that was as puzzling as his frown had been. ‘All right, I promise,’ she said. ‘Miu frati.’

  ‘Shake?’

  ‘Shake.
’ Her hand was engulfed in his big one, and for a moment she could feel the power flowing through him, power that he’d just offered to put at her service.

  ‘And to show that I’m really your brother,’ he added, ‘may I give you away at your wedding?’

  She was touched. ‘Thank you. That’s very kind.’

  ‘For my sister, nothing is too much,’ he said gravely, raising her hand and brushing his lips against the back of it. Suddenly a stillness came over both of them. It was so total that Heather could hear and feel her heart thumping. She had the odd sensation that the whole world was pulsing with it.

  Abruptly, he released her hand. Heather stared at it, wondering what had happened. Why did she have this strange feeling that the world had changed, that the sun had grown dark and the heat more intense?

  ‘We should go back now.’ Renato’s voice was strange.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, not knowing what she said.

  But by the time they’d packed everything into the dinghy the brief sensation had passed and she was chiding herself for imagining things. The whole Martelli family had opened their arms to her in welcome, and the sensation was so unfamiliar that it was distorting her perceptions. As the little boat sped across the water the rushing wind blew the last crazy thoughts from her head.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  O N THE journey home Heather took a fascinated look at the stern, where a jet ski, big enough for two people, was fixed.

  ‘Would you care to try it?’ Renato asked.

  ‘I’d love to,’ she said eagerly.

  Slowly the jet ski was winched down to the water. Renato leapt down and took the front seat, and Heather eased her way into the seat behind him. She had just time to wrap her arms about him before they roared away across the water. The speed, noise and vibration took her by surprise and she tightened her arms, turning her head sideways and pressing herself against Renato’s broad back.

  ‘All right?’ Renato roared back at her.

  She could barely make out the words through the noise, but she yelled back, ‘Fine!’

  It was true. The vibration was taking her over, coming up through every part of her flesh, her thighs, her stomach, her breasts where they were pressed against Renato’s back. The water rushed by, lashing her with white foam, whipping up her excitement in the most physically exhilarating experience of her life. Renato’s body was like a strong column in her arms. She clung onto him, eyes closed, relishing his warmth.

  At last he slowed and brought the jet ski to a halt.

  ‘Wahooo!’ she cried.

  ‘You enjoyed it, then?’ he said, turning his head and grinning at her.

  ‘Oh, yes!’ she said happily. ‘Oh, yes, I did! Where are we?’ She caught sight of the boat, which looked tiny in the distance. ‘It’s miles away.’

  ‘These things travel very fast. Another few minutes and we’d have been out of sight of the boat.’

  A mad impulse seized her. ‘Let’s!’

  ‘You want to go on?’

  ‘And on and on and on!’ she cried out, throwing her head back and carolling up to the sky.

  ‘Heather, what’s got into you?’ He was laughing, but he sounded half alarmed at something wild and uncontrolled about her.

  ‘Nothing. Everything. The whole world!’

  ‘I think we should go back.’

  ‘Never. I want to go forward. Start her up.’

  ‘Right!’ Something he’d heard in her voice got to him and he kicked the engine into life, swinging away towards the horizon, then driving forward across the endless water.

  Soon the Santa Maria was out of sight. For some reason Heather found that knowledge thrilling, as though she had cut loose from all safety and restraint in a way she’d never felt able to do in her life before. The sense of freedom was mindblowing. She unwrapped her arms from Renato’s body and rested her hands lightly on his shoulders. Now she felt quite safe this way. She was invincible. Nothing could happen to her.

  But the next moment they swerved sharply. Caught off guard, she tried to grip his shoulders more tightly, but it was too late. There was nothing to hold onto, and then she was flying through the air to land in the water with a crash.

  At this speed it was like slamming into a brick wall. For a dreadful moment everything went black. She was half unconscious, sinking, sinking into the depths that went on for ever, and the horror was engulfing her. Somehow she managed to fight back to the surface, but she was still dizzy and fighting for consciousness. Through water-logged eyes she glimpsed Renato speeding away from her, unaware that she’d vanished. She screamed after him, knowing he couldn’t hear her. Then she was sinking again, into deep, deadly water, and despair.

  She fought back up again, but she knew she could drown before he even knew that she’d gone. When he returned it would be too late. She felt her consciousness start to fade as weights dragged her down for the last time, and the world grew darker…

  The arms that seized her seemed to come from nowhere. She could see nothing, but she could feel herself being forced upwards. There was light above, air, gasping relief. She had her arms about Renato’s neck, clinging to him.

  ‘I looked back and you were gone,’ he said, his voice hoarse with fear. ‘What happened-?’

  ‘I don’t know-I can’t-’

  ‘Never mind. Thank God you’re safe.’

  The jet ski was a little way off, having stopped when he dived into the water for her. Now he swam over, using his one free arm, and clambered aboard, keeping firm hold of her with one hand. Then he hauled her up in front. ‘I want you where I can see you,’ he growled. ‘You vanished beneath the water-and I didn’t know where to look.’

  His horror matched her own. She clung to him, trembling violently. ‘I thought nobody would ever find me,’ she gasped.

  ‘It’s all right, hold onto to me. Hold on tightly to-’ a shudder racked him ‘-to your brother.’

  He made a moderate pace back to the ship, with Heather sitting sideways, clinging onto him. She was beyond thought. She just didn’t want to let him go. Her consciousness was coming and going in waves. At last she felt herself being hauled aboard, then Renato lifting her and carrying her below to her cabin, then darkness.

  When she awoke, Angie was there with her.

  ‘Hello,’ her friend said, smiling. ‘Surprised to see me? Renato called Bernardo on his mobile, and asked him to bring me to the harbour. I came on board a couple of minutes ago. Trust you to get in the wars.’

  Heather was recovered enough to say wickedly, ‘I hope you weren’t interrupted at too difficult a moment.’

  Angie’s smile was both impish and mysterious. ‘There’ll be others. Let me help you get dressed and we’ll go ashore.’

  ‘I’ll just put something over my swimsuit-’

  ‘What swimsuit?’

  Then Heather realised that she was wearing a towelling robe and nothing else. She tried to remember taking off her bathing costume, but her last memory was of Renato laying her down on the bed and kicking the door shut.

  ‘Did you-?’

  ‘Not me,’ Angie said. ‘You were like that when I got here.’ Her face was demure but her eyes were mischievous. ‘It’s all right. I won’t tell Lorenzo.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Heather said hastily, feeling a blush start in her face and spread all over her body. ‘Let’s just go home.’

  On Angie’s orders Heather spent the next day in bed. She slept like a log and awoke feeling good. But when Baptista or Angie dropped in, she thought she sensed a certain tension that they wouldn’t talk about. She couldn’t ask Renato, because he didn’t come to see her at all.

  At last Angie explained. ‘Renato called Lorenzo in Stockholm to tell him to come home, but he’d never checked into his hotel and nobody knew where he was. So everyone got a little uptight. But it turned out that he was already heading this way.’

  ‘He was coming home anyway?’ Heather asked.

  ‘I guess he couldn’t bear be
ing away from you. He’ll be here later today.’

  The knowledge galvanised her to get up, and by afternoon she was looking her best for Lorenzo. As soon as the car stopped he hurried up the steps to clasp her in his arms. He seemed tense and distraught, but she put that down to concern for her safety, and when he said, ‘Where’s Renato? I have to talk to him, now,’ she guessed he was going to berate him for allowing her into danger.

  ‘Darling, I’m all right,’ she said.

  ‘We’ll talk later,’ he told her. ‘Later. Renato.’

  He vanished into the house and she didn’t see him again that day. Angie and Baptista made her go to bed early, and when she awoke next day the sun was up and Lorenzo was waiting for her at breakfast. He was pale but composed, and he smiled as he promised her he hadn’t quarrelled with his brother.

  They saw little of each other after that. Renato didn’t send him abroad again, but kept him at Head Office in Palermo. Each morning the two of them would leave early for work, and return late.

  Heather had no time to miss him. She was enjoying her flowering relationship with Baptista. The old woman showed her all over the house, and she began to understand a little better the family into which she was marrying. Renato had said, ‘If you marry one Martelli, you get the whole pack of us,’ and it was true.

  Looking through photograph albums, she saw the wedding pictures of the young Baptista and Vincente Martelli, the extravagantly beautiful bride barely coming up to the shoulder of her unsmiling groom. He looked several years older, and stood straight and uncomfortable. His face was uncannily like that of Renato today.

  Then the early pictures of Renato himself, always looking straight into camera, his dark eyes full of challenge, his mouth uncompromising. Right from the first this had been a young man who knew who he was, what he wanted, and how he was going to get it.

  Then Lorenzo appeared, curly-haired, angelic, bringing forth Heather’s answering smile. At last there was Bernardo, grave-faced, always standing a little apart, looking as though he wanted to be anywhere else.

  ‘And soon there will be more photographs,’ Baptista said, ‘when we welcome you into the family.’