Desire Has No Mercy (20 page)

The
cigales
kept up a continuous chirring in the gullies of ilex and wild-growing oleander. A smouldering warmth lay over the sea which looked like beaten silver through the branches of the gnarled olive and pomegranite trees. There was a honey tang of sun-hot thyme and figs, and a whiff of citrus from the lemons whose branches shaded the little arbour at whose doorway was a winged Psyche of stone.

Julia no longer went down to the beach, for the climb back up the steps had become too much for her. Instead she came and sat in the cool arbour and read books or did some embroidery. Maddalena, proficient like most Italian girls at the art, had taught her how to do it and right now she was making a design of tarantella dancers on a nightdress-case. It kept her mind occupied, for having no close neighbours the villa was a quiet place whenever Rome was away from home.

Julia awaited the birth of their child in three weeks' time. She looked composed, with her hair worn for coolness at her nape, clad in the charming maternity dresses which had come from Naples. She kept well hidden the trepidation that she felt with each passing day. It wasn't the actual birth which she feared; it was her reaction to the moment when the baby looked at her and she found herself gazing into the velvety pupils and glimmering grey irises which she knew the child would inherit from the man she had sworn to leave… who had accepted that she would leave when the baby was born.

Rome had told her she could go. 'I won't make you stay,' he had said, a few days after they had quarrelled and she had flung the Victorian vanity-case at him. 'I don't want my child growing up in the kind of atmosphere you and I create. I shall love the little one enough for the two of us.'

Often Julia remembered the dignity with which he said it, and the way he looked, aloof and proud and never to be touched again, as she had touched his warm, tawny body as they passionately embraced on the starlit beach. He had withdrawn from any more contact with her; he was a polite, generous, kindly host, but he was no longer a husband.

Julia sighed, and then gave a gasp as the embroidery needle stabbed her hand. A shadow had fallen across the doorway of the arbour and when she glanced up a complete stranger was standing there, studying her, a drift of smoke from the thin dark cigar in his hand. He was of middle height, with heavy-lidded eyes and a dark moustache. He wore slacks and a Madras jacket, yet there was something of command in his attitude. His face held that tameless hint of danger she had often seen in Rome's. Like Rome's his face was somehow ancestral in its detailed Latin darkness… as if he stood poised upon a chariot that was about to be driven at a dangerous pace. He had a hard chin but something of humour in the curve of his mouth.

'
Scusa, signora
, I startle you and you stab your hand. I hope it isn't too bad?'

'No—' Julia shook her head and wondered who he was.

As if guessing this he gave her a half-bow and drew his heels together. 'I must introduce myself, eh? I am Vitale Cantrelli, a good friend of your husband whom he may have mentioned to you?' A black eyebrow was raised enquiringly. 'This is so,
signora
? Rome has spoken of me to you?'

'Why—yes.' Julia remembered very well what Rome had told her about this man, of Sicilian parentage born in America, who had been to prison while young and had been innocently connected with the death of Rome's father.

'You are Don Vitale,' she said quietly.

At once a humorous glimmer came into his dark eyes and he
lock
a slow pull at his cigar. 'Do you mind?' he drawled, a slight American twang in his voice; the kind of sound Rome had deliberately eradicated from his own speech.

'I try not to judge people before meeting them,' she replied. 'Rome very much likes you, so why should I take the opposite view? I don't imagine that you have your henchmen with you.'

He laughed quietly, and she felt his eyes flick the softly flowered fabric of her dress: He was probably aware from Rome that she was soon to have a baby, and he said:

'I wouldn't want to make you nervous,
signora
. I understand there is a
neonato
shortly on the way. Rome is very happy about it, eh?'

Julia felt an inward quivering of nerves when he said that; Rome rarely spoke of his feelings these days. 'I expect so,
signore
. Latin men are very fond of children, aren't they? It's one of the nicest things about them.'

'Aren't there other nice things,
signora
?' He quizzed her through his cigar smoke and Julia couldn't help but catch the admiring gleam in his eyes as they stroked her hair. 'You must have thought so, being obviously espoused by a compatriot of mine.'

It occurred to Julia that he was curious about Rome's marriage and was perhaps wondering why he had taken an American girl for his wife when there were Latin women in pursuit of him.

'Rome didn't mention that you were paying a visit to Domani,' she said. 'He's in Naples right now and—'

'Yes, I know he's there on a transaction, but I understand he'll be home very soon. He knew I might pay him a visit. Rome and I aren't formal about such things and I would have called sooner to be introduced to his wife, but for some time I've been in Spain—a personal matter that hasn't really resolved itself.' Don Vitale frowned and gazed up absently at the lemons clustering on the branches that arched over the arbour. 'Rome has found for himself a very attractive young woman to share his life. His fairly young life has held its tragedies, as you are no doubt aware? May I call you Julia? It's a Latin name, but a man has only to look at you to see you are very much the Anglo-Saxon type of woman.'

'Does it surprise you, Don Vitale, that Rome has married someone like me? As you've known him for a long time I expect you know more about him than I do.'

'He knew you as a child, did he not—Julia?'

'So he told you that?'

Don Vitale inclined his dark head and a glint came into his eyes. 'It's almost a modern variation of Romeo and Juliet, eh?'

'Their story ended tragically—' Julia gazed down at the half-completed dancers on the silk case she was sewing and took a grip on her composure. 'I've never been to Spain, but I've heard it's a very colourful country—that the women are particularly lovely.'

'Rome must take you there for a trip, I feel sure you'd enjoy the place and the people. The women have warm hearts and great loyalty and, indeed, lots of
sal
. I daresay Rome says the same of you, eh?'

Julia was lost for a reply, knowing as she did that Rome had lost interest in her as a woman and was only concerned that she give him the child she had said she didn't want.

'You've chosen a lovely day to visit Domani,
signore
.' She summoned up a smile. 'The summer seems endless in this part of Italy—oh, not that I'm complaining. I enjoy the warmth and the rich smells of everything.'

'This is a very charming region,' he agreed. 'Rome was fortunate to find a house here, but he seems to have a talent for making shrewd deals. What do you think of the one he has just made, eh?'

'I—' The question was unexpected. 'I wouldn't know anything about it. Rome doesn't discuss business with me.'

'No?' A black eyebrow was raised in some surprise. 'Yet I had the impression he had sold the casino and bought himself a fruit farm in Campania in order to be the respectable
contadino
. Surely he would only do that for your sake—yours and the
neonato
?'

'Has he really sold the casino?' Julia was gazing at Don Vitale in utter amazement.

'
Si
. I have a certain interest in the deal and I can assure you he has made a very good profit. Negotiations started some time ago, and today he signs the papers that make him the grower of fruit instead of the gambler. I felt sure you must have influenced his decision.' A smile creased the hard brown cheek. 'I can't as yet imagine Rome as a son of the soil, not after seeing him so often at the casino, looking so suave in his white tuxedo, with such a keen grasp of the gaming business. Now he starts from scratch, and I wish him luck.'

Julia sat mere twisting a silk thread around a finger. Instinct told her that Rome had cut loose from the gaming business for the sake of their child, making for himself a new way of life, a background more solid and secure than the environs of a gambling club. That he had gone ahead without telling her was further proof that he was excluding her from his life. He was giving her what she had asked for… her freedom. All he desired in return was to care for their child of chance… born out of furious words flung like dice across green baize, of emotions linked to their own childhood when she, a granddaughter of the grand house, was not allowed to play with the kitchen helper's son.

'Are you all right,
signora
?' Don Vitale had entered the arbour and was leaning over her in some concern. 'You have gone very pale and I can see you are trembling—the child is due when?'

'It—isn't that. Your news about the casino has taken me by surprise. I had no idea, you see, that Rome had decided to sell and start anew in something else.'

'Perhaps I should not have mentioned it. Maybe he was saving up the news for you, but I took it for granted—'

There he broke off as from among the trees his name was called.

'Vitale, where are you,
querido
?'

'I am here,
carissima
.' He stepped again to the entrance as a slender female figure appeared in the little clearing where the arbour was situated. Don Vitale held out a hand to the woman who came instantly to him, sliding her elegant hand into his. They smiled at each other, and Julia watched them and decided instantly they were deeply in love.

'
Querido
,' the woman said eagerly, 'if only we might find a house like this! I have been exploring and it has such charm, such tranquillity here above its own beach. Other people can't intrude unless one invites them! Ah, Vitale, could we ever live like this? Dare I hope—?'

He carried the slim hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, the fingertips, and then last of all the palm where his mouth lingered. 'If you have the courage,
carissima
. If you have the trust in me that your family lacks. That is why I brought you here, to visit my good friend Rome and his young wife. Come, meet her!'

He drew the woman into the arbour and Julia felt an instant admiration and response to someone unusually beautiful. Her hair was blue-black and held away from her detailed Latin face by a pair of tortoiseshell combs. Her skin was smoothly olive, closely moulded over high cheekbones; her full mouth was a deep scarlet and her eyes were the dense mauve of tulips, the kind they called black tulips.

'May I present to you,
signora
, the Se
ň
orita Ramona Albaňez de los Reyes, who has the gracious kindness to be my
fidanzata
.'

To say that the introduction took Julia's breath away would be putting it mildly. All she could do for several moments was to gaze at Ramona Albaňez in total astonishment… so this was the woman who had written to Rome! Had she, upon finding him married, then turned to Don Vitale for consolation?

'I—I'm pleased to meet you,
se
ň
orita
,' she managed to say.

'I have often wondered,' white teeth gleamed against the deep red lips, 'just how she would look, the girl who married the so handsome Rome, and now I see for myself that you are as fair as he is dark. I long to see you together. Will I have that pleasure?'

'I don't really know.' Julia felt bewildered, for the beautiful Spanish woman gave no sign that she had ever been romantically involved with Rome. Her fingers were entwined with Don Vitale's and she had a vulnerable look about her despite the elegance of her silk suit, her poise and obvious culture. She seemed to incline towards him, as if his solid strength was as necessary to her as the air she breathed.

'Rome comes and goes on business,' Julia explained, 'and I can but hope that he's coming home today. I'm sure he'd be disappointed to miss you.'

'My disappointment would be equal,' Ramona smiled, and glanced at her fiancé, moving her arm so that a wide gold bracelet gleamed against her wrist; the traditional engagement symbol for a Spanish woman. 'It was upon Rome's good advice that Vitale and I became betrothed. My —my family was opposing this, but Rome wrote back to say that I must allow no one, not anything, to stand between us. That I must be cruel if there was no other way. That hearts could bleed but also heal, if the roots of love were strong enough. I was brought up very strictly, you understand. Another man had been chosen for me, but I have loved Vitale for three years and I could no longer bear to be apart from him. I expect you understand?'

The densely mauve eyes dwelt fleetingly on Julia's body, obviously burdened by Rome's baby; the outward sign to other people that a mutual loving passion had been responsible for the condition. As always Julia blushed slightly when people looked at her in that way, as if they pictured her in the passionate arms of her husband. Those arms she had imagined around Ramona Albaňez, who now revealed that she had loved for years the Sicilian whose path had crossed Rome's so fatally a long time ago, forging between them a strange kind of friendship.

Julia's gaze dwelt on Don Vitale, a man who was unacceptable to Ramona's family yet who had a physical dynamism that would make it hard for a woman to forget him.

Pressed by her family to forget him, she had written to Rome, his friend, who had replied that love was worth its hurts, and even its cruelties.

'So,' Don Vitale snapped his fingers at the air, 'Ramona's family is a noble one and I am nothing in their eyes, but we are everything to each other and that has to count for something, eh? I asked for marriage, was adamantly refused, and so at Rome's suggestion we come here
fuga
—we elope, you understand, and will be married here in Campania.'

'Oh, Vitale,' Ramona clutched his arm and gazed at him with anxious eyes, 'if only they could understand my feelings and accept you! I am hurt for you—you are so good to me, kinder than anyone, more loving than a woman dreams of. I couldn't give you up. Rome said the same. He knows your true self, as I do.'