Exactly the opposite, in fact.
She walked slowly to the restaurant, her hands clenched into fists in her pockets as she strove for an appearance of composure.
He was there, as she’d known he would be, seated at a table set for two with flowers, candles lit, and chilled white wine, while Maria, of the romantic soul, waited, eyes dancing to usher her there.
He got to his feet, relaxed in chinos and a white shirt, its cuffs rolled back over his forearms, his smile glinting.
He said softly, ‘So you came.
I was not sure that you would.’‘Really?’ She took her seat.
‘Now I’d have said you’d never suffered a moment’s uncertainty in your entire life, signore.’‘Then perhaps you should not judge by appearances, signorina.’ He paused.
‘But must we be so formal?’ He offered her a swift smile.
‘My name is Luca.
And yours?’Her hesitation was palpable.
‘It’s—Helen,’ she said at last.
The English version of her name, she thought, that only her parents had used.
Something to hide behind.
He inclined his head.
‘Buonasera, Helen.
It is good to meet you.’She looked down at the white cloth.
‘It’s hardly the first time.’‘Then let us make it so.’ He signalled to Santino, who came to pour the cold, sparkling wine into the waiting flutes.
He added softly, ‘To your good health,’ as he raised his glass.
The wine tingled against the dryness of her mouth and throat.
She said huskily, ‘I don’t know what I’m doing here.
This is such a mistake.’‘Why do you say that?’She stared at the bubbles in her glass.
‘You—you already know.’‘Ah,’ Luca said.
‘Because you are married.’ He reached out and took her hand, his thumb smoothing the pale band of skin where her wedding ring had been.
‘But it is not an easy thing to remember.’His touch was infinitely light, but it seemed to rip through her, making her heart pound unevenly, and she pulled her hand away, flushing.
‘You’ve also forgotten that I—asked you not to touch me.’‘But that, I think, is impossible.’She swallowed.
Her voice was a thread.
‘Then let me tell you this.
Whatever you think is going to happen between us—you’re wrong.’‘So, I shall have to live with disappointment,’ he said lightly.
‘However, we can still enjoy our food, I hope.
I ordered for us in advance, mia bella—linguine with mussels and roasted sea bass.
Do you approve?’She bent her head.
‘It sounds—delicious.’‘Good.’ He raised his glass again, the dark gaze intent, almost reflective in the candlelight.
‘Then, buon appetito, Helen—for this—and whatever else tonight may bring.
Even if it is—nothing.’ And he drank to her.
CHAPTER TEN
‘SO,’ LUCA SAID, sampling the zabaglione which he’d chosen for their dessert.
‘Tell me about your husband.’Ellie put down her spoon, startled.
His behaviour over the meal had been impeccable, keeping the conversation general, light and amusing, encouraging her to relax and enjoy each excellent course, even to smile and respond shyly to his practised banter.
Yet now he’d suddenly switched to the personal again.
The much too personal.
And she wasn’t sure how to handle it.
She took a breath.
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ she countered.
‘Nothing?’ he queried lightly.
‘So, does he even exist, I wonder, or is he an invention to keep unwanted lovers at bay?’She made herself eat some of the frothy concoction in front of her.
‘He’s real enough,’ she said eventually.
‘But I can’t describe him, because I don’t know him, or anything about him and I never have.’His brows lifted.
‘You married a complete stranger?’‘It was an arrangement,’ she said.
‘Forced on us both by circumstance.’‘I believe such arrangements can sometimes turn out well,’ he said, after a silence.
‘With a little goodwill on both sides.’‘Perhaps.’ Ellie couldn’t eat any more and put down her spoon.
‘But—not in this case.’‘You seem very sure.’‘I’ve had plenty of time to decide.’ And now, because of Silvia, I have a convincing reason too … ‘And concluded that I should leave.’‘And came here.’ His tone was reflective.
‘Will you tell me why?’‘Because I knew it was the last place that he—my husband—would ever come to.’Luca frowned.
‘What is wrong with it?’Ellie shrugged.
‘Oh—it’s not vibrant—or glamorous—or full of the beautiful people—like those he went ski-ing with last winter,’ she added.
‘But you did not accompany him.’ A statement rather than a question.
She shook her head.
‘I don’t ski.’‘You could learn.
Or you could simply enjoy the air and the beauty of the mountains as many do without venturing on to the slopes.’That, she thought, was what Tullia had said.
‘Oh, do come with us, Elena,’ she’d appealed.
‘We can find a nice terrace and sit with our hot chocolate and wonderful cakes while Angelo and Domenico and the others go off on their black runs.
‘Besides, Mamma was saying the other day that you and Angelo have still not had a honeymoon.’ She’d looked at Ellie with dancing eyes.
‘Perhaps in such a romantic place, he will wish to treat this as one.’And she’d replied, forcing herself to smile back, her heart pounding, even though the prospect of sharing a room and a bed with him for the duration had been one of the main deterrents, ‘A little too public, don’t you think? Anyway I’d probably do something silly—slip on the ice and break something and spoil his plans.
Believe me, I’m far better off staying at Vostranto.’Tullia had pouted, but when she returned, she had little to say about the trip other than Ellie was probably right not to have gone, and would have been bored.
Angelo had said even less.
Now, striving for lightness, and a way to bring the conversation and the evening to a speedy end, she said, ‘Maybe I’m just the indoor type.’‘And yet you spend part of each day on the beach.’ ‘That’s quite different.
When I’m here, I’m alone—and free.’He looked at her unsmilingly.
‘Is that what I saw that first morning—a dance of freedom?’‘I—I don’t know.’ Had it been freedom, she wondered, that inexplicable, overwhelming sense of irresistible joy that had so unexpectedly assailed her, as if some locked door had suddenly opened on to a new and hopeful world? And all she had to do was hold out her hand to claim it for her own?Before, of course, she realised what was awaiting her.
Hurriedly, she pushed back her chair and reached for her bag.
‘Anyway, I must be going,’ she said.
‘You do not wish for coffee and some strega, perhaps, or sambucca?’‘No, grazie.
But it was a wonderful meal,’ she added politely.
‘So, if you will excuse me, signore.’He rose too.
‘May it not be Luca?’She swallowed.
‘If that is—really what you want.’‘Indeed it is,’ he said.
‘Buona notte, Helen.
I wish you pleasant dreams.’ He paused.
‘And I look forward to meeting you on the beach tomorrow.’‘I—I may not be there.