Loving Venus (Sally-Ann Jones Sexy Romance) (19 page)

      He would, he knew, enjoy spending the night with her. Alone. Annabella had made him ravenous for an evening of love-making and Claudia was always only too happy to join him.

     “
Yours,
” Claudia growled incredulously, turning her cat’s eyes on Annabella. “How did you come by such a gorgeous thing? It doesn’t suit your image at all, little country girl. You would be better driving a…” She searched for the word then put up a dictatorial finger to signal that she had remembered and needed silence to finish her sentence in style. “I know it. I have friends in Australia and they had to explain it to me when I heard it the first time. A ute, I think. Yes. A utility.”

     “Your judgement goes to show how much you underestimate me, Signora,” Annabella retorted, drawing herself up to her full height and locking her rival’s eyes with hers.

     “Ha!” Claudia snorted, her eyes glittering malevolently. “You are growing up, child. But beware, when babies play with fire they invariably get burned.”

     “Annabella’s not a baby,” Eduardo put in. He was still holding the salamander and he wielded it at Claudia almost menacingly, grinning as she stepped back into a pile of manure left by one of the maremma sheep dogs to avoid its clammy touch.

     As Claudia wiped her expensive shoe on the grass, he continued wickedly, “Annabella’s a grown woman. I know because I saw her bosoms!” He finished triumphantly, his mouth forming the two syllables of the last word with relish.

    Claudia’s plucked and penciled eyebrows lifted into a question-mark and she opened her mouth to comment but Eduardo got in first with, “She swam topless with me and Alessandro. She
’s prettier than you.”

     Annabella couldn
’t resist a private smile at that. Round two to me, she thought happily.

     Claudia was speechless and hid her confusion by concentrating on the shoe, making furious “tut-tut” noises as she did so. 

     Alessandro, feeling sorry for her, tried to make diverting conversation. “Did you enjoy Siena?” he asked.

     “Yes, thank you,” she answered, slipping the now fairly clean shoe back on her tiny foot. “It was very nice to spend so much time with my husband.” Like Eduardo, she emphasized this final word, as if she
’d tossed a stone into a pond and was waiting to see the ripples. But if she had expected a reaction from Alessandro, she was disappointed. His face remained calmly unperturbed by her news. In desperation, wanting a reaction, she continued, “He is winding up his business in Rome now that he’s almost fifty-five. He says he has made more than enough money to keep me in luxury for the rest of my life and that now he wants to spend more time with me.”

    “That’s good,” Alessandro said, only slightly miffed that his convenient bed-fellow would perhaps not be quite so convenient in the near future. But, as he reminded himself, he wouldn
’t be here much longer.

     There was a flurry of noise from inside the house, and Tonia rushed out, followed by Umberto Esposito.

     Alessandro felt a surge of pure jealousy then manfully suppressed it, not wanting to spoil the home-coming.

     “My darlings!” the housekeeper crooned. “I didn
’t hear you arrive! I’ve been so worried about Eduardo that I rang the good doctor and he and I were talking in the kitchen but there was a lot of noise in there, with the dish-washer going and the
minestrone
bubbling on the stove.” She rushed to Eduardo and pulled him into a hug, kissing both his cheeks. “
Caro!”
she said. “So pale! So thin! But you look happy,
no?
And you have your dear salamander with you.”

      She turned her attention to Alessandro and Annabella, kissing them both and laughing as Eduardo excitedly told her about Annabella’s rescue of Rosa.

     “
Dottore,”
Tonia said to Umberto, “This is Eduardo. He doesn’t seem as ill as I feared he would be.”

     “Perhaps because Annabella is with him,” Umberto said fondly, smiling at her. “I think we have nothing to worry about after all.”

     “Look at the car!” Eduardo was saying to the doctor. “On the way home, Alessandro told me that Annabella mended it. It was great-grandpapa’s, you know.” Then his face fell and he cried in a small voice, “Where
is
he? Can’t I see him? It’s been so long since he came to Florence to visit me. Is he cross with me for breaking the window last summer when I stayed here?” He began to sob. “I didn’t mean to, really. It was an accident. The ball wouldn’t go where it was supposed to. He said he wasn’t angry, but perhaps he was pretending. Can’t I ask him?”

     All the adults, except Claudia, exchanged worried glances over his bent head. He was sobbing into his hands, Annabella having taken the salamander and placed it back in its tank.

     “Perhaps we should all go and see him,” Alessandro agreed, his voice raw. “Come on, Eduardo. He’s waiting for us, up on the hill, with mama and papa.”

     “He
’s putting flowers on their graves?” Eduardo asked.

     “Come and see,” Alessandro urged.

     “I’m not coming,” Claudia said sharply. “These shoes would be wrecked.” She lowered her voice and half-whispered huskily to Alessandro, “Perhaps I’ll see you tonight, big boy.”

      Alessandro looked at her, unwilling to commit himself. “Perhaps,” was all he said.

     “Let’s go!” Eduardo was insisting. He was holding one of Annabella’s hands and one of Tonia’s and pulling them towards the hill behind the villa.

     They made a little procession as they climbed, going slowly for Eduardo to catch his breath, the dogs bounding excitedly around them, chasing rabbits and birds. Eduardo’s twisted legs couldn
’t easily negotiate the steep incline but at last they reached the top.

     Annabella had been here just before taking the Bentley out of the garage and asking Alessandro if he would like to drive it. She wanted to seek their great-grandfather’s blessing and brought great boughs of silvery olive branches mixed with tall, gold and black sunflowers and laid the big bouquet across the grave. In deference to Alessandro’s parents, she made smaller posies for their graves and now, in the late afternoon sunshine, the silver and gold shone, the furry sunflower leaves almost iridescent.

     “Here he is,” Annabella said softly to Eduardo, leading him to the mound of earth with its sunny offering of plants. Orange butterflies spiralled around the yellow blooms. “He’s asleep under here, but he can hear you so you can talk to him if you want to.”

     “Can he see, too?” Eduardo asked, enraptured by the butterflies. “Can he see us and all this?” He swept his arm in an arc that seemed to encompass the villa, the olive groves and vineyards, the garden, the cottage, the road, the grotto with its shrine to the Madonna, the village in its sleepy hollow in the folds of the green and gold hills. Everything was bathed in the apricot-pink light of the setting sun. From Fortezza Rosa, they heard the bells of the little church ringing out the hour.

     “Of course he can,” Alessandro answered, coming close and putting his arm around his brother. The older man’s eyes were full of tears. Even he almost believed their second cousin’s story about their great-grandfather being merely asleep. He knew without having to ask that it was Annabella who had put the flowers on the graves. Flowers that brought butterflies.

     “Great grand-papa fell asleep, like our parents. See, he’s near them now. So he couldn’t come and see you, Eduardo. Do you understand now?” Alessandro asked.

     Eduardo nodded.

     And, at that moment, a little gust of wind came from nowhere and rained a shower of golden rose petals on them all.

                             CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“I think we should have a special dinner tonight, to celebrate Eduardo’s visit
, ” Tonia said as they walked down the hill again.

     “Can’t I stay for always?” Eduardo beseeched, clutching Annabella’s hand. “Why must I go back? I like being here with you.”

     “We’ll see,” Alessandro said automatically. It was his stock response whenever his brother asked that question, which he did every year when he was allowed to stay at Casa dei Fiori for a few weeks.

     Eduardo sighed. He knew what “we’ll see” meant.

     “Can Umberto stay and eat with us?” Annabella asked nobody in particular.

     “Of course,” Tonia replied delightedly. “There’s plenty for all of us.”

     They ate under the fig tree. Alessandro knew it would be churlish to disappear into his cottage tonight, although he was desperate to return to his painting. Also, he didn’t want to tear himself away from… He would not admit, even to himself, that he was touched immeasurably by the flowers on the graves. He watched as she helped Eduardo cut his veal cutlet and showed him patiently how to wind the spaghetti around his fork. She made sure everyone’s water glasses were full, that there was plenty of wine on the table, that nobody was left out of the conversation, which, no thanks to Eduardo, centred on her daring rescue of Rosa. She was particularly kind to the doctor, which irked him unreasonably. Perhaps she was just being a good hostess, he assured himself.

    
Zuppa inglese,
or trifle, was for pudding, in honour of Eduardo, whose favourite it was. After the delicious confection of liqueur custard, fruit and fluffy sponge-cake, Tonia served
espresso
and chocolates.

     Eduardo had only been able to eat a little, but enjoyed himself immensely. He began to yawn over the warm cocoa he had been given instead of coffee and asked if he could be put to bed. “Please, Tonia and Bella, come and tell me a story.”

     “You want us both,
caro?”
Annabella asked.

     Alessandro started at her use of the Italian endearment. She was becoming more and more Italian every day, he realized. Her strong Australian accent was almost gone, replaced by the softer Tuscan way of talking. She substituted many Italian words for English ones now.

     “
Si,
” Eduardo said. “I love you both.”

    When they left the table after Eduardo had kissed his brother and the doctor goodnight, there was an awkward silence between the two men who still sat under the tree, the dregs of the
espresso
cooling in the tiny cups.

     “Will you be riding in the second
Palio
for the Ferri family?” Umberto asked him in an effort to re-establish the conversation.

     “Yes,” Alessandro answered. He liked the doctor, despite the fact that he would be married to Annabella soon and not only sharing her bed but also everything that had been his. “I hope to win this time, having come so close before.”

     “Good luck, then,” the doctor replied. “I hope Annabella’s friend from Australia will be here to see it. We’re expecting her any day now.”

     Friend from Australia? Alessandro longed to ask. Perhaps, he thought with dread, she was arriving for the wedding.

     “I…I must go,” Alessandro stuttered, getting to his feet. “It’s been a long day, with the drive to and from Florence, and all the emotion and excitement.” He took the doctor’s proffered hand and shook it, his own shaking slightly. “I’m suddenly very tired,” he explained. “Good night, Umberto.”

     “Good night, Alessandro,” Umberto replied.

     Alessandro stumbled down the hill to the cottage. She was to be married soon, he was sure of it! He felt ill at the very thought of her belonging to another man, even one as nice as the doctor. She was his, Alessandro’s! Yet, he reminded himself, he didn’t want her. She was wonderful, of course. He’d never known such love-making. But she was a cuckoo in the nest. His nest. He’d never be able to forgive her for that.

     He pushed open the door and stepped into the darkness, redolent with the scents of oil paints, squirrel-hair brushes and turpentine.

     “I thought you’d never get here,” came a woman’s voice. “And what a talent you have,
caro.
A talent, I’d say, for making rather a lot of money very fast, although I don’t particularly approve of your subject choice.”

     A cigarette lighter was flicked on, its blue flame flaring in the shadows, illuminating Claudia’s painted face. She drew her mouth into what could have been a sneer, although she
’d intended to smile. “
Caro
,” she purred, sliding against him, her black finger-nails on the top button of his shirt. “Your little country cousin has been most obliging, sitting for you all these weeks I’ve been away. What pretty pictures you have made! But I’ll wager that Antipodean parvenue cannot do this,” she whispered through gritted teeth as she slid a hand down the front of his trousers and grasped the prize she sought.

Alessandro woke feeling cold and clammy. The sweat from his workout with Claudia had dried on his naked body and, in the cool morning air, he felt chilly and unwell. Claudia, of course, had gone. She never wasted her time in bed after the deed was done, he thought wryly. She was always up and away, showering away the evidence, coiffuring her hair, reapplying her face, exercising with her dumbbells to ensure her body remained rock-firm and lean.