Moth to the Flame (25 page)

and go back to England. But this still presented problems. Santino

gave no sign that he was prepared to let her go just yet. At times,

she wondered if the humiliation she had suffered over the past few

weeks was intended to punish her for the deception she had

practised on him. She was no longer sure of anything, except the

lonely ache deep inside her.

There were also practical problems standing in the way of her

immediate departure. She was still having to make do with the

assortment of clothes that Santino had collected from the apartment

that first night. Her handbag with her passport and money, and the

rest of her clothes were still at the apartment. And while Jan was

plentifully supplied with clothes—Juliet guessed that the set of

matched luggage reposing in her room contained the trousseau she

had bought for Mario—that did not prevent her from making

slightly edged remarks when Juliet appeared in anything from her

wardrobe. And unfortunately the majority of garments that Santino

had selected belonged to Jan. She had tried to raise this point with

Santino a few times, but he had impatiently brushed it aside.

Roccaforte was a tiny fishing village, he said coldly, not a

fashionable resort.

Juliet looked down at her mother's envelope still clutched in her

hand and her eyes blurred with sudden tears at the sight of the dear,

familiar writing. That was where she belonged, she told herself

bleakly, back among the small dramas of the staff room and high

street. She could cope with those. Here, she was out of her

emotional depth, but at least she had the sense to know it.

There was nothing else for it. She would have to tackle Santino

about fixing a date for her return to England. After all, the autumn

term would be starting very soon, and she would have to be back in

her classroom for that.

Nor was there any point in putting the interview off to a more

opportune moment. She never really knew from one day to the next

whether Santino was going to be there or not, and when he was

there, Jan was never far away either so she had little hope of any

real privacy to say what she had to.

She felt self-conscious and miserable as she left the road and

walked across the yielding sand towards them. She knew they had

seen her and were watching her approach, and she had an

uncomfortable instinct that she had intruded. As she neared them

she saw that Santino, who was lying only about a foot away from

Jan, had propped himself up on his elbow, and that his mouth was

twisted impatiently. Jan was talking in that low, laughing voice she

seemed to reserve for him, but as Juliet came up to them, she broke

off rather theatrically and smiled up at her.

'Hello, sweetie. Are you joining us? How nice. I thought you'd be

writing back to Mim like a dutiful daughter.'

Juliet made herself smile back. 'There seems little point,'

she said coolly. 'I can probably get there myself ahead of a letter.'

She did not look at Santino as she spoke but kept her eyes fixed on

Jan, noticing that her sister's gaze flickered a little at her words. She

hoped that Santino would say something, but he remained silent,

and she supposed that he was either wilfully ignoring what she had

just said, or merely indifferent. She sighed inwardly. His attitude

was not making her task any easier. She made herself turn to him.

He had removed his shirt, and the close-fitting denim pants he wore

citing to his muscular legs. Dark glasses hid the expression in his

eyes as he looked up at her, but she knew intuitively that he was

annoyed at the interruption.

She felt a little spurt of anger rise within her. How dared he behave

like this? He had forced her to agree to this fake engagement, and

had been quick to demand certain standards of behaviour from her,

she thought bitterly. She made herself smile down at him.

'Could I have a word with you—darling?' She had to force the word

past suddenly dry lips. 'I hardly seem to see you nowadays.'

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, then he rose to his feet. 'You

will excuse us, Janina?'

'Of course,' Jan leaned back on her cushions, smiling. 'I mustn't be

selfish about my enjoyment of your company. I mustn't forget that

you belong to Julie.'

Santino glanced at Juliet and his teeth showed momentarily in a

smile that was more like a sneer. 'So I do,' he said lightly. 'Will a

stroll along the beach content you,
mia,
or would you prefer to

return to the
castello?'

'The beach will be fine,' she said, trying not to let her hurt show in

her voice: 'I—I won't keep you.'

She walked Stiffly beside him, knowing that Jan was watching them

go.

'So you've sought me out at last,' he said coldly when they were at

last out of earshot. 'I suppose I should be flattered. May I know the

reason for this sudden desire for my company?'

'You can hardly complain that you've lacked female

companionship,' she returned stormily, goaded by his tone.

'No, I can't—and I don't, believe me.' His voice was satirical. 'Are

you here in the role of outraged
fidanzata
to complain that I am

spending too much time with your sister?'

Juliet bent her head so that her hair swung like a curtain across her

face, concealing her expression from him. She was afraid that

something of the pang of real pain his words had caused her might

show on her face.

'I don't think we need take this—charade quite to those extremes,'

she said, trying to match his own tone. 'You are a free agent, and

I—well, I can no longer see that I'm doing the slightest good by

remaining here.'

'I believe that our arrangement was that you should continue to be

engaged to me until Mario and Francesca were married,' he said

sharply.

'Was that it?' she shrugged. 'I really don't remember. But if you

insist on going on with this, I'm afraid that you'll have to be

contented with an engagement at a distance. I have to return to

work. I'm a schoolteacher, if you remember, and the school year

starts in England in a matter of days.'

'But the wedding—Mario's wedding. You will return for that?'

'Hardly.' She shook her head.

'But my mother will be expecting you to be there.'

'I fail to see why,' she said wearily. 'I think, on the contrary, that

she'll probably give three rousing cheers when she hears I've

returned home. Besides, it will be-—much easier for you to tell

everyone the engagement is over once I'm back in England. You

can tell them I decided I couldn't settle in Italy, perhaps.'

'Thank you,' he said, his voice like ice. 'I think I can manage to

prepare a story that will satisfy the curious.' His hand shot out and

gripped hers so tightly that she had to suppress a little cry of pain.

'Don't pull away,
cara,'
he grated. 'The performance is not yet at an

end, and we are happy lovers strolling along a sunlit beach hand in

hand.' She shivered at the molten anger in his voice. 'Tell me, is

your anxiety for your pupils the only reason for this sudden urge to

return to England?'

'Not entirely,' she said slowly, afraid of saying too much, but also of

revealing too much by her silence. 'There are other reasons.'

'And am I aware of those reasons?' He stopped suddenly and swung

her round so that she was standing in front of him with his arms

linked round her waist. To a casual observer, their stance would

look like a light-hearted embrace. Only Juliet knew that the arms

that held her felt like a vice against her flesh, and that there was no

softness on the dark face that stared down into hers. She felt he was

looking through her into her very soul, and that there was not a .

thought or an emotion that was hidden from him,' and the thought

shamed her to the core of her being.

'You may be,' she said wretchedly. What did he want her to say?

she asked herself bitterly. To admit her love and grovel at his feet,

begging him to be merciful?

'So your sister was right,' he said softly, and she felt a deep

mortified blush suffuse her face. Had Jan guessed her secret, she

thought confusedly, and passed it on during one of those laughing

intimate conversations of theirs?

'Poor little Julie.' She could hear the words in her head. 'She's so

dreadfully in love with you. She'll make a wonderfully submissive

wife.' And then Santino, his perceptions sharpened by the hint,

watching her, noting the give-away signs she probably wasn't even

aware of. She wanted to say, yes, but it doesn't matter. I won't cling

or be an embarrassment, just let me go—but the words wouldn't

come. The soft sounds of the day, the wash of the sea at her feet,

the distant laughter of children, were all suddenly magnified and

intensified, and over them all, Santino was saying bleakly, 'Did you

imagine she wouldn't tell me?'

'I didn't even realise that she knew,' she said, and paused, appalled

at the extent of the confession she had just made. She made a little

awkward movement of her hands. 'I'm sorry. But it surely doesn't

matter. If you'll just let me go...'

His arms fell away from her, and she thought for a moment that he

had mistaken her meaning, but then he spoke.

'I've let you go already,' he said harshly. 'Haven't you noticed?'

She looked up at him, realising for the first time that this was why

he had been avoiding her, devoting his free time at the
castello
to

Jan instead. Being cruel to be kind, she told herself dazedly. Letting

her see at once that she had nothing to hope for. Probably

wondering to himself why her pride hadn't driven her away days

ago.

It came to her rescue now, stiffening her spine and lifting her chin,

and she was thankful for it.

'Then let's not waste any more time,' she said coolly. 'There's only

one snag—my passport and money are still at Jan's apartment, with

the rest of my clothes. I would like to pick them up.'

He gestured impatiently. 'There is no need. I will collect them. I

have to go to Rome tomorrow, and I will return them to you here.'

He stared at her again and was glad that she could not see the look

in his eyes behind those enigmatic glasses because it might have

been pity. 'If—if you are sure that is what you want.'

'Quite sure,' she said, and managed a smile.

She heard him take a quick breath as if he was going to say

something, then stop. For a moment he stood motionless, an odd

tension about his body, then he gave a faint shrug. 'Then there is

nothing more to be said.'

He turned and walked away from her back to where Jan was lying.

Juliet could see that she had turned on to her front and unfastened

the top half of her bikini. As Santino dropped down beside her he

ran a finger down the curve of her spine, and Juliet heard her little

laughing protest in response.

Jealousy, that harsh destructive emotion, tore at her being, and she

thought, 'Oh, please let me go from here soon. I can't stand it any

longer.'

But it appeared that she had to stand that and more, for when she

went downstairs to breakfast the following morning it was to find

herself alone except for a disgruntled Annunziata. Disbelievingly,

she was given to understand that the Signore had already left for

Rome, and that her sister had gone with him.

Juliet drank her coffee, feeling as if she had been publicly slapped

in the face. And the situation was not helped by Annunziata's

unspoken but nevertheless overt sympathy.

She spent a forlorn day wandering along the shore, toying with the

appetising food Annunziata anxiously set in front of her, and finally,

in a determined effort to do something positive about her departure,

sorting her clothes from Jan's and hanging those that did not belong

to her in the guest room her sister was occupying. But for how

long? she wondered. Probably as soon as she had left, Jan would

move into Santino's room.

She had no idea how long the journey to Rome and back would

take, but it was nevertheless a shock when evening came and she

found herself eating a solitary dinner. When the meal was over, she

tried to listen to some music on the stereo, but nothing in Santino's

enormous record collection seemed to have any appeal, and when