CHAPTER FIVE
Doctor Esposito arrived, as he had promised, at eight o’clock on the morning of the second of July. He knocked on the big front door of Casa dei Fiori and Tonia admitted him into the stone-flagged entrance hall where he had a wide view of the staircase down which Annabella would come as soon as she knew he was waiting.
Dispensing with formalities, the housekeeper stood at the bottom of the stairs and shouted the heiress’ name. Within seconds, Annabella was bounding down two steps at a time, her mane of hair bouncing behind her.
Even in ordinary jeans and a T-shirt, he thought, she looked wonderful.
“Dottore!” she said, halfway down, genuinely pleased. She’d spent another miserable night longing for Alessandro’s friendship, but that didn’t diminish her pleasure in seeing the young doctor.
She supposed he was about the same age as her second cousin but, where Alessandro was dark and rugged-looking, the doctor had sandy-coloured hair and was of a finer build, although almost as tall.
“Please, call me Umberto,” he protested, smiling.
“Well then, you must call me Annabella.”
He bowed formally. “I hope you’ve eaten?” he asked, sure she was still slightly pale.
At this point, Tonia interjected volubly: “She has eaten nothing. Figs. Dry bread. Bah! What is she doing to her beautiful figure, Dottore?”
“Is this true, Annabella?” Umberto asked. “Is your head still sore?”
“I’m perfectly all right. Please, don’t fuss. Don’t spoil the day,” she pleaded.
“You’ll eat lunch with me, no?” Umberto asked. “I’ve packed a picnic specially.”
“Of course I will,” Annabella agreed, mentally making a note to re-start her campaign to attain a body like Claudia’s the following day.
Tonia waved as Umberto’s Fiat sped away in the direction of Siena. She was glad the heiress would see the Palio again, but disappointed she wouldn’t be enjoying it with Alessandro. After all, the old man had wanted them to be together. Squaring her shoulders, she resolved to do her best to help him achieve his aim.
Meanwhile, Annabella and Umberto parked the Fiat and were climbing the cobbled, narrow medieval alleys that threaded between rose-pink palazzi and led, eventually, to the Campo. The city was alive with noise and colour. Youths proudly bearing the medieval courtly uniforms of their ancestors, complete with ermine-trimmed capes, were thronging through the crowds of locals and tourists, beating drums and waving huge heraldic flags of yellow, red, emerald and purple. Feeling slightly dizzy because of her diet, Annabella was glad to hold Umberto’s hand. It also meant they wouldn’t be separated in the chaos. Finally, they reached the square where even more people were lined against the ancient buildings surrounding it.
“Let’s watch from here,” Umberto said, pulling her into a deep, shady doorway just wide enough for the two of them to stand, very close. “I hope you won’t mind having a fairly long wait. Luckily, there’s lots to see and well before the race begins, there’s a parade of the representatives of the contrade in their historical costumes.”
It was a good place from which to see the action, but it happened to be located almost opposite the balcony where Annabella had first watched the horse-race.
She trembled as she forced her eyes to rake the faces that were peering down from that verandah. Signor and Signora Ferri were there, sure enough, looking only slightly older. And there was a beautiful baby, being proudly held by a young man who was probably Mario. A content, smiling young woman, perhaps the baby’s mother, was waving to a friend below. There were other people, maybe Mario’s brother and his wife. But, to Annabella’s disappointment, no Alessandro. He was sure to be watching the race with Claudia. Alone with her.
The afternoon passed surprisingly fast and Annabella enjoyed watching the parade, despite her misgivings about Alessandro. Finally, at dusk, there was a loud fanfare of trumpets and, from one side of the Campo, she glimpsed approaching horses and riders. The crowd was hushed as the animals cavorted and danced excitedly over the stones, the tinctures of their livery flashing in the vivid hues of the dying sun, their eyes glinting competitively, their nostrils flaring bright red. Annabella had never forgotten the colours of the Ferris’ horse and, among the greens, blues and oranges, she caught the regal maroon with its insignia of a wild Tuscan boar. Then her heart seemed to stop for the rider of this black stallion, perhaps a son of Fulmine, was none other than her second cousin.
She held her breath as he, with the other riders, directed their horses towards the starting point which happened to be close to where she and Umberto stood. From a balcony directly above and thus out of her sight, she heard Alessandro’s name being called and recognized, with a pang of white-hot jealousy, Claudia’s simper. A crimson rose was flung down and he caught it in his teeth, laughing up at her, not seeing Annabella in the shadows.
“Al!” called Umberto, for the first time noticing his friend among the riders.
Alessandro turned to the direction of the doctor’s voice and his smile vanished as he saw Annabella there too. He tore the rose from his teeth and let it fall onto the ground, where it was soon mashed by newly-shod hooves.
“Good luck!” shouted Umberto. “Win for Mario’s little boy, eh?”
Alessandro nodded confidently and tipped the medieval tricorn hat he wore, never allowing his eyes to linger on the woman who clung to Umberto’s arm, her beautiful face pale, her hair gleaming like copper in the dull light.
A horse reared impatiently, another slashed at a rival with its teeth, a third flung a gleaming hoof sideways and drew blood from a flank, earning fury from the rider of the stricken horse. Annabella was suddenly frightened for her second cousin. None of the riders had the benefit of a saddle and it was common for jockeys to fall off and for their mounts to finish without them, even to win the Palio riderless. The ground was literally rock-hard underfoot and the crowds, noise, trumpets and flapping flags and banners had all whipped the horses into a near-frenzy. If a competitor fell, he would be at risk of being trampled to death.
Before she could stop herself, she called out, “Be careful, Al!”
But he didn’t hear her. The Palio, with its crazy, terrifying, break-neck hurtling around the curved Campo, had begun. Annabella could barely bring herself to watch, she was so afraid Alessandro would be hurt. Yet, at the same time, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. His handsome head proudly erect, his jaw squared, his shoulders broad under the cape he wore, his muscular thighs and calves effortlessly controlling the big horse, he looked more fabulous than she’d ever seen him. She remembered that in this event, even the losers were worthy of praise for only the bravest of horsemen and the hardiest, most willing horses were capable of entering such a contest.
She forced herself to keep her eyes open and focused only on her second cousin as if by watching over him she could keep him safe. With great skill, he’ manoeuvred his mount through the opening scrum of other animals and was close to being in the lead. Never using his whip, he leant forward over the stallion’s neck, Annabella was certain to whisper encouragement in his ear. Once they sped around the Campo. Then twice, at a velocity that made the fine hairs on her arms bristle. During the third mad revolution, she saw something horrifying and it seemed it was happening in slow motion. A toddler, more intent on catching the strawberry-flavoured drips running down his icecream cone than on watching the race, began to wander away from where his parents were standing, near her, in the shadow of the many grand old buildings lining the Campo. They were so excited and intent on waving the flag of their contrade that they didn’t notice their son moving dangerously close to the crush of men and beasts. Then, as the horses swerved around the corner, their hooves striking sparks on the ground, the little chap’s scoop of icecream fell off the cornet and he leant forward to retrieve it.
“No!” screamed Annabella, breaking free of Umberto’s comforting arm and rushing to the child’s aid. The horses were bearing down on hi
m and he’d never be able to run away in time. Thinking only of the little boy, she burst out from the shady doorway and raced towards him, hoping to gather him up in time. She saw only the child as she hurled herself in front of the leading horse – the Ferris’ stallion. The great stallion reared in terror and anger, knowing his victory was thwarted and, as it did so, the child walked unharmed and ignorant of his danger, back to his parents, who were blissfully unaware that he’d been in peril. Annabella, too, was unhurt, although she’d been so close to the black horse that she felt his hot breath on her neck. Meanwhile, two horses took the place of Alessandro’s but her second cousin wouldn’t give up and bravely rode on although he knew there was no longer any chance of his winning.
She stood, panting in relief, on the edge of the square, as the little boy slipped his hand into his father’s.
“What happened?” She turned to see Umberto beside her, ashen-faced. “Are you all right?”
“I wanted to help that child,” she said feebly.
“What child?”
She pointed but there were thousands of children and she knew he hadn’t seen what had happened, although undoubtedly he believed her. By now, the Palio was over until the next one in the middle of August and the crowd was milling around all the horses and riders, but especially the winner. Umberto took her hand again and led her to where Alessandro was sitting on the horse’s bare back, obviously disappointed at having so narrowly lost. The Ferris and Claudia were gathered around him and they all turned to watch Annabella approach with the doctor.
“What did you do that for?” Alessandro asked her, bewildered more than angry.
“I thought a little boy was going to be hurt,” she explained lamely, aware from their vacant stares that she had been the only one to have noticed the toddler.
At that moment, Signora Ferri swallowed her disappointment and took Annabella’s hand in hers. “I thought we’d see you again one day,” she said kindly. “Welcome to Tuscany.”
“Grazie,” Annabella replied, her eyes brilliant with tears, “Thankyou.”
The rest of the Ferri family followed Signora’s example of good manners but Alessandro remained aloof while Claudia was downright rude. “It would have been the first time in decades that a Ferri horse won,” Alessandro’s mistress said. “What a tragedy!”
“It would have been a far greater tragedy if a child had been crushed,” Annabella retorted, not bothering to hide the tears that now ran freely down her face.
“Of course, of course,” Signora Ferri soothed, patting her arm. “Umberto, why don’t you bring the little heiress to our palazzo so we can give her some supper and some wine? She seems to be fading away.”
“No!” Annabella cried out then, realizing she had been impolite, added more softly, “No, thank you, Signora. Umberto and I have planned an evening together.”
“Ah!” smiled Signora. “Of course. So much more romantic, my dear. But please, do call on us when you’re next in Siena. Your great-grandfather was so, so fond of you and he was such a great friend of ours. The Ferris and the de Roccos have been allies for centuries, you know.”
“I am sorry I spoiled the Palio for you,” Annabella said, looking first at Signora Ferri, then her husband, their sons and finally Alessandro through tear-filled eyes.
“Nonsense! We’ll be victorious next time,” Signor Ferri said graciously. “We have a great rider in your second cousin and a wonderful horse.”
But Alessandro, sitting grimly on the drenched back of Fulmine and looking down at her with eyes the colour of hard bronze, didn’t say anything to make her feel better. In fact, she knew that if it weren’t for Umberto’s steadying arm around her back, she’d be trembling from head to foot under that severe gaze.
“Let’s go and find somewhere pleasant to eat,” Umberto suggested quietly. So they politely said their goodbyes, leaving the Ferris, Alessandro and Claudia to say venomous things behind her back, Annabella was sure.
Alessandro didn’t return to the estate for several days and Annabella wondered if he’d ever forgive her. She gave up what she now saw was a ridiculous idea to look like Claudia. No matter how slim she became, he’d never be attracted to her. So, gradually, she began eating again and Tonia was delighted at the immediate improvement in her health.
“You have roses in your cheeks, cara!” she laughed, squeezing the soft flesh between the finger and thumb of her right hand. “I’m so glad you are better!”
When her second cousin did return, he knocked on the door of Casa dei Fiori as if he were a visitor rather than its beloved son. Annabella had been working in the fields all day, spreading pig manure around the bases of the chestnut trees, and she was on her way upstairs to have a bath. She’d persuaded Tonia to take the rest of the week off to see her sister who lived in the village down the hill, and she ran to open the door herself, expecting one of the workmen to be there, wanting his wages.
When she opened the door, Alessandro was nearly bowled over by the stench of her and she couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. Her face was smeared with dirt, her full breasts strained against the worn fabric of her T-shirt, her bare midriff was roundly protruding above the waistband of her very short shorts and her hair was piled untidily on her head, revealing her long, elegant neck. The two Maremma sheep dogs who lived at the stables had obviously decided they preferred to stay close to the villa’s new occupier and had moved in, standing now on either side of Annabella and eyeing their former master with suspicion, as if he’d turn them out. They, too, smelt of manure and their white fur was filthy.
“Alessandro!” she exclaimed, her heart turning joyful somersaults. “Won’t you come in?”
“I wouldn’t be able to bear the stink,” he said coldly. “No. Thank you. I’ll stay here on the doorstep. I came to ask if I could have a little dry spaghetti and some of Tonia’s home-made tomato sugo for my dinner tonight. ‘ve only just arrived back from Siena and haven’t eaten. Although I’m rapidly losing my appetite, thanks to the smell everywhere.” He glared pointedly at Annabella before continuing, “Just get Tonia to bring the things to me in the cottage, will you?”
“She’s not here.”
“Not here?” He was outraged.
“I gave her the week off. She was telling me about her sister, Tomasina, who lives in Fortezza Rosa. She’ ill and Tonia is worried about her. So I gave her some time to herself.”
“Without consulting me?” The words were out before he realized their implication. Of course. She had no need to consult him. Their great-grandfather had made sure of that.
Annabella ignored his question and said in a friendly way, “Why don’t we eat together? I’m a good cook, you know. I was going to have spaghetti carbonara tonight, as soon as I’d got myself cleaned up.”
It was his favourite and she knew it. How many times had they shared it during that glorious summer when they were both barely children? He hesitated – just for a second – before replying, icily, “No. Thanks. I’d rather cook for myself.”
“Where’s Claudia?” she asked, immediately wishing she had not shown him she cared one way or the other about their neighbour.
“Staying with the Ferris still, in Siena.”
His answer was so cold and off-hand Annabella wondered if they’d argued.
“Do you want to wait there in the doorway while I fetch the food for you?” she asked. “I promise I’ll wash my hands before I touch anything.”
“No. I won’t wait,” he said with the impatience of hunger. “I’ll come in with you.” He added, overly polite, “If I may.”
She ignored this and led the way to the kitchen, where she spent several minutes scrubbing her hands and nails at the big old sink, overdoing it because by delaying him she could have more time in his company.
Then, she took the items he’d requested down from the pantry shelves. The spaghetti at Casa dei Fiori was hand-made by Tonia. Hardly a week went by when golden strands of pasta weren’t looped over wooden chairs i
n the garden to dry. The sugo, too, was home-made, a fragrant sauce of garden-fresh, blood-red tomatoes mixed with home-grown herbs such as basil and oregano. Nothing bettered a simple meal of spaghetti with sugo tossed through it, nothing except carbonara, made with the mushrooms that grew wild in the woods and were dried in the pantry, added to bacon, golden eggs and thick cream scented with nutmeg.
Alessandro was amazed at how familiar she was with the kitchen, a room he rarely entered in the thirty years he had lived in the villa. It was, he realized with surprise, a pleasant space with its own lovely view through the vegetable garden to the hills beyond. His second cousin seemed to have no trouble finding the ingredients for his meal and was kindly adding other things beside, putting them carefully into a wicker basket: bread, cheese, a bottle of local wine, another of golden olive-oil.
But he wouldn’t be won over by her generosity, if one could call it that. The things she was giving him were not, in his opinion, hers to give. By rights, they’d always belonged to him and only the ramblings of an old man’s mind had caused Alessandro de Rocco to have to go cap-in-hand, begging at the door of his own home for a simple meal. Damn and blast his second cousin! Not only had she evicted him, she had cost him the Palio as well, deliberately sabotaging his moment of triumph, pretending she was saving a child.
“Are you sure you won’t change your mind and eat with me, Al?” Annabella asked, handing him the laden basket.
“I am sure. Buona sera, signorina. Good evening, Miss Smith,” he said frostily before turning on his heel and heading for the door.
CHAPTER SIX
Annabella slammed the door on his retreating form. Damn him! How dare he treat her with such disdain! It wasn’t her fault their great-grandfather had left her Casa dei Fiori! She suspected, too, that he blamed her for spoiling his chance of winning the Palio! As if she’d be so stupid to rush in front of a galloping horse, just out of spite! Well, she fumed, she’d show him a thing or two! He thought that by being off-hand and rude to her, he’d send her scurrying home to her parents. Well, he had another think coming. She’d prove to him that the old man knew exactly what he was doing when he willed his property to her. She could run the place far better than a spoilt young aristocrat! She wasn’t afraid of a little hard work, nor was she afraid to show compassion to Tonia, whose sister was ill.
Loving Venus (Sally-Ann Jones Sexy Romance) Page 5