Chapter 41 Rafaella
Rafaella
The morning light had an apricot tint to it, throwing a pale blush onto the stone buildings of the piazza.
The air was fresh, cooler than it had been in weeks, and Rafaella, moving through the market throng, detected rain on the wind.
It would be welcome – summer had been blistering this year, and the hot days always led to humid, sticky nights in which sleep was only ever light and fleeting.
She was used to sleeping undisturbed, but now she slept alone most nights too. Fon had been on the road more than usual lately and she’d had the luxury of a double bed to herself, stretched out on smooth sheets as she watched the ceiling fan spin round and round, almost hypnotizing her.
Her dreams were troubled, but that was nothing new; it was simply the intensity of them that frightened her now.
She would awaken with a gasp, almost certain she could still feel Cosimo’s hands upon her, or hear his breath in the room, or see his shadow pass outside the door.
Several times she had even got up and stood in the corridor, drenched in sweat and moonlight as she searched for phantoms.
But she wasn’t imagining this.
He was following her again, keeping his distance as she moved from stall to stall, talking with the market sellers.
It was almost becoming a routine. The market was set up every other day and she was becoming accustomed to the weight of his gaze on her back as she filled her basket.
As if it was an arrangement they had tacitly agreed.
Did he know that she knew he was here?
He would make no spy, that was for sure.
She had been shocked when she’d caught sight of him hiding in the trees at the beach the other week, unable to fathom how he’d known …
But as Brother Savelli returned the ball and joined them on the sand, she’d realized they had a messenger (unwitting or not).
So she had tested him. At their next meeting she had deliberately shared her plans again, by way of conversation, only to hear an echo to her footsteps a few hours later.
Cosimo had her in his sights. He had found her again and he wouldn’t give her up.
She told herself she could ignore him and still take comfort in his gaze.
His company might no longer be an option, but to have him as her shadow …
She welcomed the respite of shade, however faint.
She had stood in the glare of the sun for too long, her every movement, every emotion it seemed, scrutinized by Fon and his brother as if they were waiting for something from her, though she knew not what.
But she knew this wasn’t innocent. She luxuriated in Cosimo’s scrutiny, yearning for the weight of his stare upon her profile, her legs, her arms. She started doing her hair, showing more skin: a higher hem, a ruffled sleeve.
It was a power she had never known before. To be watched, missed, untouchable.
But she wanted him to touch her again – it was all she could think of. He invaded her dreams, dominated her waking thoughts. She found excuses for more meetings with Brother Savelli even though they both knew – though it went unspoken – that he was their intermediary, passing over news and plans …
Right now, Flavia was at home, cooking breakfast and dressing the children, allowing her the time to buy only the very best grapes, cucumbers, beans …
It began to spit with rain as she spoke with the sellers, chatting about Ferragosto and the influx of visitors, wanting to draw out every moment of this slow-motion chase.
Because she didn’t want it to end. She didn’t want to go back to that house and that empty life with Fon.
All she wanted was to be in his presence, wrapped up in his gaze …
The rain started falling more steadily, fat drops splashing onto hard cobbles, and the market sellers pulled tarpaulins over their stalls as she walked and wandered, walked and wandered.
She wanted to stay out here for ever – the hot rain washing the dust from her skin, slicking her hair and soaking her clothes – but eventually she ran out of road, reaching the far end of the market. There was nowhere to go but back.
But she didn’t do that. She couldn’t.
How long were they going to play this game? Already it wasn’t enough. Why was she giving up the man who wanted her for a man who didn’t?
She stood motionless as a rumble of thunder sounded far off in the distance, the sky growing ominously dark as she stared past the stalls, her basket full, her heart racing.
She felt as if she was standing at the very edge of the world, overlooking a precipice into the great beyond – and she wanted to jump.
To double-dare destiny and stare it down, because it was all her fault, this.
She had condemned them to it. In the shock of the aftermath of the accident, she was the one who had placed their fate in Fon’s hands – she had been trying to save Cosimo from what felt like certain imprisonment, but all she’d done was lock him up behind different bars.
Was he behind her now, watching her pause?
People were beginning to run for cover, disappearing into the shops as the rain came harder. Heavier.
She turned her head a half-turn, able to feel him at her back. They were tethered still, tied together by an invisible thread.
She stepped into a narrow alley, turning left and right into other streets without intention, losing direction, listening only to the footsteps echoing hers.
She walked faster, trying to match the rhythm of her pulse, but as she hurried her pace, she heard the percussive rhythm of his feet matching her beat.
She broke into a sudden run, breaking cover now. He would know she knew he was behind her. The chase was out in the open.
She was lost but it didn’t matter. The back streets had become a maze with no destination and no way out, but she didn’t want to escape. Or win.
She turned another corner and saw a cavity between the wall of a house and a steep set of stairs – just enough to park a couple of scooters – and she ducked into it, her heart clattering. She pushed her hair back from her face, her skin wet, her clothes soaked, waiting.
She heard him coming up the street, giving chase; he was only twenty metres behind her – fast and determined not to lose her.
Not again. She caught sight of his profile as he ran past, saw the jolt travel through his body like an electric shock as he glimpsed her in his peripheral vision, hiding in the nook, trembling in the rain.
He turned back in the next breath and suddenly – just like that – he was standing before her, saying nothing and everything at once in the silence.
When she had seen him at Gina’s, the sight of him – so altered, so unlike himself in his robes – had made her snap shut like an animal trap; the shock had been too great to absorb in the moment.
But now here were the eyes that had held hers as she said her vows, here was the mouth that caressed her in her dreams. Here was the soul that belonged with hers.
She felt his gaze fall over her like a rainbow, shelter from any storm, and she saw all his longing, all his pain.
Four years had passed since that night when they had claimed and then lost one another, but if their lives had changed beyond recognition, their feelings hadn’t.
He loved her still. She could see it in his heaving breaths, even though his feet were now quite still; the way his body stood taut, almost trembling from the tension of holding himself back.
Rain was pouring down his face as if the sky itself was crying for them.
‘Cosi,’ she whispered. Her hand fluttered towards him – tentative, frightened – and that was all it took to rip past the ties that had separated them. He swooped down and kissed her in a seamless movement, his hands clasped upon her cheeks, holding her to him now as for ever.
It was done.
Nothing would keep them apart any longer. Not life, not death. And not, for a single day more, Fon Giannelli.
His body pressed her back against the wall, as it had the first time in that ancient olive tree. His breath was hot and ragged as his urgency was matched by her own. He didn’t care who saw them and neither did she. It had been an unnatural act, their separation. This was right. This was love.
She felt the pressure of his fingertips through her clothes, and she pushed into it.
She didn’t care if he bruised her. Let her body wear the marks of their passion!
She felt no guilt and Fon would never see it anyway.
All the things she wanted to be – a full woman, free to love, a mother – she could never be with him.
She gasped for air, her hands in his dark, wet hair, her fingers twining tightly, binding her to him. ‘I love you, Cosi, I love you,’ she whispered.
He moaned in response, the sound coming from a place deep inside him as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. ‘You’re really still mine?’ he asked, pulling back, his eyes burning like pools of fire.
‘Always. I’ve always been yours. All this time.’
She saw her words land, healing him somehow as he kissed her again, over and over.
Her hands ran over him, marvelling at the body that had claimed her so completely four summers ago and never relinquished its grip.
‘What do we do?’ she whispered as his mouth covered her face, his hands on her breasts.
He couldn’t get enough of her. He had to hold her, touch her, taste her. ‘Tell me what we do.’
In the face of crisis, it was his turn to choose. They had both made vows. Could they choose one another before everyone, before God …?
He looked back at her, clasping her face in his hands. ‘We leave,’ he panted, the rain running in rivulets down his cheeks.
She nodded, tears of happiness slinking from the corners of her eyes. It was all she had wanted to hear. ‘Yes.’