by Sara Wood
‘Bellissima, si?’ murmured a voice beside her.
She smiled, glad she’d brought her sketchbook. ‘Lovely,’ she agreed, exchanging a friendly glance with the young, dark-eyed Italian.
The boat drew nearer to the shore. A huge lump came into her throat as she watched a school of dolphins frolicking beneath the sheer cliff.
‘Tiberius. Roman emperor,’ said the young man, directing her gaze to the top of the cliff. ‘He lived there.’
‘Lucky him,’ she murmured wistfully.
‘Threw his enemies off the rocks. One thousand feet to the sea!’ exclaimed the man.
Ellen shuddered. They were a passionate and merciless lot out here! And then her fingers tightened on the rail. Perhaps, she thought daringly, remembering something that she’d considered before, perhaps…she could live here! If it had been good enough for Tiberius…!
Her eyes glistened. She stood in the bow, letting the air stream over her excited face as the boat manoeuvred up to the jetty.
It was a crazy idea, but not impossible in her current state of mind. She felt invincible. And she could do what she darn well liked! In an island four miles long, Luc could hardly keep her from seeing her child! Her lip quivered. It would be wonderful…
‘Permit me.’
‘Oh! Thank you!’ she cried warmly to the young Italian, who had his hand outstretched for her case.
‘You stay here? Holiday?’ he asked, as they walked along the long jetty to the busy waterfront.
‘Business,’ she told him firmly, turning over the name of the lodging house in her pocket.
‘I take you to your hotel?’
‘No. Thank you,’ she said, regaining possession of her case. The man took her hand in his and kissed it, managing to gaze passionately into her eyes at the same time. ‘Goodbye,’ she said pointedly.
He laughed. ‘We will meet again,’ he murmured, and, kissing his fingers to her, then giving her body a long, raking stare, he sauntered over to a nearby café.
Ellen wasn’t bothered by his advances. Men were always doing that to her. Contentedly she sat on a bollard, swinging her long legs and tucking into her egg and cress sandwiches. Tourists bustled about, clambering on and off little boats to see the Blue Grotto, or boarding the high-speed launches to Naples, Ischia or Sorrento.
Idyllic. Her pulses quickened and she sat up tall, imagining herself here, acting as a guide, perhaps, or even a waitress in one of the hotels. Her eyes closed and she lifted her face to the sun in pleasure, the ever-present pain in her heart a little less intense than before.
In his office on the quay of Marina Grande, Luc was gripping the back of his chair in an effort to keep a lid on his temper. There she was again! Thick-skinned and arrogantly sure of the effect she had on men!
She’d swanned off his boat in a white suntop and short denim skirt, oozing sex appeal and sauntering along with a fawning lap dog in tow—who’d been dismissed the moment he’d served his purpose.
She seemed…serene. And that annoyed him. If she’d cared for Gemma or him at all, she would have been devastated by his rejection. Unless, he thought grimly, she believed that she could easily make him change his mind with one glance from her come-to-bed eyes and a wriggle of that heart-stopping body.
Well, she hadn’t been up all night sorting Gemma’s nightmares. That alone had convinced him that he must stick with his decision to simplify his daughter’s life. He’d speak to Ellen in cold, concise words of one syllable so that she got the message once and for all.
Tired, angry, and shaken by Ellen’s incredible pigheadedness, he stopped trying to gouge holes in his leather chair with his fingers, slipped on his cream jacket and headed for where she was sitting.
The sun was gilding the fine bones of her face and turning her hair to molten gold. Luc faltered, removing his sunglasses so that he could drink in her beauty. He loved the long arc of her neck, the way her jaw angled, the lushness of her parted lips. His body ached.
In stretching rapturously to the midday sun she had caused her breasts to strain against the white cotton of her bootstrap top, and it was all he could do not to stride over and place his hands on her tiny waist, then slide them up over those marvellous curves.
He could feel her—in his fingers, his skin and in his loins. His mind was already playing tricks on his body, arousing him more than he could allow.
Instead of approaching her calmly then, he found himself raging at what she did to him. And he wondered if the only solution was to indulge his lust till it died. His pulses quickened. Then he frowned. Stupid idea. How could he do so and yet keep her from influencing Gemma?
Somehow, she never knew how, Ellen sensed that Luc was approaching, even though her eyes were still closed. She’d prepared herself for the possibility that she’d come across him at some stage, but hadn’t expected to bump into him so soon.
There was only an imperceptible change in her breathing, but all her senses were alert and receptive to the force of Luc’s energy field which had already intensified the air between them. Her skin tingled with electricity. It was the last reaction she wanted, and she fought to keep her nerve.
‘You are a persistent little witch!’
He’d obviously intended her to be startled. To annoy him, she slowly opened one eye, looked at him for a second, and closed it. ‘Mmm,’ she agreed blandly.
She lowered her chin so that she could swallow without him noticing. He was furious, his eyes smouldering with rage, and yet her heart had leapt at the sight of him, looking devastatingly sophisticated in toffee-coloured trousers and shirt, and a pale cream tie and jacket. Sexy. Her pulses fluttered madly and she sucked in a breath to still them.
Luc muttered something that sounded rude. ‘Don’t you have any pride?’ he asked coldly.
Opening her eyes now, she regarded him with a solemn expression. ‘A lot,’ she replied. ‘To be perfectly frank, after what you did and said to me, I would never have wanted to come here if it hadn’t been for Gemma.’
When he drew in a long and shaky breath, she saw how dark he looked around his eyes, as though he’d slept badly. And he seemed thinner. Her heart thudded anxiously. Was he ill? Did he have business worries? Or was he just worried that she’d corrupt his daughter?
‘It’s for Gemma’s sake that I want you to turn right back and go home,’ he said curtly. ‘Ellen, I neither know nor care what you’re doing here, but she’s been impossible since we left London—’
‘That’s why I’ve come!’ she cried, her own hostility forgotten. ‘Something is frightening her, Luc—’
‘Yes. It’s the same pattern every time she sees you. You disturb her psychologically.’
Ellen rose and faced him with determination, her fists jammed into her waist. She flushed when his gaze trawled over her hips and began to wander insolently up her body, but she refused to let him put her off.
‘I disagree. It’s something else. I’ll prove it. I’m going to find out what it is!’ she said stubbornly. ‘You can’t stop me. I have a right to stay here if I want.’
For a few moments he frowned at her in frustration, and then he raked his fingers through his hair with a muttered expletive. ‘Short of tying you up and throwing you on a boat, I can’t stop you. But you risk hurting her.’
‘No, Luc. If I believed that, I’d stay away. I’ve chanced all my savings and my job to come over here because I know what I saw: a terrified little girl who needs help. I intend to find out what’s wrong. Now excuse me,’ she said, touched nevertheless by the pained uncertainty in his face. He did love Gemma. It must be awful for him. ‘I have to find where I’m staying.’
‘Wait.’
His hand caught her arm and he looked deep into her eyes. She saw a strange vulnerability there and she softened. ‘Don’t let’s fight over this. I’m very determined, Luc. You want her to be a happy and normal little girl, don’t you?’
He let his hand drop and a steely light came into his eyes. ‘Emotional blac
kmail now, Ellen?’ he asked tightly.
She winced, pained by his obstinacy in seeing her as devious and amoral. ‘For once,’ she said in a hurt little voice, ‘treat me like a human being and not a compulsive liar!’
Finding tears beginning to blind her eyes, she pushed roughly past him. And as she pulled the address of her accommodation from her pocket she found herself being detained again. Firmly he turned her around. Helpless in his grip, she scowled at the ground, reluctant to let him see that he’d made her miserable.
But he released his hold and touched her wet cheek. And then her heart stopped. His finger was pressing gently on her moist, sulky mouth and every bone in her body was weakening.
‘You are upset,’ he said gruffly.
Unable to answer, afraid she’d launch herself into his arms, she made do with a curt nod. Gently he brought out a cream silk handkerchief and dabbed at the tears on her cheeks, then wiped her eyes with great care.
‘Better?’ he murmured.
She fixed her gaze on the point where his tie dived beneath his jacket. ‘Mmm.’
‘I don’t know what to do about you, Ellen.’
Hold me tight. Kiss me till I forget everything bad that has ever happened. And, above all, love me…
‘Let me do what I want,’ she pleaded instead, meeting his eyes at last.
There was a wry lift to the corner of his mouth. ‘You always do,’ he observed sardonically. Before she could protest, he held out his hand for the piece of paper she was holding. ‘So. Where are you staying?’ he asked in a resigned tone. ‘I’ll guide you there.’
‘I’d rather be independent,’ she replied quickly, preferring that he didn’t know where she lodged.
‘As you wish.’
His capitulation surprised her, but she smiled and said goodbye, and when he’d walked off she tossed up between queuing for the funicular cable railway, or treating herself to the luxury of a taxi. The taxi won. It whisked along a series of hairpin bends up the alarmingly steep hill and stopped almost immediately in a small taxi bay.
‘Villa Maria?’ she queried doubtfully, checking her map.
‘No. There,’ said the driver, with a vague wave of his arm. ‘No cars in the town of Capri.’
‘No…cars!’
‘You walk.’
‘How far?’ she asked. At least her case had wheels!
The driver shrugged. ‘Half-hour.’
Ellen blanched, but set off determinedly. A short distance beyond the taxi bay she saw Luc emerging from the funicular terminal. He gave her a mocking wave and she smiled cheerfully, as if she was enjoying herself, then ploughed on past a quaint little bell tower draped with purple bougainvillaea and into a beguiling square.
Ignoring the tempting tables and bright awnings of the cafés ranged around the little piazza, she checked her map and plunged into a narrow vaulted alley. The way quickly became very steep and cobbled, and then narrowed even more before deteriorating into a series of knee-wrecking steps. Every now and then a fresh flight of steps would plunge off down the hillside or ascend to the heights above, and Ellen had to check frequently to make sure she was heading in the right direction.
She felt hot and exhausted, but she kept going in the silence of the sticky afternoon because Luc was following her. If she’d been alone, she would have stopped and paused for breath, but he might have construed that as a weakness. And it suited her for him to believe she was tough and utterly unassailable.
‘Are you lost, Ellen?’ he enquired sympathetically, appearing at her elbow when she paused for the tenth time to study her map.
‘No. Certainly not! I’m here,’ she retorted, stabbing a finger at the place with absolute confidence.
‘Impressive!’ he admired. ‘But you must be tired after your journey. Let me take your case.’
She was about to refuse when she saw how stupid she was being. Why should she pretend her ancestors were goats? And he was going to follow her, so he might as well be put to use! Gladly she surrendered her case to him.
‘No one said the whole of this island was traffic-free and built on a vertical mountain!’ she complained with a rueful smile.
He laughed. ‘Most people only come for the day. They never find out. Aren’t you the lucky one?!’
Ellen didn’t speak. She was saving her breath. Without speaking they continued upwards, till Luc pointed to an opening on Ellen’s left.
‘Villa Maria, I think. Do you have ropes and crampons?’
Her heart sank when she peered through the gate. ‘Left them on the Matterhorn!’ she replied faintly.
No wonder he’d sounded amused. The villa seemed to be lurking somewhere at the top of a couple of hundred steps, which stretched up the hill with giddying monotony. Shattered at the thought of hauling herself up to cloud level, she leaned against the wall, her mind racing on in dismay.
Her accommodation was for room only. She would have to walk to the town every morning for breakfast and other meals. She would have to stagger down the hill every time she wanted to lurk near Gemma’s school. And…she groaned. She’d have to climb all the way up again!
‘Do you really want to stay here?’ he asked.
‘I’d prefer The Ritz, but this is what I’ve booked. Thanks for your help,’ she said, keeping up a pretence of chirpiness. ‘Bye.’
He gave her a faint smile, his eyes annoyingly hidden by sunglasses. ‘I couldn’t let you climb those steps unaided.’
And now that his departure was imminent she didn’t want him to go. ‘Neither could I,’ she agreed, and he grinned.
Gratefully she let him put a steadying hand beneath her elbow and guide her up to the top, where she collapsed on a welcome seat and let her legs shake away unhindered.
‘I’ll sign you in, shall I?’ he enquired, apparently little troubled by the climb.
Ellen nodded and handed over her passport, saving her breath for staying alive and vowing to start a strict exercise regime when she’d sorted Gemma out.
‘It’s rather primitive,’ Luc said dubiously, when he emerged a few minutes later.
‘All I could afford,’ she replied, almost in a stupor, her hot face and slumped body showing her complete exhaustion.
He grunted, his face grim, and hurried down the steps without a farewell. Ellen watched him longingly. If only things were different between them. If only he didn’t hate her. Feeling horribly dejected, she turned and walked very slowly into the villa. Whose surroundings depressed her even more.
Having discovered what time Gemma’s school finished for the day, Ellen freshened up and felt a lot better. Eagerness made her hurry down the hill to the opposite side of Capri town. She easily found the school, which was perched on a plateau high above the sea. Five minutes after she arrived the children began to stream out, looking very sweet in their starched white pinafores. She stood beneath an oleander tree, hoping to remain inconspicuous, and anxiously waited for a glimpse of her daughter.
Out of the corner of her eye she became aware of Luc strolling along, greeting the arriving parents…and… Her heart sank. He’d seen her, and was heading straight for her, his mouth set in a grim line.
So she forestalled him with a friendly smile. ‘Hi! Don’t mind me. I’ll fade into the background—’
‘In those clothes?’ He raised an angry and dissenting eyebrow.
After a brief check of her cropped lime top and short, washing-powder-white skirt, she had to admit that she wasn’t exactly background material.
‘I could find a bigger tree to conceal myself,’ she said hastily.
He wasn’t amused. ‘I’d prefer it if you went. Don’t cause trouble, Ellen. What are you intending to do?’ he asked irritably. ‘Say hello and goodbye? What do you think that’s going to do to her? Don’t you care about her at all? For God’s sake, think of someone else other than yourself!’
Ellen bit her lip. This was going all wrong. ‘I only wanted to see how she behaved when she thought no one was watching,’ she
explained. ‘I didn’t know you’d meet her. I thought Donatello might—or that she’d go home on her own because you live so near. The island seems safe—’
‘It is. And ’Tello often does pick her up. But she prefers me to be here so I come when I can,’ he said curtly, cutting into her babble. ‘You know how easily she’s disturbed—and yet you hang around here because you have some crazy idea that—’
‘It’s not crazy!’ she defended. ‘And I was going to hide,’ she added haughtily.
‘Well, do so before she shows up,’ Luc snapped. ‘You can’t go on confusing her like this—’
‘Mamma!’
Luc groaned and said something rude under his breath.
Guiltily, Ellen turned to see Gemma making a beeline for them. To Ellen’s amazement, Gemma ignored Luc and came running to her, arms outstretched and with a face wreathed in delighted smiles. Ellen exchanged a startled glance with the astonished Luc and scooped her daughter up for a long and loving hug before putting her down again.
‘I’m sorry, Luc, I didn’t mean—’ she began awkwardly, shaken by the pallor of his face.
‘I don’t believe this!’ he whispered.
‘She’s pleased to see me!’ Ellen’s eyes were filled with tears. ‘Now will you believe me?’
‘I don’t… I can’t…’ He frowned in bewilderment as Gemma sped off to a group of children. ‘It doesn’t make sense—’
‘It does if you stop believing that Gemma hates me,’ Ellen said quietly.
‘I thought…’ He looked apologetic. ‘I was trying to do what was best for her,’ he said shakily.
‘I know. Maybe we can start again—’
Ellen’s suggestion was interrupted by Gemma’s excited squeals.
‘Petra! Miranda!’ Gemma cried.
‘What’s she saying, Luc?’ Ellen asked as two girls, a little older than Gemma, came over and Gemma launched into a stream of joyful chatter.
‘She’s telling her friends that you are her mother.’
She frowned. ‘That’s it?’ There must be more; Gemma’s friends looked so odd—almost sullen and angry.
Luc nodded. And quietly he said, ‘She wants you to walk back with us.’