CHAPTER TWENTY

Ben stayed with Carina all that night and every other night in the weeks that followed. Sometimes they dined together and when he was delayed she ate alone and he joined her later, coming to her room in the quiet of the night. She no longer resented his absences. They served to prolong the anticipation of his return and Carina did not question why she was at Monteleone. Her family knew she was safe and Ben was the centre of her world. There was no thought of going home, no thought of anything except Ben and the forthcoming revolution.

Greta sent a note asking permission to take her riding and Ben lent her his horse. They cantered through fields of green wheat and, when they came to the beach of Capo de Vito, galloped by the edge of the sea. Greta was an accomplished horsewoman and Carina was flattered when she complimented her on her ability.

‘There’s nothing I love more than being in the saddle! I’ve always understood horses better than humans.’

‘Which is why you ride superbly. Garibaldi could do with equestrians of your skill. Will you enlist when the time comes?’

‘Does Garibaldi allow women in his army?’

‘He’s never discriminated and his late wife was always by his side. Despite my husband’s reservations, I’m determined to volunteer.’

Carina could shoot and ride as well as any man and she could barely contain herself.

‘Then I’ll volunteer with you! In what capacity may we serve?’

‘As couriers and such like. I don’t care so long as we can take part!’

She flashed a smile and Carina laughed out loud. Greta was unlike any other woman she had met. Her company was exhilarating and she was dying to ask her about Ben. She picked her moment as they were heading up the hill towards Monteleone.

‘Have you known Ben all your life?’

‘For as long as I can remember. The boys were five years older and I thought of them as my brothers.’

‘Were the twins very alike?’

‘They were identical in looks – and north and south in character. Ben was a rebel while Alexander never spoke of revolution. There was no justice in his death.’

Greta rubbed her riding crop against her cheek and Carina felt her distress. It must have been heart-breaking for all of them, she thought, and devastating for Ben. She couldn’t imagine losing a brother or sister, let alone a twin. In the early days she had the impression of Ben as a man disinherited and alone. If what Paulo said was true, then his political activities had led to Alexander’s death. Scalia was to blame, but Ben carried the burden of guilt and her heart went out to him.

‘Why didn’t Princess Scalia try to save Alexander?’

‘Once she married Prince Scalia, Bianca del Angelo cut all ties with Monteleone.’

‘I heard she was very close to Ben—’

‘Bianca was close to both brothers,’ Greta stated emphatically. ‘I’ve no time for malicious gossip – and nor, do I imagine, do you!’

Carina blushed and Greta’s tone softened. ‘Ben’s a good man. I can’t bear to have him maligned. He needs a woman with spirit like you. But be sure to stand up for yourself – and don’t let him go breaking your heart.’

Greta went from dark to light so fast that it was hard to keep up. She had stood up for herself all her life, Carina thought – only her relationship with Ben was different to anything she had experienced before. She needed Greta’s guidance and would never mention Bianca Scalia’s name again.

‘Come on, I’ll race you to the top.’ Greta touched her spurs to her horse’s flanks and called to her, ‘Let the best man between us be the winner!’

Later that evening Ben came upstairs and put his arm around her.

‘Greta tells me you ride like an officer of the Light Brigade. Where did you acquire such an excellent training?’

‘I was an only child and spent most of my time in the stables. Horses were my best friends.’

‘Do you miss your home?’

Her childhood and England felt as far away as the moon, her memories of Melton faded as old daguerreotypes. Not wanting to encroach on their present happiness, she had refrained from talking about the past, but they knew each other better now.

‘I grew up in Yorkshire until I was fourteen and then moved to London.’

‘Tell me about your parents.’

‘My mother died when I was born. She never had the chance to bring me to Sicily.’

‘And your father?’

She hadn’t spoken about her father since his death, not even to Alice. The way Ben looked at her, so still and quiet, made Carina feel she could tell him anything.

‘My father was killed out hunting.’ The memory had been suppressed so long that her words came out in a rush. ‘He jumped a stone wall without knowing there was a dyke on the far side. His horse fell and Papa broke his neck. He died instantly.’

It came back to her as if it had been yesterday. Carina saw her father’s broken body being carried into the house. She remembered her stunned bewilderment in the beginning and the onslaught of grief that followed. There was a pencil lying on the table and she picked it up, squeezing it between her fingers.

‘On the morning of his funeral, I took my horse over the wall where he was killed. It’s what my father would have wanted. My courage was all I had to prove myself to him.’

The snap of the pencil made her look down. There were marks where the lead dug into the palm. Ben took the pieces from her and threw them onto the fire.

‘Courage is a great quality.’

‘Then I was fortunate for I was born with more than my fair share.’

‘No one’s born with courage, my love. Some people are born without fear, but that’s different. Courage is acquired by degrees, layer upon layer. Brave men and women aren’t those who don’t know fear, but those who overcome and are strengthened by it.’

There was a serrated edge to his voice. Ben was going to tell her about Alexander at last, Carina thought. She waited and it saddened her when he was silent – but another matter pressed more urgently on her mind.

‘Greta Mazzini and I intend to ride for Garibaldi when the time comes.’

‘A battleground is no place for a woman. Would your father have let you take such a risk?’

Probably not, Carina thought, only she had come a long way since then. If Greta could volunteer, then so could she! Whatever Ben said, she would have her way. Her cheeks dimpled prettily and she changed direction.

‘Greta speaks of Garibaldi as the new Messiah. Have you met him?’

‘I fought beside him last year with the Cacciatore dei Alpi. He’s a brilliant military commander. I admire him most for his integrity and humility.’

Ben walked over to the desk. He picked up her poem and brought it back with him. ‘I read this earlier. Did you write it?’

She nodded, aware of the keen look in his eyes.

‘I didn’t know you were a poet. Are you still so melancholy?’

‘Only when you treat me like a child—’

Ben laughed softly and Carina turned her face up to him. He kissed her with one hand pressed hard against the muslin that covered her breast and guided her towards the bed.

‘You’re made for love, not for war, sweetheart. It’s a damned sight more satisfactory than any battlefield.’

Carina felt mildly irritated. Ben might not approve now – but she would wear him down until he agreed. She was going to ride with Garibaldi and no one could stop her! Seeing her expression, his eyebrows lifted in mock horror.

‘My darling, don’t look so fierce! You might frighten me away.’

Ben’s tone was light-hearted, but his lips spoke a different language. Carina let him undress her and he tossed her clothes to the ground, kissing her all the time until she was breathless. When he knelt between her knees she had a dizzying glimpse of the brilliance in his eyes. There was no tenderness tonight. His hand twisted in her hair as he pushed her up against the headboard and Carina raked her nails across his back. His unashamed hands ranged over her body, as if he wanted to possess every part of her not yet made his own and Carina responded with desire as fierce as his own. Their passion for each other was insatiable, on and on through the darkness and danger of the night, until they fell back exhausted.

Later, Carina lay beside him with her hand playing across his chest. Ben was awake and she wondered what he was thinking.

‘I’ve told you about myself, yet know so little about you. Are there secrets in your past?’

‘None that would interest you, my love. There’s no mystery about me – no riddles to solve.’

As he spoke, Ben reached for her. He drew her head into the hollow of his shoulder and she could imagine the look on his face. She had seen that blank expression before, warning her away whenever she came too close. Ben had encouraged her to talk about her parents and confessed nothing of himself. What was it that he would not admit even as he lay in her arms? How much longer must she wait?

I’ll wait forever, Carina thought. Against hope, against reason, against peace, I love this man. I will defeat him as he has defeated me. I love Ben and will never give in until I capture his elusive soul.