Second Marriage

'You see—everyone has had a swim except for you, little foal.' He reached up a lazy hand and removed the sunglasses, his eyes narrowed against the splashes of bright white light filtering through the branches over­head. 'Donato and Grace are able to look after their chil­dren for two minutes while you cool down.!

The 'cool down' was a dig, indicating that he had got under her skin, she thought balefully as she looked into the handsome face staring up at her. Which he had. But there was no way she was going to admit it.

'Of course they are,' she agreed lightly. 'But I'm not dressed for swimming.' She indicated her sleeveless sun-top and long cotton skirt. 'Besides which we need to eat before long; I'm starving. Shall I go and ask Gina and Anna to bring out the food?' she asked Grace, standing up as she spoke.

'I'll come with you. There are a couple of bottles of Rubino di Piave in the cellar that will go very well with steak and chicken,' Grace said easily. 'We'll sort them out while the men get the barbecue going. OK, Donato?'

'No problem.'

No problem? Oh, she wished there wasn't a problem, Claire thought desper

ately as she walked back to the house with Grace, the sun burning hot on her unclad head and the air sweet and soft and richly scented. But there was—a huge, gigantic, gargantuan one—and these cosy foursomes, or sevensomes if you counted Lorenzo and the babies, she added wryly, were testing her to the limit.

Everything was against Romano ever feeling anything for her; in her brain she knew that. He was hugely rich, a sharp-witted and cynical man of the world who, in addition to his power and good looks, was possessed of a certain something that drew women to him like a mag­net. He could have any woman he liked and he must know that. He would be viewed as the ultimate catch for most of the unattached women he came into contact with. And as if all that wasn't enough he had been mar­ried for some years to a stunningly beautiful woman he had clearly adored and still wasn't over. And she—she was not beautiful, stunningly or even mildly.

Why had he wanted her that night? Her brow wrinkled as she sought an answer to the question that had plagued her for weeks, and the only reply her heart gave her was…availability. She had been available, there at hand. It hurt, it cut deep, but she couldn't lie to herself. Everything he had said and done had made it clear it would have been a one-night stand, something pleasant but meaningless…to him. And to her? It would have destroyed her. She just couldn't have given herself to him and then walked away as he had expected. She couldn't.

He had seen her as a pleasant diversion and she had seen him—saw him—as the man she would love for the rest of her life. There was no meeting point.

The barbecue and the afternoon passed like the ones be­fore it, pleasantly, with lots of lively conversation and tongue-in-cheek banter—to all intents and purposes an enjoyable Saturday spent in the company of good friends. But later that evening, as the adults sat drinking coffee in the drawing room with the windows open to the last of the dusky light, Claire knew if she stayed one more minute in the room she was going to shout and scream and tear her hair out.

'It's getting late.' She stood up slowly, as though her head wasn't near to bursting point, and gestured to the gardens outside. 'I think Lorenzo is still down by the pool. I'll fetch him, shall I?'

'Gina or Anna will do it,' Grace said quickly.

'No, it's all right, I'd rather. I've got the beginnings of a headache and a few minutes in the fresh air might clear it.' Claire gave the bright, sweeping smile she had perfected in the last few weeks, which brushed over Romano's face in just the same way as it did the others. 'You all finish your coffee. I won't be a minute.'

Once outside she stood for a moment with her eyes closed and her face lifted to the darkening sky, oblivious to the river of grey and gold above her and the faint twitterings and melodious birdsong all around as nature settled down for the night. The air was still beautifully warm, but without the fierce heat of the day, and a faint breeze touched her face in a whisper of a caress.

Grace or no Grace, she would have to leave here— and soon. She had a solid ache in the place where her heart was all the time now, and everything about Sorrento was getting deeper and deeper into the very fibre of her being, its influence insidious.

Grace was coping wonderfully well with the babies and she had plenty of help with Anna and Gina to hand. She knew her friend had appreciated her presence before the birth of the twins and in the early days afterwards, when she had been a little tearful and emotional, but she was back to being the old Grace now—happy and per­fectly content.

She began to walk down to the pool as her thoughts solidified. Yes, she would go soon—maybe even next week. She was beginning to feel so lacerated inside she really couldn't stay any longer.

'Help! Please…' For a moment, a split second after she heard the cry and gurgling moan she froze, and then she was running over the grass like the wind, calling as she went.

'Lorenzo? Lorenzo, I'm coming. Hang on—hang on…'

How long Lorenzo had been struggling in the water she didn't know, but she could see immediately that he had cramp, his face and body contorted in agony and his mad thrashing frightening as he went under the water.

She leapt straight in, surfacing just a few feet from where he had gone under. She could see he was still moving under the water and that he wasn't on the bottom of the pool, and she dived down beside him, grasping him round the chest with one arm as she made for the life-giving air above them.

They surfaced once, both gasping and spluttering, but Lorenzo's panic-stricken struggles and her long skirt, which had draped itself round her legs, made keeping afloat impossible, and they went under the water again in a mad tangle of limbs as Lorenzo pulled her down with him.

Without thinking about it, she kicked away from his hold, her hands tearing at the fastening of her skirt. Once she was free from its constriction she grasped Lorenzo again, his back against her chest as she forced them both up through the water that was suddenly such an enemy to the surface.

'Relax—relax. Listen to me, you'll drown us both…' She doubted if Lorenzo could hear her as he gasped and choked and twisted in her hold until he was facing her, his arms locked round her neck in a stranglehold, and then they were going down for the third time—and she began to feel as frightened as he was.

The relief she felt as Lorenzo's arms were whipped from her neck made her limp for a moment, but then, as she felt herself being hauled upwards by her hair, the pain made her kick out for the light above.

'Claire? You are OK for a moment?' She was aware that she was sucking in great mouthfuls of air, her eyes and nose and throat smarting and burning, but she man­aged to nod and gasp, 'I'm all right—go on,' as Romano let go of her and concentrated fully on Lorenzo, who was horribly still.

By the time Romano reached the side of the pool Donato and Grace were there to help haul Lorenzo out, and as Donato turned his younger brother over and be­gan to apply artificial respiration, which almost immedi­ately caused Lorenzo to choke and heave, Romano cut through the water again to Claire's side.

She was still trying to breathe. 'It's all right, I'm all right…' she gasped. But he took no notice of her protes­tations, turning her round and drawing her back to the side of the pool with his arm round her chest.

'Claire—oh, Claire.' Grace was almost hysterical. 'We didn't hear you. Donato and me, we didn't hear you, but then all of a sudden Romano was up and out of his chair like a bullet. Oh, you could have drowned— you could have both drowned.' She was kneeling by the side of Donato and Lorenzo, the latter now sitting up in his brother's arms. 'For this to happen…'