Chapter Ten
When Amy came out of the bathroom in a fresh change of clothes she could see through the opening into the sitting room that the tea tray and sandwiches that had been delivered earlier by a fresh-faced maid had been removed.
She felt a lot better, though she was reluctant to acknowledge her relief that she wasn’t due in the kitchen.
She sat down in front of the mirror and opened her make-up bag, but after a reflective moment closed it, having extracted some lip gloss. She didn’t want to make it look like she was trying too hard—or, for that matter, trying at all.
She never wanted to be like her mother, desperate to please a man. Getting up at the crack of dawn so her husband wasn’t offended by her face without make-up, and splashing cash on the latest craze to eliminate any signs of ageing.
It didn’t take her long to braid her hair into one thick plait, which she threw over her shoulder. About to get up, she paused and unzipped the make-up bag again, deciding that a smudge of neutral eyeshadow and a flick of a mascara wand couldn’t really be considered trying hard.
At the tap on the door she took a moment to compose herself, which wasn’t so easy when her heart was drumming so hard she could feel it in her throat.
Amy had reached the door, where a steadying breath and being ninety-nine percent sure of who would be on the other side didn’t prevent her experiencing the shockwave impact of seeing Leo standing there.
Brain numb, her senses so acute it hurt, she stayed glued to the spot.
‘You look…’ His eyes flickered down her slim figure, taking in the narrowness of her waist in the full-skirted cotton. The butter-yellow of the sleeveless bodice made the golden-brown of her eyes pop. ‘Better.’
‘Better than bedraggled is not a high bar, but I’ll take it,’ she said pertly, flinging back the braid that landed in the middle of her back.
‘I like the fifties vibe of your dress.’
‘Thanks,’ she said lightly, closing the door behind her as she stepped out into the wide corridor.
‘How?’ she wondered, looking at the view through the window.
‘You have the sea view this side and through the bedroom window.’ She turned to glance at the door to her suite, which faced in the opposite direction.
‘Did I somehow miss the bridge? We’re not on an island, are we? ’
‘No, a peninsula, so we look out on the Tyrrhenian Sea from all sides.’
‘It’s an incredible place.’
‘A long way from my bedsit above the garage with the view of the petrol pumps.’
Amy turned away; she didn’t want to think about the stolen moments they had shared in that poky bedsit. Peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpet notwithstanding, they were the only times in her life when she had experienced true happiness. ‘I could do with some fresh air.’
Leo didn’t comment on the hint of desperation in her overly bright response. ‘This way.’
He led her in the direction Amy recalled as being the route from the kitchens, but before they reached the stone staircase he led her into a lift.
‘If you want to go out, this is your quickest route.’ Unlike her, he appeared oblivious to the skin-peeling tension in the enclosed space. Tension that made her virtually throw herself out when the doors swished open.
Directly opposite, a solid metal-banded oak door was open and she stepped out into the early evening sunshine and paused to take in her surroundings.
She was standing in a courtyard. The space was filled with the trickle of water and the hum of bees that hovered above the lavender which spilled from the raised beds and the wild thyme that grew in the cracks in the stone-gravelled footpaths.
There were a couple of wrought iron benches and tables set beside a fountain.
The stone walls of the castle were on three sides, leaving the south-facing fourth side open to a vista that was breathtaking.
It must make this a sun trap most of the day, she thought.
The area directly ahead sloped, the green manicured lawn giving way to immaculate terrace gardens where flowers spilled from several beds onto what appeared to be a grove of olives.
Through the foliage she caught glimpses of what she took to be a white sandy beach beyond.
The blue of the sea itself was almost indistinguishable from the blue sky.
‘This is so beautiful.’ She didn’t bother disguising her uncomplicated admiration for the beauty of the place. Despite herself, she felt excited at the prospect of exploration.
‘This way.’
Her feet crunched on the gravel as he led her out of the courtyard and onto the grassy expanse of the lawn. She turned around and looked back at the castle, her full skirt skimming her calves as she twirled.
Despite the reason for her being here, and the man whose presence by her side meant that she couldn’t totally relax, she laughed, unable to regret experiencing this place.
She just regretted the reason she was here.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her reaction to be, but her laughter and her almost childlike pleasure in her surroundings was not it.
He fought off a smile—her uncomplicated delight was contagious. ‘You like it?’
She flashed him a look, her face a mirror of her amused astonishment. ‘That’s a joke, right? It’s beautiful, Leo, and I’m happy for you that you have such a beautiful home.’
His own expression blanked as he searched her face, but he saw nothing but genuine sincerity.
Underneath his composed expression, his jaw was practically hitting his chest. What sort of woman got treated the way he had treated her and then pronounced herself happy for him?
‘It must be like living in a fairytale.’
‘I do not believe in fairytales or happily ever after endings.’
And that was how to kill the moment! Was she in part responsible for his inbuilt cynicism? The possibility drained away the last of her optimism and left her feeling flat as she walked on.
Seeing the happiness fade from her face sent a slug of irrational guilt through Leo. ‘This way,’ he said when she had wandered off aimlessly towards the right.
Amy was standing above the highest level of the numerous terraces when Leo, standing below her, turned and held out his hand. She regarded it suspiciously for a moment before laying her own lightly on his. Leo turned his hand and interlaced his fingers within hers and took the first step.
‘It’s a bit of a drop for—’
‘The vertically challenged?’
‘I wasn’t going to say that.’
‘You were thinking it,’ she snapped back, recalling his racing stable of tall leggy blondes.
‘Though,’ she added with a conciliatory smile, ‘I’m glad I didn’t wear heels.
This,’ she went on as she followed the narrow path that connected the layers of lush greenery and brilliant blooms, ‘is mountain goat country.’
‘Do you want to sit down for a while?’ he asked as they reached a gazebo. A couple of stone cherubs on the wall behind them gushed bubbling water into the trough below the stone seat, and behind it irises grew in profusion in the mossy ground. It was a cool and calm spot.
‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’ She caught sight of the name engraved in the stone seat. ‘Luisa Romano,’ she read. ‘Your mother?’
He nodded though his body language had already indicated her guess had been correct.
‘It’s very beautiful.’
‘Simple. I’m no designer, but I like to work with my hands.’ He held up his hands, his long fingers splayed for a moment.
Amy remembered how skilled those hands were and felt her insides dissolve. So she rushed into speech. ‘I didn’t know you could do self-deprecating.’
His laugh lowered the tension by several degrees.
‘This,’ he said, running his fingers across the stone surface, ‘was one of our bonding moments.’
Her brow puckered at the cynicism in his voice. ‘You and your grandfather?’ she asked cautiously.
‘We try, but the history makes it hard.’
The flicker of pained anguish in his eyes was there and gone, maybe even imagined on her part, but Amy’s tender heart clenched in her chest.
He turned his head and saw the empathy shining in her eyes. This woman wore her feelings so close to the surface she might as well wear a sign saying, I’m a soft touch—take advantage of me.
Which, of course, he was.
His jaw tightened as he experienced a fresh stab of guilt.
‘Maybe I could actually do with a rest,’ she murmured, sliding onto the bench. It was a simple repurposed slab of stone, worn smooth with age. While the area was now out of the sun, it retained the warmth of earlier in the day and she could feel the heat through the cotton of her skirt.
After a moment Leo joined her. He sat beside her but apart.
‘Sounds like you’ve both put some effort in,’ she observed softly.
‘There isn’t an ocean between us, but I still wouldn’t like to swim it.’ He stopped dead. She was wandering around in his head and the hell of it was that he had invited her into it—actually, he was giving her the guided tour.
What on earth was he doing?
‘Are you a good swimmer?’ She swivelled sideways to look at him, thinking he was definitely more handsome than any man had the right to be. He was certainly built for swimming and she could easily imagine him, streamlined and sleek, cutting through the water.
Leo turned his head and captured her gaze. ‘Better since I moved here. The sea, the pool, are perfect opportunities to improve technique and stamina. My technique has, I like to think, improved greatly over the years.’
She intercepted the challenging carnal gleam in his eyes and the message wasn’t exactly subtle. Subtle or not, she was helpless to resist, a sexual flush travelling over her skin until the rosy tide had suffused every tingling inch of her body.
Amy shook her head, willing her panicked heartbeat to slow as she pushed her hands into the deep pockets of her skirt to disguise the fact they were trembling.
‘That is a very obvious deflection,’ she managed coolly as she got to her feet and brushed down her skirt.
He arched a brow. ‘From where I’m standing—’