Lucy Gordon - Wife By Arrangement

‘I thought you would find this place,’ Baptista said.

Heather turned and saw her standing there, leaning slightly on her stick.

‘I saw you from my window, and wanted to show you my special place myself.’

‘Did he-?’

‘Yes, Fede began it for me. It was his way of saying what he dared not say in words.’

She indicated a small wooden bench and they sat there together.

‘Over the years I have tended this place with love and it has grown. I’ve protected the plants so that they survived the winters, taking them into greenhouses, or even the house. Some are still the original plants that he put here. Some are from cuttings.

‘And I have taken cuttings to the Residenza, and put them in my garden there. But here, in this spot, was where he said to me that no other woman would ever exist for him besides me.’

She pointed to the glorious red blooms. ‘We planted that together, and I have never let it die,’ she said softly. ‘If he came back now, I could show him that bush and say, “See how I have loved it for your sake.”’

‘And I shall love it for yours,’ Heather said softly.

‘I knew you would. And when they bury me, and my coffin is piled high with formal tributes from people I cared nothing about, will you make sure a single bloom from this bush lies hidden there somewhere?’

‘Of course I will. But don’t you want Lorenzo or Renato to do that for you?’

She shook her head. ‘When the time comes Lorenzo will sob and forget everything but his grief. You will have to be strong for him then. And Renato is a good man, but there are things about the heart that he doesn’t understand.’

‘Just about everything, I should think,’ Heather said, and the two women exchanged a smile. ‘Of course I’ll do this for you,’ she promised.

‘Then I can be peaceful, for it was troubling me that there was nobody I could rely on to do this.’

‘You still love him, after so long?’

‘Not as I think you mean it. Passion is long dead. What matters then is someone to sit with you in the evening sun: someone who will talk and hold your hand, and smile at you with eyes that say, “Let us go, unafraid, into the twilight together.” Sometimes at dusk I’ll come and sit here, and remember. But always I sit alone. I am growing old, my dear daughter, and my heart aches for what I shall never have.’

She tucked her hand in Heather’s arm, and slowly they made their way back to the house.

Lorenzo’s reaction later that night was strange. After the first surprise and pleasure, he said, ‘I wonder how Renato will take this. He always hoped to own Bella Rosaria one day.’

After which Heather braced herself for recriminations, but Renato went up to his room without giving her more than a brief nod.

RELATIVES were beginning to converge on Palermo, some to stay in the Residenza, others to occupy the biggest suites in the best hotels. Heather was astonished by the legions of aunts, uncles, cousins that made up the far reaching branches of the Martelli family.

She met people until she was giddy. The ones she enjoyed the most were Enrico and Giuseppe. They were first cousins to each other, and distant cousins to Baptista, and long ago they had both been in love with her. When she married Vincente Martelli, they had consoled each other’s broken hearts. Forty years later they were still bachelors, still competing for the honour of escorting her. She was allowing them both to squire her to the wedding. Otherwise there would have been a riot.

Two days before the wedding the great house was gleaming in readiness for the wedding ball. In their bedroom upstairs, Angie and Heather prepared for an evening of dancing.

After her day on the boat Heather had tanned to a pale biscuit colour that was very becoming. It was a pity, she thought, as she stepped out of the shower, that she couldn’t be the same perfect colour all over. But that would have meant sunbathing naked…

Suddenly she could feel Renato’s hands gliding over her shoulders and down her spine, lulling her into a warm, hypnotic daze that made everything else unimportant. And later he’d stripped her naked in the cabin. She pressed her hands against her cheeks, which were suddenly burning, wishing desperately that these strange fancies would cease tormenting her.

‘Hurry up!’ Angie called.

‘Coming,’ she said with relief.

Lorenzo kissed her hand when he saw her in pale lavender embroidered silk. ‘Every man there will envy me,’ he declared. Despite his gallant words his air was abstracted. But they were all under a strain, she thought.

There was a burst of applause as they opened the ball together, making the first circuit of the floor alone before the others joined them. Heather had the feeling that everything was happening in slow motion, so that as she whirled in Lorenzo’s arms she had time to see the faces watching them. There was Baptista, flanked by her two cavaliers, smiling contentedly as she saw her dream come true. There were Angie and Bernardo, already looking like a settled couple. Everything was wonderful.

Then she noticed Renato standing close to the most extravagantly lovely woman she had ever seen. She was a ripe brunette in the full summer of her beauty. Her mouth was ripe and luscious, her dark eyes were as huge and vacant as a cow’s. Everything about her proclaimed lasciviousness, including the speaking look she was directing up at Renato.

‘Careful,’ Lorenzo said, tightening his grip on her. ‘You nearly stumbled.’

‘Sorry,’ she said breathlessly.

‘You were miles away. What were you thinking of?’

‘Why-our wedding, of course,’ she said with a bright laugh. ‘I think of it all the time.’

‘So do I-the day after tomorrow-and then we’ll tie the knot for ever.’

‘Yes-for ever.’

‘Thank goodness the others are starting to dance. I don’t feel so conspicuous.’

‘Who’s that woman with Renato?’

‘That’s Elena Alante, she’s a widow. Renato prefers them married, divorced or widowed. Experienced, anyway. The one over there is Minetta, and just behind her is the Contessa Julia Bennotti. All three of them are-well, Renato is-’

‘A brave man,’ Heather suggested lightly.

‘Very brave to have them all here at once. I wonder what possessed him.’

Heather wondered too when she finally came face to face with Renato. He looked more tense and edgy than she’d seen him before, like a man with a fiend sitting on his shoulder. He greeted Heather with a nod and a smile that seemed to take a lot of effort, and introduced her to Elena. As the two women inclined their heads in greeting Heather became aware of something that made her smile.

‘Allow me to congratulate you on your perfume, signora,’ she murmured. ‘It’s delightful.’

‘Dear Renato bought it for me recently,’ Elena cooed. ‘It’s called “Deep In The Night”. I keep telling him he shouldn’t buy me so many expensive gifts, but he says I’m special to him.’

‘And for a special friend a man buys a special gift,’ Heather murmured. ‘I’m sure he took a lot of trouble to choose exactly the right perfume for you.’

‘I think it’s time I had the privilege of dancing with the bride,’ Renato said curtly, taking her hand. Heather let him lead her onto the floor, where another waltz was just beginning.

‘That’s enough of your tricks,’ he growled.

‘I was only being polite. It really is a lovely perfume. And since you had the nerve to flaunt your harem, surely you shouldn’t be shy about them?’

‘There are some things best not talked about,’ he growled, a warning light in his eyes.

‘Not a guilty conscience, surely?’

‘No, just a sense of propriety,’ he snapped.

A bitter demon drove her to say, ‘Propriety? You? I wish I’d been a fly on the wall when you gave Elena that perfume, with a gallant speech about how she haunted your thoughts while you were in London-that is, the thoughts you could spare from Julia and Minetta, and, of course, when you weren’t propositioning your brother’s girlfriend-’

His hand in the small of her back tightened. ‘Stop it,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t dare to talk like that.’

‘I-’ It was suddenly hard to breathe. ‘I was only making small talk.’ She pulled herself together. ‘I haven’t yet thanked you for a delightful day out. You were right about spending our honeymoon on your boat.’ She was spinning words, any words, barely knowing what she said.

‘One thing I wasn’t right about,’ he grated. ‘You and Lorenzo must find somewhere else to live.’

‘But you said-’

‘I’ve changed my mind. You can’t live here.’

No need to ask why. She’d been wrong about the fiend. It wasn’t on his shoulder, but in his heart. It looked out from his eyes and told her that he was on hot coals. Just as she was.

She became aware that he was breathing harshly. She tried to tell herself that it was merely the exertion of dancing, but the truth was there between them. If they had been alone he would have kissed her. And then he would have kissed her again, long, hard and passionately. And she would have kissed him back in the way they’d both foreseen on that long ago day when he’d come to her counter and the air had been jagged between them from the first moment.

It was all wrong. She loved Lorenzo dearly, so how could she be on fire at the thought of laying her lips against Renato’s and feeling his arms about her? How could it be his body she ached to feel pressed against hers, his hands on her skin with the purposeful yet sensitive touch she’d felt once before? It had haunted her every moment since. She could admit that now.

It would have been easier if she’d stayed hostile to him, but their moment of sympathy on the beach had destroyed that. She’d discovered that she could like him, even be sad for him. That was even more dangerous than her body’s wayward reaction.