The Echoes of Love (33 page)

She had rebuffed him so many times, even though everything in her eyes and the expression of her face spelt out that she was drawn to him as passionately as he was to her. He always sensed a resistance in her when they talked, a kind of pent-up belligerence, and only in his arms did she become tender, docile, submissive and infinitely generous. She had given herself to him that morning without restraint; her body had revealed itself to him like the petals of a flower opening up to expose itself to the sunshine; she had taken him with avidity, but she had loved him back with equal fervour.

A sudden thought crossed his mind: Allegra. Venetia might have wondered why she looked so angry on seeing them together that morning. She had been at that new restaurant in Piazza San Marco where he had taken Antonio's niece some time ago. Paolo frowned as he wondered what conclusions Venetia had reached regarding his relationship with the girl. He had so many regrets when it came to Allegra, and he had been too weak.

That Allegra was infatuated with him and wanted to marry him was indeed unfortunate. He also realised that she had developed more dissipated inclinations and he was well aware of her escapades into Porto Santo Stefano whenever his back was turned. He had never confronted her with the rumours, too fond of her to hurt her feelings; however, his protective instinct, and his guilt, had led him to speak to Antonio. The caretaker had assured him that it was all malevolent gossip, but Paolo was not duped.

Of late, even though he had stopped asking Allegra over to the big house for an occasional meal, she had become clingier, and the scene that had occurred the other night in his bedroom left him uneasy. Ernestina had always warned him against Allegra, insinuating the girl was evil. Now, he wouldn't go that far, but he sensed that she had some rather unsavoury instincts and a scheming nature from which he should guard himself perhaps, and certainly protect Venetia.

Paolo glanced at his watch. Venetia would soon be there. He lit a cigarette and started to make a series of phone calls to agents in various parts of Italy to secure a hotel over Easter. He would give Venetia the choice of place, and take her wherever she wanted to go.

* * *

When Venetia walked into the room, Paolo was just putting down the phone. His eyes flicked over her slender figure outlined in a delicate sleeveless white dress. He was wearing an open-necked indigo shirt that gave his irises a cerulean tint, making them even more striking. His raven-black hair was swept back, but slightly ruffled, and his features had lost the tautness she had been used to – he seemed relaxed.

Paolo got up and came towards her, his smile sweet and tender. ‘I've missed you, Venetia,' he whispered, his voice husky as he drew her gently into his arms.

She wanted to resist, but how could she? The way he spoke her name alone made her feel desirable – all woman. Her mind clouding, Venetia gave herself up to his kisses, her body on fire with sudden heat. She closed her eyes, the hard strength of Paolo's body along the full length of hers, drowning in his embrace, engulfed in the possessive demand of his lips and surrendering to them without the slightest hesitation.

When at last he released her, she kept her eyes closed a few seconds more, her senses immersed in a sea of deep, aching need.

‘Come, sit down.' Paolo moved over to his desk.

Venetia followed and took a seat opposite him, her eyes lifting a little sheepishly towards the huge portrait looking down, watching her enigmatically.

Paolo smiled ruefully. ‘She wouldn't mind,
cara
,' he murmured, as if interpreting the anxiety on Venetia's face. ‘I think she'd like to see me happy.'

‘It's very difficult to have someone you cared for so much as a rival, especially since she disappeared from your life in such dramatic circumstances.'

‘Please,
amore mio,
don't give it another thought. I have no past – only the present and the future hold importance for me now.'

Venetia hesitated before formulating her concern, her ultimate fear. She glanced down at her fingers, knotted together in her lap. ‘Paolo, can I be very candid with you?'

‘Of course,
tesoro mio
, you can say and ask whatever you want. I will always try to answer you truthfully.'

‘What if your memory came back one day and you discovered that you were still in love with your wife?'

There was a short pause before he answered, his tone grave, his eyes denuded of all expression. ‘Please believe me when I tell you that there's no chance of that – the past is dead for me. The woman you see up there is and will always remain for me a figment of the imagination of the artist who painted her.'

Since they were on the subject of ‘the other woman', Venetia was burning to ask Paolo about Allegra. She had to stop that nagging little voice tugging at her heart, telling her that she was running headlong into another disaster, just as she had with Judd, and the only way to stop the war inside her was to hear the truth straight from Paolo himself.

She was about to take the plunge when once again he spared her the embarrassment of asking the question. ‘I can see the watchful look in your eyes and read the troubled thoughts that are going round and round in your mind,
cara.
You're puzzled about the… um…
come dire
… relationship between Allegra, the young woman you saw this morning, and me. You're saying to yourself, why should he take the caretaker's niece around with him in Venice, and in such a well-known restaurant?
Deve essera la sua amante
, she must be his mistress. Not so?' Paolo asked calmly.

Venetia stared at him, dumbfounded. He was so attuned to her that he was always one step ahead of her thoughts, interpreting them with finesse and answering her fears with tact. How was he able to perceive her inner thoughts with such perspicacity? Was she so transparent? She had always prided herself on having a ‘poker face' when necessary, but it was almost impossible for her to hide anything from Paolo – as it was in bed, where he seemed to anticipate every one of her reactions and thoughts, leaving her totally vulnerable to his uncanny clairvoyance. With Paolo, she was unable to sustain the persona she so successfully projected to the outside world. He could see right through to her soul; her emotions, her feelings, and the intimate way her brain worked appeared no secret to him, as she lay there naked, exposed to his mystifying perception. And although it unnerved her to be so transparent to the man she had come to care for so deeply, she knew that it was no use pretending, she just wasn't strong enough emotionally to try and protect herself any more; besides, she realised, she trusted him.

‘Yes,' she murmured, ‘I did wonder, especially as Umberto told me that she's your mistress… and then the hatred I read in her eyes this morning when she saw us together only seemed to prove his words. Added to that, I caught sight of her the other night looking very fetching in her red satin nightdress, obviously going to meet you at the house.' Venetia felt the colour rise in her cheeks at the thought.

‘And you believe this?' Paolo's eyes widened as they searched her face.

‘There is a great deal to be said for the power of positive thinking, but I'm not going to hide my head in the sand like an ostrich, Paolo.' Venetia tried to rein in her temper. ‘What would you think in my position? After all, she is really very beautiful.'

‘
Dio mio,
Venetia, I am thirty-eight and she's not yet twenty! I'm almost double her age – I could be her father. Do you really think I'm the sort of man to go after a
bambina
?'

‘Are you telling me that there's nothing going on between you? That you,
l'Amante delle Quattro Stagioni
, has kept his hands off this beautiful girl?' She found it difficult to keep the jealous anger from flaring in her voice.

Paolo shook his head. ‘How little you know me,
carissima
.' He made an effort to smile but, exasperated, ran a hand through his hair. ‘When I took on Antonio to help with the renovation of Miraggio, Allegra was just a child. Unhappy and wild, left to her own devices without discipline or supervision. I had just come out of a deep depression, having left my home to start a new life, with no hope really of marrying again and ever having children. Allegra was a beautiful
bambina
, intelligent and lively, and I decided to take her under my wing – in some ways very much like a guardian. I put her through a good private school, a convent where she excelled, and gave her singing and violin lessons because she had a lovely voice and showed an aptitude for music. In my eyes, she always remained a little girl and I didn't realise that the
bambina
had turned into a young woman. Soon, I'm sad to say, she developed a sort of infatuation with me and began to send me anonymous gifts, which became more intimate, with attached love notes, which she eventually signed, making her feelings known.'

Venetia coloured again, not wanting to hear this sort of detail, even though she had pushed Paolo to be honest with her. He glanced at her and frowned, seeing her reaction, but continued, his voice sounding strained and cautious.

‘I explained to her, as well as to Antonio, that this had to stop. But then I was told she was spending nights in Porto Santo Stefano, selling herself to the sailors from the liners and boats which passed through the port.'

Venetia blinked, wide-eyed. ‘Did you talk to her about this – at least tell her off? She was obviously seeking your attention.'

Paolo sighed. ‘No, I was weak. At the beginning I thought it was just malicious gossip, and then I exercised, as you say, the politic of the ostrich… I'm not proud of the way I've handled things with Allegra.' He pushed his hand through his hair again, his mouth pressed into a thin line. ‘It's true, I should have spent more time providing her with the guidance she sorely lacked from Antonio, and perhaps been firmer in laying down boundaries between us. But eventually I decided to take her to a psychologist who was recommended to me in Venice, in the hope that he would cure her of this ridiculous adolescent crush on me.'

‘And?'

‘Well, even though I'm very fond of Allegra and admittedly that strange relationship of guardian and ward has created a strong bond between us…' Paolo broke off when he saw the look in Venetia's eye. ‘
Dio mio,
how couldn't it? I've seen her grow up, what do you take me for,
cara
…? Let's just say that she will grow out of this puppy love, as you say in England.'

‘You have a rather notorious reputation as a womaniser,' Venetia said quietly. ‘You can't blame people for thinking the worst if you exhibit yourself with a young beauty in a city where you are well known and where everybody gossips.'

Paolo shifted in his chair and again raked his hair with his hand. ‘People, people... I don't care what people think,
cara
. It's
your
opinion that counts for me. And yes, I will not lie to you and say that I've lived like a monk. I know that I have gained a reputation, but I'm a man of thirty-eight,' he gave a self-deprecating smile, ‘and even though I have a defected mind, that doesn't make me half a man. I am normal and there is still a lot of fire in me. Perhaps… perhaps it's partly a drive to escape myself or look for something that's missing, I don't know.' His eyes had darkened momentarily with a flicker of frustration. ‘As I've told you before, I'm no saint, but I like beautiful women and I have – to my knowledge – only pursued those women who didn't want a commitment any more than I did.'

‘I'm neither criticising you nor am I reproaching you, Paolo – I have no right to, anyhow. But I was just… um… a little concerned.' Venetia flushed and looked down at her feet. She was jealous, that was the real reason for her angst, and she was sure that he was aware of it.

Still, even if he had read her censuring thoughts, he went on as though he hadn't guessed at Venetia's actual feelings. ‘I would never, never try to seduce a
bambina
whom I almost think of as my daughter, were she the last woman on earth.' Leaning back, he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. He looked pensive and his frown deepened. ‘But to return to Allegra, I'm now aware that there's an ugly streak in her. Her mother was a well-known madwoman and whore, and she died from some nasty disease, though it might have been worse for Allegra had she lived. Ernestina, who apparently knew the child from their days in Elba, and the mother too, has always insisted she's evil. I must admit I don't believe Allegra is a bad girl, she's just had a difficult life and now is a little spoilt – and that's probably my fault. One day she'll find
un buon marito
who will know how to calm her down – at least that's my hope.'

A small frown of worry creased Venetia's forehead. Even after Paolo's long explanation, doubts still clouded her mind, although she tried to push them away. Was she being manipulated? He sounded so sincere. She could just hear Francesca's voice, telling her not to be so naive:
‘He's probably got a string of women he's beguiled with charm and the right words into believing him, trusting him, and then dropped them as soon as he's had his fun.'

Paolo's warm gaze caught and held hers in a sudden charged silence. He then stood up and came round his desk. ‘I love you, Venetia.
Ti amo piu' di qualsiasi cosa al mondo
, I love you more than anything else in the world. You are the ray of sunshine that I've been waiting for all these years.'

This was useless; how could she think straight when he was standing so close, pulling her up into his arms, murmuring such beautiful words while smoothing out the anxiety lines that furrowed her brow with a caressing touch?

‘You don't believe me,
cara
?'