‘How dare you speak to me like this?’ His voice was cold steel. ‘This is no concern of yours.’
‘Sophia made it my concern when she asked me to speak to you.’ Cherry forced her tone to remain quiet, although her face burned with heat. How did you get through to a man like Vittorio—a man who thought he was right about everything? ‘I didn’t want to, I can assure you. I knew exactly how you would react.’ Actually, he’d been more calm than she’d expected.
‘Is this so?’ His glittering eyes locked with hers. ‘You think I should be glad that my sixteen-year-old sister has thrown her life away? That she is going to be a mother?’
Swamped by the feeling she was making matters worse and not better, Cherry took a deep breath. ‘I know this is not ideal, but it’s happened and Sophia wants the baby. She wouldn’t agree to an abortion,’ she added on a warning note.
‘You think I would suggest such a thing?’ If he had been angry before he was now livid. ‘What kind of man do you think I am? A monster? Is that it?’
If she answered that honestly it would do nothing to defuse the situation. ‘I don’t know,’ she said neutrally. ‘As you pointed out earlier, before today I hadn’t met you or Sophia. And, believe me, I wish I’d spent the night in the car rather than be in the middle of all this.’
He stared at her, and as he did so she watched him make a huge effort to control his temper. It was clear her words had reminded him she was a guest in his house when he said, ‘I must apologise, Cherry. Sophia was wrong to ask of you what she did, but this does not excuse my behaviour.’
His mastery of his emotions was impressive. Taken aback, she murmured awkwardly, ‘That’s all right. It—it was a shock. And I wanted to help. I still do. If you want me to stay until Sophia and Santo come—’
‘That will not be necessary.’ It was polite, but rage still simmered under the surface. ‘This is not your problem.’
She stood up and he rose too, his manners once again impeccable. ‘Don’t push her away,’ Cherry said from the heart, without stopping to consider her words—because if she did she wouldn’t dare speak them. ‘She knows you’ll be disappointed and angry, but give her and Santo a chance to talk to you. She loves you very much and this is a time when she needs your help, not rejection. And Santo—he really has been led by her in this.’
‘You are asking me to keep my hands off Santo’s throat?’ he said with a spark of dark humour. ‘Is that it?’
‘Not just that. The person who said “sticks and stones may break your bones but names will never hurt you” didn’t know what they were on about. Words can do deeper harm than any physical blow.’ She knew. She had lived with her mother and Angela for many years before she’d been able to make her escape. ‘And once said, you can’t take them back.’
His eyes narrowed, and he reached out a hand and lifted her chin so she was forced to meet his gaze. ‘Why do you care so much about Sophia?’ he asked softly. ‘You barely know her.’
Her heart was thudding as she felt his strength and warmth flow into her through his fingers, and the delicious smell of him invaded her senses. It was in that moment that she realised it wasn’t so much the sister but the brother she was concerned about. Sophia would be fine. She had her Santo and the baby. But Vittorio… And then she told herself not to be so monumentally stupid. If anyone could stand on their own two feet and take what life dished out it was Vittorio Carella.
She shrugged. Vittorio seemed quite unaffected by her closeness, but his nearness was turning her insides to melted butter. ‘We’re all sisters under the skin,’ she managed fairly lightly. ‘And I like Sophia. That’s all.’
She didn’t expect him to bend his head towards her, or the hard sweet kiss that followed. And then he stepped back a pace, steadying her when she swayed slightly. ‘Go to bed, Cherry,’ he said expressionlessly, his hands leaving her body. ‘It has been a long day, si? Breakfast is at seven-thirty.’
Vittorio had not prolonged the kiss, so why was it that this man only had to touch her and a wild kind of exhilaration filled her? She didn’t even know if she liked him, for goodness’ sake. It was humiliating at best and dangerous at worst, but thank goodness he couldn’t read her mind.
‘Goodnight.’ She suddenly needed the safety of her room. ‘And—and thank you again for your hospitality.’
He smiled cynically. ‘In spite of the fact you would have preferred the peace and quiet of your little car?’
She’d asked for that one, she thought as she turned and left. She glanced back at him before walking into the house. He was standing where she’d left him, gazing over the dark grounds, his big figure dark and brooding.
Go to bed, a little voice at the back of her mind spoke firmly. You’ve done all you can. It’s up to them now.
Once in her bedroom she undressed and showered quickly, pulling on one of the two pairs of cotton pyjamas she’d brought with her for the trip before climbing into bed. It was extremely comfortable, but in spite of that she lay staring into the shadowed room, lit only by the moonlight streaming in through the windows. The night sky was black, with myriad tiny stars sparkling like diamonds, and the perfume of the Carella gardens drifted through the window, bathing the room in a soft rich scent. England seemed a million miles away, and Angela and Liam and all the heartache connected with them might have happened in another lifetime. All her thoughts and emotions were tied up with the tall dark man standing, waiting on the veranda, and she found herself praying desperately he wouldn’t do or say anything he would regret.
What happened in this family shouldn’t really matter. They were nothing to her after all. She had only known Vittorio and his sister for a matter of hours, and she hadn’t even met Santo, but in spite of telling herself this over and over again she couldn’t deny the fact it did matter. Terribly. Which was crazy. She wrinkled her nose at herself. Crazy woman, that was her.
She lay, her ears straining for any sound which would indicate Sophia and Santo were downstairs, but the night was quiet. Maybe Sophia had gone to see Santo and he wasn’t at home? Or perhaps she had told him about the baby and he wanted nothing to do with her? Or it could be that the pair of them had come to the house and Vittorio had thrown Santo off the property? But she would have heard the sound of raised voices, surely? Or maybe Sophia was too frightened to return?
These and a hundred and one other possibilities went round and round in her head until it began to ache. Giving up all hope of sleep, she slid out of bed and walked over to the windows, stepping out on to the balcony which was still warm from the heat of the day. Sitting down, she sighed softly. It was beautiful and so peaceful here, she thought idly. Not like the pensioni in Lecce, where the suitor of the young Italian girl in the house next door had used to rev up his Vespa under her window each night before leaving, presumably to impress her. This followed the same philosophy of every young Italian male to prove his voice, motor-bicycle or radio to be louder than anyone else’s—the necessity of cutting a dash was of prime importance, she reflected ruefully.
Cherry shifted in the chair, leaning her elbows on the stone surround of the balcony as she drank in the perfumed air.
But then, she thought on, it was hardly surprising that the Italians were a people of strong emotions, living as they did in a land of such powerfully distinct colours. A
zure sky, cobalt sea, golden sunshine, silver olives, green vines, red brick, white marble—the list was endless. She had read somewhere before starting on her journey that the three major active volcanoes on the entire continent were all situated in Italy, and since arriving on its shores that didn’t surprise her. In fact it was fitting for such a fiery, passionate race. She just hoped the simmering volcano in the shape of Vittorio downstairs didn’t explode tonight.
She sat on for another hour or more, until she found herself dozing in the chair and returned to bed. She was on the verge of falling asleep when she heard a soft knock at her door. Sure it was Sophia, she flung back the light covers and padded barefoot across the room, opening the door quietly.
‘Did I wake you?’ Vittorio was leaning against the far wall, hands thrust in his pockets and his expression hidden in the shadows. ‘Were you asleep?’