would never belong to him as she had wanted to belong.
And it was little consolation to tell herself that even if she had given
herself to him, nothing would have changed. She would still be
back here in England with her memories -and perhaps some
regrets as well.
She arrived at school, breathless, just as the bell for assembly was
ringing, and her lateness made her on edge for the rest of the day.
She had a curious sensation that she was waiting for something to
happen, but her sense of anticipation was not a pleasant one. She
didn't have her usual patience with the children either. Several times
she snapped back in answer to a question, and she could see them
eyeing her covertly, their small surprised faces reflecting how
unused they were to finding her in this sort of mood. Her
conscience led her to cancel the project work she had planned for
the afternoon, and let them have a long messy art session instead,
followed by an instalment of the serial story that she was reading to
them. It was a disorganised afternoon, but it seemed to be what they
all needed, for Juliet felt almost at peace as she walked out of the
school gates that evening and turned for home.
It had been a fine day, and the air was still quite warm, so she
decided she would have a quick tea and then spend a couple of
hours in the garden. Mim's roses were still a picture, but it was time
to make plans for the coming spring -safe plans that had
everything to do with regeneration and growth, and nothing at all to
say about emotions.
She was so .deep in thought as she walked up the road that she
scarcely noticed the car parked in the road outside her house at
first. And when she did see it, it was with a growing puzzlement
rather than any instant recognition, as if her imagination was
playing her tricks. Because it was, Santino's car.
She stood at the gate and looked at the car parked under the soft
drift of leaves from the trees in the avenue, and she felt sick. Her
instinct was to run and hide herself somewhere where he would
never be able to find her, never be able to hurt her again, but she
steadied herself just in time. What point was there in flight? She
would have to face him in the end.
He was not alone. She knew that even before the front door opened
at her touch, and she heard Jan's laugh ring out from the sitting
room. As if she had been waiting for the sound of the front door,
Mrs Laurence appeared in the doorway, anxiety warring on her face
with a kind of relief.
'Darling, Jan's here,' she greeted her without preamble. 'And-and
she's married, Juliet. She's married an Italian. He's here with her.
Won't you come in and meet them?'
Don't let me cry, Juliet prayed, or scream, or faint. She was amazed
when she spoke to hear how calm her voice sounded.
'I'll come in later, Mim. I'm going up to change now, and I thought
I'd do some gardening.'
'But I've made the tea. It's all ready.' Mrs Laurence took another
step out into the hall. 'Darling, it really would be better if you came
in now. Please believe me ...'
She broke off as Jan appeared in the doorway behind her. Her
condition was more obvious now, and she was doing little to
conceal it in an elegant maternity outfit probably designed by a top
fashion house. She smiled across the hall at Juliet, as if that last
painful confrontation had never taken place.
'Julie, my sweet!' She lifted a hand in greeting, and Juliet saw the
massive diamond that gleamed there. Even in that moment she
could still feel relief that Santino had not bestowed the ring he had
given her, the ring she had left in her room before her departure,
upon her sister.
'Hello, Jan.' Juliet spoke steadily. She felt as if she was bleeding to
death inside, but that didn't matter just as long as she didn't give
herself away. 'I hear felicitations are in order.'
Jan's smile widened. 'Indeed they are,' she drawled. 'And not before
time, you might think.' She bestowed a careless kiss on her mother's
cheek. 'Poor Mim! But all is forgiven, now that I'm married, isn't
that so?'
Mrs Laurence turned silently and went back into the sitting room
leaving the sisters facing one another. There was a long silence,
then Jan said, 'Aren't you coming in? We've been waiting to have
tea-and my husband wants to say hello to you.'
'That,' Juliet said very carefully, 'is a pleasure I'm going to have to
forgo. Please tell him I hope you'll both be very happy.'
She turned away and made for the stairs. Santino's voice saying,
'Giulietta!' very sharply brought her up dead in her tracks, the colour
draining from her face, her legs shaking.
'Oh, no!' she appealed to some unseen deity. 'Oh please, no!' She
forced herself to move forward. This was her mother's house.
Upstairs was her room-sanctuary.
His hand was hard on her shoulder, turning her to face him. He said
in a voice throbbing with anger, 'You don't run away from me again,
Giulietta.'
'Take your hands off me,' she whispered. 'If you've no consideration
for me, then have some for your wife!'
She wrenched herself free and started up the stairs, her heart
beating so hard she thought it would suffocate her. He was beside
her, bending to scoop her off her trembling legs, carrying her up the
stairs.
'Put me down!' Shame and rage battled for precedence within her.
'Don't you dare ...'
'I dare,' he said tautly. 'Once before. I let you walk away from me
up some stairs. I shall not make that mistake again. Which is your
room?' He halted on the landing, with her in his arms. He looked
down at her and the expression in his tawny eyes made her feel
weak. 'Tell .me, damn you!'
'It's the door at the end,' she whispered, and began to cry. He swore
under his breath and strode down the landing with her. When the
door was closed behind them he set her without gentleness on her
feet.
'What are you doing?' she cried, scrubbing furiously at her wet
cheeks with her fists like a child. 'You have no right to do this.
Your wife's downstairs. What is she going to think? And my
mother?'
He rested his hands on his hips. His glance raked her from head to
foot.
'Your mother's opinion may perhaps be of concern to me,' he said.
'But I have no wife.'
'What are you saying?' She pressed her hands against her face,
staring at him.
'I am saying I am not married. Dio, Giulietta, how many times must
I say it?'
'But Jan's married. Mim said she was-to an Italian. She told me
her husband was waiting to say hello.'
'And you assumed it must be me.' He smiled without mirth. 'No,
Giulietta. Your sister has found a husband- one Pietro Rizziani,
whom I think I have mentioned to you once before.' She gazed up at
him, her lips parting soundlessly, and he gave a sardonic nod.
'Si cara-that Rizziani.'
'But-I thought he was-married already,' she faltered.
'So he was-then, but he has suffered a tragic bereavement.'
Santino's lips twisted cynically. 'Your sister's pregnancy persuaded
him to forgo the usual decent interval before remarrying. That and
the handsome dowry she was able to bring with her.'
'But Jan has no money -' she began, her voice tailing off suddenly as
she realised what he had done.
He nodded. 'I do not begrudge it, cara,' he said. 'After all, she is
almost a member of my family.'
'You mean-because she was going to marry your brother,' she
said. She seemed to be having the greatest difficulty in breathing
normally.
'No,' he shook his head. 'Because I am going to marry you, amore.'
'No.' She turned away from him towards the window.
'Oh, but yes,' he said softly. 'I have not travelled all this way to be
rejected, mia.' He turned her to face him. For a long moment he
looked down at her, and then his mouth came down on hers, harsh
and bruising with a need, she realised dazedly, as great as her own.
The world spun around her as she clung to him, exchanging kiss for
kiss without reserve. He was murmuring endearments in his own
language against her lips, his hands caressing her body, arousing
and demanding but with a new and thrilling tenderness.
At last he lifted his head. His eyes were gleaming with triumph, but
she did not begrudge him his victory.
'Now tell me you don't want me,' he said huskily.
'I thought you didn't want me.' The colour rose in her face.
'When did I ever not want you, mia?' he demanded. He smiled a
little. 'Even when we first met, when I tried not to like you very
much, I wanted you. Didn't you know it? You were everything I
despised, and yet there you were, under my skin. Didn't you ever
ask yourself why I took you to dinner that night? It wasn't at all
what I intended.'
'Then what did you intend?' She let herself be drawn back against
the hard warmth of his body, glorying in his response to her.
'I intended to make you give up Mario-by fair means or foul,' he
told her frankly. 'I'd sent you the roses to make sure you were the
right girl, and I had made my plans to take you away to the castello
if you wouldn't see reason. What I hadn't planned was the
innocence I seemed to see in your eyes. All my preconceptions
went for nothing. 1 should have guessed then that Janina Laurence,