Chapter Twenty-Three
Emerald and Marco returned to the cottage. The earlier fog that dulled the magic of the skies had dissipated and the clouds had scuttled into oblivion, leaving a royal blue dome as the backdrop for the magnificent display of stars. The evening was still and clear and a sliver of silver moon lit their way up to the cottage. Apart from the shushing of the waves, occasionally punctuated by the hoot of an owl looking for its mate, a deep silence shrouded them.
The sky filled Emerald with awe as they stood outside, gazing upwards. ‘It’s such a strange colour blue, as if it’s illuminated from heaven. I thought I’d never see a sky as magical as the one back home and yet here we are, witnessing another miracle.’ She sighed with contentment.
‘No air pollution, I guess. The stars are so bright. What’s that constellation over there — that one with the huge star at its tip? You’re a bit of an expert on stars, aren’t you?’ Marco was smiling down at her, his tone gently mocking.
‘Why do you say that?’ She threw him a puzzled glance.
‘Because you have a star logbook full of constellations. I remember you telling me that the reason you visited my hotel was because of its huge domed glass ceiling.’
She grinned. ‘Well, that was a total fib, but I do know a bit about stars. Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, Cassiopeia, they’re dead easy. Find the bright superstar Betelgeuse and you’ve found Orion. Once you start to look out for constellations, it becomes a bit compulsive.’
Marco laughed. ‘You actually do know. I’m impressed.’
‘I was taught how to navigate by the Southern Cross if I ever got lost when I was in Africa. Mateo the gardener taught me and I — just started to notice their shapes. Over here, you just have to find the North Star, which is always above the North Pole, to guide you to your destination.’
‘Mateo the gardener? This is the first I have heard of him.’
‘He was Ava’s husband — our maid, remember? He was really kind to Star when my father forbade me to ride him.’
‘Why did he forbid you to ride him?’
Emerald shrugged. ‘He knew Star was my Achilles heel and thought he could control me through him. Basically, I think I just reminded him too much of my mother, so because he couldn’t punish her for leaving, he took it out on me.’
Marco slid his arm around her shoulders. ‘I think you are a wounded person, my lovely Emerald Montrose, and I have done you a great disservice.’
She shrugged indifferently. ‘You won’t be the last one, I don’t suppose.’
‘I would like to think that no one will ever hurt you again.’ He drew her close to him. ‘Let’s go inside.’
He steered her in through the front door of the cottage, where they were instantly enveloped in fuggy warmth from the heat of the Aga. Once inside, the bubble of intimacy seemed to evaporate and trepidation took the place of Emerald’s fuzzy optimism and low-level desire. She swallowed hard as anxiety threatened and glanced surreptitiously at Marco to see how he was faring. He caught her glance and his return smile was so gentle and understanding that her pounding heart stilled, somewhat.
He appeared to be, as ever, in control of his emotions and faculties as he dried up dishes and pulled out wine glasses, setting them on the table.
Taking a deep breath she walked over to the fridge and drew out the wine, pouring them each a glass. She had the feeling she, at least, might need fortifying. She smiled at the irony of finally having convinced Marco that she didn’t drink, only to go and acquire a taste for it.
He turned to Emerald, whose hand trembled as she lifted her glass to her lips. He folded a tea towel on the worktop and . . . watching her carefully before running his fingers through his hair and letting out a breath.
‘Is this too much for you, Emerald? Have I moved too fast? At the moment, you look more likely to bolt than one of those rabbits out the back if I mentioned the word pie.’ He chuckled softly, but his eyes were serious.
Emerald let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. ‘I do want to . . . you know, Marco.’
His eyes levelled with hers. He took a step forward. ‘Spend the night with me?’
She nodded.
‘Then you won’t need this.’ He unfurled her fingers, which were practically welded to the stem of her glass, and lifted it out of her hand with a gentle smile. ‘This is not a test, Emerald. There is no time limit, and there are no winners. We are just here to spend time together and make each other happy.’
She nodded in agreement, but an inner trembling started at the core of her body. She was not ready for this — he was right. Marco was all-pervading, too much of a man, too much . . . her boss. She exhaled once more, ready to tell him that it was all a huge mistake. As she wavered, he traced his fingers over her arm in a small skating zigzag as he questioned her once again, his eyes steady on her face.
‘Emerald?’
Fear filled her. She was nowhere near as beautiful as his skiing-at-Klosters woman, his model wife — or any number of the rich women who had, literally, passed through his hands and were plastered on the covers of the glossies. And she knew hardly a thing about successful lovemaking. She hadn’t even managed to practice with Rick the Rat as she’d taken to calling him in her head. She blinked and breathed deeply. Too deeply.
Something changed in Marco’s demeanour. The delicious circling of his fingertips stopped as he turned her face to look at him. ‘Emerald?’
‘I’m quite tired, Marco. Is that okay?’
‘Of course.’ But his eyes were troubled.
Emerald let out a breath. She’d ruined it before they had even started, but it was just too much for her. The only emotion she currently experienced was the urge to burst into tears.
Marco returned his focus to her with eyes full of tenderness. He raised his fingers to her cheek and slowly raised himself and bestowed a chaste kiss on her forehead. ‘Tomorrow is another day. We’ll see what it brings, yes?’
Emerald nodded, already wondering what she had engineered, and why, as she rose on unsteady legs, heading for her bedroom.
‘Have a good night’s sleep, Emerald, and don’t worry about this. What will be, will be.’ He swept the room with a practised eye, took his wine glass over to the kitchen sink and pulled up a fireguard to the crackling fire. She turned once and he nodded in reassurance as he headed for his own bedroom. But she was not reassured; anything but, in fact.
She stared at his bedroom door for a moment before wheeling her small suitcase, still sitting by the door, through to her room. So it seemed, she would not, after all, be passing through the same door as Marco that night. She wanted to explain what she’d meant and that it would be her first time, that she still wanted him, but he was so formidable — fighting off a hyena was probably easier than trying to reason with him.
Dragging out some clothes, she finally found her pyjamas. and undressed wearily, heaving her disenchanted body into them, grateful for the flannelette warmth that didn’t quite match the heat of Marco’s touch but was a lot less troubling.
The bright moon shone through the fabric of the curtains and her bed seemed vast as she lay there on her own trying to clear her mind of unwanted thoughts. She turned onto her side and turned back again, staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster.
The waves crashed against the sea wall and the noise of churning pebbles seemed to increase by the second, the sound anything but soothing. A smattering of rain rattled the window and the distant boom of a particularly strong wave set Emerald’s heart thumping. She pulled the pillow up around her ears but it didn’t help.
More awake than ever, she gave up trying to sleep and climbed out of bed to peep through the curtains. Her eyes widened in shock as waves lapped at the top of the sea wall, sea foam and spray darkening the cobblestones. Surely that couldn’t be normal? Fearfully, she stepped away from the window as if the waves might engulf her there and then.
She rushed through to the sitting room to check the level of the sea from the bay windows, grabbing at a curtain and yanking it out of the way. The moon’s pale beams shivered on the glittering sea, the stars above looking like pinpoints of twinkling magic. She stilled and folded her arms as she gazed into the crystal-clear sky once again, caught up in the beauty of it. She scanned the room for her bag, found it and pulled out her sketchpad, drawing furiously — she was used to images disappearing in front of her, and curious eyes observing what she did not want them to see. She snapped the image on her phone so she could embellish the drawing later, when she was safely home.
Marco’s bedroom door creaked open and she shoved her sketchpad behind the curtain, tipping her charcoal pencil into a handy vase.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked softly. Apart from the bare chest, Marco looked exactly as she’d last seen him and Emerald suspected that he too had been awake the whole time.
‘Sorry. Did I wake you?’ she whispered. ‘I was a bit worried that the waves are lapping over the sea wall. Do you think that’s normal?’
Marco peered out of the window, squinting against the reflection on the window. ‘Have you ever spent much time by the sea?’
‘No, I didn’t even see the sea until I was fifteen apart from a bird’s-eye view from an aeroplane window when I was being carted around by Dad. Not enough hours in the day for a holiday apparently and heaven forbid that he’d have to spend actual time with me. I probably should have been at school, but I was home-schooled. That was before Mum left. Afterwards he sent me away — to the convent.’ It all came out in a rush when she’d never actually meant to tell him any of it. Dredging up her early years was not something she was fond of doing and she felt her lip tremble with the sheer emotion of reliving it. She tried to remember the point of the question. ‘Why do you ask, anyway?’
He tapped the wall nearest to him. ‘This cottage is over two hundred years old and I really don’t think tonight will be the night it comes tumbling around our ears.’
‘Okay. Good.’ She hopped from one numb foot to the other, realising the cold stone floor had taken its toll, now that she was out of her drawing trance. ‘If you’re sure,’ she added, throwing a suspicious look at the creeping tide as if it would sneak up on her the minute she turned her back.
Heat radiated from Marco, who stood so close to her she could smell the special scent that was Marco Cavarelli. His chest looked very inviting too: broad and solid, and just right for resting her head on, if he would only put his arm, reassuringly, around her shoulders. But it seemed that any kind of contact was now out of bounds, brought on by her own earlier decision to call a halt to their lovemaking. Instead of folding her into his arms he just asked, in a loud stage whisper, ‘Why are you whispering?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t mean to wake you.’ She stared at the rising tide to stop herself from checking out Marco’s naked torso again.
He had no such qualms. ‘I get to see the bunny pyjamas again.’
‘Yeah.’
His lips quirked as she looked down at her pyjamas. She really should be better equipped for this grown-up world she found herself in. ‘At least they’re warm.’ She couldn’t find any other redeeming features to the faded flannelette pyjamas she’d had since she was a teenager, no matter how long they both stared at the gambolling pink and blue rabbits.
‘They’re cute.’
‘Thank you.’ She dragged her gaze away from where it had returned — Marco’s chest, finally looking at his face. His smile was kind, sincere and warm — which, considering the temperature, was quite a feat.
‘This is not my idea of fun, you know, staring out of a window in the cold dead of night.’ He didn’t take his eyes off her.
‘Sorry.’ She threw another wary look out of the window and back to Marco, resisting the urge to whip out her pencil from its hiding place, as the moon shafted shards of luminous light on his normally dark eyes. She would happily watch moonbeams dance across his face all night, be even happier to trace their path as they danced over his cheek.
He cut across her thoughts, his voice soft and wistful as he gazed out of the window. ‘When I was small, Nonno — my grandfather — would take me out hunting on nights like this. The skies were so clear you felt you could just reach up and pluck out a star. He would point out the bright stars, planets even, and explain what they were called. We had a small telescope.’ He looked wistful as he turned to look at Emerald. ‘I want everyone to be able to see such magic.’ He sighed. ‘Unfortunately, when I say everyone, I mean the rich , but that is better than no one seeing them.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘My business is making money for the shareholders, that’s why we are here. But, Emerald, being here with you has made me notice the small things again, joyous things, that make life worth living.’
Emerald didn’t know what to say to that, so she asked, ‘Is your grandfather still in Sicily?’
‘No, sadly. He’s one of those bright stars, now.’ He looked up into the clear sky. ‘Nonna showed me which star and I often look for it and remember my time in Sicily that shaped me as a man.’ He nodded as if to himself. ‘I think he’d be proud of me. I’ve come a long way since skinning hares.’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘But, Emerald.’ He pressed the tips of his fingers to his forehead, tried again. ‘Emerald, I have laid myself wide open for you; something I am not known for. But in doing so, I feel I have compromised you.’ He smiled tightly, his eyes remaining sad. ‘So, I have decided to take a back seat in Hot Air Aviation. That way you will not be embarrassed in the workplace by what we . . .’ He made a dismissive gesture with his hand as if the conversation was already over.
It wasn’t what she wanted to hear. ‘You’re going back to Italy?’
He nodded and then immediately shook his head, shrugging. ‘Well, maybe, until we sort out our emotions towards each other. And I do find I am rather homesick.’ His rueful smile showed the lie for what it was.
Emerald stared out at the sea. Had she done that to him? She might never see him again if he forgot all about her once he was back in Florence. His name would become a signature on the bottom of a letter, mentioned in passing as a faceless manager. Her voice was faint. ‘Don’t leave. I’ve only just found you.’ She took his hand, holding on tight as she faced him.
‘I thought—’
She shook her head. ‘We’ve only just found each other. I don’t want you to go, I’m just so new to all of this.’ Her words rushed out in a tumble of truths as she fixed her eyes on his, begging him to understand, not to turn her away.
And he didn’t. ‘Emerald . . .’ He folded her hand into his and wrapped his other hand on top of it.
Their eyes locked. She knew hers were brimming with longing, love even, and his own hooded eyes darkened and narrowed as he angled his head, questioning. He lifted his hand up to her face, brushing her cheek lightly. ‘You are so beautiful in the moonlight, I don’t know how I ever thought you were just a skinny wench.’
‘Thank you — I think.’ He grinned. She pulled a face. Marco was half naked, clasping her fingers in his hand, an unmistakable heat of desire burning in his eyes, and she was wearing the biggest passion killers in the whole world — but, at that moment, it was as if they had finally found a mutual place to move forward.
As the moonlight lit up their faces, Marco’s fingers trailed over her jawline, tilting her face to meet his. ‘Shall we leave it to the moon to turn the tide? It’s quite proficient, I believe, so we will be safe.’ He tugged at her hand. ‘The moon will keep us safe from the sea and I’ll keep you out of the cold.’
He raised his eyebrows and angled his head towards his bedroom.
She nodded. ‘Yes, please.’
She trailed behind him into the bedroom. Marco threw back the duvet cover, climbed in and gently pulled her down next to him. He folded her into his body in one easy motion and murmured into her ear, ‘We will both sleep better now, I think.’
Her body fitted effortlessly into his, as if she’d found where she belonged. He was so warm, so male . . .
She felt his breath close to her ear, heard him inhale and groan quietly. ‘Go to sleep,’ he said, loosening his hold on her.
Sleep ?
He turned away from her, dragging his pillow with him.
She stiffened. Why had he turned away? Was she so totally out of bounds now? She confronted his bare back and lifted her hand to trace his skin, noting another cute mole. ‘Marco?’
He sighed and turned back to face her. They were so close they could almost bump noses. He stilled and his eyes sought out hers in the darkness. He ran a hand down her arm and the length of her body, ending at her thigh. ‘Goddammit, Emerald — if we start this thing, I might never want to let you go.’
Her body core notched up several degrees at the throatiness in his voice and there was no mistaking his meaning, although his words were hardly endearing. ‘So, do you think it would be better if we didn’t . . . err.’
He hitched himself up on his elbow and looked down at her, winding a strand of her hair around his finger as he studied her. She felt strangely calm and trusting.
There were several beats of silence before he spoke. ‘We could see where the night takes us . . . ?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. And she so meant it. She ran her fingertips over the fine dark hairs that covered his chest, hesitant at first, then more confident, tracing the rivulet of hair between his rib cage and down lower to his abdomen.
He drew in a breath and the twinkle in his eyes disappeared, quickly replaced by a spark of something more intense. He wrapped his fingers over hers and caught them in his own.
They simply held hands as they both took in the measure of their position, questioning and answering each other with their eyes.
After a moment of allowing her to trail her fingers lower, he said, ‘If you carry on doing what you are doing we won’t need any more discussion.’ He traced a finger over her lips and she parted them slightly. The pad of his finger traced the fullness of her bottom lip and heat flared from her lips straight to her groin.
His fingers trailed past her neck and down her chest, where her pyjamas were buttoned all the way up to her neck. Very slowly, he undid the top button.
‘About the tricky business of you being my employer, does that matter too much, do you think? I know you weren’t too keen on the idea.’
Marco kissed her throat, his lips trailing lower to the swell of her breasts, his fingers already undoing the next button of her pyjamas. ‘I think you should leave that problem to me, Emerald.’
‘Okay.’ Her voice was small as she surrendered herself to Marco, a delicious heat flooding her entire body as his fingers brushed her skin in their quest to undo all of the buttons on her pyjama top.
Tentatively, she laced her fingers through his dark hair, realising that she’d wanted to do that since the day she’d spotted the damp curls sitting on his neck at the first aid course.
He raised his head and she met his lips with a sureness she had never felt before. It seemed so right that they fit together, and when he slid her top over her shoulders she settled into the warmth of the bed, prepared to abandon herself to whatever the night brought.
Marco stopped in his tracks. ‘You suddenly seem very sure of your decision.’
‘I trust you, Marco.’
‘Good, you should.’ He traced her cheek with his finger and lifted a tendril of hair, kissing it gently. ‘And you are sure about this?’ He breathed deeply as he trickled her hair through his fingers.
She nodded, the light of the moon picking up her action. He seemed to accept this and pulled her towards him, intertwining his legs with hers and simply holding her. ‘Kiss me again, Marco, I need to know this is really happening.’
She felt shy and inexperienced, and prayed it wouldn’t show. ‘Marco,’ her voice sounded panicky to her ears but she suddenly had to unburden her fear. ‘This is my first time . . . I thought you should know.’ Her breath hitched higher as his fingers trailed lower to her waist — and abruptly stopped.
He sighed, shaking his head slightly as he stilled.
She froze. He was going to turf her out, she knew it. But his eyes were gentle and after a long, long pause he said, ‘Well then, Emerald Montrose, I guess our first time of making love together will be in a small white cottage by the edge of the sea, and I can’t think of a more perfect place to be.’
She nodded, solemn eyes fixed on his face. Tentatively she reached out for him, feeling him tense and then pull away. Her eyes rounded. What now?
‘Wait there, I’m just going to my washbag,’ Marco said. Emerald blinked in confusion.
‘Condoms,’ he grinned.
‘Ah.’ God, she was so dumb — contraception hadn’t even crossed her mind.
‘Faster than the speed of light.’ Marco kissed her nose and slid out of bed.