Husband By Necessity

‘Because I’m not,’ he said simply. ‘I never can be. I was born a part of another family, my mother and my father. My name was Bernardo Tornese. To the people here it still is.’

‘Only to them?’

He hesitated. ‘Legally I am Martelli. Baptista changed my name when I was still a child, unable to prevent it.’

‘But she must have meant to be kind, giving you your father’s name.’

‘I know, and I honour her for it, as I honour her for all her kindness. It can’t have been easy for her to take me in and live with the constant reminder of her husband’s infidelity.

‘She’s been good to me in other ways, too. My father bought this house and several other properties in the village, presumably meaning them to pass to my mother, and then to me. But when he died they were still in his name, and they became Baptista’s. She said they were mine by right, signed them over to me, and administered them until I was of age.’

‘What a magnificent woman!’

‘Yes. Her sense of duty towards me has never failed.’

‘But was it only duty? Perhaps she was fond of you as well?’

He frown. ‘How could she be? Think how she must have hated my mother!’

‘Has she ever behaved as though she did?’

‘Never. She has treated me like her own sons, but I’ve always wondered what lay beneath it.’

Angie was about to say something conventionally polite about Baptista’s motives when she remembered her impression of yesterday, that beneath the charming surface the old woman had a steely will.

‘How did you come to meet her?’ she asked.

‘She turned up here a few days after my parents’ death, and said she’d come to take me to my father’s home. I didn’t want to go, but I had no choice. As soon as I could, I ran away.’

‘And came back here,’ Angie said at once, and was rewarded by his smile at her understanding.

‘Yes, I came back here, where I felt I belonged. Of course I was fetched back, but I escaped again. This time I hid out in the mountains, and when they found me I had a fever. By the time I was well again, I knew it was useless to run away. Many women, in Baptista’s position would have left me to my fate, and I suppose I was an ungrateful wretch—’

‘But you were a child and you’d just lost your parents,’ Angie said sympathetically. ‘No wonder you weren’t thinking straight.’

‘Yes. If it had happened a little later, I think I could have appreciated her generosity more. As it was, I saw only an attempt to wipe my mother out of the record. That’s why I cling to her name. Inside myself I am still Bernardo Tornese.’

Since he’d opened up so far Angie ventured to ask, ‘What were you going to tell me about Ellona, as we drove up?’

‘The villa you saw there is part of the estate of Bella Rosaria which belongs to Baptista. That was where she took me after I recovered from the fever. I used to awaken in the night and hear her weeping for my father’s death.’

His face was troubled and Angie held her breath, feeling something happen here that was beautiful and mysterious. But before she could speak he forced a smile and said, ‘Why are we talking about sad things? Let us take our wine outside.’

The shadows were beginning to lengthen and it was deliciously cool by the fountain. Smiling, she watched their reflections. But then something made her look up, and what she saw in Bernardo’s eyes caused the breath to catch in her throat.

Slowly he took her hand in his and held it for a moment, touching it almost reverently. He said nothing, and in the silence Angie could hear her heart hammering. He wasn’t even kissing her, just holding her hand as hesitantly as a boy, yet she could feel herself responding so intensely that she was almost scared.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Always before she’d been in control. Suddenly she wasn’t in control of anything, especially her own feelings. She felt like someone who’d set out to take a pleasant day trip and found themselves clinging onto a runaway train. In another moment he really would kiss her, and she wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

The soft shrill of his mobile phone shattered the moment. Bernardo took a long breath and answered it reluctantly. ‘Yes?’ he said, sounding ragged.

Angie watched a change come over his face as he listened. Finally he said, ‘We’ll be right there.’ He shut off the phone and said, ‘That was Renato. There’s been an accident on the boat. Heather nearly drowned. He asks that you go to her at once.’

‘Of course.’

On the way down the mountain he explained tersely, ‘She and Renato went out on the Jet Ski, and she fell off. When he turned back to look for her she’d gone under. It sounds like a nasty moment. Luckily he found her fairly quickly. He called me from the boat. They should reach the port about the same time we do.’

At last the port of Mondello came into view. The Santa Maria was just tying up. Angie jumped from the car while it was still moving and took Renato’s outstretched hand onto the boat.

She found Heather sleeping in the big bedroom. To Angie’s relief her colour was good and she was breathing normally. She woke at Angie’s touch and gave her a sleepy smile.

‘Trust you to get in the wars,’ Angie said. ‘Renato sent for me.’

Heather eyed her wickedly, ‘I hope you weren’t interrupted at too difficult a moment.’

‘There’ll be others,’ Angie said, conscious that she was colouring. ‘I want you to spend tomorrow in bed. We’ll leave as soon as you’re better.’

Renato drove them home, Angie travelling in the same car as Heather, and Bernardo following on behind. She tried to give her friend all her attention, but inwardly she was thinking of Montedoro, another world, where eagles soared and spirits were free.

CHAPTER THREE

BERNARDO remained at the Residenza next day, but they had little time alone. Angie felt duty-bound to stay close to Heather, who slept most of the time under the influence of a sedative. Also, she found herself caught up in a family crisis.

‘Renato called Lorenzo,’ Bernardo told her. ‘But he’d checked out of his hotel in Stockholm this morning.’

‘But—I don’t understand. He was supposed to stay until tomorrow.’

‘I know. But he’s gone, and nobody knows where.’

‘He’s not playing fast and loose, is he?’ Angie demanded suspiciously.

‘How do you mean?’

‘Having a final fling before the wedding. I’ve heard about continental men.’

‘I’ll be—!’ Bernardo exclaimed, nettled. ‘That’s not only unjust, it’s bigoted, prejudiced—and I don’t know what. It’s practically racist. In fact, it is racist.’

‘Well, Italians do have rather a reputation.’ Angie said illogically.

‘Does that mean Lorenzo lives up to it? Do all Englishmen act the same way?’

‘Well, no. But I don’t know Lorenzo well enough to say what he is like. And, as his brother, you probably do.’

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. ‘Yes, I’m sorry.’

‘No, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.’

He looked at her with a little smile that made her heart turn over. ‘I think we just had our first quarrel.’