Second Marriage

'You do not have to.' He took a deep, shuddering breath, obviously fighting for control, and then said, his voice flat now and almost indifferent, 'If it was not for the fact that you are Grace's friend, and of necessity part of the family for the time you stay in Italy, I would not countenance justifying such accusations with the favour of a reply. However…' he stared at her, his eyes nar­rowed and as hard as black ice '…you will be around for some time and so I will spell it out for you.

'I was not a virgin when I married Bianca, but neither had I run my love-life like a stallion at a stud farm. OK? And one more thing.' Now the eyes were blazing with a rage that was all-consuming. 'You need have no fear that what happened tonight will ever be repeated—you understand this? It was not planned, it was a momentary thing, a whim.' The scorn and contempt in his face as he slowly looked her over was almost more than she could bear. 'And it was not even particularly enjoyable.'

CHAPTER FOUR

She had deserved it. As Claire swam up and down the Olympic-size pool, putting every ounce of energy into the fierce exercise as though trying to purge her mind of everything but the physical, the thought that had haunted her since that dreadful night three weeks ago remained stark and clear. She had deserved those last cutting words Romano had growled at her, but, oh, that didn't make them any easier to swallow.

He had driven her home in a taut, arctic silence, she still ensconced in the massive robe, and she had left the car without a word outside Casa Pontina, watching him roar off down the drive with the sickening feeling that she had just made the biggest fool of herself ever, be­sides alienating Donato and Grace's best friend.

He had called by several times since then, but she had noticed that he carefully avoided being in the same room as her if he could help it. And although he had been very polite and tactful about it she hadn't been surprised when Grace had spoken to her after his first visit, her face concerned.

'Claire?' They had been sitting in Grace's own sitting room in the wing of the house Donato and Grace had christened Bambina Pontina when Donato had had it built. 'You and Romano didn't have an argument or any­thing on Saturday night, did you? Everything is all right between you two?'

'Of course.' The last thing she wanted to do was worry Grace at this stage in her pregnancy. 'Everything is fine, Grace, don't worry. I just don't think we are particularly compatible, that's all. We don't have any­thing in common to talk about—that's probably what you've sensed.'

'Unlike Signor de'Medici?' Grace responded with a teasing smile. 'I've noticed you two seem to have hit it off quite well.'

'Attilio is nice enough,' Claire said quietly, 'and he's certainly an excellent tutor. How long has he been teach­ing Lorenzo?'

'Some years. Liliana didn't want him to go away to school or attend one in the district. Lorenzo was only five when his father died and apparently he was quite badly affected at the time. Liliana felt the adjustment of schoolife on top of that would have been too great a burden on the child. Attilio was recommended by a friend of hers and he and Lorenzo liked each other from the start, so it was arranged he would teach Lorenzo from eight to two on weekdays. It's been very successful and he's very good with Lorenzo—and Benito,' she added wryly. 'Although he did put his foot down about having lessons in the same room as Benito.'

'I can understand that.' The parrot could be extremely vocal if he felt he wasn't getting his due share of atten­tion.

'He's very good-looking, isn't he?' Grace remarked casually, although her eyes narrowed as she waited for Claire's response.

'I suppose so,' Claire answered vacantly. 'Yes, he's all right.'

'Just all right,' Grace repeated slowly. 'Oh, well…'

Claire climbed out of the pool now, and stood panting for a few moments in the cool air. It was the beginning of March and the day was a pleasant one, the tempera­ture mild and soft, but the sun was still without any real warmth and the fierce heat of summer had yet to make an appearance.

She was just reaching for her robe, which she had placed at the pool's edge, when Lorenzo bounded into view, closely followed by Attilio. 'Oh, Claire, you aren't going, are you?' Lorenzo said immediately. 'Stay a little longer and have a game with us, please?'

'I

don't know…'

'It would be good if you stayed, Claire. I think maybe I shall be in trouble if you don't?' Attilio said lightly. 'This young man has been pestering me for a swim for the last half an hour, knowing you were out here, but I am a hard taskmaster and insisted he finished his work first'

She smiled uncertainly. Taken at face value there was nothing in the tutor's words to make her feel uneasy, but certainly in the last couple of weeks there had been one or two occasions when she had felt Attilio was attracted to her, and if he was feeling that way she didn't want to encourage it by word or action. He was good-looking—very good-looking—with his dark eyes and skin and light brown, almost blond hair, but although she enjoyed his company on a day-to-day level she didn't feel any interest beyond friendship.

Attilio had always been the perfect gentleman, as well as amusing and inoffensive, but he had somehow man­aged to wind the fact that he was at present unattached into their conversations, along with an outline of his pedigree, his preference for English and American girls, and his longing to settle down, at the age of twenty-nine, with the 'right' girl. There had been several incidents, like today, when he and Lorenzo had sought her out once their day's work was finished, and it just made her feel uncomfortable, knowing, as she did, that there could never be anything between them of a romantic nature.

'Come on, Claire.' Lorenzo decided the matter by the simple expedient of whisking her robe out of her hand and pulling her into the clear blue water, where the weak, watery sun caused the ripples to glitter and frag­ment into hundreds of tiny shiny waves as he splashed her playfully. 'We are going to have a game of tag and I will be it, yes?' He eyed her hopefully, smiling the charming smile he was so good at and widening his big brown eyes with their thick lashes until she was forced to capitulate.

'Just a few minutes, then.' In truth she felt happier now she was in the water again. Although the neat black swimming costume she had on concealed all of her torso, the way Attilio had looked at her had made her aware that the wet material clung like a second skin, outlining her small full breasts with their cold roughened tips as though she were naked. 'But you're too good at this.'

'I second that.' Attilio was there beside her, and not for the first time she asked herself why she didn't fancy him. The lean, lithe body was well toned and masculine, his shoulders broad and his limbs muscled, but there was no…spark when she looked at him. She didn't know why; there just wasn't. 'And when you have rid yourself of some of this excess energy we will have a game with the beachball, sì? The piggy in the middle?'

'And Claire can be the piggy,' Lorenzo shouted after them, his accent giving an endearing lilt to the last word.

'Oh, no, Claire could not be a piggy.' Attilio's voice was soft, and she knew he wasn't attempting to make Lorenzo hear. 'Claire is a dove—a pure, gentle dove.' He was matching her stroke for stroke and her uneasi­ness intensified.

'I don't think so, Attilio.' She swallowed a mouthful of water and coughed and spluttered a little before she continued, 'My mother knows me better than anyone, and it speaks volumes that her nickname for me, right from a little girl, has been Curly.'

'Curly?' They paused in the middle of the pool and trod water as he said again, 'Curly?' glancing at her straight hair.

'After the rhyme, you know?' He shook his head, his brown skin gleaming like burnished silk. 'It goes like this,' she said lightly. 'There was a little girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead. And when she was good she was very, very good, but when she was bad she was horrid.'