Moth to the Flame (19 page)

her a courteous old-fashioned bow. 'You will forgive my wife,

signorina.
In her anxiety over her son she has neglected to tell you

that your sister who you will have heard is also in hospital is not

seriously injured. A couple of broken ribs, that is all.'

Juliet gave a long sigh. 'Thank God!' she murmured. 'Thank you,

signore.
I—I shall have to let my mother know.'

'But not tonight,' Santino said brusquely. 'You have heard my

stepfather say she is not badly injured.' He looked down at her and

his face was that of a forbidding stranger. The lover who had

caressed her to the brink of madness and surrender only a few short

minutes before had vanished as if he had never existed. Perhaps he

never had. He had spoken of fairy tales; maybe it had all been part

of it. She felt very weary suddenly and a little sick. She wanted

very badly to go to her room, away from these hostile eyes that

seemed to be boring into her, but her legs seemed to have turned to

jelly and would not support her properly so that she staggered a

little as she started to move.

'Attenzione,
Santino!' It was his stepfather speaking. 'I think the

signorina
is unwell.'

Without a word, and before she could utter a protest, Santino

swung her up into his arms and started towards the stairs, his face

paler than she had ever seen it and strangely set as if he found his

task distasteful.

But had she really expected anything else? she thought, a feeling of

desolation creeping over her. She'd known all along what would

happen once he knew the truth.

Santino did not speak until they were inside the room she had

moved her clothes into. He laid her on the bed and turned away.

'I'll send Annunziata to you,' he said abruptly.

'Santino.' She levered herself up on to one elbow and gazed at him

appealingly. 'How did it happen—the accident, I mean?'

'I don't know,' he said levelly. 'It is one of many questions for which

answers will have to be found. As soon as I have some definite

information, I will let you know. Goodnight -' he paused and his

mouth curved slightly into a mirthless smile. 'Goodnight, Giulietta.'

He walked to the door and went out, closing it behind him. Juliet

lay back against her pillows, her eyes closed, fighting the tears of

strain that threatened to overwhelm her. Poor Jan, she thought,

starting her honeymoon in hospital, but she Supposed she ought to

be glad that they had both apparently escaped serious injury. And

she should be glad too that the whole story was out in the open

now, and that her charade was over for good and all.

I should be glad, she told herself. I should be—but I'm not.

She turned over and buried her face in the pillow.

'If only they'd waited a few more hours,' she whispered achingly.

'Oh, why did they have to come just at that moment? Why couldn't

they have let me have tonight?'

Juliet awoke very early the next morning. She had not expected to

be able to sleep, but a rather worried-looking Annunziata had

appeared at her bedside the previous night carrying a tray with a

glass beaker in a silver holder which she told Juliet contained a

tisana.
It was hot and tasted of herbs, but it was oddly refreshing

and under Annunziata's watchful gaze Juliet felt impelled to drain it

down to the last drop. Almost in spite of herself, she felt soothed,

and it was soothing too to feel Annunziata's hands smoothing her

pillow and drawing the coverlet up around her shoulders with little

pats and soft mutterings.

Although none of her problems had actually retreated during the

night, Juliet could' not help but feel refreshed by her hours of deep,

dreamless sleep. She got out of bed and wandered across to the

window,. pushing back the heavy shutters. Below her the sea

moved gently, every tiny billow sparkling gold in the early sun. The

air smelt fresh and clean, and a solitary bird wheeled and dipped

high above in the cloudless sky.

Juliet sighed and pushed her hair back from her face. Somehow

today she had to get to the hospital to see Jan. Although she wasn't

seriously hurt, broken ribs were nevertheless uncomfortable, and

she would obviously be shaken after the crash.

At the same time Juliet had to face the fact that she was not looking

forward to this reunion with her sister. She felt that her discoveries

of the past few days had transformed her into a stranger—someone

in fact whom she would have preferred in other circumstances to

keep at arm's length.

Hypocrite, she told herself fiercely, as she turned away from the

window and picked up her robe and toilet bag. What point was

there in priding yourself on your virtue, if you had never been

tempted? And Juliet now knew only too well how fatally easy it

was to succumb to temptation once it was offered.

But for the arrival of his mother and stepfather, she would have

awoken this morning in Santino's arms to heaven knows what

regrets and recriminations.

Lost in her troublous thoughts, she wandered out on to the gallery

and almost collided with a figure leaving the bathroom.

'Oh,
scusi.'
She looked up startled, expecting to see the Signora, but

this was a woman she had never seen before, slightly younger than

the Signora but with the same cosseted well-groomed appearance,

and wearing an expensive negligee.

The woman did not reply to her hasty apology, but stood looking

Juliet over in silence, a half-smile curving her lips. But it wasn't a

friendly or a pleasant smile, the sort normally exchanged by house

guests in early morning encounters on the way to the bathroom. It

was all too knowing, and bore more than a trace of malice, and

Juliet felt defiant colour begin to rise in her cheeks as she suffered

this close scrutiny.

At last the woman moved away, taking a last searching look at

Juliet as she did so, her eyes lingering particularly on her hair. As

she passed with a whisper of silk, a cloud of exquisite perfume

hung on the air.

The same perfume gave the bathroom a more than usually exotic

atmosphere and Juliet did not linger over her bathing and dressing.

She felt uneasy, and knew that it was because of that encounter on

the gallery. She wondered who the glamorous stranger might be,

and when she had arrived on the scene.

She put on a pair of denim jeans and a sleeveless vest in a black

silky material and went downstairs. The
salotto
was deserted

except for Annunziata who was laying places for breakfast in the

dining alcove. She beamed expansively when she saw Juliet, and

seizing her arm led her to the great door with its massive iron studs

which stood open this morning to admit the faint breeze. Juliet

supposed with some amusement that she was being sent for an early

morning stroll to give an edge to her appetite, but she soon realised

her mistake. Annunziata was chattering away and gesturing towards

the shore. Looking down, Juliet saw a dark figure standing

motionless at the water's edge and realised with a painful thump of

her heart that it was Santino. Her impulse was to run back indoors

and take refuge in her room, but that would only be delaying the

inevitable. Sooner or later she would have to speak to him, to ask

him to help her get to Naples. She had no choice as her own money

and traveller's cheques were presumably still in Jan's apartment in

Rome.

Slowly she started down the steps, her hands instinctively balling

into fists at her sides as she moved, her nails digging painfully into

the palms as she struggled to maintain her composure.

She wished she could have emulated his own soundless approach of

the previous day, but of course, he heard her and half-turned

frowningly to see who was coming to disturb his reverie. His frown

did not lift when he saw her, and she felt absurdly hurt. It took an

immense effort of will to keep walking, slithering and sliding over

the stones until she reached his side.

'Buon giorno,'
he said quietly.

He was wearing faded jeans, and an old blue shirt open almost to

the waist. A strong line of stubble along his jaw indicated that he

had not bothered to shave that morning, but neither this nor his

faintly bloodshot eyes and heavy scowl could detract in the least

from his sheer virile appeal and Juliet felt her stomach contract

painfully as she looked at him. Afraid that those penetrating tawny

eyes would read her thoughts, she hurried into speech.

'Signore
, I—I need your help ...'

'And I need yours,' he interrupted flatly.

'Mine?' She stared at him, totally at a loss.

'You seem surprised.' He smiled without amusement. 'Did it never

occur to you when you embarked on this madness that there would

be repercussions?'

'Yes—no—oh, I don't know,' she said wretchedly. 'It didn't seem

important at the time. All that mattered was that Jan should marry

your brother if that was what she wanted.'

He looked at her broodingly. 'It is so important that this little sister

should have her own way in everything?'

'No.' Juliet swallowed. 'Although I suppose she is— rather spoiled.

She's so lovely, it's hard to say no to her,' she added defensively,

seeing his mouth curl cynically. 'She's always been so loved, so

admired all her life that perhaps she's—let everything get out of

proportion.' • 'Your loyalty far outweighs your common sense,

cara?
he commented with a derisive smile. 'What you are saying is

that to satisfy the whim of a spoiled, selfish little bitch, other lives

must be thrown in chaos.'

'But it wasn't just a whim,' she protested. 'Mario had to marry her,

don't you see ...' Her voice tailed away when she saw the way he

was looking at her.

'Santa Maria,'
he said very quietly. 'Is this something new?

Something that you have not told me, that even my mother has not

heard? Speak the truth!'

Juliet bowed her head miserably. 'Jan is going to have Mario's

baby,' she admitted in a low voice.

His face darkened furiously, and he turned away cursing under his

breath. There was a long silence.

'So there is to be a child,' he said at last, his back turned to her.

'When?'

'I don't know that,' she said. 'I wasn't meant to know.' Quickly she

explained her reasons for visiting Jan. 'When she told me about the

baby, I could quite understand why she wanted to get married as

quickly and quietly as possible,' she continued. 'That's why I

decided to help her. Mim—my mother—has always been so proud

of Jan—she's the success story of the family. It would break her

heart if Jan were to have an illegitimate child.'

He muttered something under his breath. 'I suppose there is a

certain irony in the situation,' he said after a moment or two. 'You

working to achieve this marriage to spare your mother's feelings,

and I working against it for the same reason. I was not of course

aware that you or your mother existed. According to the story your

sister told Mario, she was an orphan brought up in foster-homes

without a living relative.'

'Oh, no!' The appalled words broke from Juliet's throat. 'She—she

couldn't have said such a thing!'

He smiled a little. 'To achieve her desires, I think she could

probably say anything. You are sure, are you, that this baby exists

and is not yet another figment of her imagination?'

'I'm sure she's pregnant,' she admitted unhappily. 'She— she'd put

on weight, and she was very ill that first morning.'

'Hm.' He paused, then said coldly and brutally, 'So she decided to

foist the paternity of her bastard on to Mario.'

Juliet's eyes filled with tears. 'That's a despicable thing to say!'

'It may also be the truth,' he said. 'Not that I imagine she would ever

admit it, even if she knew what the truth was.'

'You shouldn't say these things,' she whispered, her lips trembling.

'You don't know her.'

'No, but I thought I did,' he answered abruptly. 'Instead, I knew you,

cara,
and last night that knowledge was almost complete.'

Juliet felt her throat tighten. The silence between them seemed to

stretch on forever, and become almost tangible. Oh God, she found

herself thinking, don't let him move, don't let him touch me. The