The Italian Matchmaker (26 page)

He struggled out of his shirt, then lay beside her, enjoying the warmth of her skin against his chest. He kissed the valley between her breasts then lower, to her stomach that trembled as his lips swept softly over it. With a laugh she pulled him up to kiss her again on the mouth while she undid the button on his jeans and pulled down the zip.

In the flickering light of the candle, on the
Marchese’s
own bed, Luca slipped off Cosima’s panties, then took a moment to savour the sight of her, naked and abandoned beside him. She lay without shame, her limbs carelessly draped across the bed, ready for him to feast upon. He took his time, tasting every inch of her with his tongue, devouring every delicious sight of her with his eyes.

 

Claire usually telephoned the girls every evening before bed. Luca made himself scarce so he didn’t have to speak to her. But the following morning Ventura handed him the telephone as he crossed the hall on his way out. He didn’t expect it to be his ex-wife.

‘Hello, Claire.’

‘Luca, hi,’ she replied, equally surprised. ‘How are things?’

‘We’re having a great time.’

‘Are the girls happy?’

Luca would normally have taken offence at her tone, which suggested they couldn’t be anything but miserable with him. But his contentment made him resistant to her bitterness. ‘They’re having a blissful time. In the swimming pool most of the time. Even Coco’s letting her hair down.’

‘What do you mean, letting her hair down?’

‘Being a child. Doing what every other little girl does.’

‘Rather than what?’

Luca laughed at her defensiveness. ‘Are
you
having a good time?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice was brittle. ‘It was fabulous. John knows so many people, it was rather exhausting. Everyone was somebody, I felt rather inadequate.’

‘You don’t need to feel inadequate, Claire. You’re probably more attractive than the lot of them put together.’

His unexpected compliment caught her off guard. ‘I don’t think so,’ she mumbled, unsure how to deal with his flattery.

‘Sure you are. Trust me. I notice every woman who passes me in the street. You’re a hell of a lot more attractive than most. I wouldn’t have married anything less than lovely.’

There was a pause. This new, easy-going Luca made her apprehensive. Even his voice sounded different. ‘So no big-bottomed Italian has swept you off your feet, then?’

‘I’ve got two small-bottomed English girls who keep me firmly on my feet most of the time!’ She laughed and Luca sensed her relaxing.

‘We left Barbados early. We got back this morning. I’m longing to see the girls. I’ve really missed them.’

‘They’ve missed you too. But don’t worry about them. It’s important for you and John to spend time together. They’re not his children and I’m sure he wants you to himself.’

‘He adores them,’ she snapped, suddenly suspicious.

‘I’m sure he does. I’m only saying you need time for you. I’m really keen to have them back as soon as they break up. I’ve really enjoyed them. I’ll miss them when they go.’ He thought of leaving them at the airport and realised that he meant it. ‘I think I hear them. Hold on.’ Sure enough, they were coming in from an early swim with Sammy, their hair falling in long wet tendrils down their backs. ‘Hi, girls. Guess who’s on the telephone?’

‘Mummy!’ Juno shouted, breaking away from Sammy and Coco.

‘I’ll pass you over, Claire.’

Cosima walked up to the old lookout point and gazed out across the familiar stretch of ocean. It never looked the same. The light was always changing, subtly transforming the water with a spectrum of different shades. This morning the sky was cerulean, the sun a dazzling gold. The bright rays of light caught the waves as they rippled and rose, adorning their tips with diamonds. She was finally able to look at the sea without her stomach twisting with grief. She’d never get over losing Francesco – that kind of loss cuts a deep and lasting wound – but she’d find a way of living with it.

She thought of her night of love with Luca. Once hadn’t been enough. They had enjoyed each other until their bodies ached with exhaustion and they lay like sated lions, bathed in the warm afterglow of love. The only thing barring her total happiness was guilt: guilt about Francesco; guilt about Rosa who watched her suspiciously, as if her pretty dresses and smile were an affront; guilt about being cheerful in the wake of such tragedy. In the dark hours of night she felt she didn’t deserve to be loved. In the fresh light of day, she was flooded with fortitude. Life was for living. Francesco would want her to be happy. As Alba had told her, it took more courage to live.

Back at the
palazzo
, Romina was in a state of excitement at the arrival from London of the journalist from the
Sunday Times
magazine. After having spent half an hour deliberating what sort of image she wanted to project, she emerged on the terrace in a long green and purple Pucci kaftan over white trousers and gold sandals. She had scraped her hair off her face, holding it fast with a long white scarf that accentuated her bright eyes and the lively lines on her skin. She stepped through the French doors in a cloud of tuberose.

Ma, Caradoc, Dennis and Nanni were enjoying a late breakfast on the terrace. Juno and Coco were busy drawing with the artists’ paper and crayons their grandmother had bought them, while Porci lay beside them grunting with pleasure. Much to Nanni’s relief, Sammy was covered up in a white T-shirt over pink shorts, although the sight of her young brown thighs was enough to make him twitch with anxiety.

‘Good morning, all.’ Romina floated up to them like a giant butterfly. ‘Where’s my son?’

‘Gone to have breakfast in town,’ said Ma. ‘He’s been very elusive lately. Must be a local stray he’s picked up.’

‘
Pas devant
 . . .’ said Romina, glancing at the children. ‘I hope he hasn’t forgotten about the folly. Dennis, be a darling and go and check it later, will you? The journalist from the
Sunday Times
magazine is coming today and I don’t want any nasty surprises. I hope he left the key with Ventura as I asked. Really, ever since Luca arrived he’s been very distracted.’

‘He’s a young man, Romina,’ said Caradoc in Luca’s defence. ‘Let him pick the juicy peach from the tree. He deserves to have some fun.’

‘Of course he does. But he’s promised to find the intruder.’

‘For us to string up and roast on a spit,’ Ma added.

‘If she’s a pretty girl . . .’ interjected the professor.

‘Then we’ll sacrifice her to Luca,’ said Nanni with a chuckle.

‘That’ll be far too good for her,’ said Ma. ‘We don’t want to reward her for her intrusion.’

‘And all the stress she’s given me,’ Romina added with a sniff.

‘Haven’t the police done anything to help?’ said Caradoc.

‘Of course not! They prance around with gold epaulettes and suntans looking very dashing, but they’re as useful as shop dummies.’

Nanni finished his coffee and sat back in his chair, his belly as round and heavy as a wineskin. ‘I think the intruder is settling in for a long and luxurious summer,’ he said languidly. ‘And I’m going to roll onto a sun-lounger, close my eyes, and reflect on the great philosophers of antiquity.’

‘Don’t work too hard!’ said Ma. ‘You might pull a muscle.’

‘
Bella donna!
’ Nanni sighed. ‘I would agree with you if it weren’t for the very obvious fact that I have none to pull.’

‘Oh, I’m sure there are one or two little ones hidden away in that skull of yours!’

‘Well, if you find them, do tell me. You’ll make my day.’

Romina shook her head in fond disapproval. ‘If you drank and smoked less, exercised a little and consumed half the quantity of food, you’d find a great deal more than two!’

Nanni sloped off across the terrace. ‘And people wonder why I never married!’

Luca had breakfast at the
trattoria
but Rosa wasn’t due in until later and Cosima wasn’t expected at all. He wanted to telephone her, but was wary of getting her cousin on the line. He resolved to buy her a mobile telephone when he took the girls to the airport. He wanted to be able to contact her at all times. As charming as Incantellaria was, it was stuck in the past in spite of the attempts to drag it into the modern world with satellite dishes and internet access.

Alone with his
croissant
and coffee, Luca sat back and relived the previous night, remembering the scent of her, the taste of her, the feel of her, the sound of her sighs and the huskiness of her laugh. He had expected her to be virginal, somehow. She had looked so modest in her black mourning dress. But she had made love with the wantonness of a woman who lives for sensual pleasure and her lack of inhibition had held him captive. He didn’t remember ever having enjoyed a woman so much. She was a creature of many layers, and he could barely restrain his impatience to peel away the next.

His erotic thoughts were interrupted by Stephanie, who had come into town to do some shopping. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’ she said, taking off her sunglasses.

‘Please do. What will you have?’

‘
Espresso
would be nice. Isn’t it a beautiful morning?’

‘Glorious,’ Luca agreed, raising his hand to attract Fiero’s attention. ‘What have you done with your father?’

‘He’s up at the
palazzo
.’

‘While the cat’s away . . .’

‘The mouse will shop.’ She laughed, tossing her hair. ‘But I’m doing some culture as well. The church is adorable. I can’t imagine that statue ever weeping blood, though. Looks as solid as every other marble statue I’ve ever seen.’

‘Miracles can’t be explained.’

‘Like magic.’

Luca shook his head. ‘There’s a world of difference between miracles and magic. So, Stephanie Kate, how many hopeful young men have you left behind in Yorkshire?’

Rosa walked down the hill into town. She felt particularly grumpy. The more Cosima laughed and smiled, the more disgruntled Rosa became. How was it possible to change so suddenly, from a woman in mourning to a woman in love? Surely such a dramatic metamorphosis was only possible if her previous state of misery had been a pretence, a passive-aggressive way of getting attention. Alba had come down heavily on her when she had suggested it, defending her niece with the ferocity of a tiger. In her opinion, Cosima had needed a catalyst to propel her out of her grief. Her failed suicide had shown her how much she wanted to live. Luca had demonstrated that it was possible for her to feel attractive again, and attracted. There was no doubt that Cosima was excited by him, but Rosa couldn’t believe, didn’t
want
to believe, that he could feel the same way about her.

When she reached the
trattoria
, there he was with his dark glasses, sky-blue shirt and the charisma that surrounded him like a dazzling mist. He was chatting and laughing with a very beautiful young woman she hadn’t seen before. Rosa’s fury dissipated. If he were in love with Cosima he wouldn’t be flirting like that with another woman.

As she came on to the terrace, Luca waved her over. Rosa’s heart flipped. She noticed him run his eyes appreciatively over her clingy red top and tight blue jeans, right down to her pretty scarlet toes peeping out of high-heeled sandals.

‘How do you walk in those?’ he asked.

‘Practice,’ she replied, putting her hands on her hips, striking a provocative pose. ‘My feet aren’t made for flat shoes.’ She turned to his companion, clearly expecting to be introduced.

‘Meet my old friend, Stephanie. She’s from England.’

Rosa smiled warmly and shook her hand. ‘It’s good to meet an old friend of Luca’s. Luca is now an old friend of mine!’ She sat down without waiting for an invitation. ‘So, how are you?’

‘Good,’ said Luca. ‘Mother’s in overdrive waiting for the
Sunday Times
journalist to show up.’

‘Tell him to come down and see me. If he wants to know the truth about Incantellaria and all its murders and scandals, I know all there is to know. I have kept all the press cuttings that relate to my grandmother’s murder.’

‘Won’t your mother murder
you
for divulging the gossip?’

‘Not gossip, Luca, fact. It’s not a secret. Everyone who was around at the time knows the story. My family tried to keep it secret, but how could they? People talked and journalists wrote it all up. Valentina was my grandmother and I have a right to do whatever I want with what I know. Besides, it was such a long time ago and it’s a great story. My mother should relax about it, like my father, and give everyone a good read!’

‘The famous Panfilo,’ said Stephanie. ‘I hope I’m around to meet him.’

‘You’re not staying long?’ Rosa asked, trying to look sorry. ‘Shame. My father’s a wonderful character. Everyone loves him. I’ll come up for the shoot,’ she said, turning to Luca. ‘I’d like to see the
palazzo
. It’s been a long time since I’ve been up there.’

‘The folly’s the only thing you’ll recognise.’

‘The folly.’ Rosa’s eyes lit up. ‘The
Marchese’s
secret love-nest. There’s something magical about that place.’

Luca thought of Cosima. ‘And there, Rosa, I have to agree with you.’

Luca was disappointed that Cosima didn’t come to the
trattoria
, but he wasn’t surprised. He had promised to be tactful in front of Rosa and meeting at the family restaurant was awkward. They had arranged, instead, to have dinner again that evening. He planned to take her to the folly afterwards. As the days passed and no further evidence of disturbance was to be found, he was certain that the mystery Goldilocks had either decided to sleep somewhere else or been frightened off by their sudden determination to find her.