Loving Venus (Sally-Ann Jones Sexy Romance) (20 page)

     He could hear laughter up at the villa and painfully drew himself up from the damp pillow to look out of the window over the bed. Eduardo was on one of the old horses, Annabella driving the animal around her in a big circle on a lunging rein.

     “Shorten your reins and keep your heels down,” he heard her say to his brother and watched in amazement as Eduardo did exactly as he was told.

     “Good!
Bene!
” she called. “Now let’s trot. Squeeze the horse gently with your legs and tell him to trot. Now rise. Watch the inside leg and go down when that hoof touches the ground. Up, down, up, down. Well done! You’re a natural, Eduardo!”

       Alessandro was impressed. His brother was indeed a natural. He
’d always been good with animals, he remembered. Not only the salamander, but the dogs loved him, and whenever the family hadn’t been able to find him, he was in the stables, talking to the horses and stroking their velvety noses. Because of his wizened legs, nobody had thought to teach him to ride, but, as he watched, he could see that the shape of his legs was actually an advantage to him because they were naturally able to grip the animal’s flanks.

     The patient old horse trotted around and around Annabella, who occasionally made a clicking sound with her tongue to keep him moving onwards. But it was actually Eduardo who was riding and doing it well.

     Alessandro found himself smiling and wanted to get out of bed to shower dress and go and watch the lesson at a closer range. But, when he attempted to put his feet down on the floor, he experienced such a violent attack of dizziness and nausea that he was forced to lie back on the pillow, too weak to even pull the thin summer blanket up over himself.

     It was Eduardo who found him, still asleep, at lunchtime.

     “Alessandro!” he was calling, having been told that his brother now slept in the cottage. “We’re having some lunch and we want you to come too. Alessandro! Where are you?”

     As Eduardo wandered from room to room, calling, his eyes were bedazzled by the scores of fabulous pictures that were propped up against the walls. All of his beautiful second cousin. There was even one of her looking much as she
’d looked when she came out of the water with Rosa, wearing nothing but her knickers. But in this one, she was dry and sitting on the kitchen table with a glass of wine.

     “Alessandro!” he called excitedly. “I didn
’t know you could paint! Bella’s everywhere! But where are you?”

     At last, he found him on the bed, tossing feverishly. Even Eduardo knew his brother wasn
’t well and ran to Casa dei Fiori to find Umberto, who’d also come for lunch.

     Umberto sped down the hill with his doctor’s bag, having given Eduardo strict instructions not to follow him. He too, was enchanted with the pictures and, like Claudia, immediately saw their inherent beauty and value. But, unlike Signora Silvestro, he saw something else – something that leaped out at him and made him like Alessandro de Rocco more than he
’d ever liked him. The man was madly, passionately, hopelessly in love.

     He, too, found Alessandro on the tousled bed and managed to wake him by gently calling his name and squeezing a shoulder.

     “Have a drink of water,” he said, helping Alessandro to sit up and lifting the tumbler to his cracked, dry lips.

     When Alessandro had drained it, Umberto took his temperature and listened to his chest.

     “Just as I thought,” he said comfortingly. “Just a bad dose of the ‘flu. Nothing more. But, you won’t be well enough to ride, I’m afraid. I think it best if you warn the Ferris in good time so they can find someone else for Fulmine. I’ll start you on antibiotics right away and you’ll be feeling better in no time.”

     “I can’t let them down again,” Alessandro groaned.

     “You’ll let them down even more if you get yourself killed in a fall,” the doctor warned. “Be sensible, Alessandro. Besides, you must look after yourself. You have a great gift. You must live long enough to reap the rewards of all your hard work.”

     Alessandro groaned. “You
’ve seen my pictures?” he demanded. “I didn’t want to show them to anyone yet and already Claudia, too, has seen them.”

     “It
’s impossible to keep such beauty hidden, my friend,” Umberto said. “But, I will keep your secret, if that’s what you want. Although I think it would be good for you if Annabella were to see them.”

     “No!” Alessandro almost shouted. “I don’t want her to know. Not yet. Not until I
’ve gone.”

     “Gone?”

     But Alessandro had slipped back into a troubled sleep.

     It was the sixteenth of August. The day of the second and final
Palio
for the year. The day before, Annabella’s friend, Sassy, had arrived by taxi from Siena, having travelled all the way from Australia. She brought some things from Annabella’s parents – a big jar of Vegemite, a home-knitted jumper made by Lucia with natural wool from their own sheep, and a brief letter which read: “Darling daughter. Thank you for the emails and pretty postcards you’ve dashed off to us from time to time. It’s good to know you’re happy in Italy although you tell us little of your second cousin. Is he well? Are you still good friends? Since our last letter, we’ve had some very good luck. Your father bought a lottery ticket recently – and to our very great joy, we won first prize. Two million dollars. So please don’t think we need you, Bella. We know you were worried about leaving us. Rest assured, we’ve employed a labourer now and can even afford to visit you whenever we like. Perhaps in a month or so? We look forward to your next email or postcard. Meanwhile, remember we love you very much. Sassy is so excited about her stay at Casa dei Fiori. As it turns out, the man she has been e-mailing all this time is none other than the doctor at Fortezza Rosa! Isn’t life wonderful? Take care, Bella, your loving Mama and Dad.”

      Umberto was at Casa dei Fiori too, as well as Claudia and her husband, Tonia, a subdued Alessandro who was still pale, an ebullient Eduardo and a smiling Annabella. Umberto and Sassy were overjoyed at the coincidence of finding each other in Italy and of both being friends of Annabella’s.

     They all piled into the Bentley, Alessandro driving but too full of the memories of the last occasion on which he took the wheel to be able to take part in the conversation.

     He was only just beginning to feel himself again. Umberto had insisted he sleep up at the villa and Annabella had gladly given up the room she
’d been using – his old one. She was particularly attentive, fetching books from their great grandfather’s library, cutting fresh flowers for his bedside table every day, helping him to the tastiest morsels at table. But he’d been wary of allowing himself to fall under her spell. She’d be Signora Esposito soon and he’d leave the place where he was born and never return. He couldn’t let her magic work on him again or he’d lose his sanity as well as his heart.

      As they serenely passed through the estate lands and forests, Sassy remarked on how beautiful everything looked. “Annabella has turned it around,” Umberto said admiringly. “No offence, Alessandro, but before she came, the olive trees were almost dead, the vines sadly in need of pruning, the soil depleted. She and one of the village lads, Carlo, have worked hard here and it shows. She
’ll reap a good harvest this year, I think.”

     They reached Siena and the Ferris welcomed them all joyously, inviting them up to the salon on the top floor of their palazzo from which, that evening, they
’d watch the race.

     “Have you a good jockey?” Alessandro asked.

     “Oh yes,” Mario assured him. “The best there is.”

     “Do I know him?” Alessandro wanted to know.

     “A little, I think. But it’s to be a surprise. Now, come and sit here and let yourself be waited on, Al. You’re still not 100 per cent, you know. Annabella tells me she’s been very worried about you.”

At last, the sun sank low in the sky and the
Palio
began. There had been so much conversation and goings-on in the salon, with the Ferri grandchildren demanding the adults’ attention, that few of the guests had noticed one figure slip away before the start of the event.

     They all crowded onto the balcony to watch the mad careering around the square, Fulmine with his scarlet and gold well up with the leaders.

     Annabella, standing close to Alessandro in case he needed something, heard him ask Mario, “Who is aboard Fulmine? He’s a very competent jockey.”

     “You’ll see. Keep your eyes on the race,” Mario answered enigmatically, winking at Annabella.

      The crowd went wild as the black stallion surged forward to claim victory, his flanks foamy with sweat, his scarlet nostrils aflame. The guests in the Ferris’ salon dashed down the stairs and out into the square to congratulate the rider who had won back their family honour after decades. Their last victory had been thanks to Elisabetta. The thin young man slid shakily down from the big horse’s bare back and into Annabella’s waiting arms. He removed the medieval mask hewas wearing and Alessandro’s heart gave a joyous leap of pride. It was Eduardo. Eduardo de Rocco.

Alessandro drove them back to Casa dei Fiori with a smile on his lips. He’d always thought his baby brother was useless. A sweet-natured baby. But he had proved, with Annabella’s help, that he was a brave, competent man.

     “I’m going to take Sassy to the little café in Fortezza Rosa tonight,” Umberto announced when Alessandro had brought the Bentley to a halt on the gravel outside the villa.

    “What a good idea,” Annabella said, smiling at them.

    “And we’re going home to bed,” Claudia said, clutching her husband’s hand. He
’d just informed her that he’d made several billion lire on the stock market the previous week.

     So, Alessandro, Annabella, Eduardo and Tonia celebrated the big win with a wonderful home-cooked meal under the fig tree, downing bottle after bottle of Alessandro senior’s beautiful wine.

     “Do I have to go back to Florence, Alessandro?” Eduardo asked before they all retired to bed.

     Alessandro looked across the table at him. He saw his gentle, loving face in the flickering candlelight, the trusting brown eyes, the thin body.

     “Of course you don’t, Eduardo. Never again,” he said.

Annabella woke with a start. She had heard a cry. Eduardo was in trouble! She leapt from her bed and grabbed the top sheet to cover her naked body as she ran down the corridor to his room.

      Alessandro, too, heard the shout and, pulling on the boxer shorts he tossed on the floor, dashed to his brother.

     They almost collided at Eduardo’s door and, suddenly shy, seeing him in nothing but the brief underwear, his chest gleaming in the moonlight, Annabella was lost for words.

     “You go in first,” Alessandro urged. “You’re best with him.”                                      
   

      “Fulmine!” Eduardo was screaming. “Fulmine!”

     Annabella cradled him in her arms, rocking him back to sleep and crooning, “Fulmine’s okay, Eduardo. Nobody’s going to hurt him. You and he won a great race. Sleep now.”

     Sitting on the end of his brother’s bed, Alessandro watched her. Her red-gold hair was in a tumble on her shoulders and down her back, spilling over Eduardo’s black curls. His nightmare subsided as she held him and Alessandro wished, with a little spat of envy, that he
’d been the one with the bad dream. Would she run to help him, too?

      He knew she would – nothing had been too much for her when he
was ill. How he longed to be in her arms now, to feel the warmth of her hair, the steady beating of her heart.

     But he promised himself that he
’d leave, as soon as he was better. And he was better now. This would be his last night at Casa dei Fiori.

                            CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Eduardo was soon asleep again, despite a storm brewing outside, and Annabella and Alessandro tip-toed to their own rooms, barely acknowledging each other’s presence.

     Alessandro woke early and packed all the paintings in pine cartons, foam between each one. These he placed in the cottage’s small bedroom, ready for the removalists who would freight them to Florence in a week’s time, when he
’d settled in. He’d found a small apartment to rent through the internet and had already paid for his first month’s occupancy. With a heavy heart, he let Tonia dish him an enormous English breakfast, which he toyed with alone in the kitchen, the dogs lying at his feet, waiting for tidbits. The housekeeper was in the kitchen garden, tying up her tomato vines, which were damaged during the unusually windy and stormy night.

     Annabella woke with a feeling of dread, reluctant to get out of bed although she
’d promised Sassy she would go riding with her. She wondered if her friend’s and Umberto’s dinner the previous evening had been a success and remembered Eduardo’s nightmare and the way Alessandro had looked at her, his eyes full of … What? Anger? Lust?