She’d thought herself so well prepared, so ready to fend off any advance from Dante. But when he’d bid her a gentlemanly goodnight she’d been ill prepared for any of the reactions that had coursed through her.
Starting with disbelief, they had exploded through to outrage, deprivation and finally insult. At the mere prospect of making love with him, her body had flowered. And he hadn’t been interested. It was sheer bad manners.
She could cheerfully have hurled something at the door he’d closed behind him. It had taken the rest of the night to calm the volcano inside her, and now the sight of the real one in the distance didn’t improve her temper.
Had he suspected her moment of weakness? The thought made her go hot and cold.
She felt an urgent need to get away from where he might be. He’d come out last night to watch the sunset. Suppose he came out again at dawn?
Turning to hurry inside, she saw him standing behind her. How long had he been there?
‘Good morning,’ she said hurriedly, trying to get past him.
But he detained her with a light hand on her arm. ‘Stay.’
‘You’re very free with your commands,’ she said tersely.
‘Have I offended you?’
‘Of course not. But I expect you want to be alone.’
‘Not alone from you.’
He turned her so that she faced the sea and then he stood behind her, his arms crossed over her breast, holding her gently against him. Mysteriously his touch seemed to soothe her annoyance, and Ferne put up her hands, not to push him away but to hold his forearms.
‘So near and yet so far,’ he murmured.
‘How far is Vesuvius really?’
‘Only about six miles in earthly distance, but it comes from another universe. Once, years ago, I heard it rumble, and it was like magic. I’m always hoping for another one.’
‘No luck?’
‘Not yet. It keeps you waiting.’
‘Maybe it can’t decide what it wants.’
‘Or maybe it knows what it wants and can’t decide what to do about it,’ he mused. ‘Even when you want something badly, the way isn’t always clear.’
Now she had her answer about the night before. He didn’t want to keep his distance from her, but for some reason seemed to feel that he should. So the next step was up to her. Nothing else mattered now; she was content.
They returned to find the villa already awakening. Everyone was agog at the arrival of the two remaining sons, Justin from England, Luke from Rome. As many of the family as possible were going to the airport to meet Justin, his wife and children. Dante and Ferne remained at the villa to greet Luke.
In the early afternoon Primo and Olympia arrived, soon followed by another car, out of which stepped a powerful-looking man and a petite, fair-haired young woman.
‘Luke and Minnie,’ Dante said.
It was clear from the interested looks Ferne was getting that her story had spread throughout the family. When Minnie came downstairs from settling into her room, she commandeered Ferne’s company, demanding to be told everything. But before there was time to say much there was a shout and everyone hurried outside to welcome the party from England.
Justin, Hope’s eldest son, was an austere-looking man who at first seemed out of place in this convivial gathering, but Ferne noticed that his eyes followed his mother with a possessive look that contrasted curiously with his bearing. He had the same look for his wife, Evie, a brisk young woman with an air of friendly efficiency.
They were accompanied by Mark, Justin’s son by his first marriage. He was twenty, handsome, with dark wavy hair and brilliant eyes that made both the young maids give him yearning looks.
‘He’s just discovering his powers as a ladykiller,’ Justin said with a groan, yet also a touch of fatherly pride. ‘It makes him very difficult to live with.’
‘Don’t be hard on him,’ Evie protested. ‘It’s not his fault he’s good-looking. He’s just finished his first love affair with a girl who teaches ballroom dancing. He started learning as a way of getting close to her, and now he’s really good.’
The young man’s presence changed the atmosphere, making it livelier. Later, when the meal was over, Toni rummaged through some old tapes, made in the days before rock ‘n’ roll, and played them on an ancient tape recorder.
‘Go on,’ he told Mark. ‘Let’s see how good you are.’
Without hesitating, Mark extended a hand to Ferne, whom he’d been admiring across the table all through supper.
‘Dance with me?’
Pleased, she accepted. She was a good dancer, and Mark was an expert. Soon they were spinning around in perfect time.
‘Let’s go really fast,’ he said suddenly, swinging her around and around.
Gasping, she just managed to keep up. When they finished there was applause from the others, who had retired to sit down and watch them with admiration.
‘What is that dance?’ Dante asked, coming forward hastily. ‘Could you teach it to me?’
‘It’s basically the quick-step,’ Mark told him. ‘You do it like this.’
Someone switched the music on again, and there were more cheers and applause as Mark gave a dazzling demonstration, with Ferne as his partner. Then Dante took possession of her and proceeded to show how well he’d learned.
Ferne had to admit that he was a natural, mastering the fastest steps with ease, and taking her flying across the floor as if they had been doing this all their lives.
With this partner the most intricate steps became easy to her, and her feet flashed in and out, sometimes between his own feet, so that she felt they must surely trip each other, yet never did. She had the glorious sensation that no mistake was possible while Dante held her. He was a powerful man, but that power lay not in muscles and brawn but in quicksilver.
That was how he lived his life, she was sure. If trouble loomed, he would dance around it, or over it, or past it, then vanish into the shadows, leaving everyone wondering if he’d ever really been there. It made him both enchanting and dangerous.
At last Toni changed the tape, and they slowed into a waltz.
‘I’m impressed,’ she gasped. ‘Have you really never done the quick-step before?’
‘No, but I love dancing; the faster, the better.’
‘Waltzing’s too dull for you, huh?’
‘Much. Who needs it? You have to hold her close.’
‘As you’re doing with me?’
‘Naturally. And you have to pay her compliments, like she’s the loveliest woman in the room.’
‘But you’re not doing that!’ she protested indignantly.
‘Why should I bore you with what you’ve heard a hundred times before? Besides,’ he added more slowly, ‘you know exactly what you look like.’
He was right. She’d taken time over her appearance, and was pleased with the result. The honey-red of her hair was perfectly set off by the floaty chiffon dress with its mixture of autumnal colours. It was knee-length, revealing that her legs were long and elegant, her ankles perfect, and she had a natural balance for the high-heeled sandals that many women couldn’t have risked wearing.
In the arms of this tall man, those heels were an advantage, helping her match his height and see his face more closely.