He might have claimed that he’d thought it better she should hate him than miss him, but that wouldn’t have made her hurt any less. He could see that now—now that he, too, knew what loss was…
I could have been less brutal…not spelling out how impossible it was, given our differences, that there could be anything more between us. I could have let her down more gently.
He felt regret pluck at him, and knew that the man he was now, six years older, scarred by his own emotional pain, would not have been so callous, so unfeeling. But back then he’d wanted only to find a way to get away from her, whatever he had to say to do so.
His thoughts moved on. Because of Matteo, Bianca was back in his life. He deplored it, wished it not so—wished he could deny what he could not.
His eyes lingered on her. She’d paused by the little spring that poured its water into a stone basin before running off in a channel out of the temple. She was wearing the same elegant pale yellow shift dress that she’d worn the day before in Pavenza, with the same low-heeled shoes, and her hair was in the same neat pleat, make-up still minimal. The cool image suited her…enhanced her beauty.
A beauty whose effect on him he could not deny.
Oh, he knew that he’d gone into that clinch with Bianca on that first shocking night when she’d walked back into his life simply as a reaction to her scornful repulsing of him, nothing more than that. But since then—
Since then he’d been discovering more and yet more about her. How she’d remade herself by her own hardworking efforts—how his godfather had discovered her to be his unknown niece—how obviously devoted to Matteo she was. But he was being reminded of all that she had always been, too. The Bianca he had known so well—plain-speaking, honest, never putting anything on, just being herself. He was reminded of everything that had gone beyond her eye-catching looks to draw him to her. And for a moment past and present seemed to merge…old Bianca with new Bianca.
But she’s the same person—the core of her always has been.
There was a maturity about her now that went with the new image, the achievements her own efforts had brought her, but that only drew him to her more.
Unease flickered within him. Uncertainty…
They were being thrown together only because they both wanted to protect Matteo. There could not be any other reason. Should not be.
And yet…
She was turning around, standing in the centre of the ruins, looking towards thepalazzo, now bathed in sunlight, and then back to the ancient ruins and their immediate surroundings. It was very peaceful. The grass growing around and between the stones was dry and tall, winnowed by the light breeze lifting the air. A little lizard was basking on one of the sun-warmed blocks. The muted chirruping chorus of the cicadas mingled with the low gurgle of the spring splashing into the stone basin, and there was the buzz of bees, busy gathering nectar from wild flowers nearby, and the call of birds from the woods behind the ruins.
Her gaze came back to him. For a moment their eyes met and held. They were wrapped by the peace all around them. Uniting them…
‘It’s a beautiful place to call home,’ she said quietly, her gaze sweeping around once more in slow appreciation. ‘You were very fortunate to grow up here.’
Was there a trace of envy in her voice? It would not be unreasonable if so, Luca allowed. Anywhere more different from the crowded, noisy, unlovely city council estate she’d told him she’d grown up on would be hard to imagine.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I was.’
There was a wealth of feeling in his statement.
She turned her face to look at him, and their eyes held each other’s again. For a moment he saw those two images of Bianca blurred together, past and present. He felt emotion pluck at him—but he did not know what, or why.
Then she was speaking again.
‘I can see now why it was so impossible for me to want what I wanted six years ago.’
Her gaze swept around again, then back across the wide, landscaped gardens to thepalazzothat had been his home all his life. Elegant, gracious—privileged.
She was stepping beyond the boundary of the temple now, back on to the path. ‘Hadn’t we better start heading back?’ she said. Her tone of voice had changed. ‘I wouldn’t want Matteo to get fretful.’
Luca nodded. ‘Yes, you’re right,’ he answered her, following her lead back into the present—not the past that had ended so badly. ‘But there’s time to refresh ourselves before I drive back. I’ll give Giuseppe a call and tell him when to expect us, so he can let your uncle know.’
He led the way along the path across the gardens, past the south-facing façade of thepalazzo.Bianca’s words echoed in his head. Could he ever have seen the Bianca of six years ago here? It was a question he did not want to ask—or answer.
But there was one he could answer—and answer immediately. It was easy to see the Bianca of now here. His eyes flickered to her. Elegant, poised, soignée—perfectly at home in apalazzo.
Emotion moved within him, but still he did not know what. Knew only that something, somehow, was changing inside him. Something in this day—showing Bianca his home, letting her into his life—was causing him to change.
And, although he could not give reasons for it, he was not repulsing that change.
Not repulsing it at all.