To Marry a Tiger (4 page)
Authors: Isobel Chace
The easy colour fled up Ruth’s cheeks. “My name is Ruth,” she said awkwardly.
“How apt!” he commented.
She was surprised. “Why do you say that
?
” she asked him. Nobody had ever suggested that her name was in the least bit like her before, not in the same way as Pearl was like her name, with her ash-blonde hair and fair, creamy skin.
Henry Brett laughed. “I don’t know. Ruth amidst the alien co
rn
and all that sort of thing, I suppose.”
She smiled too. “Only there is no Boaz for me to set my cap at,” she said gruffly.
His green eyes opened very wide. “I rather thought Mario was already cast for the part,” he murmured.
Ruth looked shocked. “Certainly not,” she said. “I hardly know him.”
Henry laughed a good deal at that. “It isn’t always considered necessary!” he remarked dryly.
“It is with me!” Ruth claimed in a voice that quivered despite her. Why, she didn’t even
like
Mario, and besides, she had Pearl’s feelings to consider. She had come to Sicily to punish Mario, not to compete with her sister for his favours.
Henry smiled down at her. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you over the estate.”
Henry Brett drove a jeep that was old enough to have been left over from
t
he last war. Its hard canvas seats were ingrained with the dirt of the years, giving the vehicle a seedy look that fitted in well with the surrounding scenery. The land was a hard land. It was dry and dusty, with the occasional
o
live tree to give an illusion of wealth. Sometimes the rock came right through the tired topsoil to break the old-fashioned ploughs that were still dragged through the dust at planting time. Some long-legged sheep nibbled for a living where they could, watched over by a sleeping youth who was hiding his head from the heat of the sun.
“Have a good look,” Henry said to Ruth. “You’ll see the difference then where the scheme is already in operation.”
“Where is that?” Ruth asked.
He pointed into the distance. “On the other side of the village,” he said.
It seemed to Ruth that Mario owned an awful lot of land. Odd, semi-deserted houses peppered the fields, but most of the people had been gathered into the newer houses that huddled together in the village. From a distance it looked as though the houses were falling over one another in their anxiety to reach the top of the hill, their pantiled roofs and white-painted facades leaning at crazy angles one to the other.
Henry drove the jeep straight up the single, narrow cobbled street with an open drain that ran down the centre, carrying away the water from the women’s washing and the litter of the day’s marketing. In the centre of the village was a square built round a fountain that only played in wet weather, and the church that was the centre of almost everything.
On the other side of the village, it was true, the grass grew greener, the vines were weighed down with fruit, and the animals were sleeker and fatter.
“You see!” Henry grinned in triumph. “That’s what water will do for you!”
“Where does it come from?”
“A nearby lake.” Henry’s interest wavered. “Tell me, Ruth, what do you do at home in England?”
“Me?” Ruth was curiously flattered that he should be interested enough in her to ask. “I teach,” she said.
He stuck his tongue into his cheek. “I never would have guessed!” he said solemnly. “Teach what?
“History mostly,” she told him. “That’s why Pearl and I
came
to Italy. I’ve always longed to see these places for myself!”
“And now you have?” he said gently.
“Some of them. I haven’t seen anything here yet. Did you know that it was by a lake in Sicily that Proserpina disappeared when Pluto captured her? It must have been somewhere around here that Ceres started searching for her.”
“Is Ceres the same person as Demeter?”
Ruth nodded. “Demeter is her Greek, and Ceres her Roman name,” she explained.
“And she found her lost daughter in the underworld? But the poor girl could only surface for half the year? Is that the right story
?
”
Ruth smiled. “It makes you think when it all happened around here,” she said earnestly.
“You almost sound as if you believed it!” Henry exclaimed.
“I suppose I do, in a way,” she admitted. “Not the story exactly,” she went
o
n hurriedly, “but the poetic idea.”
Henry stared at her. “You’ve lost me!” he admitted. “You’d better keep that kind of remark for Mario. He goes in for legends and history too. Me, I’m a
modern
kind of individual bringing water to real people who are living here and now.”
Ruth chuckled. “There wouldn’t be any rain for you to use if Ceres hadn’t cried over the loss of her daughter!”
Henry shook his head. “I never thought of that!” he admitted. “It’s a pity she didn’t cry a bit more, that’s all I can say!”
Ruth enjoyed that day more than any other day she had spent in Italy. She had found it fascinating to watch Henry’s mechanical diggers laying the deep trenches through which the piped water went. She had liked to watch the gangs of sun-darkened men who were working on the scheme. Most of them wore jaunty, bright yellow crash helmets, and all of them had whistled after her and called out the most outrageous compliments to her—but then none of them had ever set eyes on Pearl
!
Henry had taken her to a small
ristorante
in the village for lunch.
“I thought we were going to your place for lunch,” she had said innocently.
“It would cause a deal of gossip,” he had told her grimly.
“Let them gossip, I don’t care!” she had declared.
“But Mario would,” he had retorted.
“
Meglio soli che male accompagnati
!”
“Meaning?” she had questioned him.
“
That it is better to be alone than in bad company,” he had translated. “Especially if you are a woman in Sicily,” he had added meaningly.
Ruth had been tempted to ignore his warning, but a single look at Giulia’s face on her return to the Verdecchio house had convinced her that Henry knew what he was talking about.
“Signor Verdecchio is not yet back,” Giulia told her as she answered the door.
“Has his aunt come yet?” Ruth almost pleaded with her
.
Giulia shook her head. “She is not expected,” she said flatly.
Ruth would have liked to have asked Henry to stay, but he wouldn’t.
“
Y
ou don’t understand,” he told her helplessly.
“You’re Mario’s girl, and that means something in these parts.”
“But I’m not!” she denied hotly.
“Tell that to Mario!” he said.
It was very lonely after he had gone. Ruth watched the sun go down from the garden, the little dog playing about her feet. She was still there when Guilia called her in to supper.
“I don’t think I ought to stay if he doesn’t come soon,” she told Giulia as the Italian woman served her with a bowl of soup.
“When you are finished I will take you to your room,” Giulia answered, ignoring the English girl’s doubts.
Ruth knew that the Italian woman disapproved of her, but she was too tired to care. Perhaps, she thought, it would be silly to leave the house now. Mario’s aunt was sure to come sooner or later and then everything would be all right.
But when it came to it she was afraid to go to bed on her own in Mario’s house. If he had been there that morning she would be back in Naples by now, braving Pearl’s anger rather than his. But he had not been here and she would be poor-spirited indeed if she didn’t tell him exactly what she thought of his treatment of her sister before she went!
The bedroom Giulia had prepared for her was large and rather beautiful. Thin, fragile carpets, woven into lovely patterns, covered most of the walls, and the four-poster bed delighted her. Giulia brought her a jug of hot water and dourly said good-night, her heavy footsteps dying
away down the long passage to u
pstairs.
Ruth shut and locked the door on to the landing, wishing that she had thought to bring the dog up to her room with her. She wondered if Giulia would think her very odd if she went downstairs and collected him, and decided that she didn’t care.
The dog was more than pleased to be invited into the house. He ran up the stairs ahead of her, his tail waving from side to side. She whistled to him to come into her room and laughed to herself as he sprang straight up on to the bed and curled up to go to sleep. She followed him into the bed, shivering slightly for the night was cool, and together they settled down to sleep until morning.
CHAPTER THREE
SOME time in the night the dog got off the bed and barked raucously. Ruth awoke and glanced about her. A slit of light shone into her room through a door she had not known was there.
“Here, dog!” she muttered.
The small animal jumped back on to the bed and licked her face, pleased to have got some response from somebody. The light went out and there was silence in the house. Ruth turned over and slept again.
Giulia’s footsteps, stumping along the landing, awakened her. It was still very early. Ruth got out of bed and went to the window hoping to catch the last of the sunrise, but the sun was already too high and the honey-coloured land was bleached by its strong light, splashed here and there by the green of olive and citrus trees.
Giulia knocked on her door and came straight in with a cup of coffee in her hand.
“What is the dog doing here?” she asked dourly.
Ruth smiled at the small animal. “He kept me company,” she defended him. “What’s his name?”
“Saro.” The Italian woman softened a little. “You had better let me take him back to the stables before the Signor sees him! Though he can hardly have helped to hear him in the night.”
That reminded Ruth about the other door to her room. She looked round expecting to see it, but only the one out to the landing was visible.
“I thought I saw a light—” she said, puzzled.
“That’
d
be the door through to the Signor’s room,
”
Giulia told her, her black eyes fastened to Ruth
’
s face.
“
I expect the Signor thought you were tired,” she went on. “Look, it is here!”
Ruth watched fascinated as Giulia touched, one of the doors of what she had taken to be a built-in wardrobe.
I hope it
’
s locked
!”
she observed. Giulia gave her a look that cast her into an immediate panic. “It is locked, isn’t it?” she insisted.
“Signor Verdecchio has the key,” Giulia sniffed. “These rooms were once used by his father.” She pointed to the bed that Ruth had just vacated. “The Signor was bo
rn
in that very bed! This was his mother’s room when she was alive. No one has slept in here since.”
“Then—then why—?”
Giulia sniffed again. “I obey orders,” she answered.
She tried to pick up Saro to take him downstairs, but the dog ran under the bed yapping furiously.
“You’d better leave him,” Ruth said.
“If you say so,” Giulia shrugged. “The Signor does not allow his dogs in the house—”
“I will tell him that I brought him upstairs,” Ruth answered with a great deal more confidence
than
she felt.
“I suppose it will be all right then,” the Italian woman agreed. “I’ll be in the kitchen when you want me.”
Ruth was glad to see her go. She huddled back under the bedclothes and sipped her coffee in a dream, only it was more like a nightmare! She would have to face Mario, she thought dismally, though her courage for that seemed to have disappeared during the night. But she would tell him that she was going straight back to Naples and that so
long as he didn’t interfere with her sister again, he need never set eyes on her again.
But
in fact
she
never had
t
he
opportunity to voice
any of these fine sentiments. She had almost finished her coffee when the door in the wardrobe swung open, startling her so much that she spilled the remains of the coffee in the saucer and hastily put it down on the table beside her bed.
“At last,
cara,
I am here with you!”
The teasing, warm Italian voice reduced Ruth’s courage to zero. She pulled the bedclothes closer about her and shut her eyes.
“
Do you forgive me for not being here yesterday?” he went on. “I had to visit a friend who was dying. Happily, my aunt was there also and I was able to come away. And now, my darling—”
He advanced into the room and came face to face with Ruth’s frightened gaze. “Miss Arnold!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
Ruth swallowed hard. “I might well ask you the same question!” she retorted warmly.
He was exactly as she had remembered him. The same cynical expression and the same ruthless look in his eyes. She shivered, for there was nothing kind about him. To her surprise an irrepressible smile crept into his eyes. He shrugged his shoulders, elegantly clad in a silk dressing gown, spreading his hands in an eloquent gesture.
“This is my house, Miss Arnold. I am accustomed to living here.”
Ruth was forced to admit that there was a certain justice in that. She hugged Saro to her under the blankets and said forcefully: “But I am not accustomed to receiving men in my bedroom!”
She was grateful that he didn’t laugh. Instead he looked at her for a long moment, taking in every detail of her face. She could feel herself blushing and wished that she had outgrown such a childish habit. Pearl
never
blushed, she remembered uneasily.
“I imagine not!” he said at last. It hardly sounded like a compliment.
“So,” she said with a rush, “I would prefer to continue this conversation downstairs!” Her effect was somewhat ruined by Saro’s wriggles. The dog’s head slowly emerged out of the bedclothes, uttering a series of joyous yaps.
Mario was outraged. “Saro!”
The dog shook himself happily. He ran down to the bottom of the bed, tail waving, pleased to have Mario’s attention riveted on himself.
“I asked him upstairs,” Ruth explained hurriedly. “He—he didn’t mind.”
“I imagine not!” Mario said dryly. “He is also probably covered with fleas!”
“He is not!” Ruth protested indignantly.
“For your sake, I hope not!” he rejoined.
Ruth lifted her chin belligerently. “Anyway, if I’m prepared to risk it, I don’t see what it has to do with you!”
Mario looked amused. “You are not very like your sister, are you?” he remarked.
Ruth eyed him crossly. “I have always found comparisons to be quite odious, besides being very bad manners
!”
she informed him.
His lips twitched. “Have you?”
“Yes, I have!” she agreed with vigour. “I can see for myself that Pearl has fantastic hair, that her eyes are a delicious blue, and that she is particularly well named! I don’t have to have it pointed out to me—”
“Is that why you came instead?” Mario interrupted her, his face darkening.
Ruth was genuinely astonished. “No!” She could tell at a glance that he
d
idn’t believe her. “You don’t
understand
,”
she said bitterly.
“Evidently not,” he agreed lightly. “Perhaps you had better explain it to me?”
Ruth pleated the edge of the top sheet, unconsciously revealing her nervousness. “I’m afraid you are going to be very angry—” she began.
“Very likely
!
” Mario put in grimly.
“Well, it’s all your own fault!” Ruth retorted with spirit. “I can’t imagine why you thought Pearl would come in the first place!”
Mario frowned. “Do you mean that she connived at your taking her place?” he demanded.
Ruth’s eyes fell. “Not exactly,” she managed.
“I thought not,” he rejoined. “I am not at all naive, Miss Arnold. You will do far better to tell me the truth! The damage that your meddling has done unfortunately can’t be undone, but this is not the moment for coy untruths!”
Ruth felt thoroughly frightened. “Pearl is not what you think her,” she said hoarsely. “She may have given you the impression—”
Mario snorted contemptuously. The sheer haughtiness of his expression unnerved her sadly and only the thought of what would have happened if Pearl had come made her go on.
“Pearl is very young and—and not very wise.
She—”
“My dear Miss Arnold—”
“I am not your dear anything!” she cut him off, thoroughly nettled
.
“
No? I am afraid we shall have to grow accustomed to one another sooner or later,” he drawled.
Ruth sat up very straight. “I shall go back to Naples immediately,” she decided. “If you’re not going to listen—”
The amusement came back into his face. “I am all ears,” he assured her. “You were telling me about your sister’s virtues.”
Ruth glared at him. “You are a great deal older than she is and I think she may have been carried away,” she said with as much calmness as she could muster. She was quite unprepared for Mario’s quick laughter. “She has always been very attractive to men,” she continued with difficulty, “and she doesn’t in the least realise the effect she is having on them.”
“I am aware that your sister is young and silly!”
“I suppose that’s why you thought—” Ruth hesitated. She forced herself to meet Mario’s arrogant stare.
“Yes, Miss Arnold?” he prompted her.
“I suppose that’s why you thought you could bring her here,” she ended lamely.
“I invited her here at
her
request,” he stated with so much conviction that Ruth was forced to believe him.
“She can’t have understood!” Ruth insisted helplessly.
Mario smiled at her quite gently. “My dear, she is not the little innocent having a good time that you suppose. It is not my way to go round seducing innocent young women!”
Ruth put her hands up to her hot cheeks. “Pearl may have given you the wrong impression—”
“She was perfectly explicit from the very beginning!” Mario walked over to the window and stared moodily out of it. “If either of you are the innocents you would have me believe, I fear it is you, Miss Arnold!”
Ruth wondered if it could possibly be true. “I’ll have you know that I have earned my own living for a matter of years!” she objected, trying not to cry.
He was unimpressed. “Where? In a convent?” he snorted.
“In a school,” she admitted. “But it’s far from being the cloistered kind of existence you seem to imagine it to be!”
He gave her a long, sober look. “I hope so,” he said at last, “for your own sake!”
“I am very well able to look after myself!” she insisted bleakly.
“That I take leave to doubt! You could hardly have made a bigger mess of things if you had tried.”
“I don’t see why!” she retorted. “I shall go back to Naples by the quickest way possible and that will be that.”
“That will not be that,” he said dryly. “I told you that it isn’t my habit to seduce innocent young women.”
“But you haven’t,” she said, not without some satisfaction. “I saw to that!”
Mario’s expression was one of a man
sorely tried. “On the contrary,” he told her, restraining himself with difficulty. “As far as the whole of Sicily is concerned, you are quite hopelessly compromised! Do you think they don’t know that I paid for your ticket; that it was my car that met you at Palermo; and that it was my bed you slept in last night?”
Ruth gave Saro an agitated stroke behind his ears. “But you weren’t in it,” she reminded him weakly.
“Only because I was so late home,” he answered with grim humour.
“But as soon as you knew I wasn’t Pearl—”
He turned and looked at her. “You flatter me with a better nature than I actually have. Has no one ever told you, Miss Arnold, that in the dark all women look the same
.
”
Ruth wished that she was half as sophisticated as she had pretended to be. “What are you going to do?” she whispered.
“I have no choice. I shall marry you.”
“Indeed you won’t!” Ruth said shortly. “I don’t know how you can even think of such a thing!” she added with strong disapproval. “You weren’t thinking of marrying Pearl, were you?”
She looked so anxious that Mario relented towards her. “We are not considering Pearl for the moment, we are considering you,” he said, not without humour.
Ruth lifted her chin with unconscious dignity. “Pearl and I are sisters,” she said firmly.
“If you weren’t, I shouldn’t hesitate to tell you that Pearl hasn’t a moral to her name! Not that you appear to have many—reading other people’s letters! Stealing travel tickets! And even now you haven’t the remotest idea of what you’ve done
!”
Ruth blinked. “I may be stupid, but at least I meant well!”
“Spare me your good intentions!” Mario stormed at her. “It is well known which roads are paved with them!”
Ruth bit her lip. An irrepressible urge to giggle defeated her. “I always knew Pluto lived about these parts,” she said. “Are you he, by any chance?”
Mario looked impossibly angry. “Are you joking?”
The desire to giggle left her. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Anyway, what do you know about Roman legends?” he said crossly. “That story was bo
rn
in Sicily. Did you know that?”
Ruth nodded
solemnly
. “Do you think the underworld was the same place as Hell?” she asked him.
“No, I do not. Nor am I any relation to Hell’s guardian, whatever you might think! Am I really so impossible?”
She cast him a shy look. To tell the truth she didn’t find him impossible at all. She was a little frightened of him, she thought, particularly
w
hen he glared at her down his long nose, but she could quite easily grow used to that. He was, she discovered with some surprise, a great deal nicer than she had supposed.
“No,” she said in a stifled voice, “I don’t find you impossible.”
“Nor I you. In fact I am becoming more reconciled by the minute to our marriage—”
“Don’t be silly!” she reproved him.
He sat on the end of her bed, a slight smile on his face. “I wish it could be as easily resolved as you think,” he sighed. “But this is Sicily, my dear, not the green fields of England. There’s not a soul who won’t believe that we spent the night together and, in Sicily, there is only one conclusion that can come of that
. I
must marry you as soon as possible!”
“But I’m going back to England. I don’t care if they do doubt my honour!” Ruth said heatedly.
“It is
my
honour which is in question,” he replied.
“But why should you
care?”
she wondered.
“Perhaps because I do live in Sicily. If your advent had been a little less public, we might have put a good face on it. But Giulia has already spoken to her family and so on. Nor,” he added wryly, “do I suppose that you had the good sense to stay close to the house all day yesterday?” One glance at her face told him that she had not. “What did you do?” he asked her.
“Henry Brett took me to see the new scheme,” she confessed humbly.
“So the whole village saw you!” he groaned.
“They saw us both,” she admitted. “We had lunch in the little restaurant there.”
He groaned. “And watched you come back here, I suppose?”
She was silent. She was wise enough to know that she had very little understanding of the Sicilian code of behaviour. Wryly, she remembered how she had warned Pearl about their peculiar ideas of honour that forced any compromised girl into marriage whether she wished it or not. She had never even remotely suspected that it might happen to her!
“That isn’t all,” she blurted out finally. “On the boat, I shared a cabin with your aunt, and I told her all about it!”