Chapter 9

Venetia moaned and twisted her head to still the tickling sensation on her cheek. The first thing she saw as her heavy lids lifted was Paolo’s face inches from hers, smiling down at her tenderly.

‘Buongiorno, tesoro,’ he whispered, his eyes caressing her features intently. ‘I’m sorry to wake you, but I would prefer if Ernestina didn’t see us in this… how to say… um… compromising position. She’s a very kind person and an excellent housekeeper, but she’s also a big gossip.’

Venetia stretched languorously. ‘It can’t be that late already,’ she groaned softly, looking up at Paolo through sleepy eyes, her skin gently prickling under his burning gaze. She remembered worrying about the latent morning-after embarrassment as she had drifted off to sleep, wondering if in daylight she would regret the intimacy they had shared, and this honeyed feeling which flooded her now was a surprise.

The shadow of dark stubble over Paolo’s jaw enhanced the masculinity of his bronzed face and she stared up at him, drinking in its hard planes and angles and the glitter of desire in his eyes. With his broad shoulders, strong arms, the silky down that furnished his bronze, muscled ribcage, and the taut hardness of his virility that she could see outlined beneath the sheet, he seemed once again like a primitive god seducing her mortal body and soul. Her need for him hit her like a bludgeon and she felt herself turning into a hot pool of longing.

She raised herself on one elbow and let her fingers run over his disfigured chest, lingering lovingly on the deep, discoloured scars. Paolo’s body tensed and she felt him shake slightly under the feathery contact of her fingertips. He lifted her hand and brushed the inside of her wrist with his lips, and then sat up, leaning against the pillows.

‘Don’t go yet,’ she murmured as she inched over, questing after the wonderful effect his touch had on her senses.

Venetia didn’t need to ask twice. Paolo breathed in sharply and pulled her towards him, sweeping her up so she was straddling his legs, her nakedness on display for him. She liked the smouldering way he was looking at her, desire and passion etched on every one of his features, and the way his hands ran over her curves with a possessive firmness that made her long for him to dominate her and take her on the spot.

Paolo sensed her urgent arousal and his eyes blazed.

‘What are you doing to me, Venetia?’ he murmured against her lips, before hauling her sharply to him, so her head went back almost in supplication and her breasts were touching his chest, the nipples swelling to form taut peaks rubbing against him. He groaned deep in his throat as she pushed her hips further against him, feeling him grow harder in response.

Paolo pressed his lips against her tortured throat, punctuating its length with fierce kisses and bites, cupping the hardened curves of her breasts in his warm hands, kneading and stroking them with his fingers, faster and faster.

Venetia’s breathing became sharp and shallow; her head began to whirl, her pupils dilating with her own dark desire, every muscle and nerve-ending tightening in anticipation of his penetration. But Paolo was a master at love making, as he had proved to her all night. His mouth was hot fire on her lips, crushing them, urgent and commanding, submitting her to his own avid need, which only served to increase her excitement.

His hands spread over her body, followed by his tongue, exploring, tasting, encouraged by the high sounds in her throat as each erotic sensation moved tantalisingly, irresistibly, up and down her body. Her senses reeled, demanding more and more, needing to satiate the gnawing hunger for relief that was torturing her, and yet not wanting it to end.

‘Oh, please, don’t stop, Paolo, don’t stop!’ Her speech was almost slurred, her mouth becoming drier, and the need for him to bury himself in her strengthening by the second.

Still, he seemed to have more to give, her ardent response kindling his own arousal, stimulating his own pleasure.

‘Do you know what I’m going to do to you now?’ he rasped, his eyes blazing with passion, which made her suppress a moan.

They were mutually driving each other on. His hands still caressed with a feather-light touch her breasts, her stomach and the sensitive skin between her thighs, while his head dipped and gently glided down her body, to the secret core of her femininity, which longed for him so much. Pushing her legs apart so Venetia’s arousal was in full view of him, and parting the moist, silken pink petals with his forefinger, he stroked the edges sensuously, making her wait a few seconds before flicking his tongue against the swollen burgeon, licking it, while rubbing it with the tip of his fingers in an unbearably rapid rhythm, urging her pleasure to burst and send rippling shocks through her already strained nerves. The waves were coming, Venetia could feel her loins trembling; soon she would be flooded.

‘Now, Paolo, now my love, now,’ she pleaded for release, tears rolling down her cheeks. Paolo’s aroused body required no more preliminaries; his velvet hardness found her moist, satin softness with a kind of primitive possession, and together they fused in an all-consuming blaze of fire, total and rapturous that left them completely spent and satiated.

It was almost nine o’clock when Paolo, showered and clad in his navy-blue silk robe, emerged from La Sirena. Venetia, her own white silk dressing gown wrapped around her, accompanied him to the gate. There was still no one to be seen; only Rufus lay stretched asleep on the grass behind the house. A breathless quiet hung about the place, and the scent of flowers and of newly mown grass drifted on the wandering air, sweetening the atmosphere.

Mushrooms gleamed fresh and pearly in the soft, close lawn and the sun, already very warm but with its light misted, shone down upon Miraggio and its surrounding grounds. The trees that dotted this part of the property stood along the bottom of a slope, bunchy and motionless in the still air, thick with leaves. Like trees from an ancient tapestry, they seemed as if nothing would ever change them, as if they would always wear this plumage of full blue-green.

The garden seemed spellbound: not a leaf quivered in the warm air, not a sound came through the veiled sunshine that suffused it all, and no word came from Paolo, who stood by Venetia’s side as if he couldn’t bear to part with her. He bent his head and took her lips to his. They stood for a few more moments in their caressing warmth until, almost with the effort of someone rousing from a trance, Paolo dragged himself away from her at last, just as the sound of cantering hooves made them both turn abruptly.

A few paces away, a fierce-looking Allegra atop her handsome bay was regarding them steadily, animosity sparkling in her coal-black eyes.

‘Buongiorno, Allegra,’ Paolo called out to the young woman with an engaging smile, though Venetia noticed that his body had tensed slightly. ‘Vieni qui che ti presento la signorina, come here so I can introduce you to the signorina.’

Ignoring him, Antonio’s niece shifted her dark gaze slowly and disdainfully over Paolo’s visage, then raising her chin slightly she huffed, turning her mount on itself, and without so much as a glance in Venetia’s direction, she cantered off towards the stables.

Venetia’s stomach contracted in a sickening knot. Her heart was beating so urgently she was sure that Paolo could hear it thumping against her breast. She met his impassable eyes for just a moment before he gratified her with another smile.

‘Allegra is Antonio’s niece. She’s a very intelligent and talented young woman, but also extremely wild. She’s only twenty-one and Antonio is very severe, so the poor girl does not have much opportunity to get out of Miraggio, apart from the few times when I take her with me to Venice for a couple of days.’ Venetia was sure she could sense a slight strain in his voice, despite his open gaze.

Ernestina appeared around the corner carrying Venetia’s breakfast, just as the young woman was about to retort that his great friend Umberto had already enlightened her about the relationship that existed between himself and the fiery Amazon, and that he should spare himself the effort of lying to her, and the humiliation of having to listen to his fabrications.

‘Buongiorno, signorina… signore,’ said the cheerful housekeeper as she came level with the couple.

Paolo scowled and shook his head, his expression one of great frustration, as if this was the final straw. He swore under his breath, ‘Maledizione!’ and then ‘Buongiorno, Ernestina.’

‘Should I set up a place for you for breakfast, signore?’ she enquired with deceptive quietness, but Venetia could see in the way she looked at them that the servant was excited and could hardly contain her curiosity.

Paolo’s face took on a closed look. ‘No, no thank you, Ernestina, I will have my breakfast in my bedroom as usual.’ Turning to Venetia his eyes locked with hers. ‘I’ll be in my study in about an hour if you would like to join me, umm…’ he paused deliberately and grinned down at her in a way that put her teeth on edge, ‘to continue our conversation and maybe look over the plans.’

He had the gall to grin! Venetia stared at him. The fact that he mentioned Venice showed that he remembered she had seen them there together and, guiltily, he was trying to justify the reason why he was taking the caretaker’s niece out for lunch in such a prestigious restaurant. If the young woman hadn’t appeared suddenly, would he have even bothered to admit that she lived with him at Miraggio? She could pack her bags and leave in a huff, or take what he was subtly offering her, just an affair. Venetia’s mind and heart waged war once more, struggling to find a balance between her pride and the burgeoning love she felt growing inside her for this man.

‘I’ll be there,’ she returned, trying to keep her voice even and strode away, following Ernestina into the house and not looking back at Paolo.

‘I’ll have a shower and dress before breakfast,’ she told the housekeeper, hoping that she could tidy up the bedroom and bathroom, eradicating the tell-tale evidence of a night of love before the servant went about her daily cleaning.

‘Va bene, signorina.’

Soaping herself under the shower, Venetia was vividly aware of her body in a way she hadn’t been before, even ten years ago. Her breasts were tender to the touch, her nipples still sore from Paolo’s love bites, while she could already detect faint bruises on her shoulders, evidence of his passionate hold on them as he had reached his climax that morning. She trembled at the memory of their lovemaking, and wondered at her own wanton abandonment.

But she could not delude herself about her feelings for Paolo that were blossoming fiercely in her with the overnight glory of a tropical flower. Those flashes, intuitive, swift, and primitive, that were transmitted between them disturbed her oddly; it was almost as if, in spite of the tangible world that divided them, her mind could speak directly to his and receive an answer. There was a palpable harmony between them; it was exquisitely sweet and she was sure that Paolo had been aware of it too, since the first time they met.

Still, a grey cloud marred the euphoria she would have felt if Allegra hadn’t appeared, and if Paolo hadn’t lied to her… but had he lied to her? Venetia tried to argue in his favour. He had only shielded the truth from her at that moment. Did she really expect him to admit there and then that Allegra was his mistress, even though the Italian girl was probably history after their passionate interlude at dawn? That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of him, and Paolo, she had the deep conviction, was a gentleman. How foolish she was to be feeling this way.

When Venetia went back into the living room to have her breakfast, she was surprised to see Ernestina still there. She noticed that the servant was holding on to the discarded bathrobe that Paolo had slipped off her shoulders before carrying her into the bedroom, and which she had not picked up from the floor.

‘I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to set up your breakfast on the terrazza as usual or if you would prefer to have it indoors. It’s going to be a hot day and the sun is already very strong.’ The servant’s eyes darted quickly from Venetia’s lush mane of chestnut hair left loose this morning around her shoulders to her long shapely legs under the summery floral dress.

An unwitting flush of pink rose to Venetia’s cheekbones when she realised what Ernestina must be thinking, confirming the housekeeper’s surmise of a night spent in the arms of her employer.

‘Grazie. I will just have some hot coffee on the terrazza.’

‘Ve lo porto subito, I’ll bring it to you in just a minute.’

There wasn’t a ripple on the pale blue sea and not a cloud in the sky. It was a warm morning, no air stirring, and the heat had the heavy dampness of windless days upon a sea coast. Ernestina was right: the temperature was climbing, the golden orb beating down on the countryside. The horizon was faintly hazy, and the line of hills rising far away behind the estate, almost veiled and dazzling white in the hot sunlight, looked as if they had been cut out of cardboard; the flowers in the garden below stood bravely lifting their cups to the sun. Nature looked as if it was holding its breath.

Ernestina also looked as though she was holding her breath when she came onto the terrace with the cup of coffee. Her dark eyes met Venetia’s, containing all sorts of insinuated questions, and finally she decided to speak.

‘If the signorina will permit, I would like to say something.’

Venetia lifted her eyebrows, feigning a surprise she did not really feel.

‘The signorina must be careful.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Bisogna stare attenti a quella piccola strega, you have to be careful of that little witch.’

‘I still don’t understand what you’re telling me, Ernestina. What witch?’

‘Antonio’s niece, Allegra, the young woman riding a horse this morning who passed by you when you were…’ the servant gave an embarrassed little cough, ‘umm… with the signore.’

Venetia felt her cheeks burn. ‘I don’t see what this has to do with the young lady in question, or with you for that matter,’ she replied calmly.

‘Please don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to intrude, signorina. God forbid that I should meddle in either yours or Signor Barone’s business, but this girl is dangerous. She has the Malocchio, the evil eye.’

‘It’s very kind of you to worry about me, Ernestina. But you see, I don’t give credence to all these superstitions, if some kind of hocus-pocus black magic is what you’re meaning to suggest. Anyhow, things like the evil eye don’t affect people who don’t believe in them.’

‘Signorina, with all due respect, you may think that I’m an ignorant, superstitious Italian peasant, but Antonio and his niece come from Elba, like me, and we are from the same small village of San Stefano di Camastra. I knew the family, and Allegra was born bad to bad parents. She was treated cruelly, it is true, but it was like pouring petrol on a fire already out of control. Whether it was bad genes or the evil that surrounded her, chi lo sa, who knows, but from a young age, she was cattiva, manipulative. Already as a child, she started dabbling in witchcraft. She fell in with un cerchio del male, an evil circle, which was poisoning her mind even more with their wicked rites of sorcery and black magic. That’s why in the end Antonio had to move to the North when Allegra was seven. He spent some time in Porto Ercole and when a few years later Signor Barone was looking for builders to help with the restoration of Miraggio, he found buon lavoro, steady work here for him and his niece.’

‘Where are Allegra’s parents?’

‘They died when the child was only five. The father, Antonio’s brother, was a drunkard. Her mother was a well known matta, madwoman, and the town strumpet to boot. She and the father completely neglected the small child. Antonio and his wife, Angelina, were kindly folk and they took in the little girl. When Angelina suddenly fell ill and died, Antonio continued caring for Allegra, but she was still wild. Then the father ended up dead in a ditch not long after – no one knows how, but no doubt to do with his drinking. Ah, madre di dio!’ Ernestina lifted her arms to the sky. ‘That’s when things became even worse. The child’s interest in the dark arts grew, and Antonio took her away to the North. By the time they came to Miraggio, Allegra was eleven. She was as fully developed as a girl of sixteen, and she knew all there was to know of good and evil – mainly evil. She had been taught by a preacher to read and write and add up sums, but the girl had no affection for anyone. She was moody, headstrong, and beautiful come un angelo, but she brooded in that cottage the signore provided for her and her uncle, and roamed the hills. Occasionally, she came out with furies and rages that frightened anyone who happened to witness them. It was me who spoke to Signor Barone about her in the end. She was causing trouble among the workers and I wanted him to dismiss Antonio because of the girl.

‘Anyway, that got the signore’s curiosity going, and he asked to meet with the child. I brought her to him. Madre di dio, I will never forget how she looked up at him with her black, lovely eyes and stretched out her arms to him with a cry: “Portami via, Portami via, take me away.” The rest followed quickly.’ Ernestina sighed. ‘The signore è buono come il pane, he’s as good as bread, è molto sensibile, very sensitive, and he took her under his wing. This exquisite child could not be left to rot, he said. He would save her.’

Yes, Venetia thought, it would be so like Paolo to want to save another thing, a person this time, from destruction.

‘So he put her in a convent, where she rebelled at first, but her cleverness and ambition soon won over her wildness. She was shamed by her own ignorance and set herself to study to become a lady. The girl quickly realised that sullenness and furies got her nowhere… era più saggio accattivarsi le persone, it was wiser to win people, make them worship her. And she succeeded, but she herself never knew affection for anyone. Cambiano i suonatori ma la musica é sempre quella, the singer changes but the song stays the same. She will never be a good girl.’ Ernestina shook her head. ‘All this is to tell you, signorina, that Allegra is very possessive of Signor Barone. I know for sure, she does not only regard him as her protector, but both she and Antonio are hoping that he will marry her one day… Come Dio mi é testimone, as God is my witness, I have heard them plotting this with my own ears that will be eaten by the worms one day.’

‘And what does Signor Barone think of that great plan?’ Even though Venetia thought the old woman’s words were somewhat melodramatic, she couldn’t resist asking the question, quietly eager for a clue to Paolo’s feelings for this dangerously alluring girl.

‘The signore is a lonely man, signorina, and the girl is a scaltra tentatrice, beautiful and wily temptress. When she speaks to him she knows how to make her voice soft and caressing… una puttana in incognito.’

‘I really don’t see what it has to do with me, and why you’re telling me all this.’

‘Signorina, may the sky fall upon me if I speak out of turn, but… the signore is blinded by his affection and pity for this young woman, who he has seen grow up. And, as far as I can see, he has invested un sacco di soldi, a stack of money, into the bargain. He is a very melancholy man, the signore. He still grieves for his dead wife who he has never forgotten. Allegra brings colour to his life sicuramente and if I thought that she would make him happy, I would not have talked to you in this way, signorina. But she has a biting tongue, and a cruel heart – hurting people is her way, and most of all she doesn’t love him. Lei è come una sanguisuga, she’s like a leech, always asking for this and that.’

Venetia raised her eyebrows. Clearly Paolo had forgotten his wife but she was not about to bring up his amnesia with Ernestina, knowing next to nothing about the housekeeper or how much she knew about her employer. She wondered what else was unreliable about Ernestina’s information.

‘My dear Ernestina, you seem to think that I have influence over Signor Barone. I’m here to restore mosaics in an old church, not to meddle with my client’s problems of the heart.’ Venetia inwardly winced at the irony of her own words.

‘Signorina, mi permetta di dire… I saw you and the signore this morning... come dire… you know… I was going to go back to the kitchen from the garden when I saw Allegra go past you, so I stood behind the tree as I knew she was up to no good, and then when I saw that Signor Barone was leaving, I came over.’

‘Well, since you saw us this morning, I don’t know what you’re worried about. Doesn’t that show that maybe your fear of Allegra’s power over the signore is a little unfounded?’

‘I also saw the hatred in her eyes. She was born under a Black Moon, which some say is a bad omen. I tell you, she has a dark power that, whether from this earth or from another world, is dangerous. She will harm you if she can, signorina, even if it means hurting the signore, and you must guard against it.’

Venetia stood up. ‘You’re very sweet, Ernestina, to worry about me. I can’t speak for Signor Barone, of course, but really, I don’t believe in all this mumbo jumbo and so I assure you, it can’t touch me.’ She smiled and kissed the old servant on the cheek. ‘And now I must go and join my client in his study. Whatever you saw this morning, that doesn’t mean that we don’t have work to do.’

The woman seemed touched by Venetia’s affectionate gesture. ‘I knew as soon as I saw you, signorina, that you would be good for our signore… un balsamo che se messo su una ferita la curerebbe, a balm which if put on a wound would cure it. He carries a lot of sadness in his heart and there’s a kindness that radiates from you. You’re good for him and him for you, because I can see in your eyes that you have also known unhappiness in your life. We say in Italy, “siete entrambi della stessa stella, you’re both of the same star,” which means that you two are born for each other.’

As Venetia made her way to Miraggio she wondered again at Ernestina’s words. She hadn’t mentioned anything about Paolo’s amnesia, and probably knew nothing of it, judging by her comments about his dead wife, so probably her reference to his sadness must concern his widowhood and the tragic way it had come about.

Again, it was not clear from Ernestina whether or not the young woman was in fact Paolo’s mistress, though the housekeeper would see Allegra and Paolo together all the time and would know if Antonio’s niece was scheming to marry him. And if that was the case, surely the young Amazon had already weaselled herself into his bed, and surely Paolo being the hot-blooded man he was, he wouldn’t have pushed away her advances? Venetia’s heart became heavier with every step, as she made her way through the big house towards Paolo’s office. Why should she expect more from him than other men? He’s human and Allegra is so beautiful, so utterly seductive. What man could hold out against her?

* * *

Paolo sat at his desk in the study, staring unseeingly out of the window, questions reflecting in his eyes. Why did he feel so restless… so lost… so utterly confused and in turmoil? The emotional charge he had felt in Venetia’s arms that morning was like nothing he had experienced in this new life, and yet it had not been completely alien… He had read numerous books about amnesia and it was believed that some people only remember through touch, taste or smell… and for a split second, when he had reached his shattering climax inside her, he had felt that he was going back in time. There was something there, the return of something specific, and he momentarily surfaced on the shore of familiarity; but then immediately, like each time he had seemed to put his finger on a memory, the mirage lost itself again in the tragedy of his life.

One thing he was sure of: he was irremediably in love with Venetia. There had been no preparation for this, no leading up in soft degrees. It had been this way since that damp, misty evening he had rescued her in Venice, when looking into her eyes in the first few seconds it was as if he had pulled back a curtain. The intensity of the emotional flash memory that had come into his mind was so strong, so beautiful, he almost felt relief, but again it had vanished nearly as quickly as it had occurred, to join the dead wreckage of his past.

And now Paolo knew he could not live without Venetia. Was that because, somehow, she was jogging his amnesic memory? The psychologist who had followed his progress for two years, until he was quite sure Paolo could stand on his own two feet, had told him that the return of memory could not be prompted by somebody else, it had to come back from within.

Still, when he was with Venetia, Paolo felt secure; even without regaining his forgotten identity, she represented the promise of a life where he could find happiness. Together they would make their own past, live in the present and plan for the future. Venetia had also been aware of that connection; he could feel it.

Paolo allowed his mind turn to their lovemaking that morning, playing back the moment when Venetia let the robe slide from her shoulders to the floor. A new fantasy took over, where he was kneeling in front of her and drawing her towards him, gently probing the delicate, secret corolla of her most intimate part with his lips and his tongue to taste the soft ripe fruit that trembled inside her, sending a series of erotic images dancing across his mind’s eye. He could almost hear the helpless little moans in the back of her throat, see the mixture of yearning and rapture in her eyes, which turned flame-coloured when she was aroused, making the insistent, throbbing ache in his groin intensify to an unbearable pitch.

It would soon be Easter; he would take her away to Capri, or perhaps to one of the islands for a few days, and after that ask her to marry him. There was no time to waste; he had lost enough years. Was he being unrealistic, building castles in the clouds, pretending that nothing more divided them now? Was he living for this singular moment in a golden haze, outside time? Would she want to take on a man of whom she knew almost nothing? And even if he told her what had been related to him about himself and his past, would she believe him? It was all so extraordinary.

Paolo knew a moment of panic. When Giovanna Lombardi had rung him to say that Venetia would be taking on his assignment after all, he had amassed a whole store of words to say to her when she arrived – the truth about himself, everything he’d wanted to tell her right from the start. Now that store was distressingly empty. He didn’t want to frighten her off. There was an anxious side to Venetia, and until he’d found out the hurt that was eating away at her, he believed it best to tread with muffled steps.

She had rebuffed him so many times, even though everything in her eyes and the expression of her face spelt out that she was drawn to him as passionately as he was to her. He always sensed a resistance in her when they talked, a kind of pent-up belligerence, and only in his arms did she become tender, docile, submissive and infinitely generous. She had given herself to him that morning without restraint; her body had revealed itself to him like the petals of a flower opening up to expose itself to the sunshine; she had taken him with avidity, but she had loved him back with equal fervour.

A sudden thought crossed his mind: Allegra. Venetia might have wondered why she looked so angry on seeing them together that morning. She had been at that new restaurant in Piazza San Marco where he had taken Antonio’s niece some time ago. Paolo frowned as he wondered what conclusions Venetia had reached regarding his relationship with the girl. He had so many regrets when it came to Allegra, and he had been too weak.

That Allegra was infatuated with him and wanted to marry him was indeed unfortunate. He also realised that she had developed more dissipated inclinations and he was well aware of her escapades into Porto Santo Stefano whenever his back was turned. He had never confronted her with the rumours, too fond of her to hurt her feelings; however, his protective instinct, and his guilt, had led him to speak to Antonio. The caretaker had assured him that it was all malevolent gossip, but Paolo was not duped.

Of late, even though he had stopped asking Allegra over to the big house for an occasional meal, she had become clingier, and the scene that had occurred the other night in his bedroom left him uneasy. Ernestina had always warned him against Allegra, insinuating the girl was evil. Now, he wouldn’t go that far, but he sensed that she had some rather unsavoury instincts and a scheming nature from which he should guard himself perhaps, and certainly protect Venetia.

Paolo glanced at his watch. Venetia would soon be there. He lit a cigarette and started to make a series of phone calls to agents in various parts of Italy to secure a hotel over Easter. He would give Venetia the choice of place, and take her wherever she wanted to go.

* * *

When Venetia walked into the room, Paolo was just putting down the phone. His eyes flicked over her slender figure outlined in a delicate sleeveless white dress. He was wearing an open-necked indigo shirt that gave his irises a cerulean tint, making them even more striking. His raven-black hair was swept back, but slightly ruffled, and his features had lost the tautness she had been used to – he seemed relaxed.

Paolo got up and came towards her, his smile sweet and tender. ‘I’ve missed you, Venetia,’ he whispered, his voice husky as he drew her gently into his arms.

She wanted to resist, but how could she? The way he spoke her name alone made her feel desirable – all woman. Her mind clouding, Venetia gave herself up to his kisses, her body on fire with sudden heat. She closed her eyes, the hard strength of Paolo’s body along the full length of hers, drowning in his embrace, engulfed in the possessive demand of his lips and surrendering to them without the slightest hesitation.

When at last he released her, she kept her eyes closed a few seconds more, her senses immersed in a sea of deep, aching need.

‘Come, sit down.’ Paolo moved over to his desk.

Venetia followed and took a seat opposite him, her eyes lifting a little sheepishly towards the huge portrait looking down, watching her enigmatically.

Paolo smiled ruefully. ‘She wouldn’t mind, cara,’ he murmured, as if interpreting the anxiety on Venetia’s face. ‘I think she’d like to see me happy.’

‘It’s very difficult to have someone you cared for so much as a rival, especially since she disappeared from your life in such dramatic circumstances.’

‘Please, amore mio, don’t give it another thought. I have no past – only the present and the future hold importance for me now.’

Venetia hesitated before formulating her concern, her ultimate fear. She glanced down at her fingers, knotted together in her lap. ‘Paolo, can I be very candid with you?’

‘Of course, tesoro mio, you can say and ask whatever you want. I will always try to answer you truthfully.’

‘What if your memory came back one day and you discovered that you were still in love with your wife?’

There was a short pause before he answered, his tone grave, his eyes denuded of all expression. ‘Please believe me when I tell you that there’s no chance of that – the past is dead for me. The woman you see up there is and will always remain for me a figment of the imagination of the artist who painted her.’

Since they were on the subject of ‘the other woman’, Venetia was burning to ask Paolo about Allegra. She had to stop that nagging little voice tugging at her heart, telling her that she was running headlong into another disaster, just as she had with Judd, and the only way to stop the war inside her was to hear the truth straight from Paolo himself.

She was about to take the plunge when once again he spared her the embarrassment of asking the question. ‘I can see the watchful look in your eyes and read the troubled thoughts that are going round and round in your mind, cara. You’re puzzled about the… um… come dire… relationship between Allegra, the young woman you saw this morning, and me. You’re saying to yourself, why should he take the caretaker’s niece around with him in Venice, and in such a well-known restaurant? Deve essera la sua amante, she must be his mistress. Not so?’ Paolo asked calmly.

Venetia stared at him, dumbfounded. He was so attuned to her that he was always one step ahead of her thoughts, interpreting them with finesse and answering her fears with tact. How was he able to perceive her inner thoughts with such perspicacity? Was she so transparent? She had always prided herself on having a ‘poker face’ when necessary, but it was almost impossible for her to hide anything from Paolo – as it was in bed, where he seemed to anticipate every one of her reactions and thoughts, leaving her totally vulnerable to his uncanny clairvoyance. With Paolo, she was unable to sustain the persona she so successfully projected to the outside world. He could see right through to her soul; her emotions, her feelings, and the intimate way her brain worked appeared no secret to him, as she lay there naked, exposed to his mystifying perception. And although it unnerved her to be so transparent to the man she had come to care for so deeply, she knew that it was no use pretending, she just wasn’t strong enough emotionally to try and protect herself any more; besides, she realised, she trusted him.

‘Yes,’ she murmured, ‘I did wonder, especially as Umberto told me that she’s your mistress… and then the hatred I read in her eyes this morning when she saw us together only seemed to prove his words. Added to that, I caught sight of her the other night looking very fetching in her red satin nightdress, obviously going to meet you at the house.’ Venetia felt the colour rise in her cheeks at the thought.

‘And you believe this?’ Paolo’s eyes widened as they searched her face.

‘There is a great deal to be said for the power of positive thinking, but I’m not going to hide my head in the sand like an ostrich, Paolo.’ Venetia tried to rein in her temper. ‘What would you think in my position? After all, she is really very beautiful.’

‘Dio mio, Venetia, I am thirty-eight and she’s not yet twenty! I’m almost double her age – I could be her father. Do you really think I’m the sort of man to go after a bambina?’

‘Are you telling me that there’s nothing going on between you? That you, l’Amante delle Quattro Stagioni, has kept his hands off this beautiful girl?’ She found it difficult to keep the jealous anger from flaring in her voice.

Paolo shook his head. ‘How little you know me, carissima.’ He made an effort to smile but, exasperated, ran a hand through his hair. ‘When I took on Antonio to help with the renovation of Miraggio, Allegra was just a child. Unhappy and wild, left to her own devices without discipline or supervision. I had just come out of a deep depression, having left my home to start a new life, with no hope really of marrying again and ever having children. Allegra was a beautiful bambina, intelligent and lively, and I decided to take her under my wing – in some ways very much like a guardian. I put her through a good private school, a convent where she excelled, and gave her singing and violin lessons because she had a lovely voice and showed an aptitude for music. In my eyes, she always remained a little girl and I didn’t realise that the bambina had turned into a young woman. Soon, I’m sad to say, she developed a sort of infatuation with me and began to send me anonymous gifts, which became more intimate, with attached love notes, which she eventually signed, making her feelings known.’

Venetia coloured again, not wanting to hear this sort of detail, even though she had pushed Paolo to be honest with her. He glanced at her and frowned, seeing her reaction, but continued, his voice sounding strained and cautious.

‘I explained to her, as well as to Antonio, that this had to stop. But then I was told she was spending nights in Porto Santo Stefano, selling herself to the sailors from the liners and boats which passed through the port.’

Venetia blinked, wide-eyed. ‘Did you talk to her about this – at least tell her off? She was obviously seeking your attention.’

Paolo sighed. ‘No, I was weak. At the beginning I thought it was just malicious gossip, and then I exercised, as you say, the politic of the ostrich… I’m not proud of the way I’ve handled things with Allegra.’ He pushed his hand through his hair again, his mouth pressed into a thin line. ‘It’s true, I should have spent more time providing her with the guidance she sorely lacked from Antonio, and perhaps been firmer in laying down boundaries between us. But eventually I decided to take her to a psychologist who was recommended to me in Venice, in the hope that he would cure her of this ridiculous adolescent crush on me.’

‘And?’

‘Well, even though I’m very fond of Allegra and admittedly that strange relationship of guardian and ward has created a strong bond between us…’ Paolo broke off when he saw the look in Venetia’s eye. ‘Dio mio, how couldn’t it? I’ve seen her grow up, what do you take me for, cara…? Let’s just say that she will grow out of this puppy love, as you say in England.’

‘You have a rather notorious reputation as a womaniser,’ Venetia said quietly. ‘You can’t blame people for thinking the worst if you exhibit yourself with a young beauty in a city where you are well known and where everybody gossips.’

Paolo shifted in his chair and again raked his hair with his hand. ‘People, people... I don’t care what people think, cara. It’s your opinion that counts for me. And yes, I will not lie to you and say that I’ve lived like a monk. I know that I have gained a reputation, but I’m a man of thirty-eight,’ he gave a self-deprecating smile, ‘and even though I have a defected mind, that doesn’t make me half a man. I am normal and there is still a lot of fire in me. Perhaps… perhaps it’s partly a drive to escape myself or look for something that’s missing, I don’t know.’ His eyes had darkened momentarily with a flicker of frustration. ‘As I’ve told you before, I’m no saint, but I like beautiful women and I have – to my knowledge – only pursued those women who didn’t want a commitment any more than I did.’

‘I’m neither criticising you nor am I reproaching you, Paolo – I have no right to, anyhow. But I was just… um… a little concerned.’ Venetia flushed and looked down at her feet. She was jealous, that was the real reason for her angst, and she was sure that he was aware of it.

Still, even if he had read her censuring thoughts, he went on as though he hadn’t guessed at Venetia’s actual feelings. ‘I would never, never try to seduce a bambina whom I almost think of as my daughter, were she the last woman on earth.’ Leaning back, he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. He looked pensive and his frown deepened. ‘But to return to Allegra, I’m now aware that there’s an ugly streak in her. Her mother was a well-known madwoman and whore, and she died from some nasty disease, though it might have been worse for Allegra had she lived. Ernestina, who apparently knew the child from their days in Elba, and the mother too, has always insisted she’s evil. I must admit I don’t believe Allegra is a bad girl, she’s just had a difficult life and now is a little spoilt – and that’s probably my fault. One day she’ll find un buon marito who will know how to calm her down – at least that’s my hope.’

A small frown of worry creased Venetia’s forehead. Even after Paolo’s long explanation, doubts still clouded her mind, although she tried to push them away. Was she being manipulated? He sounded so sincere. She could just hear Francesca’s voice, telling her not to be so naive: ‘He’s probably got a string of women he’s beguiled with charm and the right words into believing him, trusting him, and then dropped them as soon as he’s had his fun.’

Paolo’s warm gaze caught and held hers in a sudden charged silence. He then stood up and came round his desk. ‘I love you, Venetia. Ti amo piu’ di qualsiasi cosa al mondo, I love you more than anything else in the world. You are the ray of sunshine that I’ve been waiting for all these years.’

This was useless; how could she think straight when he was standing so close, pulling her up into his arms, murmuring such beautiful words while smoothing out the anxiety lines that furrowed her brow with a caressing touch?

‘You don’t believe me, cara?’

Her sigh whispered between them as he searched for her lips, his kiss melting her inside and then spreading through her whole body. They broke apart and Venetia met his sapphire eyes shining intensely as she searched them with her own. ‘Though I feel as if I’ve known you forever, I realise I have a lot to learn about you, don’t I?’

‘You’re doing fine, amore mio! These last hours I’ve spent with you have given me more happiness than I can ever remember.’ He smiled a mischievous smile. ‘That is, even if my memory only goes back ten years.’

Venetia’s eyes then filled with a soft light. She couldn’t bear to think of the ordeal he had suffered, and continued to suffer. ‘Oh Paolo, I promise I’ll furnish your memory with so many golden times that it’ll be a treasure book to replace the old ones, and all you ever need.’

‘Let me take you away for a few days, cara, so we can begin to fill this wonderful album then. Where would you like to go?’ He nipped her chin with his thumb and forefinger.

‘Are you really asking me to choose?’

‘Naturalmente. The world is vast and I’ll take you wherever you fancy.’

Venetia’s crystal laugh filled the room. ‘You’re so extreme, Paolo – I don’t need the world, though it’s very sweet of you to offer. There are so many places in Italy that I haven’t explored. I’ve always wanted to visit Sardinia, I suppose, and never had the opportunity, and apparently it’s quite unspoilt compared with the other islands. I usually go back to England for Easter, but my father is spending the holiday in Scotland with friends this year, so I was thinking of going back to Venice next week, on Good Friday, to spend it with my godmother.’

‘Sardinia is a wonderful idea. I myself would also have chosen one of the islands of Italy.’ He had his hands locked behind her waist, arching an eyebrow as his secret smile returned, ‘And Sardinia is my favourite – it has a unique way of celebrating Easter. Events take place all through the holy week. The Monday before Easter, the Lunissanti, is a very emotional ceremony in Castelsardo that starts at dawn and ends at nightfall. If we leave by plane from Pisa to Alghero tomorrow, we could be in Castelsardo in time for the evening procession, which is the most moving part of the event. Bene. I’ll rent a car for the week from the airport. Me ne occupo immediatamente, I’ll make arrangements at once.’

But Venetia was wrestling with doubts. Everything was going a little too quickly. She remembered Nanny Horren’s favourite saying: ‘The devil takes a hand in what’s done in haste.’ If she were sensible, she wouldn’t be going anywhere with him, at least not yet.

‘Are you sure? You don’t want to think about it?’

‘What is there to think about, cara?’

‘You’re so impulsive, Paolo! And then, it’s a whole week you’re talking about here, not just the Easter weekend. We haven’t yet gone through the documentation of your project. Is it very wise?’

Venetia knew she was making excuses, playing for time… all she needed really was a little push to get her to cross the slim line between Maybe not and Why not?

Paolo gazed down at her. ‘Venetia, you must take the oppor-tunity when it arises. Life’s too short is my motto, and so I make sure that important things come first. Spending a few days together in a beautiful place to get to know each other better is what counts for me, carina. All the rest is senza importanza.’ He gestured dismissively.

‘You definitely don’t waste any time.’

A spasm of pain crossed his face. ‘Having lost one life, I’ve been very fortunate to be allowed a second chance at living, and I intend to do that to the full and not waste a single moment in procrastination. I accept what is given to me today and I intend to enjoy it all.’

And as Venetia met his deep-blue brooding eyes she realised her decision was made.

She went back to La Sirena to start packing. There was a dress she was particularly fond of that she wanted to take with her, but it was missing a button. She went looking for Ernestina to ask for a needle and thread and found her sitting at the door of the stables with Antonio and Rufus. The dog sprang forward, barking ferociously as Venetia walked towards the housekeeper, and she leapt back, her heart pounding. She was not usually afraid of dogs, but she found Rufus intimidating.

It took Antonio a few seconds before he ordered the beast to sit down quietly. He smiled at Venetia slyly. ‘You mustn’t show that you’re scared of him, signorina. Rufus is usually a friendly dog, but animals, they can smell fear. Intelligent creatures, dogs. See, Rufus, here, knows he’s frightening you. He feels threatened, and that makes him act up.’

Ernestina shook her head. ‘How many times has the signore told you to keep that animal in check, eh? One day he’s going zto injure somebody,’ she told the caretaker reprovingly. ‘You were looking for me, signorina?’

‘Yes, I was wondering if you could lend me a needle and some purple thread. I need to sew back a button on one of my dresses.’

Ernestina beamed, showing off her brilliant white teeth. ‘I have a box full of threads of all tints and colours, signorina. Give me the dress and I will match the thread and sew the button on for you.’

‘Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to trouble you.’

‘There’s no trouble, signorina.’

‘That’s very kind of you.’

‘E’un piacere servire la signorina. It’s a pleasure to serve the signorina.’

At that point, Antonio whistled at Rufus to follow him and lumbered off. The two women walked back together to the cottage. Venetia took the dress out of the cupboard. A beautiful Parigi purple chiffon dress with a puffball full, short skirt and low-backed ruched bodice, it fastened at the side with twelve tiny buttons made of the same material.

‘Oh, signorina, you will steal the spotlight wherever you go in this!’ The housekeeper passed her hand lovingly over the flounces of material. ‘The colour is squisito.’ Then, noticing Venetia’s suitcase open on the table, she frowned. ‘But you are leaving us already?’

‘No, no, no, just for Easter,’ Venetia answered quickly, hoping that she wouldn’t pursue her interrogation.

At that moment there was a knock at the door. It was Paolo coming to take her out for lunch.

‘Are you ready, amore mio?’ He almost entered the room and then stopped in the doorway as he noticed the housekeeper holding the dress. This time he merely looked at Venetia, completely unembarrassed by Ernestina’s presence.

‘Oh, com’è bella! What a beautiful dress, cara. In it you will look like a purple butterfly, so dainty, così eterea, so ethereal.’

Ernestina was eyeing them with her bird-like glance and Venetia felt herself flushing.

‘Give me the button that’s missing, signorina. I’ll sew it back on and return it to your room. You’ll find it done when you come home after lunch.’

‘Thank you, Ernestina.’

The housekeeper left, carrying the dress. Paolo turned to Venetia. ‘Andiamo?’

‘Yes, I’m ready.’

‘Have you finished packing?’

‘Almost, there’s only that dress and my wash bag.’

‘Splendid then, let’s go for lunch.’

That afternoon, after lunch, they worked solidly, going over the plans, assessing, arguing. Venetia made suggestions, many of them in direct contradiction with the original designs, and though Paolo listened, discussed, and gave his ideas, she noticed that if the plans didn’t comply with her propositions, he usually altered the project here and there as they went along in accordance with her advice, almost encouraging her to make it her own. They functioned well together, taking pleasure in each other’s company, entering into each other’s enthusiasms. She was amazed at the way they got on, their brains clicking with the same perfection and compatibility as their bodies had shown that morning. They sparked off each other and when they disagreed on a point, it was only because their contrasting ideas complemented one another.

Paolo laid his hand on hers as they were studying the plans spread out on the table in front of them. ‘I’m happy that you’ve taken on this assignment, Venetia,’ he said, grinning and curling his arm around her waist, pulling her gently towards him, ‘not only because it will keep you near me, but also because you’re a brilliant architect and restorer, with a flair and taste that I’ve seldom seen. For any other firm, it would just be another contract; they would look at the project from a purely business point of view but I know that you will look at it with the eyes of your heart. You’ll weigh all the elements: aesthetics, history, conservation, and business too, and you’ll give each aspect its fair due without compromising on any one of them.’ He cocked his head and his eyes shone with admiration and love.

Venetia blushed and smiled playfully, holding on to his forearms. ‘Well, that’s certainly a vote of confidence, Signor Barone, which I hope I’ll live up to. I must admit that, to start off with, I didn’t want to get involved with the project for reasons that you might have guessed.’ She looked up at him shyly through her long lashes. ‘But although it’s a challenge, now that I’ve visited the site and seen the plans I’m really very excited about it.’

In the late afternoon they went for a stroll in the garden. Paolo had a firm arm about Venetia’s shoulders. The clear golden sunshine crowned the hills. They couldn’t see the sea, it was behind them, but the hills were beauty enough to gaze at and lose oneself in for hours at a time; and besides, they didn’t need the scenery, they had each other.

‘I’ve been starved of the warm, sweet touch of a woman and I’m hungry for more of you. I had read about this wonderful feeling… I’d heard other men talk about it and still I hadn’t found it, until today, in your arms.’ Paolo’s eyes were intense, wandering over the scenery and then back to Venetia as he spoke.

Venetia gazed up at him, seeing above her his wide shoulders rampant with masculine force and his strong protectiveness. She wondered how such a hulk of a man could be so vulnerable, and she leaned further into him as they walked, immersing herself happily in that thought. They sat on the edge of a fountain that played in a round stone lily pond and watched the goldfish swim out their circular lives.

At this hour, the garden was teaming with birdsong. A blackbird, perched on the branch of a small pine tree, was sending forth his notes, which tumbled out on to the air like a little fairy trill cascading over invisible stones. Here and there, he seemed so thrilled with the loveliness of his own song that he got the notes all jumbled up and they came out like a veritable splotch of music. From a distance away somewhere, a mistle thrush sent out his ringing like a question: Did-he-do-it? Did-he-do-it? And from farther away still came the cawing conversation of rooks. Venetia could see their black shapes flapping about the sky, the outlines ragged. They might have been pieces of black paper caught up and blown about in the wind. She revelled in the calm beauty of it all. The air, only just moving in a light breeze, felt clean, and it was so soft, passing like folds of invisible velvet over her skin. She hadn’t felt as happy and serene since those far-off days when she used to go for walks with Judd in Kew Gardens.

Later, Paolo and Venetia had dinner on the terrazzo among the dwarf potted lemon and orange trees and the large Etruscan urns overflowing with flowers. All around them was the scent of freesias, whose sweet fragrance rose like incense from the sunken garden to the terrace. They watched as the sun slipped steadily lower and lower, chasing the long shadows from the valleys, and with remarkable swiftness changed its golden flame for coral-red, as bright as a branding iron. The sea turned purple, and above, the sky darkened and began to glow with the phosphorescence of night. Then, overpowering everything else, the Tuscan islands of the Tyrrhenian Sea started to shine and blaze with hot ochre light. It seemed as if the sea itself was steaming from the immersion of these burnt-sugar creatures, covered with ice-green lichens that here and there occurred and vanished in the broad consuming glow.

After dinner, Paolo walked Venetia back to La Sirena. The moon was shining, the stars winking at them happily in the navy velvet canopy above. The sea was like a table of amethyst liquid, glistening with moonlight. In the distance, the Port of Santo Stefano wore her lights as a woman wears her diamonds, sparkling and glowing against the darker bulk of the hills behind. There was something infinitely peaceful and refreshing now that the sun had gone down; the air was as wine – cool and reviving, intoxicating the lovers.

Paolo stopped at the doorway. Their eyes met for a brief moment as Venetia hesitated, and in that instant she was conscious of every detail about him, which was enough to send wild yearning surging through her. She shivered.

‘Let’s go in,’ he murmured.

‘Oh, Paolo,’ she breathed as he tried to pick her up, while fire shot to life inside her. ‘We have a long way to go tomorrow. You need to have a good rest. You’ll be driving, and you mustn’t be tired.’ Her voice was gentle to match the quiet of the night.

He gazed down at her. ‘I’m never tired when I’m with you.’

‘Well, perhaps just a small nightcap.’ A little smile flickered around her mouth. ‘But you must promise me that you’ll go back to the house after. I don’t want to be worrying tomorrow.’ She looked at him shyly.

‘Looking at you now, cara, hard as it will be, I promise I’ll go.’

He wandered into the sitting room to pour them both a shot of grappa, while Venetia headed for the bedroom to fetch a cardigan. The temperature had dropped somewhat and she was beginning to feel slightly chilly.

Then with a little cry she stopped in the doorway, rooted to the spot. Appalled, she came into the room, unable to believe her eyes. There, lying pitifully on the ground in an unrecognisable pile was the beautiful purple dress that she had entrusted to Ernestina. It was ripped from the oval neckline through to the hem and, as if that had not been enough, the ethereal purple chiffon had been slashed in the most savage way, the shredded lengths of it scattered around the room. A cold, sick feeling gripped Venetia’s heart, crushing it with a mixture of fear and anger. It was a deliberate expression of violence and malice. She could think of only one person who could have wrought such a wanton, passionate act of hatred… Allegra.

‘Venetia, what’s wrong?’ Paolo came bursting into the room.

‘I’ve just found this.’

Paolo looked horrified as she held up the garment. ‘But how… who could have done that? I can’t believe that anybody could do something so utterly evil.’ Something indefinable flickered for a moment in his eyes but his expression was ferocious.

‘Jealousy is very corrosive.’ Venetia stared back at him, trying to control her emotion.

‘You mean Allegra?’

‘I haven’t the faintest idea, but there are not so many people at Miraggio who would have a bone to pick with me.’

‘Though I know Allegra can be swayed by her passions, I think it very unlikely that she would attack you in this underhanded way. She would be more likely to start a fight with you, I think. This is the work of someone with a tortuous mind – it is more likely to be Antonio than his niece.’

Perhaps this was true. To Venetia’s knowledge, the girl hadn’t had a chance to see the dress. Could it have been Antonio? She had difficulty imagining the caretaker doing such a thing, but maybe... As she picked up one of the pieces of ruined fabric, her eyes brimmed with unshed tears of outrage and resentment.

‘Here, cara, let me see.’

She handed it to him, but didn’t look at his face. Somehow, she couldn’t let him see how much it had affected her. Bringing it up to the lamp, he examined the thin purple cloth closely.

‘As I thought… it’s the work of an animal. Rufus… See?’ He gave her back the dress and paced the room, looking pensive. The holes made by the sharp incisors were showing clearly in some parts of the material, still damp with the dog’s saliva.

‘Yes, you’re right. Antonio must have set Rufus on it,’ she said quietly.

‘I don’t like this one bit.’ Paolo suddenly looked up and saw the look on Venetia’s face. ‘Cara, are you all right?’ He gathered her firmly into his arms, pressing his mouth against her hair. ‘Comportamento scandaloso, outrageous behaviour! I will ring my lawyer tomorrow to terminate Antonio’s contract – I want them both off Miraggio.’

‘Don’t be so quick, Paolo,’ Venetia said. She turned her face up to his, watching the scowl darken his features ominously in a way she hadn’t seen before. ‘Wait until we get back and then maybe you can have a talk with him and sort this out. I don’t want to be the cause of a rift between you and Allegra. After all, you do love her as a daughter and maybe you’ll be able to talk her into being sensible about…’ she hesitated, ‘… about us.’

It wasn’t exactly her first impulse, she thought uncharitably, but despite her bitter feelings towards the Italian girl now, she knew she would regret it later if she didn’t try to give Allegra a second chance.

There was a warm light in Paolo’s eyes. ‘Oh, amore mio, you have such a kind heart. It’s one of the things I love most about you. I’m so sorry about this nasty mess – it’s very disturbing and, yes, I’ll put it right as soon as we get back to Miraggio after Easter.’

Venetia felt herself relax a little and pulled away from him. ‘I think I could do with that drink now.’

They walked back into the sitting room and Paolo handed her one of the shots of grappa he had poured. She sipped at the fiery amber liquid and welcomed the warmth in her stomach that seeped through her limbs. She watched as he downed his own drink in one gulp. Seeing her raise her eyebrows, he glanced at her.

‘I needed that too,’ he explained. His features had grown tense and distracted again, and she knew his mind was playing on what he was going to do.

‘Paolo, please don’t worry.’

He set his glass down and started pacing again, the fingers of one hand loosely on his hip, the other combing through his hair. ‘Of course I’m worried, cara. I think I should stay with you tonight.’ He stood in front of her, his piercing blue gaze anxious.

She hesitated for a moment, putting her own glass on the small coffee table, next to the bowl of fruit. ‘No, Paolo – you don’t need to do that, I’ll be fine.’

‘Venetia, how do you think I can leave you tonight, after this?’ He reached out and traced his thumb along her bottom lip. ‘If something ever happened to you because of me, I could never forgive myself,’ he murmured.

She sighed, blinking up at him. ‘Paolo, please, we’ll sort this out. If it was Antonio, he wouldn’t actually harm me. He wouldn’t dare. It’s obvious this was just meant as scare tactics. Nothing’s going to happen. I’ve been on my own since I was nineteen and managed fine.’

‘But, cara, you’re not on your own. You have me, now.’ He took her chin in his hand.

‘Yes, I know, and it’s wonderful, believe me, Paolo. But I’m a big girl and I can look after myself. I can’t explain… it’s just important that I still can. Besides, if you stay, they will have won, whoever they are. I refuse to be intimated. My English backbone will see me through, you know that.’ In an attempt at teasing she touched his raised forearm and gave him her most plucky smile. She would not give Antonio or his niece the satisfaction of knowing they had got to her.

Paolo’s eyes were still wary but he nodded his agreement. His hands pulled her close, and she held up her flushed face. For a minute or two, he held Venetia tightly, and the hard pressure of his lips on her mouth as he bent down and kissed her was so thrilling that she almost weakened and asked him to stay the night. The temptation to lie in his comforting arms until dawn was almost overwhelming. The only measure of time was the pounding of Venetia’s heart and, unconsciously, her hands moved towards his face as the kiss slowly ended.

‘Ti adoro,’ he whispered huskily, now placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. ‘You mean everything to me. I will never let anything happen to you, Venetia.’ His eyes were shining with passion but there was also a trace of sadness as he stroked her cheek softly with his finger. Taking her hand as they both went to the door, Paolo kissed her once more. Then he walked away towards the house.

Venetia stood in the doorway until he had disappeared and she could no longer hear his steps on the gravel. Finally she went in.

She walked back to the bedroom, undoing her blouse, her mind and body still full of Paolo. Sitting on the bed, she was jolted back to reality by the sight of the pieces of ripped fabric still littering the floor. Who on earth would go to these lengths to separate her and Paolo? If Ernestina had left the door of the cottage open after having hung up the dress in the bedroom, perhaps the dog could have come in and mangled it. It was a rather far-fetched idea but, without a witness, who knew what was possible? No, surely it was the caretaker: Antonio. Ferociously in favour of his niece, obviously aware of the relationship developing between Venetia and Paolo, he had declared his own war on her to make her leave. Or Allegra herself had perhaps put him up to it. A beautiful Amazon, a nasty giant and a dangerous dog… Venetia shivered, feeling frozen to the bone in a world of hostility from which she could see no chance of escape, at least for the moment.

She glanced at her watch. It was late; she should get some sleep. She picked up the tatters of her lovely dress and stored them away in the cupboard and then, on a second thought, shoved them into her suitcase.

That night, she went through a dreary hell while she lay for hours in her bed, staring out of the open window, gazing at the moon and the stars, trying not to think of the frightening possibilities. Her imagination worked at a hundred miles an hour, conjuring all sorts of dreadful scenarios. What ogres the mind calls forth in the darkest depths of night can be dwarfed in the warm light of morning, carried away on the wings of dawn. And so Venetia told herself that she would look at things differently tomorrow. She got up, made herself a cup of hot milk, and went back to bed, finally dropping off into a restless sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Paolo dressed quickly and made his way to his study. Perhaps Venetia was right, he thought, as he strode through the dark gothic corridors of the house; he ought to wait to deal with Antonio until after they returned from Sardinia, when he had calmed down.

But he’d made up his mind: the man had to go. That the caretaker could have let his dog into the cottage with the deliberate intention of scaring Venetia, even if she wasn’t there, was unthinkable. And if she had been there, what then? Would he have hurt her, even accidentally? Antonio had always been protective of Allegra, and would probably do anything for her if he thought she was threatened in some way. He had never been any trouble before, but Paolo wouldn’t be able to trust the man again. He had been thinking about the problem of the caretaker and his niece even before Venetia had come on to the scene. And if he and Venetia were to be together… No, Antonio was finished at Miraggio.

He frowned deeply. As for Allegra… He hadn’t promised Venetia that he would defer dealing with her. At first light, when Ernestina had brought him coffee in his room, he had asked the housekeeper to tell Allegra to meet him in his study in an hour. He was going to have it out with the girl before he set foot on a plane to Sardinia. This was a conversation he couldn’t put off. His fury at her behaviour was unlike any he could remember since taking her in all those years ago. Had he misjudged how damaged she was?

Her constantly dissolute ways were one thing – he had shown weakness there out of indulgence, and a mistaken faith that she would grow up, change. This new outrage wasn’t just designed to get his attention, like her other unsavoury antics; this time, she had involved Venetia. Well, she had his attention now, she could be sure of that. He had loved and trusted her like a daughter but she had repaid him with bitterness and betrayal.

As he strode up the steps to his study, Paolo tried to calm himself, wrestling with disappointment and anger. When he opened the door, she was already there, draped in one of the armchairs near the door. She was wearing a low-cut green dress, fitted at the bodice with a flowing skirt that was hitched up around her thighs as she hung her shapely legs over the side of the chair. Paolo regarded her coldly. It was now even more distasteful to him that she persisted in flaunting herself with such unsubtle and adolescent clumsiness.

‘You wanted to see me, Paolo?’ Allegra stared at him, her voice sweetly purring and her smile innocent, though it did not reach her eyes.

‘Yes. Was it you or Antonio?’ He cut straight to the point.

‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Paolo.’

If he was unsure before, Paolo now knew the truth. Just by looking at her he could tell that she knew exactly what had happened, and a fierce mixture of all the anger, disappointment and guilt that he’d been feeling towards her surged through him. He stood in front of her, his hands behind his back, struggling to keep his composure.

‘What you did was unforgivable, Allegra. An act of pure malice that I would never have thought you capable of! Now I know better, and I cannot forgive you for that.’

The young woman watched him through her thick, black lashes for a moment, seemingly unfazed by his outburst, but didn’t answer.

Paolo glowered at her and gritted his teeth. ‘The dress, Allegra – Venetia’s dress! You got Antonio to set his hound on it, didn’t you? Thought you’d try and scare off your “rival”, no?’

‘Fine, the dress, Paolo! Yes, I might have asked Zio Antonio to help me make you see sense. It just isn’t fair that you spend so much time with that woman. What can she give you that I can’t?’ She pouted and shifted sulkily in her chair.

Paolo blinked, incredulous. ‘So you thought breaking into the cottage and getting Rufus to savage her clothes was the solution? What if she had been there? She would have been terrified!’

‘So what? Perhaps being a little scared would have made her reconsider her stay here and she would have run off back to Venice, where she belongs.’

He paused, trying to rein in his temper and his voice was dangerously low. ‘She belongs here with me, Allegra, and I cannot give you what you want from me. You’ll just have to accept this is the way things are.’

The raven-haired girl suddenly jumped out of her chair and rounded on him, her eyes now wild.

‘I will never accept that Englishwoman as long as I breathe!’

His brow furrowed. ‘Dio mio! Stop acting like a child, Allegra.’

‘I’m not a child. I’m a woman and the sooner you see that, the better,’ she hissed acidly. ‘This Englishwoman cannot give you the kind of love you need. She doesn’t know you – I do!’

Paolo’s eyes frosted and his stare was unwavering. ‘This is the first time I have found real love with a woman and I mean to marry Venetia.’

Stunned, the young woman took a step back from him. He could see in her eyes the realisation that she was finally defeated.

‘Yes, Allegra, it’s true. I have never met a woman that I cared about enough to replace my wife. Now I have. And I will not have you jeopardise that through your misguided, adolescent feelings for me. I care about you, but not in the way you want. I’ve never given you any cause to think that I have.’ His voice softened a little. ‘I’m sorry, cara.’

She gazed blankly back at him and seemed to gather her wits before her features contorted with frustrated rage. ‘Then she will know what it is like to yearn for a man and never have him! I have learned things that will teach her the meaning of despair,’ she spat, her hands clenched at her sides while her breathing came thick and fast.

Paolo blanched, but ice-blue anger flashed in his eyes. ‘Leave her alone. I mean it, Allegra. If anything happens to Venetia, I’ll hold you personally responsible and you will never see me again.’ His voice was low and restrained but with an under-current of something more menacing.

Allegra stared at him, fear and longing sparking in her dark eyes. Paolo knew at that moment that he still held a power over her. She took a step forward, desperation now in her gaze, but for him she had passed the point of no return.

Paolo turned and faced the tall picture window, flicking his Zippo lighter open. He dragged on his cigarette then blew out the flame, his eyes empty, scanning the vista of cliffs, forests and the rolling Tyrrhenian Sea stretching away from the house.

‘As it is, I want you gone from Miraggio. You leave me no choice. I am buying a small house for you in Porto Ercole, where you should be comfortable. If you agree to take up your studies again and make something of yourself, you will also receive a regular allowance from me, enough to see you through to a career of your choice.’

Allegra scoffed. ‘Studies? I know all I need to know! I have plans of my own,’ she whispered, the proud emotion trembling in her voice. Paolo turned and saw the dark rebellion in her face. Resigned, he waved a hand vaguely in the air.

‘As you like, Allegra – the offer will always be there.’

Allegra turned on her heels and stalked towards the door. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she muttered, ‘You can keep your Englishwoman, I don’t need you any more, Paolo.’

He looked at her, a mixture of sadness and relief washing through him, but he said nothing. They exchanged one last look and she was gone.

Paolo sighed. Perhaps Allegra would cool down, change her ways, and they could re-establish some kind of relationship. He was still fond of her and wanted to see her rise above the wretched misery of her childhood and learn how to be happy. The house he had spotted in Porto Ercole would provide a good life for her and for her uncle. She would still be close enough for him to visit from time to time, but also far enough to be out of Venetia’s way and not cause any trouble.

He looked out into the sky as it clouded over and narrowed his eyes, turning his lighter over in his fingers.

‘So many complications,’ he murmured.