Chapter Twenty-Five
Marco made tea and flipped pancakes while Emerald showered in water that was at best tepid, dashing in and out and making a show of shivering. Marco smiled at her antics as she passed by, running on the spot to stay warm as her towel threatened to pool at her feet.
He felt good. No, he felt great. He was doing the right thing here and it was time that his life moved on. Emerald had purged him of the remnants of love he’d felt for his wife and he hoped he was now done with the self-loathing that overwhelmed him when his needs were met by one of the socialites on the circuit. They had merely been a means to an end, but Emerald brought his soul to life again.
‘We could go to the hotel today to check it out. You don’t mind coming with me do you?’ He turned to Emerald who looked radiant. Sex was good for her, he decided, smiling. Then he looked a bit closer. She looked wary all over again and he hoped it wasn’t the boss-employee thing.
‘Yes, fine. It looks as if the windy weather is back to stay, but it’ll be good to blow the cobwebs away.’ She twiddled with a lock of her hair and chewed her lip, glancing repeatedly out of the window as if she wanted to dive through it.
Marco strode over to her. ‘Come here.’ He pulled her closer to face him, smoothing her hair out of her eyes and holding her face, so that she had no choice but to listen to him. ‘Don’t go all polite on me, Emms. I don’t want banalities and pleasantries. I know the English are fixated on the weather, but I can tell the difference.’
‘It’s hard for me, Marco.’
‘What is?’ He could hazard a guess, and in a way, he didn’t blame her. ‘Is it the being-your-boss thing?’
She nodded. ‘I think so. It’s fine when we’re — you know.’ She jerked her thumb in the direction of the bedroom. ‘But I seem to forget that bit once we’re dressed again.’
Marco sighed. ‘I think we need more time together. And luckily for you, we can spend the whole week here.’
Her eyes widened. ‘How come?’
‘I booked the cottage for a week.’
‘Without mentioning it to me?’
He held his hand up. ‘Wait. Don’t think it was intentional — it was seven days or nothing.’ He shrugged. ‘We don’t have to stay that long, if you don’t want to.’
She rolled her eyes, but he could tell that she liked the idea. ‘We’ll be sick of each other by the time we leave.’
‘We will not.’ He moved in for a kiss to convince her. ‘And if I have to keep taking you to bed to reassure you, then—’ he shrugged ‘—I can do that.’
‘You’re all heart,’ Emerald said as he pulled her towards him and kissed her slowly and languidly, letting her hair tumble through his fingers. He groaned and pulled away. ‘Let’s go buy you a raincoat before the temptation to undress you again becomes too much.’
As he spoke the sun lit up the kitchen, appearing from behind the heavy clouds like an answered prayer. ‘Here we go — even the sun wants us to stay.’
* * *
They ate breakfast and Emerald relaxed a bit more. She plaited her hair to stop it blowing in her face when they went out, and layered the fisherman jumper over her flowery dress. Then they braved the weather once more, heading for the shops on the high street.
Marco bought her a rain mac and some bright red wellingtons just because they were cute, which prompted her to do a little jig of happiness when she put them on.
They strolled along the beach, hand in hand, and Emerald collected a few seashells, popping them into her pocket. She picked up a large periwinkle before realising it had a dead crab inside and Marco snapped a picture of her horrified expression, laughing when she threw it at him, shell and all. He chased her over the fine white sand and, pretending to rugby tackle her, drew her to the ground, where he kissed her and untied her hair with slow determination, fanning it out on the sand. ‘You’d make a gorgeous mermaid,’ he said, straddling her and stroking her hair away from her face.
‘No self-respecting mermaid would have hair this frizzy — imagine what the sea water would do to it.’ Emerald laughed up into his eyes, her own eyes brim-full of happiness.
Marco heaved himself off her and lay on the sand, spreading his arms wide. ‘Relaxing is so good for the soul.’
‘Relaxing? I’m totally knackered.’ Emerald lifted herself up on one elbow before leaning into Marco who wrapped her inside his — now decidedly sandy — cashmere coat and they shut out the world for several minutes while they kissed, their bodies responding to each other. Marco finally pulled away, saying, ‘Tell me this isn’t more delicious than food?’
‘Man shall not live on bread alone. Matthew 4,’ Emerald parroted, raising herself to a sitting position.
‘Ah, I forgot I have a good Catholic girl on my hands.’
‘Sadly, I’ve read the Bible more times than I care to admit, but I’m not Catholic.’
‘But you are very good,’ Marco waggled his eyebrows.
Emerald blushed. ‘I have a very good teacher. Now, let’s get some provisions.’
As they meandered along, a huge dog ran up to them, snuffling around in excitement. Its owner, an old man with a walking stick, raised his cap to them, saying, ‘A fine day for walking. You’re staying at Tideline Cottage, are you not?’
‘Yes, I believe we are,’ Marco said.
Emerald turned to Marco. ‘The name explains the proximity of the sea last night, then.’
Marco squeezed her hand. It was a night he would never forget. ‘I will forever be grateful to the high tide,’ he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
‘Ah, wonderful cottage for young newlyweds.’ The man called his dog to heel with a high-pitched whistle, before continuing. ‘Generations of babies have been conceived in Tideline. It’s a lucky cottage. You’ll be well blessed.’
Emerald gave Marco big, scared eyes. ‘Right. Lovely to know, thanks for that,’ she replied politely.
‘More condoms — we need more condoms,’ Marco whispered as Emerald giggled, although for a brief second, she imagined what it would be like to have Marco’s children. Grey eyes or green — or one of each, maybe? It was a good fantasy.
Marco saluted the old man and made to move on, but it seemed he wanted to chat.
‘You might be interested in visiting the Crown pub tonight as it’s Sunday.’ He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the town. ‘Everyone comes over to eat and we have a bit of a knees-up afterwards. They’re a friendly lot — except for the ones who are not, of course. They’re stuck in a time warp and don’t like tourists or newcomers.’
‘Right. Well, if we do make it, we’ll pretend we’ve lived here for years.’ Marco smiled and shook the man’s hand and they made a hasty retreat.
Emerald put the conversation from her mind saying, ‘We haven’t been up to the hotel yet. Are they not expecting you?’
‘They don’t know I’m coming.’
‘What?’
‘Actually, the hotel I have in mind is not even up for sale.’
‘We came all this way for nothing?’
‘Not at all. Everyone has a price. At the very least the owners will agree to reach a compromise, if they want to stay there. I’ll make them an offer they can’t refuse, throw everything at it and after a while, I’ll take a back seat and the profits will roll in for the shareholders. Simple. It’s on St Martins so we have to get a boat across.’
‘Oh.’ She pondered on his words. ‘Is that what you’re doing with Hot Air?’
‘Yes, apart from being more hands-on for Robert Clarke, as he is not a well man and neither is his wife.’
‘And I thought you were just enjoying harassing me.’
Marco laughed. ‘I assure you, I have too many other problems to sort out than to spend time harassing one of my staff.’
* * *
They wandered across the beach in no hurry to visit the hotel, each other’s company being enough for now. Emerald had lost the uncertain edge she’d had with Marco, who showed himself to be funny, solicitous and very loving: a different person from the Marco he’d presented at Hot Air Aviation. He kissed the top of her head. ‘I’d be happy to stay here with you forever.’
‘That’d be nice, but only if you can guarantee a tiny bit more sunshine at some stage of the game,’ she agreed, as they picked their way back to the cottage through rivulets and deep pools of water, caused by the retreating tide.
‘Let’s go back to the cottage. The hotel can wait another day,’ Marco said as more clouds gathered.
They spent the afternoon listening to the rain again as they dozed on the sofa with the television on, in the background. Emerald had become used to having the things she loved taken away from her and she snuck her hand into his for comfort and reassurance, saying a quick prayer that this time she might get Marco for keeps.
He squeezed her hand, before allowing his hand to roam leisurely across her waist, sneaking up to her breast.
‘We need to move or else we’ll end up in bed again,’ he said, letting her go and throwing his legs over the side of the sofa. ‘Come on, let’s go and see what the pub has to offer.’
Emerald would secretly rather have stayed on the sofa, contentedly using Marco’s chest for a pillow, but she roused herself and they headed out in the wind once more as the darkness gathered around them.
They heard the pub before they saw it, drawing closer to see customers spilling out of the door, the heady smell of hops and chips enticing them in. The local band playing folk music was tempting enough to make them push on towards the bar. A fiddle, a Bodhrán and a guitar accompanied two singers who belted out songs with gusto, although they were almost drowned out by the noise of the customers shouting over the top of each other to be heard.
Marco grinned at Emerald, grabbing her hand as they shouldered their way through the noisy crowd of people. He ordered a locally-brewed beer for himself and an apple juice for Emerald, and they fought their way back through the throng of people to find a tiny corner of space to stand together.
‘If this beer is any good I’m going to serve it in the hotel — and the wine we have at the cottage is from St Martin’s. What more could you ask for — a vineyard and microbrewery on your doorstep?’
They garnered a few looks from the locals, but there were surely many tourists in there.
Emerald found it slightly disconcerting. ‘Why are people staring at us — aren’t they used to tourists?’ she whispered under her breath.
‘Because you look like a glorious movie star,’ Marco said. He looked at Emerald with her long curls, rosy cheeks and big eyes and wondered how she managed to be so unaware of her beauty. He put it down to years of being teased — but he loved her hair, and it certainly reflected her spirited personality.
‘And what are you staring at?’ Emerald teased as she narrowed her eyes at Marco.
‘A woman who has transformed my view on redheads.’ Marco leaned forward and lifted a lock of her hair, allowing it to fan over his fingers.
‘For the better, I hope,’ Emerald said as she stared at the menu on the board. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘Only hungry for you.’
Emerald spluttered into the drink she’d just raised to her lips. ‘Did you really just say that?’
‘Yes, I’m trying to be romantic.’ He grinned, as he nudged her leg with his knee.
‘Then, thank you.’ But her eyes danced with laughter and she stifled a giggle. ‘But that was really crap.’
‘I won’t bother next time.’
‘Just stick to being you — it’s better for both of us.’
She patted his arm, but her insides curled with pleasure. The stern, severe Marco had all but disappeared and she was delighted that she was the cause of his transformation.
She sipped at her drink, contentedly watching the band and the locals, and wondered if it was worth doing battle at the bar again for some crisps.
A man playing a Spanish guitar started up a sweet confection of chords and a singer joined him, picking out a soulful tune. It all looked very impromptu and haphazard, which added to the charm of the evening. A couple of people started dancing, cheek to cheek, and then another two drifted onto a space in front of the singer that doubled up as a makeshift dance floor.
Marco picked up Emerald’s hand and she looked up, ready to smile at his sentiment, but, unexpectedly, he pulled her into his arms. ‘I haven’t danced with you, yet. Can’t be considered a proper relationship until we dance together.’
‘Really, why’s that?’ Emerald eyed the tiny space, wondering if they would even fit in there.
‘What if we don’t synchronize? It will be the end for us. Being able to dance together is more important than sex.’
‘You’re joking, right?’
‘I never joke about dancing.’ He drew her over to the tiny dance floor and pulled her in to him. ‘I should have mentioned that when I studied at Cambridge, I learned ballroom dancing. I kid you not — as you English would say.’
‘You should have mentioned that you studied at Cambridge,’ Emerald said, his almost flawless accent now making complete sense.
‘Follow my feet, and you’ll be fine — we are basically just shuffling around here,’ Marco said.
Emerald put her hand on Marco’s shoulder and he placed his arm around her waist. Their free hands met and she was terrified that he would start to prance around the floor, like something out of Strictly , doing proper ballroom stuff, but he just tightened his grip on her waist and took the lead.
He pressed up to her body and closed the gap between them. Marco brought his hand up to her shoulder and she leaned in to him as he stroked the back of her neck with his thumb. The singer crooned an Ed Sheeran song about being perfect and Marco started to hum under his breath. It resonated through his chest and Emerald relaxed into the rhythm of their slow dance. It was as if it was just the two of them. No one else mattered as they moved, wrapped up in each other. Emerald was melting with longing for Marco, the sweet ache that always seemed to be there for him, pulsing through her veins. She had found the man of her dreams, unlikely as it was. His heart beat next to hers and she pressed her breasts into his chest, her thigh into his thigh, feeling the strength of his muscles as they moved in unison around the dance floor.
Marco groaned as Emerald pushed her pelvis into the erection she could most definitely feel. ‘This is interesting,’ she whispered into his ear.
‘This is difficult,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘I don’t think I want them to put the lights on any time soon.’ His eyes were smouldering with heat when he finally pulled away to gaze down at her.
‘Did we pass the test?’ Emerald’s voice was unsteady as she came back down to earth, out of the trance that Marco’s humming and manly warmth had put her in.
‘I’m not sure. I think we need to get back to the cottage quickly to check out the sex again. We need a proper comparison.’ Although his eyes danced, his tone was urgent, his voice unmistakably throaty as he ushered her off the dance floor, hunger burning in his eyes.
Emerald felt the same heat flash through her body and was as desperate as Marco to get back. Who’d have thought that just dancing could do that to a person. She fanned her face. She grabbed her rain coat from the chair as they sailed straight past their drinks and their table and out of the door.
‘I kind of want to run.’ Emerald laughed, as Marco grabbed her hand. She threw him a challenging look as she broke into a trot. Marco grinned and started running. She upped her pace to keep up with him, jumping over potholes and swivelling around gorse bushes as he sprinted ahead.
They crashed into the cottage, barely taking the time to shut the door, before they were undressing each other, their kisses frantic, hands fumbling and desperate. They made love in a frenzy of passion, until exhausted and heaving in deep breaths, they slowly resurfaced.
‘Okay, I think it was a close tie between the dancing and the sex,’ Marco said, as he pushed himself upright on the bed. Emerald giggled and he threw an arm across her, drawing her into his chest.
‘Just remind me not to dance with you again, unless there is a bed within yards of us.’ She snuggled into him and pulled the duvet over them both. ‘I’ll brush my teeth in a minute,’ she said, yawning.
‘Boarding-school conditioning?’ Marco asked, his own voice sounding sleepy.
‘Yes, I guess so. Maybe this can be the start of a new defiant me. Sod it, I’ll leave it until the morning.’
‘Atta girl. Look forward to the morning breath.’ Marco kissed her cheek as he settled into the covers.
She smiled in the darkness, listening to Marco’s breathing as it steadied. She was exactly where she wanted to be, she realised.
Rain started up again battering the skylight and thrumming on the windows in a cacophony of noise, which only emphasized their cosy room and the warmth they shared.
Marco threw a leg over Emerald and hooked her into him at the sound of thunder. ‘Hmm, this is my idea of a stormy night — someone to keep me safe and warm,’ he said against her throat as he trailed kisses over her skin.
‘You’re the man, Marco — you’re supposed to keep me safe.’
‘I didn’t think you were one for stereotypes, but if it makes you happy, don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.’ He kissed her hair.
‘Promise?’
‘Forever, cara mia .’
The word forever played over in Emerald’s mind as she lay in the circle of Marco’s arms. For the first time in her life she feared she would be unable to cope without a constant love — Marco’s love. She pressed her body into his, as if she could melt into him, to be united forever.
Marco stirred and lifted himself up on his elbow and looked down at her. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m scared, Marco.’
‘You don’t need to be scared, Emms. I’ve told you I’ll keep you safe.’
‘I’m not scared of the storm.’ She needed his reassurance. If he kissed away her fears, she would put her absolute faith in him.
He smiled down at her. ‘You look so ethereal in this light.’
She nodded slowly, acquiescing. The non-starter of a conversation was already closed, it seemed. A rush of emotion filled her heart and she wished she was brave enough to tell him she loved him, but she stayed silent as Marco’s breathing levelled out, and he slept once more without saying the words she longed to hear.
* * *
They didn’t make it to the hotel until the last day of their stay and, even then, Marco was loath to leave her alone. ‘You must come with me. We’ll have lunch and you can read while I sort out my very neglected business emails. Hopefully their internet is actually working, unlike ours. I shall decide whether to take my plans any further when I see how the hotel is located.’
She showered and dressed as Marco phoned up the hotel to book lunch, giving his name in the happy belief that no one would have heard of him.
Happily, the boat trip across to St Martin’s was uneventful if a little choppy and the coastline was uplifting, although Emerald was sad she didn’t spot any puffins to snap for Finbar. She was assured that there were hundreds of them on the Island of Annet which was protected from humans and she made a note to take a boat trip there when she next visited with Marco. She hugged the thought to herself. She had a future and she was loved — she hoped.
The hotel, after they’d trudged up a steep hill and got lost twice, was a rather run-down affair from the outside, with moss and grime coating the black granite walls. The stone steps leading up to the entrance were broken and worn, and a headless statue reclined next to a large magnolia tree that shook as the wind blew.
Mournful terns cried out overhead and a huge seagull eyed up Emerald and Marco from the top of one of the pillars.
‘It’s a bit depressing, isn’t it,’ Emerald said, dolefully. ‘But it might just be the weather?’
‘It has potential though, don’t you think? I’m seeing a helipad over there.’ Marco gestured to a large field. ‘A swimming pool could go over there. Maybe a maze to inject a little fun. The glass dome would be on that part of the hotel.’ He pointed to a long flat extension that looked as if it had been added at a later date. ‘I’m guessing that’s a ballroom or large dining area, but it would be perfect for my stargazers. I would have to install shutters to keep out the light at night-time so that we don’t cause light pollution, but that is a minor tweak.’
‘Wow! That’s ambitious. Here I was imagining a lick of paint was what you had in mind.’
‘My new hotel chain needed a good branding idea and after sifting through lots of ideas we decided on the Midnight Skies as the few I have already earmarked are in remote locations. Wait and see how I turned a fortress of outdated misery into a magical castle.’
A strong gust of wind shook small white petals from a nearby tree and they floated and rotated slowly in the wind. Emerald twirled around, laughing, snapping them between her hands as they fluttered down like confetti, her happiness spilling over.
Marco caught her around the waist and kissed her. ‘It will be perfect here. England will become my second home, so I might as well make it a beautiful one, no?’
Emerald, who only hours ago was considering that she would soon be very familiar with the Scilly Isles, was suddenly disillusioned when he didn’t include her in his dreams for the future.
But then he added, ‘We are making beautiful memories already.’ A petal fell on her head and he picked it out of her hair and turned it over in his fingers, his expression serious. He stroked her hair tenderly. ‘Your hair haunted me, you know, in my dreams.’
She stood under the tree with the petals drifting down over them both and for one second imagined that it really was confetti.
‘I love you, Marco.’ Although she hadn’t meant to blurt it out quite so readily, she felt light as a feather — as if her burden had been lifted. She pulled at Marco’s coat lapels to draw him in for a kiss, the sheer joy of being in love propelling her forward, but something in his bearing stopped her, and it took her a moment to process that he hadn’t returned the sentiment.
She stopped in her tracks as his eyes clouded. ‘That is a very sobering statement to make,’ he said.
Immediately she regretted her words. Her arms dropped to her sides and she turned away as tears blurred her eyes. ‘Not quite the reaction I hoped for,’ she stammered in humiliation. He didn’t love her — of course he didn’t — and now she’d embarrassed them both.
Marco let the leaf drop to the ground, his lips set in the severe line she remembered so well from before — well, before they’d fallen in love. She laughed bleakly. Before she’d fallen in love.
‘It doesn’t matter — that, you know, you don’t . . .’ She backtracked, but could barely get the words out and just shrugged unhappily as her words trailed away.
‘It does matter, Emerald.’ Marco’s voice was thick and his expression sad. It was certainly not the look of love — she knew that much. He should be smiling with her, celebrating the joy of being alive and loving each other.
She shook her head. ‘No, really, it doesn’t. It was just a silly spur-of-the-moment thing to say.’ She tucked her hair behind her ears and straightened her back.
‘We’ll talk about it later.’ His gaze was sorrowful as he touched her cheek with his thumb, wiping away — oh, God, was it a tear?
The burn of shame lit up her cheeks and she pulled away from him, feeling patronized, as he tried to tuck her hand into his. He looked unhappy and slightly lost and she wished she could turn the clock back. She’d ruined the day. She trailed behind him to the restaurant — she couldn’t think what else to do than follow him.
Marco was as attentive as ever during their lunch, and Emerald tried to be light-hearted and cheery, although she pushed most of her food around the plate before finally giving up the pretence. She folded her napkin over the top of the food, hoping that the chef wouldn’t be offended. She thought she’d pulled off the joviality act reasonably well, until Marco took her hand and considered her for a long moment.
Anxiety shot through her spine and radiated out towards her limbs. Her mouth dried. She was expecting the worst. He was going to tell her that their time together had just been a pleasant interlude — an escape from reality and he belatedly realised that she didn’t understand the rules. She decided to pre-empt the knock-back. ‘I wonder if the weather is better in London. Be good to get back and see some sunshine, won’t it. Although I’m wondering if we’ve seen the last of summer?’ She closed her eyes briefly against the banality of her conversation. The bloody weather is all I can talk about. At a time like this?
‘Yes, I suppose it will. I shouldn’t have spent so long away from my business dealings, really. I’ll need to make up for lost time.’
She drew in a sharp breath, unable to help herself. His business came first — she should have known. Had she been totally na?ve? Perhaps she deserved her newly-built fantasy world to come crashing down on her. Maybe, in the fast world that Marco inhabited, it was considered totally normal for a man and a woman to spend a week together and then go their separate ways — like a friends-with-benefits holiday. She had assumed they were starting something incredible together, but maybe she was, after all, just a small part of the relaxing break that Marco had professed to need.
She was stunned by the realisation, felt as if she was waking up from a dream. She looked at Marco as if she was seeing a different man.
Marco’s smile was natural and warm though. He took her hand, clearly having no qualms about the changing status of their relationship.
‘Let’s sit over here with our drinks, shall we?’ He indicated a secluded area overlooking the garden.
She dutifully rose, clutching her drink with hands she tried so hard to keep steady as she followed him.
Emerald sat down and took in the sitting room which was indeed a bit run down a damp patch above her head causing the old-fashioned flock-wallpaper to peel. The carpet had seen better days and the overall impression was tired and in need of an injection of cash.
Marco left her alone to find the manager and ask to set up an appointment with the owner of the hotel, who lived on the island but not on site. Taking out her Kindle, she thought she would try to relax but soon caught herself staring into the fire, trying to imagine life without Marco. How quickly someone else could shape her world and how dangerous it was to allow love into her life. She could be independent, strong, opinionated but did that mean she also couldn’t love? Were such traits mutually exclusive? She should have stuck with animals, she thought ruefully, returning her Kindle into her bag, unable to face reading.
She watched Marco as he talked to the manageress. He was eloquent, handsome, a smart dresser, great physique, rich. She sighed. What did she have to give him in return — apart from her body and her hang-ups? Panic beat at her heart as she wondered, for the first time since they had become lovers, if he was, after all, playing her, as Fin had warned.
She shook her head. No, he wouldn’t be capable of such duplicity, not to her, anyway. But the nagging doubt had taken a hold in her head and she feared that he just might have had a hidden agenda when arranging the trip.
She bit her lip determined to be grown up and dispassionate. But inside she was desperate, full of sadness and loss.
Her smile was brittle when he returned bearing two cups of coffee and she continued to play her part. ‘So, home tomorrow?’
‘Yes.’ Marco sipped his coffee, regarding her over the rim, his dark eyes once more serious.
‘How was the manager?’ She suddenly felt as if she had no right to ask such an impertinent question — she was an employee, not a confidante — or a partner.
‘Fine. She has arranged for me to meet the owner tomorrow, before we leave.’
Emerald nodded, reeling that he didn’t invite her to join him this time. She felt ridiculously excluded and her smile slipped. ‘I’d better get packed soon, then. It’s been a lovely break, thank you.’
She rummaged around in her handbag so that Marco couldn’t see her face and gauge how hurt she was, certain it must show in her eyes. Wondering what on earth she would produce from the depths of her bag, her fingers touched her small sketchpad, now brimming with clandestine pictures of wildlife and fauna, seascapes and the beautiful night sky, not to mention miniatures of Marco that she’d drawn as he slept.
She had used every moment away from Marco to draw what was in front of her eyes, but it was always the images of him that drew her back, over and over — the back of his head as he slept, showing one ear and a tousle of dark hair — but she burrowed her sketchpad away each time afterwards; it would be her secret.
She picked out a tissue and dabbed at her lips, mostly for something to do, but a sudden flash of bright light from the doorway distracted her.
She and Marco turned simultaneously to see a man looming close, pointing a large camera lens at them. Another bright light flashed in their faces and the man disappeared with a clatter of heels. The barman chased after him, shouting, ‘Oi! What are you up to?’
‘What was that?’ Emerald rose from her seat, panicked, but Marco put his hand on her shoulder.
‘It’s fine. Just some low-life photographer who, no doubt will try and flog a photo or two of us, I imagine.’
He pulled Emerald back down to her seat, his face a tight mask of irritation as he stared at the doorway.
‘Does it happen often?’
‘Reasonably often, but I wouldn’t have expected it out here.’ He sighed. ‘It’ll be on the internet by sunrise no doubt, if they can sell it to an interested party. At least they won’t be able to find out who you are. Thank goodness we didn’t check in here.’ he sighed heavily. ‘I hate such intrusions.’
‘Because I’m with you?’
‘Yes, damn it. I’m not divorced, so they latch on to any titbit of gossip where a woman is involved, to stir up trouble.’ His mouth twisted and his eyes flashed, suddenly reminding Emerald of the man she’d first met, whose forbidding attitude she’d all but forgotten.
His anger appeared to be directed at her and it made her own sense of injustice flare. ‘Who I am? Because I’m your employee or because I’m your . . .’ She lifted one shoulder, unable to decide what word should be used to describe her relationship with Marco. ‘What even am I?’
‘I do not wish to be seen in a compromising position, that is all.’
Emerald blanched. She was a compromising position? She accepted that Marco had had far more dealings with the paparazzi than she ever had but, even so, she felt insulted.
‘I think it’s time we left.’ He offered her his hand but she pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the gesture. She knew it was churlish, but at that moment she couldn’t bear him to touch her, didn’t want the electricity that passed between them to give her any false expectations. Their bodies were perfectly in tune, but their sentiments it seemed, were not.
That night she lay stiff in Marco’s arms, tears coursing silently down her cheeks as he slept. He either had no inkling that she was distraught or he didn’t care. Earlier they had discussed their trip home and she wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, because of her earlier faux pas, but Marco appeared to be withdrawing from her in front of her very eyes.
His demeanour was becoming more formal with each hour that passed. He slipped on a veneer of politeness as easily as he slipped on his cashmere coat. If it wasn’t for the fine grains of sand still glinting on it, she might believe that this wasn’t the same man who had lowered her to the ground and said she would make a gorgeous mermaid.
By the time she’d watched the sun rise in the clear blue sky and heard the seagulls caw noisily as if celebrating the change in the weather, she’d already decided that she would wear the same mask as Marco. If polite distance was to be the state of play for them both, then she would win hands down. She’d had a whole lifetime of walking the walk and talking the talk.
Emerald had opened her heart to Marco by telling him the truth and now her heart was bruised — and if she could do nothing about it, then at least she could put on a good show of not caring. Marco Cavarelli would not find her lacking in that department, of that he could be sure.