CHAPTER SIX
CATERINA wasn’t at all sure how it had happened, but as she felt his arms go round her, drawing her close to him, all she was aware of was an enormous sense of release. Gratefully, she sank against him and let the scalding tears flow.
And Matthew didn’t say a word. He just held her gently, stroking her back with strong, sure fingers as though he were comforting a frightened puppy.
The tears were soon over. Caterina drew away. She wiped her face with her hand. ‘I’m sorry about that,’ she said.
‘No need to be sorry. You don’t have to apologise.’ The iron-grey eyes smiled at her. ‘I’m just glad I happened to be around.’
It was odd, but Caterina was feeling rather glad now too. And she felt no shame or embarrassment at her emotional outburst, possibly because she was aware that he felt none either. Lots of people, especially men, got tight and awkward when faced with tears. But there wasn’t a shred of anything like that in Matthew.
He took her arm now. ‘Let’s go for a walk. Then you can tell me what’s troubling you, if you feel like it.’ He smiled. ‘And if you don’t we’ll just sit somewhere for a while until you’re feeling a little more calm.’
Caterina made no protest, just let him guide her across the garden, past the narrow stone-flagged path that led to the private chapel, then down to the lake, half-hidden behind the trees, where a pair of swans glided on water as smooth as glass.
He seemed to have guaged her mood precisely and to know just what she needed, for as she walked Caterina began to feel calmer. And she was grateful that he wasn’t plying her with questions. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to share what had upset her.
‘Shall we sit here for a while?’ They were down at the lake’s edge. ‘We could sit under that tree. It might be more comfortable in the shade.’
‘OK.’ Caterina nodded and followed as he led the way. Then she seated herself, with a soft sigh, beneath the shady branches, curled her legs beneath her and gazed down at the lake.
Matthew gazed down at the lake too, and for a moment neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the occasional plop as a duck dived for weed at the lake bottom and the soft, gentle rustling of leaves above their heads.
Then, as the pair of swans came into view, Matthew suddenly said, ‘You know, when I was a little boy there was a lake near where I lived where a pair of swans used to come every year to mate. Every spring it was a major excitement waiting for them to arrive.’
As he paused, Caterina turned round to look at him, her blue eyes narrowing curiously as they fixed on his profile. For he was still gazing at the lake. He had not turned to look at her. And she found herself reflecting on something Damiano had told her in the course of their fateful seventeen-minute meeting—a cryptic remark he’d refused to enlarge on. ‘There are a lot of things about Matthew Allenby that would surprise you if you knew them.’ She sat back a little now and waited to hear what he would say next.
‘They’d been coming for years.’ He leaned back on one elbow and continued his story, still gazing at the lake. ‘They mate for life, you know, swans. It’s really quite remarkable. And if one of the pair dies the other will never mate again. The bond between them is unbreakable. They’re totally devoted.’
‘That sounds rather like my parents.’ Caterina said it without thinking. And as Matthew turned to glance at her she sighed, realising she would have to explain, for it had all happened before he had arrived in San Rinaldo.
‘My father died four years ago. My mother was devastated. They were very close, you see. They had a wonderfully happy marriage. And though there was absolutely nothing wrong with her she died in her sleep just a year later. I think she just didn’t want to go on living without him.’
It felt strange and yet not strange to be telling him this about her parents. Her great loss was a subject she very rarely spoke about, for, to tell the truth, she still found it painful. But when he had spoken about the swans she had thought instantly of her parents, and somehow it had just felt right to share her thoughts with Matthew.
He said, ‘Of course it’s a tragedy when one of the two dies, but really we can only envy such couples.’
Caterina smiled back at him. ‘That’s what I’ve always thought,’ she told him. And, as their eyes met, she was aware of a sudden warmth between them, an intuitive understanding far deeper than words. It was as though something had snuggled up, soft and reassuring, next to her heart.
Then she tilted her head at him. ‘Go on with your story.’
Matthew smiled and turned back to gaze at the lake again. ‘Well, one year,’ he continued, ‘only the cob—that’s the male—arrived, and it was clear right away that there was something very wrong. He kept flapping about as though he was trying to tell us something. Flying off, then coming back. Over and over. Until one of the villagers decided we ought to follow him:
He paused and pulled a blade of grass and chewed on it. ‘What happened next was quite amazing. The cob led us to another lake about seven miles north of ours where he and his mate must have stopped off on their way. And there was his mate, very sick, apparently dying, lying half-hidden amongst the reeds.’
‘Oh, no!’ Caterina leaned forward, her brow puckering with concern. ‘What had happened?’ She was totally caught up in his story.
Matthew sighed. ‘What had happened was that some irresponsible fisherman had left lying around one of those lead weights some of them use, and, as can tragically happen, the swan had swallowed it. And now she was slowly being poisoned to death.’
‘How terrible! And did she die?’ Caterina looked at him anxiously. She desperately wanted this story to have a happy ending.
Matthew turned to her and smiled. ‘No, I’m glad to say, she didn’t. The local vet was able to save her. He removed the lead weight and she made a full recovery. And that year, just as usual, we had our little brood of cygnets on the lake.’
‘Oh, how wonderful!’ Caterina sat back with a huge sigh of relief. ‘And after that? Did the parents keep coming back every year as usual?’
‘Just like clockwork, every year.’
Caterina shook her head and laughed. ‘What a lovely story!’ So unlike her own, she couldn’t help thinking. She said, staring at the lake, ‘When it comes to loyalty and common decency I reckon swans must be higher up the evolutionary scale than some men.’
Though she sensed that Matthew had turned to look at her she remained staring at the lake, not meeting his gaze as she continued, ‘Earlier this morning I had a meeting with Damiano. To be honest, I went there to tell him a few things about you. But what happened was that he ended up telling me a few things instead, among them some rather nasty revelations about Orazio.’ She sighed. ‘I’m afraid it wasn’t nearly as pretty as your swan story.’
If she had been looking at him, she would have seen the flash of understanding in Matthew’s eyes. So that was what had happened. Damiano had told her about Orazio. He said nothing, just waited for her to go on.
Caterina leaned back in the grass, propping herself on one elbow. Suddenly, she wanted to tell him the whole story. In a way, perhaps, she even owed it to him to tell him.
‘He told me something about Orazio that came as a total shock.’
She paused and bit her lip as emotion welled up inside her. Anger and shock and disappointment, plus a sense of deep hurt at the way it had all come out. For what Damiano had just told her he had told her without compassion, angrily, impatiently, brutally silencing her as soon as she had begun to pour out her complaints against Matthew. It was as though he simply hadn’t cared that what he revealed might be painful. He had just dumped it all on her with no effort to be kind. And it was this, her brother’s lack of kindness, that had devastated her soul.
She forced herself to speak. ‘He told me,’ she began, ‘that Orazio used his relationship with me to try and blacken your name and get you thrown off the arts and crafts job. Apparently...’ She took a deep breath. This part really made her sick. What a fool she had been ever to have trusted such a man. ‘Apparently,’ she continued, ‘he was even being paid to do it.’ She paused, swallowing her anger, and looked deep into Matthew’s eyes. ‘You knew all this already, didn’t you?’
Matthew nodded. ‘Yes, I did.’ He’d known the whole story from the start.
‘When they found out about our relationship,’ Caterina continued, ‘the firm you beat to get the job approached Orazio and offered him money to feed me lies against you. Lies I was then supposed to pass on to Damiano, so that he would fire you and give the job to them instead.’ Her lips pursed in distaste. ‘And Orazio took the money.’ She laughed an awkward laugh. ‘I guess you could say he used me.’
‘In a way.’
‘In a big way.’ There was bitterness in her tone. ‘He used me as his dupe.’ She pulled a face. ‘And what a dupe.’
Matthew regarded her kindly. ‘Don’t be hard on yourself,’ he told her. ‘Orazio is something of an expert at duping people.’
‘Yes, so I’ve found out.’
She gazed down at the grass. Damiano had finally forced her to listen to what she had refused to listen to six months ago. And he had shown her evidence not only of what Orazio had been up to with her but of a whole string of other shady dealings as well.
And he’d told her, ‘I would never have banned your relationship if I hadn’t had proof of what kind of man he was. You ought to have known me better than that.’
He was right, of course. She ought to. One thing to be said for her brother was that he had never been a man to act on hearsay. But she’d been blind. She’d been stupid. She’d trusted Orazio and believed all his vicious stories about Matthew. It had never even occurred to her that Orazio might be the real villain.
She sighed now and looked at Matthew. ‘I was wrong about you. You’re not at all what Orazio told me you were.’
‘I can assure you,’ Damiano had told her, ‘I had him thoroughly vetted, just like I vet everyone before I employ them, and he came out, I promise you, as clean as a whistle. You can take my word for it that all this so-called evidence Orazio told you he left with his sister was either faked or never existed. And, if you ask me, that’s why Carla and Antonio disappeared. They probably contacted Orazio and told him what you were after and he simply advised them to make themselves scarce. He knows the game’s up and he doesn’t want any more trouble.’
So, it was all clear now. Now she understood why Orazio had made such a hasty exit—not to save her embarrassment, as he’d so generously claimed at the time, but simply because he’d known he’d been found out.
And now she also knew the truth about Matthew.
She’d felt shattered when Damiano had told her, though oddly unsurprised. But most of ail what she’d felt was a fearful sense of relief. Relief to know that she had no more cause to hate him. Fear because not hating him left her defenceless and at his mercy.
She tried not to think of that now as she told him, ‘I can only apologise for all the awful things I’ve said. I was totally in the wrong.’ Though she had been right about one thing, and she fixed him now with a mock-accusing look. ‘Damiano told me it was you who put him on to Orazio. You tipped him off as to what kind of man he was...’
Matthew did not deny it. ‘I felt I had no choice, though I had no idea at the time that he had it in for me. But I knew he was a crook. One of my companies once had dealings with him, and I’m afraid I didn’t consider him a suitable companion for the Duke’s sister.’ He frowned. ‘All the same,’ he told her, ‘I very much regretted how the whole thing affected you.’
Caterina could see that he really meant that and she felt touched to the heart. He was so kind. That was something she hadn’t realised before.
She told him, ‘I can’t really blame you. I reckon it was your duty to speak out.’ Then she pulled a contrite face. ‘You were also right, I realise now, about those garden-party invitations of mine that you disapproved of. Damiano told me those people were as bad as Orazio. It seems I was wrong from top to bottom.’
‘It happens. We all make bad judgements,’ he told her. ‘Still, I’m glad my name’s finally been cleared in your eyes. I always knew the truth would come out sooner or later, though I also knew there was no point in me trying to tell you.’ The dark eyes searched deep into hers for a moment. ‘Maybe now you and I can finally stop fighting? Who knows? Maybe we can even be friends?’
‘Maybe.’
Caterina felt a thrust of emotion deep inside her. Friends? A simple notion with endless possibilities. Possibilities that both excited and profoundly scared her. And there was really nothing to stop her now from taking the fatal plunge, for not only did she know he was not the swindler she had thought he was, she now also had serious doubts about the rest.
For it seemed perfectly possible that Orazio had also been lying when he’d accused Matthew of being a shameless social climber. That could easily just have been part of the slander he’d been paid to invent. Matthew had never denied it, but that didn’t mean anything. He’d never denied any of the other stuff either. And the more she thought about it, the more sure she felt that it had been a lie.
So she really was defenceless now. Except for one thing. Claire still stood between them. For he had definitely lied about Claire.
He was saying, ‘So, does all this mean we can work together, after all?’ He smiled. ‘Or do you still want me to find that replacement while I’m in London?’
Again that thrust inside her. That excitement touched by fear. ‘No,’ she told him. ‘I don’t think that’ll be necessary. There’s no reason at all why we can’t work together now.’
‘Good. I look forward to it.’
Matthew hid a secret smile. He had never had any intention of finding a substitute. That had just been a ploy to put off forcing her hand, which, in the end, he suspected, had accidentally been forced by that unfortunate little scene with Claire last night. It was an outcome he had not anticipated, but it seemed like a very good sign.
That scene had obviously got to her, so perhaps, in spite of her attachment to Orazio, she was starting to feel something for him after all. He felt a lift inside him. He must build on this progress. He must steal her heart and make her his.
As he watched her she glanced quickly at her watch. Then she looked up at him. ‘I think I’d better get moving now. I have an appointment in town in half an hour’s time.’ She began to rise to her feet. ‘Thank you for listening. This little interlude by the lake was just what I needed.’
Matthew rose to his feet too. ‘I’m glad I was here to listen.’ Then he told her, ‘If you’re going back to the car park I’ll come with you. I have to get into town for an appointment too.’
So, together, at a leisurely pace, they set off across the grass, then down the gravel pathway past the fountain, heading for the little courtyard where their cars were parked. And as they walked Caterina could sense a new easiness between them. They seemed to be perfectly in step, as though they understood each other at last. Happy warmth flooded through her. She liked this new feeling rather a lot.
They were approaching the courtyard when Matthew turned to her. ‘I guess I won’t be seeing you again until the birthday party on Friday. As you know, I’m off to London tomorrow.’
‘Of course.’ Though in fact Caterina had totally forgotten. And now she felt a shaft of disappointment. He would be gone for several days and she knew she would miss him.
She also felt something else—a sudden, searing lick of jealousy as Claire jumped into her mind and she wondered if she was going with him.
But she refused to think of Claire. Thinking of Claire would only spoil things. So she simply pushed her from her mind as they stepped into the courtyard where his low silver Jaguar was parked opposite her little red Honda.
She turned to him and smiled, extending her hand in farewell. ‘So long for now, then. Have a good trip,’ she told him.
‘Thanks.’
He smiled back at her. But he did not take her hand. And suddenly there was a dark, smoky look in his eyes that had a perfectly cataclysmic effect on her. All at once she was remembering in shockingly vivid detail the fantasy she’d had last night before she’d drifted off to sleep.
Her sitting on Matthew’s bed wearing nothing but a skimpy dress. Him reaching out and slipping the straps from her shoulders. Him, with gentle hunger, taking hold of her breasts. And all at once a flame of desire curled round her loins and she could feel her heart thundering like an express train in her chest.
‘Goodbye,’ she tried to say, but all that came out was a strangled croak.
‘Goodbye, Caterina.’
At last, he took her hand. But he did not shake it. Instead, he simply held it. And then, very gently, he drew her towards him. A moment later his arms were round her and he was bending to kiss her lips.
Really, it was almost as brief and as fleeting as that first kiss, but there was a fire in his lips this time, an unmistakable hunger. And its effect on Caterina was powerful and instantaneous. It was as though something had exploded violently inside her. She felt a heat and a piercing sense of excitement pour through her. Breathlessly, she clung to him, feeling as if she was bursting into flames.
But it was over before it had begun. Cruelly, he was relaxing his grip on her, and she, remembering where they were, was doing the same.
He looked down at her. ‘Till Friday,’ he said. ‘At the party.’ And his eyes were dark and smoky with desire.
Caterina could scarcely bear to look at him. Every inch of her was in tumult. And she knew that if she looked too long into those eyes she would faint.
But he was already turning away. Even as she stood there, blinking and struggling to pull herself together, he was striding off towards the Jaguar.
Caterina staggered to her own car and stumbled inside. Then she sat very still and breathed slowly to compose herself. But it was a good few minutes, long after the Jaguar had driven off, before she’d stopped trembling enough to fit the key in the ignition.
It was a week later, the evening of Damiano’s birthday party, and Caterina was in her rooms at the palace getting dressed.
At least, she was supposed to be getting dressed. She’d already had her bath, and Robert, her private hairdresser, had been up to fix her hair in the flattering half-up-half-down style he did so well. And in less than twenty minutes she was due to go downstairs and join the others in a celebratory glass of champagne before the dinner proper got under way. But the trouble was she couldn’t decide what to wear.
‘Let me try the green one again.’ Then she laughed. ‘Oh, Anna, I’m sorry! I know I’ve already tried it on at least a dozen times. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just can’t make up my mind’
Anna, who had been Caterina’s personal maid for three years now and was immensely fond of her high-spirited young mistress, simply smiled a tolerant smile in response. ‘That’s no problem,’ she assured her. ‘But if you want my opinion the pink one is definitely the one you look best in.’
Caterina had thought that too, for there was no doubt about it-the deep bois de rose colour was immensely flattering. But perhaps the dress itself was just a little bit tame. Unlike the green one, which she’d bought on impulse only yesterday and which had the most boldly plunging neckline she’d ever worn in her life and was so close-fitting that it looked almost as though it had been sprayed on.
It wasn’t her usual sort of thing, though she certainly had the figure for it, but it looked like the sort of thing that Matthew would go for. She was well aware of his penchant for provocatively dressed women!
‘What do you think?’ Having slipped it on for the ninth time at least, she twisted and turned in front of the mirror. ‘The truth now, Anna. Do you think it’s me or not?’
That was a hard one to answer, Anna reflected. There’d been such a change in her mistress over the past week, a definite softening after the slight brittleness of the last few months when it had seemed as though the only thing she cared about was work. A softening, and yet a coming back to life again as well. Her old sparkle was back and even more sparkling than before!
And she found herself pondering, I wonder who the man is? For when a woman suddenly blossomed like this there had to be a man in the picture somewhere!
She said, ‘I’m not really sure. I think it’s very striking.’ Though she might have added that Caterina didn’t need such a striking dress. A couple of months ago, perhaps. But certainly not this evening. This evening she was glowing with her own radiant inner glow.
Caterina, of course, was quite unaware of this. She regarded her reflection with a critical eye. Yes, she was thinking, Matthew would definitely approve of this—though at the same time she was trying hard to convince herself that the only reason why she wanted to wear it was because she liked it herself. There was definitely a bit of self-deception going on.
‘I don’t know...’
Still undecided, she turned to scan the other dresses that hung from the dressing-room doors and which she’d been trying on for over an hour—the red, the yellow, the black, the blue, and finally, lingeringly, the lovely bois de rose, which was really rather gorgeous, but so boring and demure.
She turned back to the mirror for a final confirmation. Yes, striking was the word. She’d knock him dead in this.
She turned back to Anna. ‘Definitely this one. Now fetch me the green sandals—quick!—before I change my mind again!’
In his bedroom at the villa, Matthew was getting ready for the party too, though he was suffering no such agonies about what to wear.
He was already dressed, except for the jacket of his black dinner suit, and he was adjusting the cuffs of his white dress shirt as he got ready to slip his cuff-links into place.
But it was as he picked the first one up that he was assailed by a sudden doubt. Normally, for a special occasion, these were the cuff-links he would wear, but perhaps tonight they might be out of place.
He glanced down at the glistening gold cuff-link in his hand with its armorial crest picked out in blue enamel. And he frowned. No, not tonight. Not with Caterina present. And he dropped it back into the little china dish on his dressing table and reached for the plain gold cuff-links instead. These, he decided, would be much more appropriate.
He glanced at his watch. It was time he was on his way. He crossed to the wardrobe, lifted his jacket from its hanger, slipped it on quickly and headed for the door. It was a fifteen-minute drive to the Palazzo Verde. No problem. He would make it in plenty of time.
It was a warm, balmy night and Matthew slid down the windows of the Jaguar as he headed down the drive and out to the main highway. He’d have time to take the Corniche, the road that skirted the glittering bay around which the capital city, Rino, was built. It was a little longer than the ring road but it was breathtakingly beautiful and he liked to take it whenever he could.
Besides, to be honest, he felt like spinning things out a bit, deliberately putting off the magic moment when he would reach the palace and see Caterina again.
And he smiled to himself, feeling that familiar clench inside him that he always felt these days whenever he thought of her. Excitement. Anticipation. A sense of urgency and impatience. A growing desire to make her his at last. It was funny, but just a very short while ago she hadn’t figured in his plans for the future at all. But that had all changed now. Now she was at their very centre. And his future had taken on a whole new rosy glow.
As the low silver car, gleaming in the soft moonlight, swept down the palm-lined, curving Corniche, where couples strolled hand in hand or sat together on the wooden benches sharing dreams as they gazed out towards the horizon, he reflected on his strategy for the coming evening.
He must play it by ear, of course, for it would depend on her state of mind and whether she was still upset over what Damiano had told her about Orazio, but what he was banking on was that, somehow, he would have the opportunity to speak to her alone and finally convince her on the subject of Claire. That was essential if any further progress was to be made.
He thought about the day when he had gone to the palace early, partly to see Damiano, but principally to catch Caterina, precisely with the purpose of explaining about Claire.
He had been crossing the west-wing corridor when, through one of the windows, he’d seen her fleeing, clearly distressed, across the garden. He’d gone after her wondering what could possibly be the matter and had been shocked to discover just how stricken she was at Damiano’s revelations about her ex-lover. So he had said nothing about Claire. That would have been out of place.
But now, mentally, he crossed his fingers. Perhaps things had changed. Over the past few days perhaps she’d finally come to terms with just how unworthy of her affections Orazio really was. And it was his task now somehow to find a way to drive that no-good from her heart for ever—and to convince her, once and for all, that Claire didn’t figure in his.
At last he left the Corniche and began to drive inland again, up the broad, curving road that led to the Palazzo Verde, whose high, turreted walls beneath the glimmering starlight seemed suffused with an ancient rosy glow. And Matthew could feel his heart begin to beat a little faster. He had a feeling that tonight was going to be important.
The guards at the palace gates waved him through with a friendly salute, then he was heading for the palm-filled courtyard at the side of the palace to park his car in its usual place. There were a number of cars already parked beneath the palm trees. Clearly, some of his fellow guests had already arrived.
He made his way across the courtyard and through the big wooden doors to the entrance hall where a group of palace staff were waiting to greet the guests.
‘Don’t worry, I can find my own way,’ he assured them with a smile. Then, as they nodded, he strode swiftly across the polished marble floor, heading for the staircase that led to the Blue Ballroom where Damiano’s birthday party was taking place.
And, indeed, the reception was well under way as he stepped through the double doors, flanked by liveried footmen, into a gold-ceilinged room, lit with fabulous chandeliers, that was positively alive with bright colours and happy chatter. There were women in gorgeous ballgowns wearing glittering tiaras, men looking sleek in their immaculate DJs, while an army of waiters bearing heavy silver trays wove soundlessly amongst them, discreet and efficient, dispensing canapés and crystal flutes of the best champagne.
Matthew’s first task, of course, was to greet Damiano. But, as he headed for the Duke, from the corner of his eye he was searching the sea of faces for Caterina. He could see Leone, her other brother, with his beautiful American wife Carrie, and he could see the Duchess, Sofia, looking as stunning as ever, but, alas, there appeared to be no sign of Caterina.
A flicker of dismay went through him. Maybe she wasn’t coming. Maybe she was still too upset, still weeping for Orazio. And maybe all his plans and dreams would come to nothing. It was quite shocking just how shattered that prospect made him feel.
But as he reached Damiano’s group and held out his hand to greet his host his attention was suddenly caught by a movement by the doors. He saw the footmen step aside. Someone was coming into the room.
‘Matthew, welcome.’
‘Good evening.’ He nodded a salute. ‘And may I wish you a very happy birthday.’
But, though he appeared to be functioning perfectly normally and Damiano never for one second suspected that his attention was elsewhere, the fact of the matter was that Matthew’s heart had stood still at the sight of the vision in the bois de rose dress who, with a serene, glowing smile, was walking towards him.