Sicilian Nights Omnibus (25 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘I’
VE
BEEN
THINKING
,’
Falcon announced, leaning forward across the wrought iron table on the terrace, where they’d been sitting, drinking a pre-dinner aperitif.

He had arrived back from Florence just over half an hour ago. Annie had seen him drive up to the
castello
and then into the paved courtyard. She had watched him uncurl his lean height and muscular shoulders from his car, and then reach back inside it to gather up his suit jacket and a small laptop case, hooking the jacket over his shoulder before mounting the flight of marble steps that led up to the main entrance of the
castello
.

His shirt had been unfastened at the throat, just by one button, but the brilliance of the late-afternoon sun had struck through his shirt so clearly that she could almost have traced the dark shadowing of male body hair that crossed his chest and bisected his flat six-pack. There was something very sensually male about that dark shadowing. Something so strongly intimate that it had set off a reaction inside her that curled mockingly round her prim self-consciousness, silencing the voice that had said it was wrong for her to watch him and be so aware of his masculinity.

It wasn’t as though she had been waiting for him to return. The only reason she had been on the first floor of the
castello
, and thus able to witness his arrival through one of the windows of the line of formal salons on this side of the building, was because Maria had insisted on giving her a tour of them.

The
castello
was enormous, with cellars and attics and three and sometimes four full floors in between. It had three towers, a huge ballroom, and was in fact a combination of the original
castello
and an eighteenth-century
palazzo
which one of Falcon’s ancestors had built to extend the original building.

He’d changed out of his suit now, and was wearing a pair of faded, well-washed jeans and a soft white linen shirt, his bare feet thrust into soft shoes. He looked casually relaxed, whilst she felt tensely uncomfortable in one of her new dresses. She didn’t want him to think that she had deliberately tried to make herself look more attractive for him. That wasn’t the case at all. She had simply grabbed the first dress that had come to hand after he had strolled into the salon where she had been with Maria, to ask her to join him on the terrace for a drink before dinner.

Tonight would be the first time she had had dinner with him since she had come here. Previously she had eaten alone—and happily—she assured herself, in her room, content to be safe and with Ollie, and not wanting anything or anyone else.

It wasn’t her fault that the dress she had grabbed turned out to be a sleeveless tube of honey-coloured jersey. It had looked so nondescript on its hanger that she hadn’t given its suitability a second thought when she had pulled it on over her head, before slipping on a pair of kitten-heeled sandals. As the mother of a six-month-old baby she had no intention of wearing high stiletto heels in case she stumbled and Ollie came to harm.

She hadn’t even looked at her full-length reflection before leaving her bedroom, simply running a brush through her hair and then sliding on a soft slick of lipgloss, before spraying herself with the admittedly delicious light scent the personal shopper had recommended, and scooping up Ollie.

In fact, it had only been when she had been about to leave her bedroom that she had caught sight of herself in the mirror and had realised how very slender the jersey dress made her look—how faithfully it followed the lines of her body, despite the stylish pleated ruching that swept from the bust right down to her hip, which she had naively assumed meant that the dress would be suitably unrevealing.

It had been too late to go back and get changed, but she had comforted herself with the thought that she would be sitting down and the dress’s neckline, whilst slashed across her throat, did not reveal very much flesh.

That had been before she had realised that Falcon was already on the terrace and waiting for her—or realized that he would come towards her to take Ollie from her, and then survey her in such a silent and yet at the same time very meaningful way. Her heart kicked off in a flurry of little beats now, just thinking about the way he had smiled at her before he had come to put Oliver in the highchair that was pulled up at the table, waiting for him.

It wasn’t the way Falcon had smiled at her five minutes ago that she ought to be concentrating on, Annie warned herself. It was what he had just said to her. What had he been thinking? That he had changed his mind about his plan to turn her into a fully functioning modern sexual woman? Of course, if that was the case she would be relieved in many ways. Very relieved. Wouldn’t she?

She took a quick sip of her drink. She didn’t normally touch alcohol, but the chilled light rosé wine Falcon had persuaded her to try was delicious. She could feel it relaxing her tense cramped stomach muscles as she tried to breathe evenly, as though she wasn’t in the least bit apprehensive and most particularly as though she hadn’t hardy slept at all last night for thinking about what he had said to her, what she would say to him, and how she felt about...about everything.

‘Whilst I was in Florence I was speaking with a member of my late mother’s family. One of the old family houses is currently being emptied of its treasures, including the books from its library and a great many family letters. He has asked me if we could house the books here, to which of course I have agreed.

‘My mother’s family history is an interesting one. They were originally silk merchants in the fifteenth century, who bought themselves into the nobility and ultimately became very wealthy and well connected. The marriage between my parents was one brokered between my father and my mother’s uncle, for reasons of mutual financial benefit and social prestige. However, my father never allowed our mother to forget that, whilst his family line descended directly from nobility, hers descended from the merchant class.’

‘Your mother must have been so hurt,’ said Annie sympathetically.

‘She suffered very badly because of my father’s cruelty to her. As children we all felt that our mother must not have loved us enough to want to live, but of course that was not the reality. The reality is that she died from complications after Rocco’s birth.’

Annie could see the three bereft children, desperately longing for their mother, all too easily. Her heart ached for those boys, and inside her head she saw herself as a mother, gathering them close—especially Falcon, who she knew would have been proud and brave and determined to hold back his own tears in order to comfort his brothers.

‘Growing up without your mother must have been awful for you.’

‘As growing up without your father must have been for
you
. The understanding of what that means is something we share. It may be that, should you decide to learn Italian, you will one day read the story of my parents’ families for yourself. The library here at the
castello
holds many personal diaries.’

Immediately Annie’s eyes lit up with excited anticipation.

‘There’s nothing I’d like to do more,’ she admitted.

‘Then I shall make some enquiries and find a teacher for you. Or if you prefer you could take a language course in Florence. My apartment there is large enough to accommodate you and Ollie.’

He was being so kind. Whilst she had been listening to him she had, she realised as Falcon reached for the bottle of rosé and leaned across to top up her glass, almost emptied it.

‘Oh, no. No more for me. I don’t drink at all normally—’ she began, but Falcon ignored her and continued to pour.

‘I am most certainly not in favour of anyone drinking more than they should, but it is important that you learn to drink a couple of glasses of wine without it going to your head. It will give you confidence in social situations. Now, I have also been thinking about you and Oliver whilst I was in Florence.’

Annie’s heart gave another furious flurry of too-fast beats, so she took another sip of her wine. It did taste good, and a lovely warm, mellow and relaxed feeling was beginning to creep over her.

‘If you are to have any quality of life of your own then you will need someone who you can trust to look after Oliver in your absence.’

‘I don’t want anyone else to look after him,’ Annie protested. ‘I love him and I want to be with him.’

‘It is not healthy when mother and child have only one another. Normally in Italian families there is always someone for a mother to turn to for help. She is not left alone to bring up her child. I have spoken with Maria already, and she has a cousin who trained as a nursery nurse. She and her husband have recently returned to live on the island, and I have arranged for her to come up to the
castello
when you feel ready to speak with her. You can interview her. If you decide she is suitable then you will be doing her a favour, as well.’

Noblesse oblige
, Annie thought ruefully, but she knew that what he was saying made sense, so she nodded her head and then said, ‘Ollie’s falling asleep. I’d better take him upstairs and put him to bed.’

Falcon’s answer—‘I’ll carry him for you’—had her denying that there was any need for him to do so, but Falcon simply stood up and went to lift Ollie out of his chair.

‘I have a distinct feeling that if I let you disappear upstairs alone you won’t come back down again. And as you know we have an outstanding matter to discuss,’ he told her.

Annie was glad she wasn’t holding Ollie, because she suspected that if she had been she would have been in danger of dropping him, so great was the effect of Falcon’s words on her.

It didn’t take her long to put Ollie to bed. He was such a good baby. She smiled lovingly as she kissed his forehead, and then gave a small gasp as she realised that Falcon had come from the small sitting room that opened off her bedroom into the nursery, and was standing watching her.

‘Oliver is a very lucky child to have such a devoted mother.’

Was he thinking of his own mother, and how he and his brothers as children had mistakenly felt that she had not loved them enough to fight death to be with them?

Instinctively moved to comfort him, she told him gently, ‘I’m sure your mother did love you all, Falcon—and that she wanted to be with you. Even though to you as a child it must have seemed that she had chosen not to live.’

She had lifted her hand to his sleeve as she spoke, touching his arm in the kind of tender gesture that came unbidden and naturally, but now—as he moved closer to her and she felt the hard, muscular warmth of his flesh beneath her fingers—a very different feeling from the one that had originally motivated her surged through her, causing her to snatch back her hand and quickly turn towards the door, her face hot.

‘You have a very compassionate nature,’ she heard Falcon saying as he followed her. ‘And I think you are right. Certainly as an adult it is pity I feel for my mother, rather than the despair her death caused me as a boy. She used to say that producing us was her duty and that she herself was a sacrifice.’

Annie had to fight hard not to betray her shock. Poor woman. She must have been dreadfully unhappy to have spoken to her son like that, instead of protecting him from her own unhappiness. She would never do that to Ollie.
Never!
She wanted him to grow up whole and happy, and free of any sense of guilt about her or about himself.

* * *

They had dinner. Warmed goat cheese with tomatoes and herbs to start with, and then a roast chicken and pasta dish that was mouthwateringly delicious.

Annie had already learned from Maria that most of the staff at the
castello
were local, and that their families had lived and worked on Leopardi land for countless generations—even the chef.

She had drunk another glass of wine with her meal, and now she and Falcon had finished the piping hot coffee the little maid had brought them. Although Annie had regretfully had to refuse the chocolate
petit fours
that had been with the coffee—not just because she was full, but because she was also feeling very nervous. All through the meal Falcon had answered her curious questions about the obviously feudal nature of the area, and the relationship between his father the old Prince and the people who looked on him almost as though he were still their ruler. Not once had he made any reference to the fact that she had not as yet given him her decision.

‘My father’s attitude towards the land and the people
is
feudal,’ Falcon told her now. ‘And that is a matter of great concern to me and to my brothers. We have all been fortunate in having benefited financially through our mother’s family, and we have all become financially successful in the modern world. The opportunity to live in that modern world is one I am committed to giving to our people, despite my father’s wish to keep them locked in the past. And speaking of people being locked in the past...’ He stood up. ‘A walk in the gardens will, I think, help us to digest our dinner. And whilst we are walking you can give me your decision on the offer I made before I left for Florence.’

Annie’s breath escaped her lungs in a leaky gasp.

‘What is it?’ Falcon asked as she too stood up.

‘I thought that perhaps you’d changed your mind about that, and that that was why you hadn’t mentioned it,’ Annie confessed.

‘You thought or you hoped?’ he challenged her, even as his light touch—and it was merely a touch, quickly removed—guided her towards the steps that led down into the gardens.

It was darker here than it had been on the terrace. A prickle of sensation quivered over her skin. The night was full of hidden dangers—or were they hidden promises? What on earth had made her think
that
?

The moon, new and bright, gave off just enough light to show the outline of the mountains, silvering Leopardi land, the olive groves and the fields closer to the
castello
. Her son was part of all of this—but he was part of her, as well. Somewhere unseen a bird screeched, making her jump and miss a step. Instantly Falcon moved closer to catch her, one hand splayed across the middle of her back the other encircling her wrist.