by Laura Martin
Outside her bedroom the villa was quiet and Rosa sensed she was alone. Of course Lord Hunter would be an early riser, he was just the type to be cheery at an ungodly time in the morning. Rosa was just about to admit defeat and flop into a chair when she spotted an ornate walking cane leaning up against the wall next to her bedroom door. Hunter must have put it there after he’d bid her goodnight, ready for her to use this morning.
Grasping the carved knob, Rosa tested the cane out, finding she could walk a little better with the extra balance it gave her, although the pain was still there. She would have to remember to thank Lord Hunter for his kindness.
Not wanting to rummage through his cupboards, but desperate for something to eat, Rosa ventured outside on to the terrace. She recalled from the night before the large orange tree overhanging the seating area and her empty stomach growled at the thought of a juicy orange to start the day.
Rosa had to stretch to reach even the lowest branch, but her efforts were rewarded when she began to peel a ripe and fragrant orange and popped the first segment into her mouth. Chewing slowly, she savoured the sweet juice, licking the remnants off her fingers before biting into a second segment. She had to stop herself from wolfing the whole orange down in a few seconds as she peeled the remainder of the skin from the flesh it was so delicious, but somehow she managed to resist the urge. With the first orange gone Rosa stretched up and plucked a second from the branches of the orange tree, grasped hold of her cane again and limped to the edge of the terrace.
As she looked out over the lake, admiring how the sun reflected off the smooth surface making the water look blessed by the gods, her eyes came to rest on the small figure propelling himself towards the villa. He was swimming quickly, but in a way that looked as though it required hardly any effort on his part. As he got closer Rosa realised it was her host, Lord Hunter. She almost laughed—she’d known he would be a morning person, he probably swam a mile first thing every morning whilst she would normally be languishing in bed.
Rosa watched as he approached the shore, mesmerised by the rhythmic movement of his arms and the effortless way he glided through the water. She’d felt the hard muscles of his arms and chest when he’d picked her up yesterday and wondered if this was how he stayed quite so toned.
With a final pull of his arms Hunter reached the small wooden jetty that jutted out from the grounds of the property. Rosa could see his shoulders bobbing up and down as he gripped the ladder and began to pull himself out.
Time slowed and Rosa found she couldn’t look away. Inch by inch Hunter’s body rose from the water, his chest, his abdomen, the water pouring off him and leaving his skin shimmering. Rosa felt the heat begin to rise from her core as her eyes locked on to Hunter’s naked form. Only when he pulled himself fully out of the water did Rosa realise he wasn’t wearing anything at all, but still she couldn’t look away. He stood, indifferent to his nakedness, seemingly unconcerned that anyone might see him, and brushed the water from his skin before picking up a towel and wrapping it around his waist.
Only then did he glance up to the terrace. Rosa knew the moment he saw her, the moment he realised she must have been watching him the entire time. For a fraction of a second his whole body went still, like a wolf catching sight of its prey, then he raised a hand and waved cheerily at her.
She wished she could just disappear, that an earthquake would open up the ground underneath her and she could fall inside. He would think that she had been watching him. Well, she had been watching him, but not purposefully. She wasn’t to know he swam naked, but now she looked like a shameless voyeur.
‘Good morning,’ Hunter said with a smile as he approached the terrace.
‘Good morning,’ Rosa managed to mumble, trying to look anywhere but the expanse of exposed skin at her eye level. He was tanned, wonderfully so, his skin a deep bronze hinting to the length of time he’d spent in warm climes.
‘Did you sleep well?’
How could he ask such a mundane and ordinary question when he was standing there half-naked in front of her?
Forcing herself to look up and meet his eye, Rosa smiled.
‘Very well, thank you.’
Her cheeks were burning so much it felt as though she’d just stepped out of a blacksmith’s forge and her heart was beating so loudly she was sure it could be heard for miles, but if Hunter refused to be embarrassed by his lack of clothing then she would not let her discomfort show.
‘Isn’t the view beautiful first thing in the morning?’
Unbidden, her eyes flicked down to where the towel was tucked around his waist and Rosa heard him utter a low chuckle.
‘I find the early morning light to be the most flattering,’ Rosa said, watching as Hunter’s grin widened.
‘Everything looks even better from the middle of the lake,’ he said, moving a step closer, ‘You should join me next time. A swim can really get the blood pumping at this time of day.’
Rosa was sure he knew exactly what he was doing, no young woman from a good family would feel comfortable standing here talking about the weather and the view with a man she’d just seen emerge naked from the lake, but Hunter was pushing her, seeing how much it would take to make her flee in embarrassment or swoon. Well, she’d never swooned in her life and a little bit of naked flesh wasn’t about to make her run. Even if it was particularly smooth and sculpted flesh.
‘I can think of better ways to exert myself so early in the morning,’ she said with a sweet smile. Without glancing at his face Rosa limped back over to the orange tree and plucked another of the round fruit from the branches. Carefully she began to peel it, worked a segment free and only when she was about to pop it between her lips did she look up and meet Hunter’s eye. ‘Can’t you?’
It was, oh, so satisfying to see him lost for words, his eyes glued on the orange segment as it passed her lips. Allowing herself a small, triumphant smile, Rosa turned and headed back to the villa, her walk of victory only slightly spoiled by the clicking of the cane on the tiles.
Chapter Four
‘Last night you were telling me about the disgrace that had your family disowning you,’ Thomas said as he helped Rosa up into the curricle.
‘No,’ Rosa said pointedly, ‘I wasn’t.’
‘Well, we’ve got an hour’s ride to the village of Malcesine, and it will be a terribly dull journey if you sit in silence the whole way.’
Thomas had suggested a day trip to the next sizeable village around the lake when Rosa had talked about seeking a passage back to England. The Di Mercurios would no doubt be searching for their runaway prisoner and there was no point in making it easy for them. In Malcesine they would find the date and time of the next coach leaving for one of the port cities where Rosa would be able to buy a fare home.
‘You could tell me what you’re doing hiding away in Italy,’ Rosa suggested with that sweet smile she used when she was determined to get her own way.
‘What if we play a game?’
‘I’m listening.’
‘We each get three questions. The other has to answer truthfully and fully.’
‘I get to go first?’ Rosa asked.
‘Ask away.’
She sat in silence for a while, watching the countryside passing by and pressing her lips together as she thought. Thomas glanced at her every now and again. Ever since he’d caught her looking at him as he emerged from the lake he’d felt a spark of excitement, a slowly building intrigue at the woman hiding beneath the composed façade. He felt he needed to be close to her, to touch her, to find out what was really going on behind those calm, cool eyes. It wasn’t often Thomas met a woman he could fully engage with intellectually. So many of the debutantes his mother had introduced him to before he’d fled England had seemed to want to appear less intelligent than they actually were, wittering on about the weather or th
e latest fashion. Admittedly he didn’t know Rosa well, but there was something more to her—something bold, something that refused to back down.
‘Why do you live in Italy?’ Rosa asked eventually.
‘I like it here.’
She shook her head and actually wagged an admonishing finger at him like some disapproving elderly aunt. ‘You’re breaking the rules,’ she said. ‘You said we had to answer truthfully and fully. Why do you live in Italy?’
Thomas broke out into a grin. ‘You caught me. I will try to be more honest,’ he said, trying out a contrite expression and finding it didn’t sit well on his face.
The intensity of her gaze was a little unnerving as she waited for him to speak.
‘The past four years I have travelled as far east as India, as far south as Turkey, stopping at various places for a few weeks, maybe a couple of months. I’ve been here beside the lake for six months, the longest I’ve stayed anywhere. I suppose I feel at peace here, waking up to such beauty every day is humbling. It makes you admit how insignificant your problems are.’
Although he had never set out to be quite so honest Thomas realised it was the truth. He could have settled anywhere, but he’d chosen Lake Garda to make his home at least for a while.
‘Why do you feel the need to move around so much?’
‘Is that question number two?’
Rosa nodded.
‘When I first left England I didn’t know what I wanted to see, I just knew there was a whole world out there waiting for me to discover it. I marvelled at the ancient temples in Greece, climbed an active volcano in Italy, was stalked by a tiger in the jungles of India and spent three glorious weeks floating adrift in a rickety old boat in the Black Sea.’ He paused to see if Rosa looked as though she believed him. It was partly the truth, but it did not explain his need to run from his fate, a strange compulsion to keep moving, as if staying in one place too long might let the disease he was so afraid of catch up with him. ‘Once I started discovering new places I was like a laudanum addict, I needed to see more, experience more. It was like an illness—if I didn’t keep moving on I would become restless and anxious.’
‘So why have you stopped now?’
Thomas pulled on the reins to slow the horses as they rounded a tight bend and considered Rosa’s question. In truth he wasn’t quite sure. The answer he’d given earlier, talking about the humbling beauty of Lake Garda, was true, but he’d visited many beautiful places in the past few years. He wasn’t sure what had made him slow, what had made him start thinking of home, yearning for the green fields and grey skies and all the places he had known as a child.
He thought of the letter from his mother, asking him to return, and knew that even without her plea it wouldn’t have been that long before he boarded a ship and sailed for England. Something was pulling him home, but he wasn’t sure what.
‘I suppose everyone needs a rest now and again.’
‘You’re being flippant again,’ Rosa challenged him.
‘Sorry. I suppose I don’t know. For a while I grew tired of new places, not knowing anyone, never being sure of where I would rest my head from one day to the next.’
‘So will you stay here, in Italy?’
Thomas smiled and shook his head. ‘That’s question number four, Miss Rothwell. You’ve had your turn, now it’s mine.’
Rosa stiffened as if actually nervous about what he would ask, but nodded for him to continue.
‘How many months pregnant are you?’ He hadn’t meant to be quite so blunt and as the shock and hurt flashed across her eyes he cursed his clumsy handling of the question.
‘What makes you think I’m pregnant?’
‘Look how you’re sitting,’ Thomas said softly.
Rosa glanced down and grimaced as she realised one hand rested protectively against her lower abdomen.
‘I suppose it’s natural, a mother’s instinct,’ Thomas said. ‘You’ve had a hand on your abdomen throughout most of the morning, and every so often you will look down fondly when you think I’m not paying attention.’
She nodded, mutely. They continued in silence for nearly ten minutes before Rosa spoke again.
‘Four months, nearly to the day.’
Thomas did a few quick sums in his head, and realised things didn’t quite add up.
‘And that was why you were sent away in disgrace? You must have known pretty early on that you were pregnant.’
It wasn’t a subject Thomas was well schooled in, but he did have a vague idea that most women weren’t sure until they were about three or four months along in their pregnancy.
‘I knew as soon as I missed my courses, by that time I was only about a month gone. I spoke to the father a week later, confessed to my mother the same evening and the next day I was packed off to Italy.’
That explained the timings a little more.
‘What if you were wrong?’
Rosa shrugged. ‘I suppose my mother thought it easier to recall me if it turned out I wasn’t pregnant than to explain an ever-growing bump.’
Thomas detected a note of bitterness alongside the sadness and wondered if the relationship between mother and daughter was a little strained.
‘It took five weeks by boat, a couple more overland, and then the Di Mercurios kept me locked away for a month. That makes four months.’ She said it in a matter-of-fact voice that belied the pain on her face.
‘What about the father?’ Thomas asked, wondering if that was who she was running home to.
Rosa gave a bitter, short bark of a laugh and shook her head instead of answering.
‘What do you plan to do, Rosa?’ he asked, aware that this game of theirs had become very serious very quickly.
‘Stop the horses,’ Rosa said sharply.
Thomas glanced at her in puzzlement.
‘Stop. The. Horses.’
He pulled on the reins, slowing the horses down to a gentle walk before coming to a complete stop. As soon as the curricle had stopped moving Rosa slid down, grabbed her cane and began to limp away. Thomas frowned, wondering exactly what it was about his question that had caused so much offence.
‘Rosa,’ he called, jumping down after her and jogging to catch up.
‘Leave me alone.’
Thomas realised she was crying and slowed as he approached her.
‘I’m sorry. I never meant to upset you.’
She shook her head, turning her back to him.
He stood undecided for a moment, unsure whether to step back and give her space or take her into his arms and comfort her.
‘Shh...’ he whispered as he wrapped her in his arms and gently pulled her head to rest on his shoulder.
He felt the sobs rack her body, her shoulders heaving as the tears ran down her cheeks and soaked through his shirt.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly.
Thomas didn’t reply, instead tightening his hold on her, running a hand over her raven-black hair and murmuring soothing noises.
‘Come back to the curricle,’ he said as her sobs died down.
‘I don’t know—’ she started to say, but Thomas interrupted her with a shake of his head.
‘I’m not a man who is used to having his requests refused,’ he said in an overly serious tone and felt supremely satisfied when Rosa broke into a smile. It was small and uncertain, but a smile all the same.
Giving her his arm to lean upon, Thomas led her back, placed his arms around her waist and lifted her easily back into the seat.
‘No running off whilst I climb up.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Rosa said as he took his place beside her. ‘I never cry.’
‘Half a day in my company and already you’re breaking habits of a lifetime.’
‘It’s just so frustrati
ng, so completely unfair. Every person who has found out about my predicament has expected me to give my child up. To be thankful for the suggestion that a nice family could raise my baby and no one will ever know.’
The thought had crossed his mind, and although that hadn’t been the question he’d asked, it had been the answer he’d been expecting.
‘So what are you going to do?’
Rosa took a deep breath, raised her chin and straightened her back. ‘I will raise my child myself.’
It was an admirable idea, but not an easy one to fulfil.
As soon as the words had passed her lips Rosa deflated again, her chin dropping closer to her chest and her eyes focused on the ground beneath them as if searching for answers there.
Thomas thought of all the arguments against her plans, thought of all the struggles she would face raising a child alone. It wasn’t so much her practical ability to care for and love a child he doubted, or the fact that she would be raising it without a father—many women raised large families after they were widowed. No, the struggle for Rosa would be how she would be shunned and hounded from society. Right now she might not think she cared about other ladies gossiping and pointing, snubbing her in the street and not inviting her to any of the social events of the year, but Thomas knew too well how lonely solitude could be. It would be a miserable existence.
‘I know,’ Rosa said softly. ‘You don’t have to tell me how difficult it will be. I will be an outcast, even my child might be an outcast, but I believe that love can make up for all of that. And I will love this baby much more than any family paid to take him or her.’
He nodded mutely. Who was he to disagree with her, his choices hadn’t exactly been well thought out or well reasoned these past few years. After his father’s and brother’s deaths he’d more or less fled the country. He’d been halfway to France before he’d even stopped and thought about his decisions. If Rosa wanted to return to England to find a way to raise her child, then he had no business judging her.