Millionaire Tycoon's English Rose

by Lucy Gordon

  Stubbornness had never failed him before, he thought wryly.

  After a while she came to find him.

  ‘Is it all settled?’ he asked with forced brightness.

  ‘Yes, I’m going tomorrow. But, Francesco, did you mean it?’

  He managed a laugh. ‘It’s a bit late if I didn’t.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Does it matter why? I won’t fight you any more about anything you want to do. I give in. Do what you feel you must. I’ll see things your way.’ He added with light irony, ‘You’ll observe that I make better jokes about it these days.’

  She wanted to cry out a protest at the pain she could sense beneath the wit. She didn’t want him to give in. That wasn’t his way. But neither did she know how she did want it to happen.

  He increased her discomfiture a moment later when he said, ‘All those years of watching Toni with Hope have taught me a few things about graceful yielding.’

  ‘No,’ she said at once. ‘Not like that. You’re not Toni. He’s happy that way, but you never could be.’

  ‘You know your trouble?’ he said. ‘You don’t know how to accept winning.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I’m hungry. How about something to eat?’

  Francesco made it impossible for her to pursue the subject. Only when they were getting ready for bed did he say, ‘You can send your driver for tomorrow away. I’ll take you to the airfield myself.’

  ‘Is that really a good idea?’

  ‘You mean, you don’t trust me?’ he asked, as lightly as he could manage. ‘You think I’ll back off at the last minute?’

  She had briefly wondered. But while she sought for an answer, he said softly, ‘I think I’ve earned better than that by now.’

  ‘Oh, darling!’ She reached for him. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean to suggest—’

  ‘Yes, you did,’ he said without resentment. ‘You always do. And maybe I deserved it once. But I’ve learned a lot. The trouble is, I don’t think you’ve noticed.’

  ‘Yes, I—’ She stopped as the truth of this hit her. She had noticed how much easier it was to relax with him these days, but only in a vague way. Preoccupied with herself, she had missed much that she should have seen.

  ‘Never mind,’ he said, drawing her close. ‘I’ll drive you down there tomorrow—if I may?’

  ‘I’d love you to come—if you’re sure you won’t get too upset.’

  ‘I won’t make any trouble,’ he said, interpreting her correctly.

  Celia kissed him again and again, full of contrition and love and something that was more than either. She didn’t understand it at first, but then she sensed his heart beating against hers, so close together that it was one beat. And suddenly she felt everything that he was feeling—sadness, dread, the fear of losing her, but most of all the fear of offending her.

  Pain for him was so intense that it almost deprived her of the power of speech. She could only murmur, ‘Darling, darling…’

  But words weren’t enough. Only actions could express the depth of her love, and she tried to show him with ardour and tenderness.

  That night their lovemaking was like never before. It was as though they were open to each other in new ways, speaking silently of secrets never shared.

  The first time they had loved had been a night of discovery as they’d explored each other’s bodies and hearts. Now it was as though they were discovering each other again, with new intensity and sweetness, but also with a new knowledge that cast doubt over the future. The time was coming when a final decision must be made, and the thought of what that decision might be made every movement and caress mean a thousand times more.

  When at last they lay quietly together, he whispered, ‘Promise to come back to me—until the next time.’

  So he understood about the next time, and recognised that it was inevitable, she thought. That should be a help, but mysteriously it was a new source of pain.

  ‘Of course I’ll come back,’ she said. ‘I always do.’

  He didn’t answer, and she reached out to caress his face, relishing the details, the high forehead and the strong jaw, the mouth with its unexpected sensitivity.

  ‘Darling?’ she murmured. ‘Darling?’

  Then she realised that he had gone to sleep, his arms still about her, and she felt a curious sense of delight.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she whispered. ‘Just stay there. I’ll take care of you.’

  She stroked his hair, relishing its springy feel in her hands, wondering at the surge of protectiveness that went through her.

  Blind in one way, blind in another, she thought, condemning herself. If you can’t see other people it’s easy to forget their needs.

  It would have been so easy to do the dramatic thing and tell him that she had changed her mind and would stay safely on the ground. But she knew she couldn’t do that. All her life she’d fought for her precious independence, wounding herself in the process, but never until now seeing the wounds of others. Even now something that was essential to her true self wouldn’t let her yield, though he’d generously shown her the way by yielding first. That was the truth of it.

  And yet something had changed. Now she understood how much he was in her hands, how cruelly she could make him suffer—far more than he could ever inflict on her.

  She leaned down, kissing him gently, not to awaken him.

  ‘Forgive me,’ she whispered. ‘Forgive me for what I can’t help.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  AS THEY drove to the airfield next morning Francesco asked lightly, ‘Why are you and Mamma thick as thieves these days?’

  ‘Not just us. Olympia and Polly, too, and Della, when she’s here instead of hunting backgrounds for her series. There’s a big party to be planned for the wedding anniversary.’

  ‘I’d forgotten. How many years is it?’

  ‘Thirty-five. Hope says she and Toni always celebrate in style, but this year it’s going to be special. It’s all being planned well in advance, so that everyone has time to get here, wherever in the world they live. It’s going to be the party to end all parties.’

  He thought, but didn’t say, Let’s hope you’re still alive to be there.

  But she could read his thoughts. ‘And I’m going to be there, too. I’ve promised Hope that when this jump is over I’ll concentrate on the party. You know, it’s lovely the way she’s welcomed me into the family. In fact, they all have.’

  ‘Maybe they’re trying to tell you something.’

  ‘Maybe. I know they’ve turned this jump into a family occasion. Hope and Toni are going to be there, also Carlo and Della, and maybe some of the others.’

  When they reached the airfield Francesco dropped Celia by the steps into the main building and gave her into the hands of a young woman who would help her change. When she had gone inside he turned to find Carlo and Della approaching him. With his new sharp eyes Francesco saw how Carlo had his arm protectively around Della’s shoulders, but so lightly that she wouldn’t feel it as a constraint.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Carlo asked, giving him a meaningful glance.

  Francesco grimaced. ‘Surviving.’

  ‘She’ll be fine,’ Della told him. ‘Women are a lot tougher than men allow for. In fact, the truth is that we’re a lot tougher than men, full-stop. Isn’t that so, caro?’

  ‘Yes, dear,’ Carlo said in a comically robotic voice. ‘No, dear. Anything you say, dear.’

  ‘You two are turning into Mamma and Poppa,’ Francesco observed.

  Carlo grinned, not in the least offended by the comparison. He drew his wife closer and dropped a swift kiss on the top of her head.

  ‘I’ve got him well trained.’ Della chuckled. ‘You’d better watch out. Celia will have you in line in no time.’

  ‘She already has, or we wouldn’t be here,’ Carlo said. ‘Francesco, we’ll see you later.’

  They wandered off, arms entwined.

  Francesco watched them
, wondering if he and Celia would ever reach such a pitch of perfect understanding. Or would today be the end of everything, one way or another?

  Then he saw the door open and Sandro come out, led by his dog, with Celia’s hand tucked in his arm. He brought her over, followed by a man dressed in the same kind of gear Celia was wearing. Relieved, Francesco recognised Sandro’s skydiving partner from the previous occasion.

  ‘Just dropped by to tell you not to worry,’ he told Francesco. ‘Celia and I will jump out together, and I won’t let her go until I know she’s safe.’

  ‘Who’s worried?’ Francesco said cheerfully. ‘But, thanks.’

  ‘We’ll be back for you in a few minutes,’ Sandro told Celia, and the two men departed discreetly.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Francesco asked. He did his best to sound cheerful, but he could hear the strain in his own voice and doubted he was enough of an actor to hide it.

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ she said, sounding too polite, too cautious. She was making allowances in case he backed off.

  He grew frantic. He must convince her that he was really behind her in this. It had never been as important as now.

  ‘That huge thing on your back is your parachute?’ he said, putting as much interest in his voice as possible. ‘How do you open it?’

  ‘This ring, here—in the front. I just pull it and the parachute opens.’

  Suppose it didn’t open? It might not and then she’d crash to earth and die. He must stop this madness, for her sake.

  But the desperate thoughts that screamed through his head stayed silent on the outside. Instead, he asked brightly, ‘What about the other bits and pieces? There are too many to count.’

  ‘This is my two-way radio, so that someone on the ground can warn me if I look like I’m coming down in the wrong place. I can guide the parachute in different directions using these rings. And don’t worry—I know exactly where they are and can find them easily.’

  ‘I’m sure of it,’ he managed to say.

  She laughed then in delight, putting her hand up against his face.

  ‘I love you,’ she said.

  He took her hand and kissed the palm. ‘Come back to me, Celia.’

  ‘But I did,’ she said.

  ‘No, I mean—’

  ‘Oh, you can be so stupid sometimes,’ she breathed. ‘I did come back to you. Didn’t you notice?’

  ‘You mean—when you came to Naples—it was really—All that stuff you said—You returned to me?’

  ‘At last the truth gets through,’ she said fondly. ‘It took long enough.’

  ‘I’ve always wondered, but you never exactly—’

  ‘I have to be going now,’ she said. ‘I love you.’

  He kissed her palm again, horribly conscious of Sandro, who had reappeared nearby.

  ‘I love you,’ he said quietly. ‘Now you must come back to me again—or what shall I do?’

  ‘Time to be going,’ Sandro called.

  She drew back from Francesco, letting Sandro take her away in the direction of the light plane.

  ‘Come back to me,’ Francesco called. ‘Come back to me.’

  He waited for her to respond to the sound by turning her head, but she didn’t. It was as though everything in her was focused on what would happen next. The last few moments might never have been. He wondered now if she even remembered that he existed.

  In fact, he did her an injustice. In her usual methodical way Celia was trying to order him out of her mind, so that she could concentrate on what was about to happen. But his ghost, so tractable before, had become rebellious. It insisted on staying with her every step across the tarmac, reminding her that he existed, and that if she died he still had to find a way to go on existing, however empty it might be.

  Now she was at the helicopter, and a hand was reaching out to pull her aboard.

  ‘Good luck!’ Sandro said from the ground.

  ‘Thanks,’ she replied mechanically.

  She heard the door slam, cutting off all sound from outside. Now the only sound was the crackling of the radio and a disembodied voice that came from some mysterious other place.

  Come back to me.

  Her diving partner touched her shoulder to check all was OK.

  She’d met him before, a strong hearty type called Silvio, whose geniality made him pleasant company. She nodded, strapping herself in.

  He did a quick check to make sure she’d done it right, and pronounced himself satisfied.

  ‘Check your radio,’ he said.

  She exchanged a few words with her guide on the ground, and found that everything was working perfectly.

  Silvio clapped the pilot on the shoulder to indicate that they were ready.

  The whine of the engine that had been in the background now grew higher. Above them the blades whirred, and suddenly they were whisked up into the air, going higher and higher at an incredible speed.

  At first her stomach seemed to be falling away from her, but then it steadied itself and she was calm again.

  Now Silvio’s voice reached her on the radio.

  ‘It’ll take us a few minutes to reach our height, then we’ll circle a couple of times and return in this direction, so that we can make the jump and land on the airfield, where all your friends can see you.’

  ‘See me make a fool of myself, you mean,’ she said lightly. ‘With my luck I’ll land on the control tower.’

  ‘Nah, that hasn’t happened for ages—at least six weeks,’ he clowned.

  She chuckled. This was how she liked her adventures to be—light-hearted and relaxed.

  But the silent companion in her head was reproachful, reminding her that it was his life she was dicing with, as well as her own.

  ‘Getting near,’ Silvio said. ‘I’m about to touch the button that will slide the door back, then I’ll jump, taking you with me. When we’ve jumped, we’ll hold on to each other with both hands as we start the fall. Then we’ll release hands and pull the rings to release our parachutes.’

  ‘Nearly ready,’ said her guide from the ground. ‘Helicopter just coming into sight. All set?’

  ‘All set?’ Silvio asked her.

  ‘All set,’ Celia confirmed.

  She felt Silvio’s hand tighten on hers, drawing her to the open door.

  ‘Now,’ he said.

  A sudden pull and they were both free in the air. He seized her other hand and they began to float down, both at full stretch, supported on a blanket of air.

  This was when it should happen—the feeling of glorious escape that always came as she launched herself into the unknown. This was her freedom.

  But it didn’t happen.

  ‘All right?’ Silvio asked through the radio.

  ‘Wonderful!’

  Silvio released her hands. Now—now it would come. The exhilarating sense of liberation, the thing she lived for. Now!

  But no rush of joy possessed her. Instead, she realised that the wind was roaring past her, and it was time to pull the ring that would open her parachute.

  She yanked, and felt the tug at her back as the parachute streamed up behind her.

  ‘Yeee-haaah!’ she cried up into the void.

  It was good to be floating down through the fierce, blustering air, and perhaps if she shouted her joy aloud she would recapture the joyous freedom that had always possessed her before.

  But then she had an alarming sensation, as though someone had seized her and was throwing her around the sky.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she cried.

  ‘The wind has changed course,’ Silvio told her. ‘Don’t worry. Pull the upper left ring and you’ll turn.’

  She scrabbled for the ring, but the wind was fierce on her fingers, making it hard to take hold. She managed it at last, and felt her body swing in the other direction.

  ‘Pull the lower left ring,’ Silvio told her. ‘It’ll help you navigate.’

  This time she managed better, and felt the parachute respond. Eve
n so, she wasn’t safe yet. She knew that. It was going to take all her cool head to avoid a crash—perhaps a fatal one.

  But that mustn’t happen. Because she’d promised. She’d given Francesco her solemn word, and she must keep it.

  For herself she wasn’t afraid, but she was swept with a terrible fear for him. She’d promised him, and she was about to betray him.

  And then something happened that she could never afterwards explain.

  She saw him—not as others would understand seeing, but in a way that had never happened to her before. He was there behind her eyes, a presence so intense that he was visible as nothing else had ever been. She didn’t know what his face was like, but she did know the expression it wore at this moment—terrified, tortured with the effort of concealing his fear for her sake, facing a desolate future without her.

  The desolation was there inside her head, too, all around her: a life that was empty because the only person who counted had gone. She had done this to him, and the knowledge of what she’d done was there, howling, shrieking at her, making her understand things to which she’d wilfully blinded herself before.

  Come back to me.

  Silvio’s voice through the radio made her calmer.

  ‘Lower left a bit more. You’re nearly there—A bit lower—lower—’

  And then there was the blessed feel of the ground as she landed heavily, going down on to her knees at once and rolling over. When she stopped she could hear the sound of distant cheering. The whole family had been watching her, their hearts in their mouths. But there was only one who mattered.

  Francesco. She must get to him.

  Silvio, too, had landed. Now he pulled her to her feet, got her free of the parachute and drew off her mask, freeing her face.

  ‘They’re heading this way across the airfield,’ he said. ‘But it’s some distance.’

  ‘Can you see Francesco?’

  ‘He’s way out in front. Here.’ He took her shoulders and turned her slightly. ‘He’s right ahead, and there are no obstacles between you.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She began walking, carefully at first, then faster, faster, running at top speed, running with total abandon, as she’d never dared to run before.