Husband By Necessity Read online

  ‘And came back here,’ Angie said at once, and was rewarded by his smile at her understanding.

  ‘Yes, I came back here, where I felt I belonged. Of course I was fetched back, but I escaped again. This time I hid out in the mountains, and when they found me I had a fever. By the time I was well again, I knew it was useless to run away. Many women, in Baptista’s position would have left me to my fate, and I suppose I was an ungrateful wretch-’

  ‘But you were a child and you’d just lost your parents,’ Angie said sympathetically. ‘No wonder you weren’t thinking straight.’

  ‘Yes. If it had happened a little later, I think I could have appreciated her generosity more. As it was, I saw only an attempt to wipe my mother out of the record. That’s why I cling to her name. Inside myself I am still Bernardo Tornese.’

  Since he’d opened up so far Angie ventured to ask, ‘What were you going to tell me about Ellona, as we drove up?’

  ‘The villa you saw there is part of the estate of Bella Rosaria which belongs to Baptista. That was where she took me after I recovered from the fever. I used to awaken in the night and hear her weeping for my father’s death.’

  His face was troubled and Angie held her breath, feeling something happen here that was beautiful and mysterious. But before she could speak he forced a smile and said, ‘Why are we talking about sad things? Let us take our wine outside.’

  The shadows were beginning to lengthen and it was deliciously cool by the fountain. Smiling, she watched their reflections. But then something made her look up, and what she saw in Bernardo’s eyes caused the breath to catch in her throat.

  Slowly he took her hand in his and held it for a moment, touching it almost reverently. He said nothing, and in the silence Angie could hear her heart hammering. He wasn’t even kissing her, just holding her hand as hesitantly as a boy, yet she could feel herself responding so intensely that she was almost scared.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Always before she’d been in control. Suddenly she wasn’t in control of anything, especially her own feelings. She felt like someone who’d set out to take a pleasant day trip and found themselves clinging onto a runaway train. In another moment he really would kiss her, and she wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

  The soft shrill of his mobile phone shattered the moment. Bernardo took a long breath and answered it reluctantly. ‘Yes?’ he said, sounding ragged.

  Angie watched a change come over his face as he listened. Finally he said, ‘We’ll be right there.’ He shut off the phone and said, ‘That was Renato. There’s been an accident on the boat. Heather nearly drowned. He asks that you go to her at once.’

  ‘Of course.’

  On the way down the mountain he explained tersely, ‘She and Renato went out on the Jet Ski, and she fell off. When he turned back to look for her she’d gone under. It sounds like a nasty moment. Luckily he found her fairly quickly. He called me from the boat. They should reach the port about the same time we do.’

  At last the port of Mondello came into view. The Santa Maria was just tying up. Angie jumped from the car while it was still moving and took Renato’s outstretched hand onto the boat.

  She found Heather sleeping in the big bedroom. To Angie’s relief her colour was good and she was breathing normally. She woke at Angie’s touch and gave her a sleepy smile.

  ‘Trust you to get in the wars,’ Angie said. ‘Renato sent for me.’

  Heather eyed her wickedly, ‘I hope you weren’t interrupted at too difficult a moment.’

  ‘There’ll be others,’ Angie said, conscious that she was colouring. ‘I want you to spend tomorrow in bed. We’ll leave as soon as you’re better.’

  Renato drove them home, Angie travelling in the same car as Heather, and Bernardo following on behind. She tried to give her friend all her attention, but inwardly she was thinking of Montedoro, another world, where eagles soared and spirits were free.

  CHAPTER THREE

  B ERNARDO remained at the Residenza next day, but they had little time alone. Angie felt duty-bound to stay close to Heather, who slept most of the time under the influence of a sedative. Also, she found herself caught up in a family crisis.

  ‘Renato called Lorenzo,’ Bernardo told her. ‘But he’d checked out of his hotel in Stockholm this morning.’

  ‘But-I don’t understand. He was supposed to stay until tomorrow.’

  ‘I know. But he’s gone, and nobody knows where.’

  ‘He’s not playing fast and loose, is he?’ Angie demanded suspiciously.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Having a final fling before the wedding. I’ve heard about continental men.’

  ‘I’ll be-!’ Bernardo exclaimed, nettled. ‘That’s not only unjust, it’s bigoted, prejudiced-and I don’t know what. It’s practically racist. In fact, it is racist.’

  ‘Well, Italians do have rather a reputation.’ Angie said illogically.

  ‘Does that mean Lorenzo lives up to it? Do all Englishmen act the same way?’

  ‘Well, no. But I don’t know Lorenzo well enough to say what he is like. And, as his brother, you probably do.’

  He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. ‘Yes, I’m sorry.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.’

  He looked at her with a little smile that made her heart turn over. ‘I think we just had our first quarrel.’

  ‘So we did.’

  They exchanged rueful glances and he opened his arms, pulling her into a hug.

  Our first quarrel, she thought. Before our first kiss. And if I didn’t want that kiss so badly I wouldn’t be on edge now.

  With the house in a bustle there was no chance of developing the hug into something interesting. Footsteps in the corridor made them pull apart hastily. The next moment Renato entered, looking exasperated.

  ‘The mystery is solved,’ he said. ‘Lorenzo has just called to say he’s on his way home. Apparently he decided this morning to skip all his appointments and come back.’ His voice grated with displeasure on the last words.

  ‘He couldn’t bear to stay away from Heather,’ Angie sighed. ‘That’s sweet.’

  ‘It’s not sweet,’ Renato snapped. ‘He had work to do, work he was already behind with.’

  ‘He’s getting married in a few days-’ Angie protested.

  ‘Is he at the airport now?’ Bernardo put in quickly before an argument could start.

  ‘No, he was calling from Rome, where he had to make a connection. He’ll be here in about three hours.’

  ‘Fine,’ Angie said crisply. ‘I’ll tell Heather.’

  She favoured him with a glare before walking out smartly, closely followed by Bernardo.

  ‘I pity Heather,’ she said crossly. ‘I really do. Fancy having Renato as a brother-in-law.’

  ‘Perhaps she loves Lorenzo enough not to mind being related to Renato,’ Bernardo observed. ‘They say love can do that to people.’

  It flashed across her mind that he might not be talking about Heather and Lorenzo. For he himself was related to Renato, and if-

  Don’t be absurd! This is a holiday romance. He hasn’t even kissed you yet!

  Lorenzo’s return changed things, but not in the way she’d expected. He arrived that afternoon, looking harassed, and it didn’t seem to Angie that this was a man who’d tossed everything aside to be with his beloved. Instead he hurried to find Renato and the two of them spent the rest of the day closeted in the study, from behind whose door Angie could hear agitated voices.

  Perhaps Lorenzo was berating his brother for not taking better care of Heather. She certainly hoped so. She wondered when she would have another chance to be alone with Bernardo.

  It came the next day. Lorenzo, looking pale and tense, was swept off by Renato to work at the company’s head office in Palermo, while Baptista claimed Heather’s company.

  ‘Naturally, we’d be glad if you joined us,’ she said with a smile, ‘but I expect y
ou and Bernardo have made other plans.’

  ‘Well-’

  ‘Of course you have. And when the wedding is over I hope you won’t feel you have to hurry back to England. Perhaps you could stay another week?’

  ‘Thank you, I’d like that,’ Angie said, feeling the sun come out inside her.

  This time it was her choice to go to Montedoro. Bernardo offered to show her the island, but she wanted to return to his eagle kingdom, where he was most completely himself.

  When they were part of the way up the mountain he turned the car onto the grass and they got out and walked under the trees. From here Sicily was spread out before them in all its glory. Above them birds sang, the trees were in full beauty and the sky was an unbelievable blue. Angie stopped to breathe in the sweet air. The next moment she felt his hand tighten on hers, and she was in his arms.

  The feel of his lips locked onto hers sent happiness streaming through her. She kissed him back, fervently, eagerly, inviting him to kiss her more deeply. She felt his clasp grow more confident. He’d understand her at once, and they could bypass the first tentative questions that strangers needed to ask, for they had never been strangers. They’d known each other from the first moment in the airport, and this sweet blazing kiss had been inevitable then.

  His lips were just as she had known they would be, firm and decisive, and her own responded frankly, no holding back. To have pretended reserve would have been a kind of dishonesty, when in truth her heart was reaching out to him.

  Just now they asked little of each other, an eager embrace and lips seeking lips, exchanging warmth. She caught a glimpse of his face and he was almost smiling, like a man who’d discovered longed-for treasure and found it all he’d dreamed. There was a hint of surprise as well and it touched her heart. It was as though joy was so unfamiliar to him that he hardly dared to claim it as his own.

  He trailed the fingers of one hand slowly down her cheek, almost as though he couldn’t believe she was really there. His words confirmed it.

  ‘You won’t vanish, will you? I’ve thought of this since the moment we met, and now-’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said happily.

  ‘Except with me?’

  ‘Except with you.’

  ‘Kiss me-kiss me-’ His lips were on hers again before she had the chance to speak. Suddenly she was aware of everything in the world about her. The sun had never been so warm, the air so sweet, life so worth living.

  Bernardo drew back a little. He was shaking. ‘We must go on to Montedoro,’ he said unsteadily. ‘I don’t trust myself to be alone with you.’ He kissed her briefly one more time. ‘Let’s go.’

  Reluctantly she placed her hand in his and followed him to the car. She was moving in a happy dream, and it lasted all the way up the mountain.

  Montedoro was in its full summer prosperity, bursting with tourists. To make the chaos worse, it was market day, and fifty stalls were crammed into the tiny piazza at the highest point of the little town. Every stall keeper greeted him with a cry of, ‘E, Signor Bernardo,’ and inclined their head courteously to Angie. Sometimes he merely waved and passed on. Sometimes he stopped to talk, always introducing her, and she became aware that she was being watched curiously on all sides.

  They stopped for tea at a tiny convent where the Superior, Mother Francesca, welcomed him as a benefactor and a small, elderly nun made him swear not to leave until he’d tried her new batch of cakes. He solemnly promised, and Angie found herself eating the most delicious almond cakes she’d ever tasted.

  Again she could feel the curious eyes on all sides and a frisson went up her spine. It was almost as though Bernardo was showing her to ‘his people’ for a purpose. But that was nonsense. This was a brief flirtation. Nothing more.

  But her inner questions were like wisps of smoke. What was happening was out of her control.

  While she was just trying to decide on another cake she heard someone knocking on the front door. The sound was faint, muffled by the thick stone walls, but she could just make out that the door was opened, for the knocking ceased, to be replaced by shouting, and the sound of a child crying. Then there were footsteps in the corridor. Mother Francesca hurried out and returned a moment later, looking troubled.

  ‘A little girl has been knocked down in the street and Dr Fortuno is away,’ she said. ‘So they’ve brought her to Sister Ignatia, our infirmary nurse.’

  Bernardo glanced quickly at Angie who immediately said, ‘I’m a doctor. Can I help?’

  ‘I’d be so grateful,’ the nun replied. ‘We’re worried in case the child has some broken bones.’

  The convent infirmary was a small room, with a bed, equipped for little more than first aid. On the bed was lying a little girl of about eight, crying bitterly. With her was an old woman dressed in black. She had a lined, nut brown face and white hair, covered by a black headscarf. Sister Ignatia spoke to her in Sicilian, indicating Angie, and immediately the old woman was up in arms, standing between them and letting forth a stream of Sicilian whose meaning was only too clear.

  Sister Ignatia silenced her, explaining that Angie was a doctor, which at first the woman flatly refused to believe. This was a young woman. How could she be a doctor? Even without knowing the words Angie was able to follow this without trouble.

  But it seemed there was another problem. The old woman refused to be placated, pointing at Angie’s trousers with an expression of outrage.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Bernardo said, embarrassed. ‘This is a very old fashioned place, and especially the older generation-’

  ‘You mean my trousers bother her?’ Angie asked.

  ‘At one time-the only women who wore them-’ Bernardo broke off in embarrassment.

  ‘Were “bad” women,’ Angie finished for him. ‘It’s all right. I understand.’

  Bernardo tried to speak to the grandmother. Her attitude immediately became deferential and it was clear to Angie that he was the local ‘great man’. But there was a point beyond which deference did not go, even for him, and she remained obdurate.

  ‘It’s no use,’ Angie told him. ‘You’re the wrong person.’ She turned to the Reverend Mother. ‘If you vouch for my good character, surely this lady will accept your word?’

  The Superior nodded and immediately broke into rapid speech. The old woman’s face began to relax and she glanced at Angie uncertainly. But still she didn’t yield, until the little girl gave a loud cry and sobbed more bitterly than ever.

  ‘That’s it, I’m going to work,’ Angie said firmly. She stepped forward, and to her relief the grandmother didn’t try to hinder her.

  She began examining the patient who, to her relief, wasn’t seriously injured. There were some nasty cuts and bruises but nothing was broken. With Sister Ignatia’s help she cleaned the child up, and bathed and dressed her cuts.

  Then, mindful of professional etiquette, she said, ‘You should let Dr Fortuno see her when he returns. He may want to send her for X-rays, but I don’t think so. If he wants to talk to me I’ll be glad to discuss what I’ve done.’

  She finished with a smile at the little girl, who smiled back, evidently having decided that this was a good person. The grandmother watched them both closely. So did the nuns. So did Bernardo.

  When they left he became quiet, walking with his fingers entwined with hers but saying nothing. Sometimes he would look at her with a curious little smile.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘You look different all the time. There are so many of you.’

  ‘No, there’s only one of me. Truly.’

  ‘Then you have a thousand faces. I no longer seem to know what to say to you.’

  ‘What do you want to say?’

  He raised her hand and brushed his lips over it.

  ‘Now I really believe you’re a doctor,’ he said as they strolled on. ‘The way you took charge, dealt with that awkward woman-you were right, of course. She wouldn’t have taken a man’s word for your good cha
racter-even mine-because she thought-well-’ he shrugged self-consciously ‘-but she had to take the Reverend Mother’s word for it.’

  Noting the unconscious arrogance of that ‘even mine’, Angie thought that he was more of a Martelli than he wanted to admit, but she only said, ‘I can’t believe that she got so worked up just because of how I was dressed.’

  ‘It’s only twelve years since a Sicilian woman published an autobiographical novel about a girl who became the town outcast because she wanted to wear trousers,’ Bernardo told her. ‘It was a best-seller in these parts.

  ‘And my mother used to tell me of a woman she’d known who had no chance of marriage because she’d “had a man”. Eventually I found out what “had a man” meant. She’d been seen drinking coffee with him at an outside table of a café.’

  ‘And that was all it took?’ Angie demanded, aghast.

  ‘That was all it took. It isn’t an easy society for a woman, especially one from a strange culture-’

  ‘Did she come from a strange culture?’

  ‘Who?’ he asked, sounding startled.

  ‘This woman who had coffee with a man.’

  ‘I don’t know where she came from,’ he said hurriedly. ‘Stella will be waiting for us with a meal.’

  Stella had laid herself out to please, with flowers on the table and food served on the best china. The Montedoro grapevine had ensured that she already knew of the day’s dramatic events, and she treated Angie with a new touch of deference, anxiously awaiting her verdict on every dish.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ Bernardo said when Stella had finally left them to their coffee. ‘I’ve wanted to be alone with you all day, but there was always somebody else, and now the day has gone.’

  ‘Not all of it,’ she said. She was standing by a window that looked out over the valley. The darkness was descending, gradually concealing everything except some lights that flickered far below. This was a magic place, she thought happily, and the most perfect magic was to be with Bernardo.

  He came to join her. ‘I’m glad you’ve seen my home like this,’ he said. ‘This is when it’s at its most beautiful.’