Moth to the Flame(36)

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,