Everything was provided for, down to the last comma, the work of a thorough lawyer.

But when she looked up he was holding out a fluted glass of champagne.

‘We drank champagne with our guests,’ he said, ‘but this is between us. My gratitude-for today, and for the future.’

The future which might contain his death, perhaps very soon. Neither said it, but each knew what the other was thinking.

They clinked glasses.

‘Any regrets?’ he asked.

‘Not yet,’ she said lightly. ‘I’ll keep you informed. At any rate, this is nice and quiet.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘It’s just that we seem unable to discuss anything without shouting,’ she said, still in the same light tone. ‘It’s practically a form of communication.’

‘Ah, you’re talking about my proposal.’

‘Yes, I suppose I am.’

‘And a few other things,’ he said, considering. ‘I don’t normally shout and get so worked up.’

‘Me neither.’

‘And I’m not the bully you might think from my behaviour.’

‘I know. You just like to have your own way.’

‘I shout when I’m scared,’ he said with a shrug. ‘It doesn’t happen often but-well.’

She nodded.

‘I’m not scared of Fortese, but when you refused to marry me-it was like trying to seize hold of something in the darkness, only the “something” kept darting away. Usually it’s easy. A judge can mostly get what he wants by signing a bit of paper and letting other people do the work. But it was clear that no force was going to control you.

‘Even when you seemed to be almost my prisoner I used to feel a moment of apprehension when I reached home in the evening, in case you’d mysteriously vanished during the day.’

‘I never knew that.’

‘I couldn’t afford to let you suspect. You’d have found it too easy to run rings around me. You didn’t find it very hard in any case.’

Holly stared. She had known none of this. He’d always seemed so totally dominant. Now he was revealing the weakness in his defences, and it seemed not to trouble him at all that she should know.

After a moment he went on in a reflective voice. ‘I think I realised how important you were going to be from the first day. I didn’t know how, but you appeared out of nowhere, and everything about you was inevitable. It almost makes me believe in fate.’

‘You? A judge, believing in fate?’

‘No judge is ever only a judge. He’s a man too, no matter how much he might sometimes wish…’ He checked himself. ‘Well, anyway-it’s been a long day and I expect we’re both tired.’

‘Yes,’ she said. She’d had as much as she could stand for the moment, and she guessed he felt the same.

They climbed into opposite sides of the bed, solemnly bid each other goodnight and turned out the lights. Almost at once Holly discovered that she really was worn out, and when she closed her eyes she was asleep in seconds.

She awoke because a strange noise was reaching out through her sleep, seeking her, imploring her attention. As soon as she opened her eyes she realised what had disturbed her. A low growl, almost like a moan, was coming from the other side of the bed.

Matteo was lying on his front, his face turned towards her, half-buried in the pillow. One hand also lay on his pillow, clenching and unclenching as choking sounds came from him. He was talking in a language that Holly didn’t understand.

‘Matteo,’ she said softly. ‘Are you all right?’

The reply was a torrent of unintelligible words, while his hand clenched convulsively. Only then did she realise that he was still asleep.

‘Matteo,’ she repeated, uncertain whether to awaken him or not. The feeling of pain that came from him was too intense to be ignored.

His voice changed, becoming sharp. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No-no-no-’

Then he gave a sudden, convulsive movement and threw himself over onto his back. He was breathing harshly now while, ‘No-no-no…’ poured from his mouth.

Acting instinctively, Holly seized his hand, holding it between hers until its jerky movements subsided. At the same time the heaving of his chest became less violent.

‘It’s all right,’ she told him softly. ‘I’m here-I’m here.’

Now he lay still. The only sign of his recent disturbance was the frown creasing his brow.

‘I’m here,’ she repeated. ‘It’s going to be all right.’

Slowly the frown faded and he seemed to breathe more easily, but his hand did not release hers. Holly eased herself down in the bed, trying not to disturb him.

She had embarked on this strange marriage with little idea of what might be facing her, but telling herself that she was ready for anything. Now she wondered if she had been too rash. He depended on her for something that might be beyond her power.

Too late now. She had made promises that bound her as irrevocably as the fingers clasped around hers, while he sank back into peaceful sleep, growing still. After a long time he released her, and she was able to draw her hand away. Then she stayed as she was, watching him, motionless, until she too fell asleep.

She awoke again later to find herself sitting up, unable to remember how it had happened, but instantly alert. She must have slept for hours because the room was filled with a soft, dim light that told her dawn was breaking. Cautiously she turned her head to where he slept.

Once again he’d taken her by surprise. After the disturbance of the night she’d imagined him sleeping curled up in a defensive position, his arms a barrier against a world that had betrayed him. Instead he lay on his back, his arms flung wide, his jacket open, revealing a chest that was thick with dark, curly hair, abandoned, unprotected.

In what other way was he different from how she had imagined? How many sides did he have, and would he live long enough for her to find out?

That was the reality, she reminded herself: he might die at any moment. She closed her eyes, trying to resist the anguish that shivered through her, but it wouldn’t be denied. Somehow, while she thought she was fighting him off, he’d secured a grip on her heart.

She’d told him once that her weakness was a longing to be needed, but that was when she’d seen him as too strong to need anyone. Her real feelings had pounced on her like a tiger leaping from the darkness, overwhelming her before she realised.

The width of the bed should have been a protection. But one of his arms reached across the space between, the fingertips temptingly close. And there was no protection from the thoughts that crowded in on her. The one that hounded her most was the one kiss they’d shared on the night when the barriers began to come down, and he’d later revealed the truth about his torment.

They’d hastily replaced the barriers, but there was no way to blot out the memory of a kiss so fierce and thrilling that they’d both backed off, eyes wary, hearts in denial.

The moment had briefly glittered tonight as they talked, and she’d shut it away hastily. But in the dark warmth it had returned, taking advantage of her defenceless sleep to remind her how his body felt, pressed against hers. In just a few blazing moments he seemed to have imprinted himself on her so that he was still there, his lips touching her mouth, his hand firm in the small of her back.

That hand looked different now, relaxed, gentle. His face, too, was softer than she had ever seen it, although dark with a night’s growth of beard. His frown was gone, but she could see that the tensions of his life had not completely vanished. Beneath the surface peace was a wariness, as though life on the verge of disaster was the only kind possible for him.

While she was wondering if she should awaken him, Matteo opened his eyes and looked directly into hers. He didn’t move, but she had the feeling that a quietness had settled over him, as though he’d found what he wanted, and was glad.

‘Have you been there all the time?’ he whispered.

She nodded.

‘Yes, of course-stupid of me-’

‘Not stupid,’ she said. ‘We aren’t used to this.’

‘Thank you for being there.’

So he knew, she thought. He might not remember exactly, but somewhere, deep inside, he’d sensed her in the night, holding on to him.

His lips moved, speaking her name silently, and he reached up to touch her face, trailing his fingertips gently down her cheek. He looked almost puzzled, as though trying to understand how this had come about. When his hand settled behind her head she hesitated only a moment before leaning slowly down. She could feel him trembling and knew that he must be able to sense the same in her. This wasn’t wise but it was inevitable. She couldn’t sleep beside him all night and remain cool.

She moved slightly so that his free hand could drift naturally across her breast, and braced herself for the sweet sensation.

There was a knock at the door.

Then Liza’s voice called, ‘Can I come in?’

Matteo closed his eyes and a shudder went through him. Holly took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm.

‘Yes,’ she called brightly. ‘You can come in.’

Instinctively she tried to draw away from him, thinking only of calming the tingling in her body. But he held her, murmuring, ‘Remember what we said? Neutered cats.’

She could have screamed at the intrusion of the homely into what promised to be magic. But he was right. So she let him draw her down so that her head fell on his shoulder, and draped an arm around his neck, just managing to settle before the door opened and Liza came in.

She beamed at what she saw, then went back outside and returned pushing a light trolley.

‘I brought your coffee,’ she said.

Somehow they managed to say the right words, pulling themselves up in bed, smiling and acting as though nothing could give them greater pleasure. Which, in one sense, was true, Holly thought. This was all for Liza. Remember that.