Married Under The Italian Sun

‘Surely not!’ Angel said ironically. ‘Why would anyone think you wanted to murder me? I know you hate the sight of me, but who knows about it—apart from everyone in the area?’

He grimaced. ‘All right, you’ve made your point.’

‘Then tell me, what were you doing there?’

‘I went to look at the cliff.’

‘You knew it was dangerous?’

‘Only since late last night. Rico called me and said he’d noticed that it was dangerous at that point. He didn’t know what to do.’

‘He could have told me.’

He gave her an ironic look.

‘The poor lad is scared stiff of you. He came to me because that’s what he’s always done. I said I’d check it today, and that’s why I was there. I was going to cordon it off, then come to inform you.’

‘Oh, you were going to let me know what was happening? But only after you’d checked it.’

Vittorio let out his breath in exasperation.

‘All right,’ he said, with exaggerated patience. ‘Just tell me what you’d have done. How would you deal with a crumbling cliff?’

The silence was jagged as they faced each other.

‘You want me to say I’d come to you, don’t you?’ she seethed.

‘I don’t care what you say, only what you do. I hope you’d have had enough common sense to call me, but I don’t count on it.’

‘You’ve got a nerve!’

‘It depends whether you love this place more than you resent me.’

She sighed. ‘You’ve got me there, haven’t you? After all, you love it more than you resent me, or I wouldn’t be alive now. I guess I have to respect that.’

‘Much against your will, of course.’

She spoke through gritted teeth. ‘Look, I’m trying.’

‘I know. It’s years since I enjoyed anything so much.’

‘All right, have your laugh. But please come and look after the estate before it goes to rack and ruin. That is—if you can bear to.’

‘I can bear to. I told you once before that taking care of the land is the only thing that matters. Next to that, nobody’s feelings count. I’ll do a good job for you, and get your lemons in prime condition for the harvest, but I must have a free hand, and you have to take my advice.’

She opened her mouth to protest about this high-handed way of putting it, but then closed it again. He was right. She had no choice.

‘All right,’ she said.

‘My first piece of advice is to get the other gardeners back.’

‘No, it’s not fair to leave it all to Rico, is it?’ she agreed. ‘Plus, he helped to save my life.’

‘True. You should give him a bonus. There’s a heavy workload, not just for the lemons, but the rest of the garden. You sell that produce as well, at least you will sell it if it’s properly tended.’

‘Can I leave it to you to contact the other two gardeners?’

‘Certainly. And my second piece of advice is that you need some fertiliser delivered fast.’

‘Please order it. Is this a truce?’

‘I suppose it is.’

‘Don’t strain yourself,’ she said indignantly. ‘We can make it an armed truce if you prefer.’

‘That might work better.’

‘How much do I pay you?’

‘I’ll send you a formal memo.’ He added with a faint smile, ‘Under an emblem of crossed swords.’

‘Surely sheathed swords is more appropriate?’ Angel asked lightly.

Vittorio regarded her, his head on one side, his smile unreadable.

‘Let’s see how things work out before we sheath our swords.’

Angel slept badly that night. As soon as she closed her eyes, she was back hanging over the drop. Somehow she knew that this was a dream, but would struggle to save herself, feeling certain that she could now manage without him. But Vittorio was always there, hauling her back to safety.

Then she was lying on the grass again, held against him, gasping and feeling her heart pounding. That was when she awoke to find it was still happening, and she would have to calm herself down before she could go back to sleep. But she seemed to be stuck in a loop of terror and excitement that repeated again and again, until she faced the truth—that she had wanted to feel his hands on her. In fact, she had wanted it ever since the first day in the kitchen.

‘It ought to be enough that I dislike him,’ she muttered crossly, when she’d woken up for the third time. ‘You’d think that would protect me.’

But there were some things against which there was no defence.

That kind of consciousness, Angel discovered, was an insidious thing. It didn’t leave you alone for a moment. It was there even when a man was talking to you with barely concealed impatience, without even looking at you properly, all his attention directed at the papers he was spreading out. You might try to concentrate on the figures he was explaining, but you couldn’t help noticing the shapeliness of his hands, or remembering their unexpected power. And afterwards you wouldn’t be able to recall any of the figures.

The gardeners were re-employed and Vittorio brought them to be introduced to her. In a private talk afterwards, he told Angel what he had promised them in wages, and what she would be paying him. She had an odd feeling that he was accepting less than he was entitled to, but his distant manner forbade her to mention it.

The gardeners were polite to her, but there was no doubt whom they regarded as their real employer. In fairness, Angel had to admit that they had a point.

‘Is all this agreeable to you, padrona?’ Vittorio finally asked.

‘I’ve put everything in your hands, and I won’t go back on my word.’

He gave a brief, wry smile. ‘Of course not, since it would not be in your own interests to do so.’

‘Meaning that you think I couldn’t be trusted otherwise?’