The Italian's Rightful Bride Part 8

When she did not seem to hear him he took hold of her shoulders and turned her towards him.

'Joanna,' he said again, giving her a little shake. 'Where are you?'

She gave him a smile, but there was something dreamy about it.

'I'm here,' she a.s.sured him.

'I don't think so. Sometimes I think the real world isn't very real to you at all.'

'You think this is the only real world?' she asked in surprise. 'Isn't the past real? It should be to you of all people. I thought you understood the excitement of pa.s.sing into another universe where the rules are different.'

'But not more real than the present,' he said with a touch of urgency, for the hairs were beginning to stand up on the back of his neck at a kind of strangeness that had come over her.

'It's like travelling, exploring wondrous places. It's the greatest excitement there is.'

'I think your world is inhabited by some very strange creatures. It's alarming.' He searched her face. 'You're a little alarming yourself.'

She looked up at him, smiling. The glow of the sun was on her face. Hardly knowing what he did, or why, he drew her hat off, so that the sun touched her hair too, seeming to turn her to gold. The sight of her held him still.

Joanna could not have moved if her life had depended on it. Gustavo was looking at her as he had never done before, as though she had his whole attention, even without his will. His expression was startled, unguarded, almost defenceless, and she knew that, for the second time that day, she had broken through to some inner place that had always been barred to her in the past.

She was flooded with warmth, although whether from the sun or from some other cause she did not know. She only knew that it was beautiful and sweet, and she wanted it to last forever.

'Joanna-' he whispered again.

The shrilling sound from her pocket seemed to go through them both, breaking the spell.

'What's that?' he asked tensely.

'My cellphone,' she groaned, pulling it out and answering it.

'Jo? This is Etta.'

'Who?' Her mind was blank.

"'Who?" she says! Henrietta Rannley, your second cousin once removed. I'm calling from England. Now do you remember me?'

'Of course,' Joanna said, trying to pull herself together.

Etta was the daughter of Lord Rannley, the earl whose stately home had been the background for the drama twelve years ago. Then a child, she'd been Crystal's bridesmaid.

For a moment Joanna had to struggle to remember all this, because after the last few minutes Etta seemed as distant as though she were on another planet.

'I've been waiting to hear from you,' Etta said reproachfully.

'I'm sorry-about what?'

'About my wedding, of course. Are you coming or not? You were supposed to let me know.'

'Oh, heavens! Etta, I'm sorry, I really am-'

'But you got involved with some old bones so of course they came first.' She sounded amused. Like all Joanna's friends and relatives, she had learned to be tolerant.

'It wasn't like that-' Joanna began helplessly.

'Yes, it was. I know you. Anyway, can you tear yourself away for a couple of days?'

'I don't know. I'll try.'

'Good. I'll put you down as a definite.'

Joanna hung up, to find that Gustavo had walked away. It might have been simply courtesy, leaving her alone with her call, but she knew that for him the moment was over, and whatever it might have meant was gone.

Whatever it might have meant.

But something in her rebelled at the thought of going down that path again. She was no lovesick girl, to succ.u.mb easily to the sweet, dangerous magic. If she was wise she would escape this place while she could. A few days away would help her get everything in perspective.

'I think I'd like to go back to the house after all,' she said, joining him. 'I need a proper meal.'

'Of course,' he said politely. 'Let me drive you.'

On the way she began talking about indifferent things, and by the time they reached the house she had almost persuaded herself that she'd imagined it.

Over the next few days she wavered about whether to go back to England for the wedding. She told herself that she was needed here, although she knew her expert team could manage without her for a week, as they had done many times before.

Gustavo began spending more and more time at the dig, watching details emerge, as intently as though his salvation depended on it. Which in some ways it did, Joanna realised. It hurt her to see the tension in him, and to know that his dearest hopes were unlikely to be realised. To her this place was rich with history, but it was unlikely to bring him the hard cash he needed.

'It's not really like you read in books, is it?' he said to her one day. 'You dig up a brooch and it's worth a fortune.'

'We aren't likely to be finding things like that,' she told him gently. 'This is tiles and bricks.'

'Dull stuff.'

'To outsiders, yes.'

'No ancient remains? No valuable coins?'

'I'd find them for you if I could, but mostly it doesn't work like that.'

'I guess not. I'm sorry, Joanna. Take no notice of me. You have your job to do, and I'm not making it any easier.'

If she could only put her arms around him, and promise to find something that would make everything all right. The longing to do that swept over her with startling force, showing her the dangerous knife edge on which she was walking.

Abruptly she got up and walked away.

But almost at once there was a blinding flash.

'Was that lightning?' Hal asked, realising how sharply the temperature had dropped.

'I think it was,' Joanna said, her words almost drowned out by a crash of thunder.

'We get violent summer storms sometimes,' Gustavo said. 'Best get out of here quickly.'

But it was already too late. The next moment the heavens opened and rain poured down in sheets, soaking everyone at once, turning the soft ground into mud. After the heat there was a certain pleasure in simply standing there, pounded by cool rain. Joanna looked up to the sky, raising her arms in almost ecstatic welcome.

People were trying to reach the edge of the dig and make for the refuge of the cars, but they slipped and slid around, clinging on to each other, laughing.

With their hair plastered to their heads n.o.body looked like themselves any more. Sodden clothes became transparent, revealing that some of the women were naked beneath their shirts. They clutched their arms across their chests while the young men competed to a.s.sist them.

'Are you all right?' Gustavo called to Joanna.

'It's in my eyes; I can't see. Oh, heavens!'

She reached out and he took hold of her arm, shouting through the din, 'Hold on to me.'

She clutched wildly and felt his arms go around her just as her foot gave way in the mud. Floundering, she seized him, but her hands slipped on his sodden shirt and she had to grasp hard.

She had the sensation of a hard, muscular body beneath her palms. It belonged to a stranger. The young Gustavo had kissed her with restraint and she'd forced herself to respond in kind, her arms demurely about his neck. She hadn't dared yield to the impulse to run her hands over him, the way she seemed to be doing now.

It was a startling discovery, almost like touching him for the very first time. This was a man who concealed power beneath expensive clothes.

'Are you all right?' came his voice in her ear.

'I think so,' she said through the pounding water.

With one hand she was holding on to his arm, while her other was about his neck. And he was laughing. She could feel it along his arm, then her arms, and deep in his chest, pressed against hers. It seemed to go through her again and again, and she answered it with her own laughter, melting into his, so that there was no knowing where he ended and she began. And all the time she couldn't see him.

'One step at a time,' he said. 'Careful.'

She moved gingerly forward, one step, then two.

'I can't see where I'm going,' she cried.

'It doesn't matter. I'm holding you.'

'But how can you see?'

'I can't,' he shouted cheerfully. 'But sooner or later-Hey!'

The last word was a yell as his foot slid out from under him, so that he had no choice but to go down into the mud, taking Joanna with him, still clasped in his arms. She landed on top of him and they lay there, helpless with laughter.

The others, seeing what was happening, surged back to rescue them. Hands reached out and hauled them both up.

At last she managed to get her eyes clear and look around. Gustavo was sitting on the edge of the shallow bank, wiping his eyes and trying to brush his hair back.

He was covered in mud. It soaked his clothes so that they clung to him, revealing every line of his body. Now she could clearly see what she had only sensed before. His body was perfectly proportioned without an extra ounce anywhere. His sodden trousers clung to him so closely that he might as well have been naked.

Looking down, she saw that the same was true of her. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were outlined in vivid detail. She reckoned she must be light-headed because it was suddenly clear to her why female wrestlers used mud and why men cheered them on. But Gustavo wasn't cheering. He looked astounded.

Another flash of lightning announced an even harder downpour. In seconds everyone was in vehicles heading back to the house. Joanna travelled with Gustavo but his attention was taken up with the road, which seemed to slip and slide away from the car.

Once inside they all headed for their bedrooms to dive under showers with cries of pleasure and relief. Joanna let the hot water lave over her, feeling good as the mud drained away, followed by soapsuds. But she was acting mechanically. With her eyes closed again, she was playing back what she had seen, playing it over and over, relishing every moment.

She had forgotten that Gustavo came from a line of princes, men who had lived in splendour while ruling 'their' people ruthlessly. To the world they presented an appearance of elegance. You had to get close to sense the leashed power, even menace, that lay beneath.

It almost made her laugh out loud to think that an accident had revealed more of his body than she had learned as his fiancee. But it had come years too late, when there could no longer be anything between them.

Then her laughter died.

She switched off the water and stepped out, wrapping herself in towels. Slowly she went to sit on the huge bed with its ornate painted bedhead.

Inside her head she lived it all again, the feel of him against her, firm and vibrant. And responding to her, as aware of her as she was of him. There had been no mistaking the look on his face. He'd been thunderstruck. Just as she had been.

What was he doing now? Sitting in his own room, thinking thoughts that echoed her own? Was he, too, filled with alarm? Or had it meant nothing, a brief flash of desire that had flared and gone?

Or perhaps lingered, as it had lingered with her?

She would know something when she saw him at supper. It would be there in his eyes, in the way he stood, in the sound of his voice when he spoke to her.

But when she went down Carlo said that Gustavo wouldn't be joining them tonight. He'd received an urgent summons from a business acquaintance in Rome, and would be gone for several hours.

Joanna smiled and said that she understood how many calls on the prince's time there must be.

But inwardly she whispered, Now I know all that I need to. I promised myself I wouldn't let it happen again. It's over. It's over! It's over!

Later that night she slipped into her son's room.

'Billy, would you mind if I went away for a few days?'

'Nope. Don't suppose I'll even know you're gone,' he said with a grin.

She flicked his hair. 'Watch it, cheeky!'

'Honest, Mum, now I've started riding, I'm having a great time. Besides,' he added, 'I think Renata copes better when I'm there.'

Joanna nodded. 'I think so too. I'll be a week. Tops.'

He regarded her satirically. 'Have you got a boyfriend?'

'No, I'm going to Etta's wedding, and if I have any more lip out of you I'll make you come with me. She did once ask if you could be a pageboy-'