Swept Away!: Accidentally Expecting! / Salzano's Captive Bride / Hawaiian Sunset, Dream Proposal

Looking up, she saw that he was staring out into the darkness. She could see his reflection faintly in the window. His eyes were open and held a faraway expression, as though he could see something in the gloom that was hidden from her and which filled him with a melancholy intensity.

He looked back at her and smiled, rising reluctantly to his feet and holding out his hand. ‘Let’s go.’

At the door to her carriage, he paused and said gently, ‘Don’t worry about anything. I promise you, it’s all going to work out. Goodnight.’

Ferne slipped into the carriage, moving quietly so as not to waken Hope, who was asleep. In a moment she’d skimmed up the ladder and settled down in bed, staring into the night, wondering about the man she’d just left. He was likeable in a mad sort of way, and she didn’t mind spending some time in his company, as long as it was strictly casual.

But she didn’t brood. The rocking of the train was hypnotic, and she was soon asleep.

Next morning there was just time for a quick snack before they arrived. Hope looked eagerly out of the window, wondering which of her sons would meet them.

‘Justin’s in England and Luke’s in Rome,’ she said. ‘Carlo’s in Sicily and won’t be back for a couple of days. It’ll be one of the other three.’

In the end three sons were waiting at the station, waving and cheering as the train pulled in. They embraced their parents exuberantly, clapped Dante on the shoulder and eyed Ferne with interest.

‘These are Francesco, Ruggiero and Primo,’ Toni explained. ‘Don’t try to sort them out just now. We’ll do the introductions later.’

‘Ferne has had a misfortune and will be staying with us until it’s sorted out,’ Hope said. ‘Now, I’m longing to get home.’

There were two cars. Hope, Toni and Ferne rode in the first, driven by Francesco, while the other two brothers took Dante and the luggage in the second.

All the way home Hope looked eagerly out of the window, until at last she seized Ferne’s arm and said, ‘Look. That’s the Villa Rinucci.’

Ferne followed her gaze up to the top of a hill, on which was perched a large villa facing out over Naples and the sea. She was entranced by the place; it was bathed in golden sun, and looked as though it contained both beauty and safety.

As they grew nearer she saw that the house was larger than she’d realised at first. Trees surrounded it, but the villa was on slightly higher ground, so that it seemed to be growing out of the trees. A plump woman, followed by two buxom young girls, came out to watch the cars arriving, all waving eagerly.

‘That’s Elena, my housekeeper,’ Hope told Ferne. ‘The two girls are her nieces who are working here for a couple of weeks, because there will be so many of us—and plenty of children, I’m glad to say. I called Elena while we were still on the train, to tell her you were coming and would need a room.’

The next moment they stopped, the door was pulled open and Ferne was being shown up the steps onto the wide terrace that surrounded the house, and then inside.

‘Why don’t you go up to your room at once?’ Hope asked. ‘Come down when you’re ready and meet these villains I call my sons.’

‘These villains’ were smiling with pleasure at seeing their parents again and Ferne slipped away, understanding that they would want to be free of her for a while.

Her room was luxurious, with its own bathroom and a wide, comfortable-looking bed. Going to the window, she found she was at the front of the house, with a stunning view over the Bay of Naples. It was at its best just now, the water glittering in the morning sun, stretching away to the horizon, seeming to offer an infinity of pleasure and unknown delight.

Quickly she showered and changed into a dress of pale blue, cut on simple lines but fashionable. At least she would be able to hold her head up in elegant Italy.

She heard laughter from below, and looked out of the window to where the Rinucci family were seated around a rustic wooden table under the trees, talking and laughing in a gentle manner that made a sudden warmth come over her heart.

Her own family life had been happy but sparse. She was an only child, born to parents who were themselves only-children. One set of grandparents had died early, the other had emigrated to Australia.

Now her father was dead and her mother had gone to live with her own parents in Australia. Ferne could have gone too, but had chosen to stay in London to pursue a promising career. So there was only herself to blame that she was lonely, that there had been nobody to lend a sympathetic ear when the crash had come with Sandor Jayley.

There had been friends, of course, nights out with the girls that she’d genuinely enjoyed. But they were career women like herself, less inclined to sympathise than congratulate her on the coup she’d pulled off. She’d always returned to an empty flat, the silence and the memories.

But something told her that the Villa Rinucci was never truly empty, and she was assailed by delight as she gazed down at the little gathering.

Hope looked up and waved, signalling for her to join them, and Ferne hurried eagerly down the stairs and out onto the terrace. As she approached the table the young men stood up with an old-fashioned courtesy that she found charming, and Dante stepped forward to take her hand and lead her forward. Hope rose and kissed her.

‘This is the lady who joined us on the train and who will be staying with us for a while,’ she said.

She began to introduce the young men—first Primo, stepson from her first marriage, then Ruggiero, one of her sons by Toni. Both men were tall and dark. Primo’s face was slightly heavier, while Ruggiero’s features had a mobility that reminded her slightly of his cousin, Dante.

Francesco had a brooding quality, as though his mind carried some burden. Like the other two, he greeted her warmly, but then said, ‘I’d better go now, Mamma. I want to get home before Celia.’

‘Doesn’t she ever get suspicious about how often that happens?’ Hope asked.

‘Always, and she tells me to stop, but—’ He gave a resigned shrug. ‘I do it anyway.’ To Ferne he added, ‘My wife is blind, and she gets very cross if she thinks I’m fussing over her, but I can’t help it.’

‘Go on home,’ Hope told him. ‘Just be sure you’re at the party tomorrow.’

He embraced her fondly and departed. Almost at once another car appeared and disgorged two young women. One was dark, and so gracefully beautiful that even her pregnancy-bump couldn’t detract from her elegance. The other was fair, pretty in a way that was sensible rather than exotic, and was accompanied by an eager toddler.

‘This is my wife, Olympia,’ Primo said, drawing the pregnant woman forward to meet Ferne.

‘And this is my wife, Polly,’ Ruggiero said, indicating the fair young woman.

At this distance she could see that Polly too was pregnant, possibly about five months. Her husband’s attitude to her seemed protective, and again Ferne was pervaded by the feeling of contentment that she’d had earlier. Just being here, among people so happy to be together, was enough to create it.

It was soon time for lunch. Hope led the way indoors to inspect the meal Elena was preparing, taste things and give her opinion. In this she was joined not only by her daughters-in-law but her sons, who savoured the dishes and offered advice freely—sometimes too freely, as their mother informed them.

‘So it’s true what they say about Italian men,’ Ferne observed, amused.

‘What do they say about us?’ Dante murmured in her ear. ‘I’m longing to know.’

‘Why, that you’re all fantastic cooks, of course. What did you think I meant?’

He gave a disillusioned sigh. ‘Nothing, nothing. Yes, we’re all interested in cooking. Not like Englishmen, who eat sausage and mash on every occasion.’ Suddenly he looked closely at her face. ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Why are you looking troubled?’

‘I just suddenly thought—perhaps I should telephone the consulate. They might have some news by now.’

‘This afternoon I’ll drive you into Naples and we’ll visit the consulate here. They can get onto the Milan consulate. Now, let’s forget boring reality and concentrate on the important things—enjoying ourselves.’

‘Yes, let’s,’ she said happily.

Dante was as good as his word, borrowing Toni’s car after lunch and driving her down the hill through the streets of the old town until they reached their destination near the coast.

There the news was bleak. Neither her passport nor her credit cards had been recovered.

‘Considering how quickly they were reported, it looks as though someone made off with them,’ Dante observed. ‘But hopefully they won’t be any use to them.’

‘We can arrange a temporary passport,’ the young woman at the desk said. ‘But it will take a few days. There’s a kiosk over there for the photograph.’

‘No need, I’ll take it,’ Dante said. Eyeing Ferne’s bag, he added, ‘If you’ll lend me your camera.’

She handed it to him. ‘What made you so sure I had it?’