Quel elixir pour guérir Le Coeur qui se fend à mourir?
—Charpentier
What balm can mend a heart so badly broken?
Septembre 1758
Arles
Christina stood looking down into the courtyard below. It was early evening and the muffled noises of the street beyond the gate echoed softly off of the stone walls, creating a murmur of expectancy in the enclosed space. It was the end of September and the weather was mild, but as the sun disappeared below the roofs of the surrounding houses and the temperature dropped, the fragrance of the flowers filled the air with a gentle reminder of the waning season.
Her eyes fell on the pink roses just below the window. Then she turned to look behind her at the bolt of cloth balanced across the arms of the chair in front of the fireplace: tiny embroidered pink rose buds scattered over ivory silk.
Guy had sent a man from the warehouse to deliver it to her that afternoon. The note that came with it said he thought it special and that she might like it. It was special indeed, exquisite fabric, the most beautiful she had ever seen and she’d wanted it the first moment she laid eyes on it. But the first time she saw it was nearly seven years ago in a tiny draper’s shop in Venice. It was to have been the material for her wedding dress, the dress she’d intended to wear when she married Richard.
And there was no doubt this was the very same bolt of cloth, because the tag tucked between the layers of fabric, which had apparently gone unnoticed, still bore the name C. DiClementi, carefully printed above her signature. The cloth had originally been a part of the shipment lost so long ago, the loss that had put such a severe financial strain on her father and compelled him to barter her off to Guy. Now, only one question remained: where had Guy gotten it?
Christina ran a hand across her eyes, wondering if she was beginning to imagine deception where none existed. A stolen bolt of cloth could easily be sold to an unsuspecting importer, or a whole shipload of stolen goods, for that matter. But wasn’t it just a little bit too much of a coincidence that this particular bolt of cloth had found its way back to her?
Her thoughts were interrupted as the gate opened and Guy came into the courtyard. He looked up to the window where she stood and smiled. He stopped to give a few instructions to André as he entered the house, then came upstairs to join her in the salon.
“Christina,” he said, taking her hands as he kissed her on the cheek. “What do you think of the fabric?”
“It’s lovely,” she said cautiously. “Where did you get it?”
“You know, it turned up in some things I had sent from Genoa. I closed a small warehouse there and this was in the lot. It’s been in storage for about six years. I don’t know how we overlooked it for so long.”
Christina felt her suspicions settle into a hard knot in the pit of her stomach.
Guy was excited about something. She could see it in the way he moved nervously around the room, and in the way he watched her.
“How was your day?” she asked, hoping to distract him.
“Oh fine, fine.” He turned and smiled at her, curious as to how his news was going to affect her. “I have a wonderful surprise for you.”
“Another surprise?”
Guy took her by the hand, leading her to the sofa and urging her to sit.
“We’re going to have a guest for the next few months. I’ve brought a young man over from the factory in Venice to learn this part of the business. He’s very bright and I need a good manager.”
There was something in Guy’s eyes that Christina found disquieting. The idea of having someone stay with them didn’t bother her. In fact, she rather liked the prospect of having a guest in the house.
“His name’s Stefano Ferro,” Guy continued, enthusiastically. “He’s from Treviso, originally, but he and two of his brothers work for me in Venice.”
As he was telling her all this, he was touching her cheek, her hair, in a distracted way—as if he were admiring a statue. He wasn’t really talking to her. Guy had something else on his mind.
“I thought you’d enjoy having him here, especially since I’ll be gone so much over the next six months. He’s young, just a few years older than you, twenty-six, I believe. So tell me, what do you think?”
“What a lovely idea,” Christina said, trying to sound delighted. Instinctively, she knew this was the reaction Guy wanted from her. “It will be quite nice to have a guest, particularly someone from Venice. When do you expect him?”
“Why, any time now. I asked him to join us for supper tonight.” Guy’s eyes suddenly sought hers, now totally focused on his plan. He was imploring and at the same time demanding that she share his enthusiasm.
“I hope you’ll be pleased. This will be so good for us, you’ll see.”
Christina was confused. What did Guy mean, “good for us?” True, having another person in the house would be pleasant, but Guy seemed strangely agitated by the whole idea. Before she could further question her husband’s motives, they heard footsteps in the courtyard. Guy got up and went to the window.
“Here he is, now,” he said.
Christina stood up and Guy put his arm around her shoulders. Together they stepped out into the hall. Christina saw the young man’s back when he removed his hat and handed it to André. He was tall and his hair was dark and slightly curly.
“Stefano, welcome,” Guy said.
As the stranger turned toward her, Christina’s heart stopped. She barely heard Guy’s introduction, for the man she had never stopped loving stood before her. Her lips tried to form his name even as she collapsed.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. Her heart leapt with joy! It was indeed Richard smiling down at her, Richard who was gently patting her hand. Instinctively, she returned his smile and then suddenly pulled away. It wasn’t Richard. It couldn’t be. Richard was dead.
“Signora, forgive me, please,” the young man said quietly as he knelt beside the sofa. “Your husband told me that I resembled a friend of yours, but I can see it came as quite a shock. Can you forgive me?”
Christina just stared in disbelief. The resemblance to Richard was uncanny. Guy brought her a glass of brandy and Stefano stood up and moved away. Christina’s fingers trembled as she tried to take the glass. Guy smiled as he pressed it to her lips.
“I’m truly sorry, Christina,” he said, sincerely. “I so hoped you’d be pleased.”
Christina begged off dinner that night and was surprised when Guy allowed it, surprised, in fact, that he didn’t seem to have any objections at all. Stefano’s arrival had put him in an unusually good mood. He even sent Marie up with some tea and some broth and his hope that she felt better.
She dismissed Marie and got ready for bed. As she lay there, she began to think she’d imagined that the young man looked so very much like Richard. True, he was dark and there was a certain similarity of features, but it simply wasn’t possible. It had surely been wishful thinking on her part.
She awoke to the sound of low voices and good-natured, quiet laughter in the hallway just outside her door. Then Guy came in. He seemed in exceptionally high spirits as he sat down beside her on the bed. He took her hand and lifted her fingers to his lips with a concerned smile on his face.
“How are you feeling, my dear?”
“Fine,” was all she could say. Christina knew better than to avoid answering.
“Do you forgive me for springing him on you so suddenly? I thought you’d be pleased. Christina, really, I did.” Guy looked at her, then said very quietly, “I know you miss Richard. Ever since we had the awful news…” He looked away. “I saw the light go out of your eyes that day. I can’t tell you how that hurt me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“Oh, no. It’s not your fault. Believe me, I understand completely. What I think will surprise you is that I miss Richard, too. I do.”
Christina was indeed surprised, and for a moment, she almost believed him.
“I admit I was jealous, and it’s because I love you so very much, but Richard was a part of my life, too. The three of us were meant to be together, Christina.”
The look in Guy’s eyes frightened her and though she did her best to hide her reaction, he saw it. He smiled in an effort to reassure her.
“I know. Fate had other plans and now Richard’s gone. I hoped that having Stefano with us might remind us of happier times, times when we were all together. And Stefano being Italian, I really thought that would please you, as well.” Guy touched her cheek, brushing a few strands of hair back from her face. “Don’t you see? I just want you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Christina smiled to placate him, but she was gripped by a chill of apprehension. Dear God, make him leave. I can’t bear to be with him tonight.
Mercifully, her prayers were answered.
“Well, I’ll let you sleep. Promise me you’ll give him a chance. Try to get to know him. He’s a very special young man, I promise you.”
In the morning, Christina did her best to compose herself before she went downstairs. She dreaded seeing Stefano again. She met Agnes on the stairs, and when she told Christina that Guy had already gone for the day, she was greatly relieved. She was therefore startled to find Stefano seated at the table when she entered the dining room.
He was on his feet immediately, offering a solicitous bow.
“Signora,” he said politely.
Christina merely nodded in his direction and hastily went to take her place at the opposite end of the table. Before she could sit down, he was beside her, helping her with her chair.
“I’m surprised to see you,” she said softly in Italian. “I thought you might have accompanied my husband to the warehouse this morning.”
Stefano returned to his own chair and smiled at her as he sat down. “The Signore very generously suggested I sleep late. I was quite fatigued from my journey.”
Christina had to look away. For all her hopes to the contrary, Stefano’s resemblance to Richard was remarkable. He was not as tall, his shoulders perhaps not as broad, and his eyes, when one looked closely, were blue rather than grey. And there was something missing from those eyes—a kindness, a warmth that was Richard. And there was a hardness to the line of his mouth, making his smile appear a bit cynical. The overall effect was disconcerting.
Stop it! It’s not his fault that he looks so much like Richard. He didn’t plan to be born in a form that would torment you.
Still, it hurt her to look at him and Stefano sensed it. He made several attempts at conversation, but Christina was unwilling to participate.
“Signora, I apologize again for startling you yesterday. You must forgive me. If I am to be staying with you, I hope we can become friends. I need a friend in this country, Signora.”
The words surprised Christina.
“Very well, Signore, I will try, but I’m afraid you must be patient with me. I still find your appearance rather unnerving.” She looked at him and tried to smile. “So, would you like to tell me a little about yourself?”
Stefano told her about his two brothers who worked in the factory in Venice. It seemed they were quite pleased that Guy had purchased the business, and felt it would mean more work for all of them. Stefano had been proud to be chosen to come to France to learn the other side of the silk business from Guy.
Christina was paying little attention. The entire situation was too bizarre. What was Guy planning and how was Stefano involved?
“Signora?”
Christina looked up again, still surprised that Richard seemed to be sitting at the other end of her table.
“I asked if perhaps you might want to tell me about this friend of yours who is evidently my twin.”
Suddenly, the whole situation made her angry. Who did Guy think he was to toy with her emotions this way? She slapped her napkin down on the table and stood up.
“My friend, Signore, is dead!”
She left the room, went down the hall and into the salon, slamming the doors behind her.
Stefano stood up immediately. He frowned as he watched her go. It was obvious that he was going to have to find another approach if he hoped to become friends with his benefactor’s wife.
Later that afternoon Stefano returned to the house. He immediately sought out Christina and found her in the library. He knocked lightly and then opened the doors. She looked up, annoyed when she realized who it was. She’d hoped not to encounter him again until supper.
“Signora, forgive me, but your husband asked me to come for you. It’s your father.”
The blood drained from Christina’s cheeks as she stood up.
“No, Signora, no. He is well, but his housekeeper is very concerned. It seems she’s not been able to convince him to take his medicine for several days and this afternoon he’s become very upset. She asked if you would come.”
“Of course,” Christina said, hurrying past him into the hall. “Marie?”
A few moments later her maid appeared and she sent her for a wrap.
“Signora, please allow me to accompany you. Your husband asked that you not go alone.”
Christina hesitated. She didn’t want to go by herself and perhaps it would be wise to have a man along. There was no way to know what condition her father was in. His household staff was rather elderly and having someone strong with her might be advisable.
“Very well,” she said, gathering the ends of her shawl around her.
She said nothing to him as they hurried through the narrow streets. Her father’s house was only two streets over and when they arrived, his housekeeper, Francesca, was waiting for them, standing at the gate to the courtyard, nervously wringing her hands. She opened her arms to Christina and embraced her.
“Tina, Tina, thank heaven you’ve come.” When she saw Stefano standing behind Christina, her mouth dropped open.
“I know, I know,” Christina said softly. “This is my husband’s associate, Signore Ferro.”
Francesca dropped into an unsteady curtsy. Stefano nodded.
“So? What is it?” Christina asked.
“I don’t know, but he frightens me, Signora. He talks to himself and gets quite upset. I’ve tried everything I know, but I can’t get him to take his medicine and he’s refused to eat anything all day. Talk to him, Signora, please.”
Stefano followed the women into the library where Antonio paced back and forth across the dimly lit room, muttering to himself.
“Papa?” Christina attempted to embrace him. Antonio pulled away and moved on, paying her no attention. “Papa, come. I’ve brought you a visitor,” she said brightly as she pulled open the heavy damask drapes and let the afternoon light flood into the room.
“Eh? What?” Antonio turned, looking at his daughter and blinking uncomfortably in the brightness. Then he turned his attention toward the doorway where Stefano waited. Slowly, the anxiety seemed to melt from his face and he began to smile as he walked toward the unexpected visitor.
“Richard…oh, Richard…” He opened his arms and embraced Stefano.
Christina looked away. She knew she shouldn’t have allowed him to come with her. But, thankfully, Stefano seemed able to handle the situation.
“Signore, it’s been too long,” Stefano said, returning Antonio’s embrace. He glanced quickly at Christina to see if she approved, but she wasn’t looking at them.
“Come, come,” Antonio said, leading Stefano to the sofa. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you.” He sat down beside him, then reached up and touched Stefano’s cheek. “Ah, Richard…Richard. Please tell me you didn’t kill my boy.”
Stefano glanced at Christina again, wondering how he should respond. This time when their eyes met, he could see she was fighting back tears. Before he could say anything, Antonio spoke again.
“No, never mind. Of course you didn’t. You couldn’t kill a friend.” Suddenly, Antonio turned to Christina. “Tina, where are your manners? Get something for us to drink. We must celebrate.”
He turned back to Stefano. Antonio was obviously distracted, but it seemed very important that he explain himself. He struggled to find the right words and to put them in the proper order, to be sure that he was understood.
“But you see,” he said slowly, “I thought perhaps you were angry about Tina. I had to give her to Guy. I had no choice. He said he would ruin me, and then there would have been nothing left for my son…” Antonio quickly brushed the tears from his eyes. “And now, you see, I have no son and he’s ruined me, anyway. And my poor Tina, she deserved to be a baroness, she did.” Antonio stared down at his hands. “You know, you’re the one she loved, Richard. It was always you.” He shook his head, his voice breaking as the tears ran down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
“I understand, I do,” Stefano said as he offered his handkerchief.
Christina returned with a tray and three glasses of wine, her father’s containing the medication he’d been avoiding and a mild sedative as well.
“We must have a toast,” she insisted, hoping to get her father to down the wine before he became more agitated. She succeeded.
Antonio continued to talk to Stefano as though he were Richard, mostly about his family and business affairs that were now several years old. Stefano saw Christina’s signal and urged Antonio to keep drinking his wine as they talked.
Christina watched Stefano play his part and she began to warm to him. He was wonderful with her father, inventing fantasies to capture his interest. Soon, the medication began to take effect and the old man grew sleepy, but he seemed relaxed and happier than he’d been in a very long time.
“Well, my boy,” Antonio said, as he got unsteadily to his feet. “I suddenly find I’m very tired. Can you forgive me? I hope you’ll come again.”
“Of course,” Stefano said as he helped Antonio stand.
Christina took her father by the arm and led him from the room.
“Papa, promise me you’ll rest?” She kissed his cheek.
“Of course, my dear. I’m so pleased you brought him. I’m so glad Richard’s come home.”
Stefano was waiting for Christina, holding her shawl.
“Do you mind if we walk a bit?” Christina asked. “I’d rather not go home just yet.”
Stefano nodded, but said nothing. They continued for several blocks until they reached the old Roman theater, which had been built during the reign of Augustus in the first century before Christ. It was originally quite large, but over the years many of the stones had been carried away and used for other buildings. Only two of the magnificent columns that originally supported the portico remained and they were referred to locally as the “Two Widows.”
As they entered the grounds, Christina explained this to Stefano, partly in an effort to make conversation and partly as a way of letting him know that her opinion of him had softened. But Stefano didn’t respond. He seemed to be lost in thoughts of his own.
“Do you mind if we sit for a moment?” She seated herself on the first row of curved stone seats.
Stefano stood next to her, staring off beyond the columns to the tower of St. Trophime.
Christina wanted to tell him how much she appreciated the way he’d treated her father, but his continuing silence was making it difficult. Finally, he sat down beside her.
“Signore, I think I owe you an apology. I’ve misjudged you and I want you to know I’m sorry. It’s certainly not your fault that you resemble someone who was…who was very important to me.”
Very gently, Stefano took her hand. Christina found the warmth of his touch comforting and was vaguely surprised that she felt no inclination to pull away. She looked into his eyes and saw something unsettling in their blue depths.
“Signora, you must forgive me. I didn’t know. Your husband told me only that I looked like a childhood friend of yours. He did not tell me he was dead, nor…” It was Stefano’s turn to falter. “Nor did he tell me that he was the man you loved. I’m truly sorry.”
“I wish I knew why he brought you here. I often have difficulty understanding why he does things.”
Stefano dropped her hand. “Oh, I understand…completely,” he said bitterly. “At least what he wants from me. He made that quite clear.”
“Will you tell me?”
Stefano looked at her and then stood up. He glanced off toward the church again. “Your husband brought me here to seduce you, Signora.” Stefano looked at her, gauging her reaction to this. “Oh yes, I’m afraid it’s true. And I admit, in the beginning, it didn’t seem such a bad offer. ‘Come to Arles, learn the business and seduce my young wife.’ Quite a bit less work than I was used to at the factory. I like to travel and I like women well enough.” He shrugged and tried to smile at her. “But you must believe me when I tell you that I had no idea of the circumstances. I thought his wife would be wild perhaps, or maybe he was just unable to satisfy her. If you will forgive me, I see that is obviously not the case.”
“But why? After all he went through to take me from Richard in the first place—why would he now want to give me to another man?”
Stefano shook his head. “I don’t know, Signora. I don’t know.” He started to reach for her, seeing the pain on her face, but he thought better of it and his hands fell back to his sides. “I shouldn’t have told you. What I’ve done will ruin my family, but I have no wish to hurt you.”
“What?”
“You aren’t the only prisoner in that house, Signora.”
“What do you mean?”
“My brothers also work at the factory. Their jobs depend on my…shall we say, ‘success’ with you. They have large families, Signora. Many will suffer for my failure.”
“But must my husband know? You’ve only just arrived. Can’t you tell him I’m being difficult, that I’m unwilling to spend time with you? Tell him I dislike you for the very reason he thought I would find you attractive.”
Stefano pondered her words for a moment. “It’s possible, I suppose. I think he plans to return to Venice in a few weeks. Impulsively, he took both her hands. “No matter what happens, I won’t let this hurt you, Signora. I promise.”
The next six weeks went well. Guy was extremely kind to Christina and seemed to enjoy Stefano’s company. Christina treated Stefano coolly whenever they were in the house or with Guy, but when they were out walking or visiting her father, she enjoyed his company. They talked of Venice and the Conservatorio, of her father and of Stefano’s family. It had been a long time since Christina had had a friend.
But then Christina’s father died. He passed away one night in his sleep. Much to Guy’s disgust, Antonio left whatever proceeds might come from the sale of the house to the abbey at Montmajour as an endowment to provide a retreat for his daughter for the rest of her life. After leaving his few servants small sums, there was no money left. Guy had already managed to relieve him of the bulk of what would have been his Christina’s inheritance.
Antonio left the contents of his house to his daughter. The night before Guy left for Venice, he told Christina to go to her father’s house and pick out anything she might want to keep. What remained would be sold at the end of the week.
Christina and a few of the servants saw her father buried beside her brother and her mother in the family mausoleum at Beauvu. Christina asked Stefano not to accompany her. She had no wish to upset Richard’s family with his presence. The Baron, pleading ill health, sent his condolences, but did not attend and she was unable to see him.
She rode back to Arles alone in her carriage. Her father had died peacefully and she knew it was for the best. He hadn’t been himself since Marco’s death, yet his sudden departure from her life left her feeling very much alone in the world. The rest of her family was in Italy and now she had no one at all in Arles, except of course, her husband. And though Guy had behaved more evenly since Stefano had come to live with them, she knew better than to trust him. She would not make that mistake again.
Christina wandered through the rooms of her father’s house, trying to select some things for herself. She sent her bed and her armoire to Montmajour, along with a few other pieces from her bedroom and a chest full of her personal mementos. She didn’t really think she would want to spend much time at the abbey, but who knew what the future might bring? It was a comfort to know that there was somewhere she could go where she would always be welcome…and safe.
She opened the door to her father’s library as Francesca appeared behind her.
“Signora, your father asked that I give this to you if anything happened to him.” She handed Christina a letter with her name written boldly across the front.
She glanced at it, thinking it had been some time since Antonio had written with such a steady hand. Then she looked at Francesca. The older woman’s eyes were swollen and impulsively, Christina hugged her.
“Signora,” she said, as she began to cry. “Please forgive me, but I miss him.”
“I know,” Christina said sympathetically. “You will keep in touch, won’t you?”
“Oh yes, Signora, I promise.” Francesca took another moment to collect herself, then returned to her inventory of the household items that would be offered for sale.
Christina went into the library and closed the doors. It was the last room she had to deal with and the one where she felt closest to her father. The books she would have sent over to her house. The clock, the small mahogany table with the faun’s feet, and of course the family portraits she would keep. She turned and looked at the chair in front of the fireplace. Her mother had done the petit point covering herself and for Christina it held many fond memories.
She ran her hand lovingly over the back of the chair, remembering the night she and Richard had taken their supper in that very room and how tenderly he’d held her as they shared their dreams of a future together.
Hoping to turn aside the thoughts that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her, she sat down and opened her father’s letter.
4 Juin 1753
Dearest Daughter,
I write this on the day of your unfortunate marriage though I do not intend that you should have it while I live. I have done you a great disservice for which I pray that you will one day be able to forgive me.
Christina, I’ve always loved you. I hope you know that. And perhaps for that reason, you can understand why I had to consent to Guy’s demands. You must believe me when I tell you I had no choice. The loss of that shipment would have ruined me if Guy had insisted on collecting the notes. I still don’t understand what happened. I never should have let him convince me to try another shipper—but that is behind me now.
Can you understand how badly I wanted to have something to leave to you and your brother, how important this business has been to me? Now, I know it was all for nothing. I’ve failed at all I tried to do for the both of you and lost you both, as well.
There’s something else I want you to know, Tina. I’m sure that Richard was not responsible for Marco’s death. He simply couldn’t have done it. He’s much too fine a young man. And though I can’t understand why he left you without a word, I know there must have been a reason.
After Marco died, I really should have ignored Guy’s threats and sent you to Richard, no matter where he was. Had I been able to do anything, I should have done that. Richard loved you, Tina. I know it as surely as I loved your mother, and I had no right to deprive you of that. It is all too rare. Instead of helping you, I’ve given you to an irresponsible and vindictive young man. I pray night and day that you will somehow be happy.
Forgive me, Tina, for I shall never forgive myself.
Papa
Christina began to sob even as she threw the pages into the fire. She didn’t hear the knock at the door or Stefano’s footsteps as he came into the room.
“Signora? Oh, Signora, don’t…” he said, touching her shoulder.
When she looked up at him, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet, immediately taking her in his arms. He held her close, trying to soothe her.
Christina didn’t question it. She only knew that when she looked up, Richard had looked down at her. It was Richard she wanted now and he was there, giving her the comfort of his strong embrace.
She cried for Richard, for her father, for her brother, and for everyone who had left her all alone in a world that no longer held anything that mattered to her. She cried for all that had been lost, for a future that had once seemed so bright, for Richard’s children, which she would never bear and for Richard, Richard, Richard.
Stefano held her until she quieted.
“Signora, please don’t cry. You’re breaking my heart. I can’t bear to see you so unhappy,” he said softly.
And it was the sound of his voice, not at all like Richard’s, that finally brought her back to herself. When she looked up at him, he kissed her. It happened too quickly for her to stop it and once she felt the warmth of his mouth on hers, she didn’t want to. It was Stefano who finally pulled away. He looked shaken.
“Forgive me. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“It’s my fault. I’m sorry,” she said as she eased herself out of his arms. “And thank you, you were only being kind. Believe me, I understand.”
“Signora…”
“No. I was upset and you comforted me. That’s all there is to it.”
Stefano started to speak again, but she silently implored him to let the matter drop.
“Very well.” His eyes searched hers for a moment. “I came to tell you that the pieces you’re sending to the abbey are on their way. The men have finished upstairs and are working across the hall.”
Christina, behaving as though nothing had passed between them, briskly began to explain to him which things from the library should be sent over to the house.
The first week of December, Christina and Stefano took the carriage outside the city walls to the Alyscamps. It was unseasonably warm, though breezy, as they entered the broad avenue. Most of the trees had lost their-leaves, but the stately cypresses still bordered their path with dark green shapes that bent gracefully in the wind.
Few of the intricately carved sarcophagi remained in the ancient Roman necropolis. They had been stolen or given as gifts by the monarchs of France for hundreds of years. Still, enough unornamented tombs remained to lend a solemn tone to the surroundings as they walked the nearly mile-long path to the tiny chapel of St. Honorat.
Stefano had become distant since the day he’d kissed her at her father’s house. He spent more time at the warehouse and less time with her now, and Christina was unsure if it was because there was more work for him in Guy’s absence or because he was avoiding her. Whatever the reason, on many nights Christina found herself dining alone. She hoped that by persuading Stefano to come out with her today, she would have a chance to really talk to him, something she had not been able to do for three weeks, something she had no difficulty admitting to herself that she missed.
As they walked, Christina chatted about the history of the place, mentioned having played there as a child and how, as a little girl, she had always wanted to be buried there like a great Renaissance lady.
“It sounds as though you had quite a flair for the dramatic. How is it that you never found your way to the stage?” Stefano asked.
Christina was pleased. He seemed in better humor than he had for some time.
“I’ve only been on the stage to sing with the Conservatorio and I was so nervous, it’s a wonder I sang a note.” She laughed, but then she reached out and took his hand. “Stefano, tell me, is something wrong?”
Stefano gently pulled his hand away from hers and kept walking.
“Please tell me. Have I done something to upset you?”
He stopped abruptly and faced her, taking a moment to study her beautiful face before he answered.
“Your husband will be returning in just two weeks and, to be truthful, I dread the consequences.”
“What consequences?”
“I’m sorry to say he presented me with an ultimatum before he left. Either I succeed in bedding you before he returns or my family will suffer for my failure.” He looked toward the little Romanesque chapel at the end of the promenade. “I fear our…friendship is about to come to an end.”
Christina said nothing. She’d all but forgotten Guy’s reason for bringing Stefano into their house. The three of them had gotten along so well together that she’d prayed Guy would be satisfied. Apparently, he wasn’t.
“And how is he to know you’ve done what he’s asked?”
“I have no idea, but I seriously doubt he’ll be inclined to take my word for it.” Stefano laughed sadly. “I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to lie about your behavior. You’ve been much too kind to me.” He did his best to smile for her. “Perhaps he’s instructed the servants to spy on us. I really don’t know.”
Christina began to walk again. She really didn’t want Stefano to leave. His very presence seemed to have distracted Guy, who’d treated her quite well since Stefano’s arrival. Yet, what could she do? She had no intention of becoming Stefano’s lover for Guy’s benefit.
“If he’s depending on the servants for information, is it possible we could pretend a more intimate relationship when we know we might be observed?”
“Ah, Signora.” Stefano smiled, sadly. “You are too kind. I could not compromise you in that way.”
“But would you, indeed, be compromising me? If we were only to pretend to be nervous and guilty in their presence, what harm?”
“You must remember we still don’t know why your husband wants so badly for this to happen. Perhaps he’s only waiting for an excuse to use it against you.”
Christina felt a chill. It was quite possible. She’d learned long ago that she couldn’t second-guess Guy. His mind worked in ways she simply didn’t understand.
“I think we must try it, Signore. Perhaps just a bit of play-acting will be enough.”
Stefano stopped and took her hand, bringing her fingers to his lips.
“God bless you, Signora.”
At first she merely pretended more interest in Stefano at home, but soon, one thing led to another and he held her hand or put his arm around her whenever they knew that they were observed. Stefano was able to convince her that they must be caught kissing, and so, as so often happens, one kiss led to another. Christina felt his passion, saw it in his eyes, but she continued to tell herself he was only giving a convincing performance for the benefit of the servants. Afterall, when they were alone and unobserved, wasn’t he a perfect gentleman? But there was a hunger in his touch, a longing whenever their lips met. She felt it, too.
And so it was with a certain amount of reluctance that she allowed him to convince her to let him spend the last night before Guy’s return in her room. He assured her it would be the only thing that might convince the servants that they were lovers. And while she saw the reason for his proposal, she was not at all sure she should allow it.
In the end, her worries were for nothing. Stefano spent the night asleep on a pile of duvets at the foot of her bed without so much as a goodnight kiss.
When Guy returned the next afternoon he found Christina in the library, going through more of her father’s books. She stood up nervously as he entered the room, but he seemed quite pleased to see her. He was smiling as he took her in his arms and kissed her.
“My dear, you look radiant. Has Stefano kept you happy in my absence?”
Christina blushed furiously. Evidently, her reaction was the one he’d hoped for because he smiled.
“I’ve enjoyed his company,” she said carefully, “but I’m glad you’re home. I’ve been looking forward to the three of us spending the holidays together.” She tried to smile brightly for him, but the look in his eyes made her very nervous.
Guy released her. “Well, I’m glad he’s been a distraction for you. I knew it was a good idea to invite him to stay with us.”
His expression made Christina think he was inferring something else. She had no idea whether or not he’d talked to the servants yet or if he was trying to judge Stefano’s success—or lack of it—from her reactions. She was mercifully saved from further speculation when Guy insisted that he had some work to do and would see her at supper.
That evening Guy was in the best of moods, sharing amusing stories about his trip and about the factory. Stefano seemed relaxed and not at all wary of Guy, though he did cast a glance or two in Christina’s direction that he meant to be reassuring.
But Christina was not reassured. She found it quite disturbing that Guy seemed happier than she’d ever seen him because he thought she was having an affair with another man. She couldn’t understand why, after going to such extraordinary lengths to keep her from marrying Richard (and she had not forgotten about the bolt of silk that had miraculously appeared from the stolen shipment), Guy would suddenly seem to be so pleased to learn she’d taken another man to her bed.
Christina couldn’t help but be suspicious of her husband’s motives, and even more suspicious when he failed to come to her that night as he always did on his first night back from a trip.
When Guy did return to her bed, his lovemaking carried an undercurrent of thinly concealed violence and while he didn’t actually hurt nor threaten her, Christina found the encounters very upsetting. She began to sense something new and dark in Guy, something she couldn’t name. It frightened her.
The holiday celebrations swept her into a whirlwind of preparations and a round of parties, which she attended with both men. The three of them spent a great deal of time together, though whenever they were with others, Stefano was attentive to whatever young ladies might be present. And there were many, all of whom seemed charmed by his good looks and polished manners.
And on some of those nights, especially after a particularly gala evening, Guy would come to her and rather than his usual abrupt coupling, he would lie beside her for some time, slowly stroking her body as he talked of watching Stefano dancing with one young lady or another. If he hoped this would stimulate his wife, he was surely disappointed.
But for all his attempts at indifference when the three of them were together, Stefano’s eyes betrayed his feelings, so Christina was at a loss to understand why he refused to be alone with her. Surely he had feelings about Guy’s odd behavior, too? And then she began to worry that Guy might have threatened Stefano in some new way.
Her only friend was slowly slipping away.
One day, Stefano returned to the house early in the afternoon. He went straight to the library, but Christina followed him, shutting and locking the doors behind her. Stefano sat at the desk, looking at her, obviously surprised by her determined expression which promised a confrontation of some sort.
“I’m sorry, but I want to talk to you,” Christina said. She had to know why he was going to such lengths to avoid her. “Forgive me, Stefano, but I must know if something’s wrong.”
He said nothing. Christina could feel the sting of tears. What had she done to make him turn from her?
“Stefano, please, you have no idea how this upsets me.”
“Upsets you?” he said loudly, slamming his fist into the desk as he stood.
Christina was startled. “Please, tell me what’s wrong?”
He was beside her in an instant, taking her roughly by the arms. He stared at her as if he were looking for some sign that she was deceiving him. Then, quite suddenly, he kissed her.
At first Christina was shocked and she tried to pull away, but Stefano held her tightly. A moment later, she surrendered herself to the insistence of his mouth, just as she had that day at her father’s house. And just as he had that day, Stefano finally ended it. This time there was no apology.
Christina was unable to move. “What is it?”
“You really don’t know, do you?”
Her confused expression provided the answer.
“You haven’t the faintest idea what this is doing to me.” He stared into her eyes, then his voice trailed off and he let her go. Turning toward the tall bookshelves, he ran a finger lightly over the gold-stamped spines of the neatly arranged volumes.
“What?”
“You have no idea what it’s been like for me these past weeks, watching you with him. It’s tearing me up inside and I can’t bear it any longer.” Stefano turned back and faced her squarely. “I’m leaving, Christina. I have no choice.”
“But why?” she asked in desperation.
“Because I love you, dammit!” He blurted the words, then took her in his arms and kissed her again.
His lips moved to her cheeks, her forehead, her throat as he pressed her body against his and Christina knew that she wanted it to go on. She needed him. She needed so very much to be loved.
“Take me with you, please,” she pleaded. “If you leave me here, I’ll die.”
As Stefano held her tightly, she couldn’t see his smile.
Stefano and Christina made plans to leave Arles the day after Guy was scheduled to return to Venice. Christina told her servants she would be going on a trip to Beauvu to visit her family’s graves and the ailing Baron, and that she expected to be gone four days. She hoped that would give her a sufficient head start so she wouldn’t be missed for a week or more.
The two of them planned to travel to Torino where Stefano had a cousin who, he assured her, would welcome them. Stefano was going to leave Arles the same day Guy did, saying that he, too, was returning to Venice. Instead, he would go on ahead and meet Christina in Aix. He convinced her the plan was foolproof. There was no way Guy could learn they were missing in less than two weeks, and by then they’d be happily settled in Italy.
Still, Christina had misgivings. While she was happy she was leaving with Stefano, she also felt things were going a little too easily. The story that she was visiting Beauvu drew no questions from the servants, not even from Marie, whom she was leaving behind. Was it really so much easier for a married woman to run away with her lover than it had been for a young woman to follow the man she loved?
She was also faced with the problem of what to take with her. Finally, she packed two trunks of her most prized keepsakes and sent them off to Montmajour along with her parents’ portraits and one of her brother, which for some reason seemed to upset Guy, no matter where she’d hung it. Those things could always be sent for when she and Stefano were settled. Beyond that, she packed little. She could certainly buy new things in Italy.
There was nothing else from Guy’s house she would want in her new life.
Finally, the anticipated day arrived and Christina left her husband’s house for the last time. She felt strange as the doors to the courtyard closed behind her, almost giddy with relief as the new sense of freedom threatened to overwhelm her.
The carriage ride to Aix was a long one and as the discomfort of the journey dampened the excitement of the morning, Christina found an ample amount of time to reflect on her future. She’d been so anxious to leave her husband that she’d spent little time thinking about what lay ahead. Now, as the carriage swiftly carried her toward a rendezvous with her lover—she felt the heat in her cheeks even as she thought it—she realized she and Stefano had never discussed the practical aspects of their new life together.
He assured her that his relatives in Italy would welcome them. But would they really be so happy to give shelter to Stefano and his mistress? Or did he intend to lie and call her his wife? And what of his brothers and their families in Venice? Would they be ruined? Guy would very likely punish anyone and everyone he could for her disappearance.
She wondered how she and Stefano would live. Would his family find work for him? And would it be enough to support them? What little money she had of her own wouldn’t last them longer than a year, even if it was carefully managed. What then? Christina realized she didn’t care. What mattered was that she would be with someone who loved her, and whenever she saw him it would be very like having Richard back, very like having Richard love her again and she needed that more than she needed anything else on earth.
As her carriage entered Aix, everywhere she looked there was some type of construction going on, making it seem the town was expanding in every direction. She was nervous by the time she arrived at the hôtel where she was to meet Stefano, but the maître d’hôtel seemed to be expecting her and when he addressed her as Madame Ferro, she felt a great sense of relief.
She followed the two men carrying her trunks up the wide staircase to a spacious room on the second floor. On the table before the fireplace was a large bouquet and an envelope.
Diletto Mio,
I’m sorry I couldn’t be here to meet you, but I must make arrangements for the remainder of our journey. Make yourself comfortable and I will join you in time for supper.
I’m counting the hours until we are together again.
Yours,
Stefano
Christina refolded the note and returned it to the envelope. Then she began to change out of her traveling clothes, wondering how she would feel when she saw Stefano again and more importantly, what their first night together as lovers would bring.
When Stefano finally returned, he lifted her off her feet in a passionate embrace. She felt the desire in his touch, his hungry mouth, his entire body, but a few moments later he released her. She sensed his restraint and was grateful as she suddenly realized that this feeling of intimacy was all very strange to her. It would take some getting used to.
They shared a quiet supper in their room, a meal sprinkled with so many looks and touches, so many endearments and such an ample supply of good wine that Christina soon found herself feeling like a nervous schoolgirl in the company of an experienced man of the world—infatuated, but terribly unsure of herself.
As the meal progressed, every glance across the table assured her that it was Richard sharing the meal, Richard whose fingers caressed hers so tenderly. Though she felt a pang of disloyalty to Stefano, she abandoned herself to the illusion.
Christina’s passion, which had been buried so long by her grief, was slowly and expertly rekindled by a man who made love to her sweetly, passionately, with consummate skill and great consideration and Christina accepted it all with joy and gratitude.
“Are you happy?” Stefano asked, as she lay nestled against his chest.
“Oh, yes,” she whispered dreamily. She had not felt so safe, or content for longer than she cared to remember.
“You know,” he said stroking the dark, shining strands of her hair, “That’s all Guy ever wanted for you.”
Christina’s heart stopped, but Stefano’s soothing voice went on as his fingers continued to caress her. Surely she’d misheard.
“And I’m glad I make you happy, because I make Guy happy, too.”
Confused, she tried to push away from him, but he held her tightly.
“Come, join us, dear,” he said softly, looking over Christina’s shoulder.
Unable to free herself from Stefano’s embrace, she turned her head just enough to see the movement in the shadows on the other side of the room. Then Guy, naked and smiling, stepped out of the darkness and came toward the bed. Christina, paralyzed with fear, couldn’t move, yet couldn’t look away from the terrifying apparition.
Guy’s eyes glittered as he slipped under the covers behind her. His hand slid slowly down her back and fondled her buttocks. Then he leaned across her, pressing himself against her and slowly kissed her fingers where they lay, frozen against Stefano’s chest.
“I told you the three of us were meant to be together, Christina,” Guy whispered. Then he kissed Stefano.
Stefano slowly began to loosen his hold on her, but Christina immediately started to struggle in an attempt to free herself from the two men.
“Christina, don’t,” Stefano commanded as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head. He put his lips close to her ear and whispered, “It will be so much easier if you don’t fight it. I promise, I won’t let him hurt you.”
She found no reassurance in his words and continued to squirm and kick until Guy, furious with her behavior, struck her hard in the face.
“Stop it!” he said, leaning over her, threatening to strike her again.
“Now, now, that’s not necessary,” Stefano said soothingly as he brushed the hair out of Guy’s eyes. “She’ll behave, won’t you, Christina?”
Christina heeded the warning and lay still, afraid to resist as Guy began to caress her body. She looked at Stefano, her eyes begging him to release her, but he only smiled. She turned her head away, but he tightened his crushing grip on her wrists. When she opened her lips to cry out against the pain, his mouth covered hers.
Christina’s resistance drained away, convinced her situation was hopeless. She no longer cared what they did to her. She closed her eyes and tried very hard to think of something else—anything else. She remembered the meadow she’d imagined when Richard led her on those fanciful mental excursions so long ago. She concentrated on the feel of the grass and the smells of the summer afternoon and ignored the sensation of Guy’s mouth moving over her skin.
Guy was pleased with his wife’s faint smile as he thrust into her. He knew his plan had been a good one. The three of them belonged together.
Christina dozed fitfully between the two men. Twice she wakened and tried to slip out of bed, but each time her movements woke Guy and he forced her to lie down again. In the morning, Guy made love to her once more and this time she offered no resistance, though she was sickened by the addition of Stefano’s hands and lips.
Guy ordered breakfast brought to their room and then, thinking his wife subdued, arranged for a carriage so that the three of them could tour the town and the surrounding countryside. Christina thought she might yet escape them, but just as she was about to bolt, Stefano seemed to sense her intention and he seized her by the wrist, whispering that he could not protect her if she continued to misbehave. The incident went unnoticed by Guy, but effectively convinced Christina she was trapped.
She was docile for the rest of the day and Guy seemed in the best of spirits and quite pleased with his wife’s agreeable behavior. She watched Stefano carefully, surprised that he seemed content as well, not at all discomfited by the peculiar situation. In fact, Christina soon began to believe that she was the only one who thought their little ménage the least bit unnatural.
Guy stood up after dinner and announced that he’d planned something very special for the three of them, then left to complete the arrangements. Christina and Stefano were alone. When he came to sit beside her on the little sofa, she abruptly stood up, having no desire to be anywhere near him. He caught her and pulled her back down.
“Ah, Christina, when are you going to stop behaving like this?” Stefano spoke to her as though she were a disobedient child. “What’s upsetting you so? Don’t you realize how fortunate you are to have two men who care so deeply about you?”
“How dare you say you care about me? You betrayed me merely to satisfy my husband’s sick delusion.”
He put his arm around her shoulders, ignoring the fact that she remained as rigid as a stone statue.
“I’m afraid you just don’t understand how much your husband cared for Richard. As long as Guy is content, you and I can still be lovers. That way he can have Richard back and so can you, my dear.”
Christina couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Did Stefano really believe that she could care about him after all that had happened?
Stefano smiled as his hand slid down and covered her breast. “You’re very beautiful, Christina, you know that. Why should I not be content to be your lover?”
“But why didn’t you take me away as you promised? I wanted to go with you.”
“Take you away to what? To live in squalor in some nameless village where I’d have to work from dawn to dark just to keep a little food on the table? Why should I, when I can please your husband as well and live like a gentleman while I do it?” He saw the look of disgust on her face, but it only made him smile. “Is it really so difficult to imagine that I’m this Richard of yours? Afterall, we both know I’m quite capable of pleasing you, don’t we?”
For a moment he allowed himself to enjoy her expression of dismay and profound embarrassment. Then he changed his tone to one he hoped sounded sincere.
“I promise to be gentle with you, Christina, if you’ll just make an effort to abide by your husband’s wishes. If you don’t, I’m not sure I can protect you. He’s got quite a temper, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Stefano looked at her for a moment. “Come now, give me a kiss. I don’t mind at all if you pretend I’m Richard.”
Even as he kissed her, she began to wonder if he was right. Maybe the only thing she could do was go along with Guy’s sick fantasy of the three of them living happily together. Maybe Stefano could keep Guy from hurting her and maybe that was as much as she could hope for.
When the kiss ended, Guy was standing behind them, smiling.
“Excellent,” he said happily. He’d been drinking.“I knew you’d come to your senses, Christina. You may even find you’ll enjoy the little surprise I have planned for the three of us.” Guy touched the top of her head, then ran his fingers along the back of her neck. He smiled when he felt her shiver.
“Stefano, why don’t you go ahead and get changed. We’ll meet you there.”
Stefano got up, stopping just long enough to bring Christina’s fingers to his lips. Then he handed her over to her husband, who quickly escorted her out the door, forcing her to put her arm through his as they descended the stairs. He had a good grip on her wrist, just in case she might decide to rebel, but it was unnecessary. Christina made no attempt to pull away and obediently followed where he led.
She did hesitate when they reached the stable behind the hôtel, but when Guy opened the door for her, she stepped through ahead of him as he directed. The row of stalls on either side of them was illuminated by lanterns hanging from the rafters down the center of the building. The horses snuffled and a few stopped munching their hay long enough to turn and look at the intruders.
Guy said nothing as he walked Christina to the far end of the building and then turned to the left where there was a plank door set in the stone wall. When she saw the door she stopped, dreading what might lie beyond, but Guy pulled her along with him as he took down the lantern and opened it.
Christina shuddered when she saw the little room. A fire burned in the fireplace and there was a large bed against the far wall, a bed much bigger than the one she had shared with Richard that night in the stable at Beauvu. She turned to look at her husband, wondering just what he had in mind. His eyes glittered with an unnatural excitement.
“Guy, please, I beg you…”
“What? I hoped you’d find this all very nostalgic. Afterall, I thought that night was one of the happiest in your life. Will it really be so bad to relive it?” Guy put his arm around her, but there was no comfort in his embrace. “Christina,” he said patiently, “You just don’t understand. I’ve done all this for you. I’ve done everything I can to make you happy. I’ve even brought Richard back to you…to both of us.”
He released her quite suddenly, then went to the little table and set down the lantern beside a tray that held a bottle of wine and three glasses. He uncorked the bottle, poured and handed one to her. She stepped back.
“Drink it,” he commanded.
Christina just looked at him.
“Drink it!”
Her hand shaking, she took the glass and sipped at the wine.
“All of it,” he said firmly.
Still shaking, she downed the contents of the glass with difficulty. Guy smiled. He took the glass from her, refilled it and handed it back to her.
“No, please, no more!” Christina had hardly eaten all day and she was afraid she’d be sick.
Guy grabbed the hair at the back of her head and held the glass to her lips. Terrified, Christina did her best to swallow, but he was too hasty and some of the wine ran down her chin and dripped onto the front of her dress, staining the pale silk like drops of blood. He released her, smiling as he set the glass back on the table. He looked at her a moment, then slowly ran his finger over the red liquid that stained her chin. Christina was afraid to speak, afraid to move. Guy frowned briefly, then turned and picked up a package from one of the wooden chairs and handed it to her.
“Here. Hurry and put this on.”
Christina unwrapped the stiff brown paper and unfolded the contents. It was a white cotton nightdress, but as she looked at it more closely she realized it was hers. She’d made the lace that edged the neckline and had embroidered her initials there herself. Unless her memory was failing her, it was the same gown she had worn that night.
“Where did you get this?” she whispered. How long had he been planning this? The implications terrified her.
“It doesn’t matter. Go on, put it on.”
Christina undressed nervously, ever aware of Guy’s eyes on her.
“Come here,” he said, when she’d pulled the gown over her head.
She went to him and he began to pull the pins from her hair. When they were all out, he took her brush from his pocket and began to brush her hair.
“It was down that night, do you remember?”
Christina remembered all too well and, though she tried, she couldn’t stop the tears. Guy heard a sob and spun her around. Then, for some reason, his angry expression softened.
“That’s right!” he said softly, sounding pleased. “I’d forgotten. You were crying that night, too, weren’t you?” Instantly his expression became more threatening. “You were crying because you knew you had to marry me, weren’t you?” He gave her an abrupt shake.
Just then, the door opened and Stefano came in. Guy let go of her so suddenly she nearly fell, but she caught herself on the edge of the table. Her gaze followed her husband’s and what she saw defied belief. Had she not known herself to be trapped in the midst of some terrifying nightmare, she would have sworn it was Richard who’d just entered the little room, Richard, exactly as he had been that night six and a half years ago. The linen shirt, the black breeches, the tall, black boots that Richard had always worn and that face—the face she’d always loved.
Guy stepped behind her as Stefano came toward her and for a moment she couldn’t move. When Stefano reached out to take her hand, she turned to flee, but Guy was there, taking her roughly by the shoulders and turning her back to face the demon who threatened to rob her of her sanity.
“No…” she cried, even as Guy pushed her into Stefano’s arms. He caught her and held her fast, but she struggled and squirmed.
“Christina, please, please don’t do this,” he whispered into her hair. “I told you, I can’t protect you if you behave this way.”
She looked up at him in horror. Before she could say anything, she was suddenly drenched as Guy poured a bucket of cold water over her head. Gasping, she turned to look at him as he ran his hand over her dripping hair.
“It was raining that night. You were wet,” he said reasonably. But then his expression changed. “Don’t you remember?” His hand tightened on her hair, slowly pulling her head back. Through clenched teeth he hissed, “Don’t spoil this for me Christina, I’ve waited far too long.”
With that he released her and took one of the chairs from the table, dragging it over to the door. He slid the bolt home and sat down to watch.
Christina, terrified, looked back at Stefano. Her teeth began to chatter, from fear as much as from the cold water that had soaked her hair and her gown and caused the soft cotton to cling to her body.
Stefano looked down at the fabric, which clearly delineated her breasts and smiled. He relaxed his hold on her and brushed the wet hair back from her face. She was trembling as he moved a little, placing his body between her and Guy.
“Christina, you must trust me,” he whispered. “I know what to do and I promise I won’t hurt you. Just try to relax. Please.”
Stefano led her over to the fire, picked up the coverlet that lay beside the hearth and unfolded it. She looked at him and then at Guy who sat watching them. Stefano held the coverlet up between her and Guy and the look in his eyes begged her to take off her gown. Having no other choice, she pulled the soaked fabric over her head and stood unmoving as he wrapped the coverlet around her body. She put her hand against his shirt, turning her head away from Guy as Stefano pulled her into his arms.
Her resistance began to evaporate when she felt the hard muscles of Stefano’s body as he pressed her close. She felt his lips on her hair and wondered why she should continue to resist. It was hopeless, she was trapped, and who could imagine what else they might have planned? Perhaps they were right—she should just let herself enjoy it. For all she knew, she might not survive the night. Why not pretend it was Richard there with her, Richard loving her as he always had?
When Stefano lifted her chin to kiss her, she kissed him back with a passion that surprised him and pleased her husband immensely.
It went on as it had that night so long ago. He dried her hair with his shirt and she let the coverlet fall to the floor as his gentle hands aroused a longing in her that she’d thought she’d never feel again.
Finally, he lifted her and carried her to the bed. “You’re doing fine,” he whispered as he settled her against the pillows. “Just don’t say anything and don’t move. And whatever you do, don’t turn away.”
Then he left her and went back to the little table in front of the fireplace. He poured two glasses of wine and held one out to Guy. Guy joined him and as he took the glass, Stefano leaned over and kissed him.
Christina was feeling the effects of the wine Guy had forced on her and it took her a moment to realize what was happening. She watched, confused as Stefano began to unbutton Guy’s shirt, but when Guy was finally undressed and Stefano lovingly wrapped the coverlet around him, Christina thought she would be sick. She sat up and looked around her, wondering if there was any way she could escape. Stefano cast a stern look in her direction, which effectively stopped her. Helplessly, she pulled the sheet around herself and huddled in the far corner of the bed.
There was nothing she could do but watch as Stefano’s hands continued to slowly caress Guy’s pale skin.