Second Marriage

'I really don't think that's necessary, Romano,' she said tightly, her fingers clenched so hard round the re­ceiver that her knuckles gleamed white. 'I have abso­lutely no intention of upsetting Grace—so as long as you don't there is no problem, is there?'

How dared he? How dared he suggest she was going to run to Grace and pour out all that had happened when Grace was so vulnerable? Couldn't he see she was made of better stuff than that? And what about her anyway? It obviously didn't matter at all that she had been upset.

'What happened last night was just between the two of us. I am sure we can carry on as normal for the sake of Grace and the children,' she added coldly, her heart thudding.

'So you are refusing to have dinner with me?' he asked grimly.

'Like I've said, it's not necessary. Grace and the babies are my first concern—my only concern,' she said firmly, the beat of her heart so loud now it was making her feel sick. 'So you can rest assured there is no air to clear. Good morning.'

She had put down the phone on the sound of him speaking her name and promptly burst into tears—some­thing she had continued to do fairly often over the last six weeks when she was alone, she reflected now, trying to ignore the sight of the two men playing football with Lorenzo on the big lawn close to the pool.

She and Grace were sitting under the shade of the spreading branches of a huge willow tree some distance away, the two babies fast asleep in their carrycots be­tween them with the odd grunt and snort to reassure Grace that all was well.

Claire purposely turned in her seat now, so that her back was to the pool as she reached for Grace's hand and said, 'They are going to be fine, you know. You don't have to keep poking them to make sure they still squeak.'

'I know.' Grace grinned shamefacedly. 'I really do know. It's just that they are so perfect and I love them so much. Lorenzo is marvellous with them, isn't he? I think he's quite fascinated, actually.'

'So's Benito.' Claire shook her head gently as she went on, 'If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I would never have thought a parrot could be in love, but he's as near to it with these two as anything else. He's gone all soppy.'

'He's more than just a bird,' Grace said, with a pe­culiar note in her voice. 'If it hadn't been for him—'

'What?' Claire leant forward as Grace stopped speak­ing. 'What were you going to say?'

'If it hadn't been for Benito I don't know if Donato and I would be back together again,' Grace said slowly. 'We'd got ourselves in such a muddle, such a tangled web, and he helped out, that's all. Donato laughs at me, but I know Benito can think and reason—he's more in­telligent than some people I know.'

'And certainly more vocal.' Claire's voice was slightly astringent. The parrot had taken to linking her and Romano's names together at every opportunity, and although Grace and Donato laughed, assuring her it was because of the babies, she didn't think so. He had done it more than once before the babies were born, and al­ways with that long drawn-out 'ummmmm' which sounded so terribly thoughtful. It was as though the bird knew the secret desires of her heart and it made her uncomfortable. As did the secret desires, she admitted wryly.

The last six weeks could be likened to a form of pain­ful torture, she thought as she settled back in her seat. After the furore of the night at the hospital she had ex­pected that Romano would keep his visits to Casa Pontina to a bare minimum—enough to prevent Donato and Grace from suspecting all was not well but that was all. But instead it seemed as though he was forever pop­ping in.

But that was probably what he always did, and May had been a beautiful month of clear blue skies and ra­diant heat that had just begged for barbecues and outside meals, she told herself wanly. It was natural he would choose to be with his friends rather than in the solitary splendour of his own home.

But it didn't help her deal with this love that had persisted in growing in spite of all her efforts to the contrary. She felt like a cat on a hot tin roof most of the time, forever aware of a tall, dark presence brooding in the background whatever she was doing. Like now. She turned and glanced over to where the men were now lazing by the pool, and even from some fifty yards away the somnolent power in the big, relaxed body made every muscle tighten.

Why couldn't he have a paunch? she thought crossly. Or bow legs? Anything to help combat this overwhelm­ing attraction that was as physical as it was mental. And that was another thing—the more she had got to know him over the last few weeks, the more she had seen him with the family—especially Lorenzo, with whom he dis­played a tender understanding that caught at her heart time and time again—the stronger her love grew. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair—but Grace still needed her here so she was trapped, like a pathetic little fly in the web of a big black spider.

She was aware of the very second the two men stood up, as Lorenzo leapt into the sparkling clear blue water of the pool, and of every step they took as they walked over the bowling-green-smooth lawn to where the women were sitting.

The sun, it is burning hot.' Romano's eyes were hid­den behind dark sunglasses as he spoke and she really wasn't sure if he was addressing her or not, but then he threw himself down by her feet and looked up at her, his jet-black hair, still a little damp from his swim in the pool some minutes earlier, curling slightly onto his tanned brow. 'You are wise to keep that fair English skin protected.'

'It isn't that fair,' she protested quickly, feeling, as she always did with him, that there was some slight in­tended. 'I'm not exactly a blue-eyed blonde, am I?'

'More of a velvet-eyed, smooth-skinned nervous little foal, I would say.' His voice was low and deep, but quite loud enough for the others to hear, its tone almost ex­pressionless.

'I take exception to the "nervous".' She spoke lightly, the way she did to Lorenzo in one of their ban­tering sessions, but the analogy cut deep. He didn't have to remind her that she wasn't one of the voluptuous sen­sual females that seemed to be everywhere now the sum­mer had started, she thought painfully. She was all too aware that the minuscule bikinis that covered the tiniest amounts of flesh on the slim golden bodies populating the beach were not for her—never again. And most of the girls were stunning, clothed or unclothed, anyway, with a confidence in themselves she had never had even before the accident.

'You are brave, then? Fierce, like the tigress?' he asked softly, the sunglasses hiding the expression in his eyes and his dark, hard face giving nothing away.

She hesitated, not sure if he was being nasty or merely teasing her a little. 'I don't know about fierce,' she said after a moment or two, 'but I'm not jumpy or neurotic, if that is what you were suggesting.'

'Not at all,' he murmured lazily. 'That would be most uncourteous, would it not?'

'Well, I don't suppose that would stop you for a min­ute if that was what you were thinking,' she answered frankly, before realising that she had let her tongue run away with her again.

'Ouch, I had forgotten that even little foals can give a hard kick if provoked.' But he was laughing, in that unrestrained, husky way that made her pulse beat a little faster and made her want to leap into his arms and cover his face with kisses. All of which would not exactly be appropriate, she thought as her heart gave one of the strange little jerks it was wont to do in his presence.

'Come and have a swim.' He was looking at her again, and she just knew that the conversation that had gone before had turned the invitation into a challenge. 'The water is beautifully warm.'

'Romano, the water is freezing,' Grace interrupted laughingly. 'I had a swim earlier and it's really cold.'