Widow's Pique (38 page)

'Claudia!' he called out. 'Wait. I haven't thanked you for, well, for everything, and look at you! You're black and blue . . .'

'Mazares, there are thirty seconds left to announce your marriage. We can make small talk later.'

Except she knew it wouldn't happen. That she must take the next boat off the island. Be gone before he found out. But, by all that was holy, she'd miss that velvety drawl, that lazy sparkle behind his eyes, even, dammit, those ridiculous pants, and, who knows, maybe Mazares would even miss her? Although, if Salome's fervour was anything to go by, he'd have little time to dwell on the past. Soon Histria would be invested with so many heirs, he probably wouldn't be able to move for the blasted things, and her heart swelled with happiness for him.

Kazan's suicide would come as a blow, but on top of so
many shocks, it would be that much easier to absorb, she supposed. Later, of course, the pain of his loss would sink in, but then again, later, Mazares would be stronger, and with Salome at his side, he would be more able to cope with his grief.

Strangely, it was Kazan's death that finally made the man. When Claudia returned to sprinkle hyssop on Raspor's mound, you wouldn't know the boat builder's grave had been touched.

But now the island of Rovin was gone. The green archipelago with it. Even the coast of the peninsula had faded to nothing . . .

'There's one thing I don't understand,' she said, as Orbilio rested his foot on a coil of rope and leaned his face into the wind.

'Only one? You must be slipping.'

She ignored that.

'How is it that two people can be so much in love and not see it?' she asked.

His response was to laugh and toss her a mirror.

'Beats me,' he said.