CHAPTER SIX
ONHERBEST days Louisa would fall into the rhythm of her illustrations. The scratch of the ink pen on the page. The flow of the watercolour washes, the coloured pencils. Today, though, something was different. It was as if the sunlight in Italy changed her drawings. The brightness of it all. Everything vibrant and glowing. Her colours more saturated. She pushed her glasses up her nose. On her page sat another frog prince roughly sketched out in ink. Never without his jaunty smirk, because that was his signature. Hopping about with his crown askew on his head. She smiled. Her characters often took on a life of their own. She added a few sprigs of lavender to the foreground. A lake in the midground. Castle and mountains in the distance.
Could she incorporate the evolution of her drawings into the story? Start the colours softer and, as the story went on, let them increase in vibrancy?
It was unlike her normal style, but it was an idea.
Something about the freshness of it all excited her. Whilst she loved her work it had been a while since the creativity had given her the kind of squirming thrill in her belly when things just worked. She added a few butterflies to her sketch. Bright little bursts of colour. Like the butterflies flitting about in her stomach right now, bouncing about like popping candy. Though that might have less to do with her drawing and more with something else.
Matteo was going to show her a beach.
She’d seen them in photographs, of course, as a teenager when scouring the vast library of Easton Hall. So many glorious books, most age appropriate and some, well, not so much. Great-Uncle Gerald had had a diverse collection and she’d found quite a stash of erotica when she’d gone searching. She looked over at the beige covered sketchbook in her pile containing the drawings she did, just for herself. Her nightmares so they lost their hold. Her fantasies. The pictures no one would ever see...
A sharp knock sounded at the door, and she jumped. Those butterflies in her belly flapping about as if caught in a strong gust of wind.
‘Come in.’
Matteo sauntered inside and her breath hitched. He’d changed into something more casual. Shorts, showing his legs. The strong calves sprinkled with dark hair. Another polo shirt that gripped him in all the right places. The whole of her flushed hot. She was sure that she’d gone a bright shade of pink, and that realisation made her skin burn even hotter.
She’d never really noticed men before. There were men who worked on the estate, but most of them had been with Mae for years and were much older. There was a young man in the grocer’s in the village who had a nice smile when she walked through the door. But he didn’t make her blush. He didn’t make her breathless. He wasn’t this elemental force like Matteo. A whirlwind she wanted to be swept away by.
Where had that thought come from?
‘Are you ready, or do you still need more time?’
As Matteo walked towards her she closed her sketch pad. Something about him seeing what she did made her feel vulnerable. She drew pictures for children’s books whereas he ran a global company worth...she didn’t know how much, but a man who had a private jet and houses all over the world must be doing very well for himself.
‘No, I’m ready.’
From the clothes Matteo had organised for her there was nothing she’d selected that looked at all beachy so her dress would have to do. She took off her glasses and left them on the drawing board before they headed out of the house, down a paved pathway towards the lake. Passing pots overflowing with a riot of flowers. Petunias. Geraniums. Bougainvillea. The place so unlike her cool green home. Everything here somehow...supercharged.
Hyper-real.
‘Do you stay at this house often?’
She had so many questions. Even though you could search for him online, it really didn’t tell her much about the man. All she knew was from that brief summer as children and her conversations with Mae. How well he’d done. How he and his family didn’t get along. But she was sure there was so much more to him. She just didn’t know why she wanted to know it all.
Matteo shrugged. ‘Not really. Not anymore.’
He’d walked ahead a little, his long powerful stride making her scurry to catch up, though she couldn’t really complain. This way she could get a glimpse of his broad shoulders, how well his shorts fitted, moulding to his body. Was it objectifying? She wasn’t sure. Did he do the same to her? Even the thought he might made her cheeks heat.
‘What made you stop?’
He slowed his steps so she could catch up. ‘Circumstance. Business. I don’t stay anywhere for long.’
Not having any real place to call home, no matter how beautiful the surroundings, seemed surreal to her. ‘I can’t imagine travelling around all the time.’
‘I can’t imagine not. You can make the world as large or as small as you want. I prefer mine large.’
‘Is that like saying, “You need to get out more, Louisa”?’
He chuckled and she loved the sound of it. Warm, rolling with a twist of wickedness. The way it made her tingle, want to curl up her toes in her shoes. He turned to her, smiled. That smile was like a mouthful of hot chocolate on a winter’s day. Rich, decadent. Addictive.
‘I am.’
People had tried before, even Mae. So many not understanding why she was happy to live in Easton Hall. No one could comprehend her past, how a stable home was everything she’d ever wanted. How much she owed to Mae. The woman had given up years of her life to look after a broken teenager. It was the least Louisa could do, to give up some years of her life looking after Mae in return.
What drove Matteo to remain constantly on the move? There had to be something behind it. Wasn’t it normal to seek a home, to have a retreat, a singular place to stay? Though she supposed he made retreats all over the world. That was his business, what he did. Homes away from home for the rich and famous, when he didn’t personally have one he called his own.
They rounded a corner following a manicured path through a small copse of trees, which then opened onto an expanse of grass with the magnificent lake beyond.
‘Almost there,’ Matteo said as he began to walk a little faster, almost as if he was excited. She picked up her pace to keep up with him. After a short distance the path led to a tiled terrace with a balustrade overlooking the lake. Stairs, down to the water.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t give you sand. Pebbles will have to do.’
She followed him down the stairs and onto the pebbles of the private beach, uneven under her ballet flats. In a few spots along the bank there were artfully planted trees. Under one ancient tree sat an outdoor table, chairs.
The magnificent blue of Lake Como lay out in front of her. Mountains framing the scene. The late afternoon sun, warm on her body. A cool breeze caressing her skin. The magic of the scene seemed to unknot her. Her shoulders slowly dropping. Tension in her neck loosening. Matteo kicked off his shoes, walked to the water’s edge and waded in to his calves, overlooking the view as if he ruled the whole lake. She followed to the water’s edge and a shiver ran through her. How it seemed so dark and impenetrable.
‘You coming in?’ he asked.
She’d love to be like him, take off her shoes, throw away caution, but a little voice began whispering in her head.
‘My mother would never have approved.’
Why did that woman still enter her consciousness, always holding her back whenever she wanted something for herself?
‘Why not?’ Matteo asked.
‘Well, for one, germs. She’d say you never knew what lurked in unchlorinated water.’
He snorted. ‘Every day is about risk. Your mother’s not here now.’
No, she wasn’t. Louisa walked to the water’s edge. Took off her shoes, the creamy pebbles cool under her feet. Water lapping the edges just ahead. It all seemed so overwhelming, how fathomless all of this was. It was as if the world shifted under her feet and she was trying to find steady ground.
Then she looked over at Matteo. His patient smile. Somehow, everything seemed to solidify.
‘Come on in,’ he said. Could he see her struggle? Years of conditioning that was sometimes difficult to shake. Her dress brushed at her calves. It might get wet, though she supposed she could hold it up. There were so many decisions...
Matteo walked back towards her, the water sluicing around his legs till he was only ankle deep. ‘I’m warning you, it’s probably a bit cold given the lake’s fed by the mountains. But you’ll like it—’
‘I don’t know how to swim.’
The words simply blurted out of her. It seemed like such a huge failing. Another thing her mother had stopped her from doing.
‘What if I’m not there when you’re swimming, and you drown?’
Always so much fear. Louisa hadn’t understood at the time, but now she believed it had less to do with love and more to do with control. Her mother had never stopped to think that the greatest risk to Louisa’s health was not knowing how to save herself. Or maybe she hadn’t really cared.
Matteo frowned. ‘You don’t know...’
His voice was incredulous, drifting off as if he couldn’t even finish the sentence.
‘How to swim.’ Her voice, in contrast, sounded firm, because she wasn’t broken. Not many people knew how much she’d endured, what it had taken to survive. She just needed to convince herself of that strength, some days.
Sunlight glittered on the water’s surface. It looked so inviting, if she could forget the fears that plagued her when faced with something new.
‘The water’s shallow here. There’s no drop off. Take my hand.’
She hesitated. Matteo held out his arm, palm up. That gentle, encouraging smile still warming his face.
‘I won’t let you fall.’
She looked down at her feet, toes so close to the water. Took a deep breath. Hitched her dress into her underwear as something about Matteo’s gaze darkened, melted. Then she reached out, his warm fingers clasped about her own as he gently guided her to him. At the first touch of the icy water on her feet she sucked in a breath, her heart skipping in her chest as he drew her close.
Not into his arms as she had been earlier in the day when they’d first arrived. In that moment when his body had felt so hard and solid. Initially she was just trying to be thankful till it morphed into something else. Something she refused to give voice to but would keep her up late in the dark of her own bedroom. Fuel for the drawings only she would ever see in that secret sketchbook. Her fantasies, where they’d always remain. How could there be a reality with him? She could never forget he was the enemy.
Yet why did she feel as if he was turning into something else?
Matteo squeezed her fingers. ‘Not so bad?’
She shook her head. There was no bad in this moment. It was all good. Really good. Something bubbled up inside her, an unusual sensation. Joy. A sense of freedom. Like when she’d been a child and sent to Mae’s. Even though her father was ill she’d used to play in the stream on the grounds of Easton Hall. Especially the summer Matteo came to stay too. She’d had no fears then, not really. At the time she hadn’t understood her father was going to die. She was a child who wanted to forget that her dad was sick, and her mum wasn’t emotionally available.
Matteo had seemed so brave then, that little bit older, a bit wilder. And after a while they’d played in the stream together. Explored secret corridors behind the walls of the house. Eaten a glut of berries from the kitchen garden till their hands and lips were stained and their bellies ached.
She could be like that child again. Full of wonder, wanting to explore. Louisa realised somewhere during her journey over the past twelve years she’d lost it, become stuck. She let go of his hand, slipped hers away from his warmth. That summer had created some of her best memories, ever. Together she and Matteo had always been up to something. Getting into all sorts of mischief...
Louisa gasped at a memory long buried.
‘You made me kiss a frog.’
Was it her imagination, or had flags of red just flashed across Matteo’s bronzed cheeks?
He placed his hand on his heart. ‘Never.’
‘No. You did. You found one and told me if I kissed it, it’d turn into a prince, marry me and I’d be able to have a tiara and a pony.’
‘You’re a children’s book illustrator. Do you think you might be getting caught up in your own stories?’
There was a niggle of doubt now, that maybe she had it wrong. That unpleasant splinter that told her she wasn’t enough. Not to keep her dad alive, not for her mum... Yet she looked over at Matteo and the corner of his mouth quirked in a sly grin. Like that recalcitrant frog prince she’d been trying and failing to draw just the way she wanted him.
She pointed at him, waggling her finger. ‘You. You’re fibbing.’
He chuckled again, and the sound of it, that unrestrained mirth, made her toes curl into the pebbles beneath her feet in the cold waters of the lake.
‘It wasn’t one of my finest moments. But to be fair, I didn’t think you’d fall for it.’
She planted her hands on her hips. ‘You knew I’d do it.’
‘How could I? It was clearly made up.’
‘I was six.’ She kicked her foot at him, and some water splashed over his calves. ‘I hero-worshipped you.’
She looked down at his shorts, not wet exactly, but the fabric darkened where some fat droplets of water had hit the fabric.
‘Hero-worshipped me?’ Something about the tone of his voice deepened. Became rougher, a bit like the gravel on the drive into his villa.
‘You know it, and you loved it. You pretended not to, but you liked the fact I listened to everything you said and believed it.’
She kicked her foot again, and another splash of water hit his legs.
His gaze narrowed, became more intense, but that wicked quirk of his lips remained. ‘You’re playing a dangerous game.’
Louisa cocked her head, ‘And what game is that?’
‘If you don’t stop now, it’s one where you’re about to get very wet.’
‘You wouldn’t dare.’
He reached his hand into the water and flicked some at her. She kicked back at him, and this time water hit his shirt.
‘Right.’
He began surging towards her so she grabbed her skirts higher and giggled, running up onto the stones of the beach as he followed. She tried to run faster but her dress was too long, and she wasn’t really trying very hard anyhow. Her heart pounded as pebbles crunched behind her and she took off. Heart thump, thump thumping in her chest. Trying to make it to the stairs, laughing now because there was something about this that was such a thrill. Everything forgotten but the chase.
She suspected Matteo wasn’t trying very hard either. It was more about the anticipation than the capture...
Till an arm snaked round her waist and she was pulled against a solid, muscular body.
She squealed and kicked her feet as he swung her into his arms and moved back to the water’s edge, waded in, the sound of it rushing with each strong stride.
‘Don’t you dare!’ she squealed.
‘I told you.’
She squirmed some more but if he let her go now, she’d be in the water.
‘I don’t believe you will,’ she huffed, looking up at him. His eyelashes so long. Gaze heated. Eyes sparkling with mischief and something far darker.
‘Play with fire, get burned.’
‘We’re in water, that saying doesn’t work.’
‘You know what I mean. I told you I’d get you wet. I keep my promises.’
Something about this moment was loaded. His strong hold, her squirming against him. How she was so hot it was as if she’d go up in flames. How the thought of being dropped into ice-cold water right about now seemed almost welcoming.
He cocked his eyebrow. ‘What’ll it be? Are you going to behave?’
She’d always behaved, always done everything she’d been asked. If she did, she’d been told, she’d get better. All lies. Right now, she wanted to change her script. To do something unexpected for the first time in her life.
‘Why do I want to misbehave, to be bad so...badly?’
It was freeing, this sensation. She threw her head back and laughed.
‘We can be a little bad,’ he murmured as he lowered his head, his lips skimming her throat. Her laughter stopped on a gasp, the sensation of it like an electric shock. His lips gentle, drifting over her skin. There was no laughter now, the only sound from her was half sigh, half moan. Her nipples prickling in her bra. Heat arrowing between her thighs. The need for him all-encompassing.
She wanted. As she’d never wanted anything or anyone before. It overwhelmed her, her whole body a mess of sensation.
Did he want her as much as she craved him?
His lips traced back towards her face, her jaw. Light brushes till she turned her head and their lips touched. Breaths intermingled. Slow, luxurious. Hypnotic. She became a captive of the sensation. Opening for him. His tongue slipped into her mouth, the barest of touches with her own.
Then the kiss slowed, stopped.
Matteo pulled back, looked deep into her eyes. Pupils blown wide, his own irises almost black.
‘Before I drop you in the deep end, I need to teach you how to swim first. Slow, gentle steps.’
Could he see it on her face, the need? If self-combustion were a thing, she’d have gone up in his arms. Burned them both away to ash till they mingled and drifted out across the lake. He could be talking about swimming, she supposed, but she was sure this was something more.
What had just happened between them? How could she have let it?
Matteo walked out of the water, released her, letting her go slowly, and she slid down the full length of his body. So hard and uncompromising. She was almost disappointed that he hadn’t carried out his threat, or promise, or whatever that all just was. The thoughts and sensations tangled through her in a mess of desire.
‘I’d like that.’ Her voice was breathless, as though she’d run a mile. Though his was probably a false promise. People had made those to her all the time, especially her mother.
‘Take this medicine, it’ll make you feel better.’
‘This doctor will cure you.’
Any medicine only made her sicker, and no doctor could cure her because there’d never been anything wrong in the first place.
Those thoughts were like being plunged unceremoniously into the deep, dark waters of the lake. All the heat, all the want, simply...gone.
Matteo nodded and whatever had just happened between them passed.
‘I—I should get back to work,’ she said, her limbs limp like overcooked pasta. She wasn’t sure her legs would carry her back to the house.
‘I’ll see you at dinner, then. It’ll be around eight. I’ll come and find you.’
‘Thank you. Until then.’
She grabbed her shoes. Began walking back to the stairs, almost stumbling as she went, she was so unsteady. He didn’t follow, just remained standing on the pebbled beach.
‘I’d like to see what you do,’ he called out from behind her, almost like an afterthought. ‘Your drawings.’
Now it was her turn to nod.
Though she tended not to allow anyone to see her work until it was finished. As though if someone witnessed what she was doing, the magic would suddenly be gone. ‘Once I have something to show you.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’
She wasn’t sure why she found that so hard to believe.