She tried to ignore the pull his words had on her emotions. ‘I suppose your butler told you that?’ she said sarcastically.
‘No, I saw for myself that Rosa likes you.’
Salvatore hesitated and to Darcey’s surprise a hint of emotion flickered across his face.
‘I came to see her while she was eating her dinner. The two of you were laughing together...’
She gave him a puzzled look. ‘Why didn’t you join us?’
‘Rosa looked like she was having fun, and I did not want to interrupt.’
The truth was he had felt jealous as he had watched his daughter interacting with Darcey, Salvatore acknowledged to himself. Rosa did not laugh very often—not with him, anyway. The only time she seemed truly happy was when she was playing with her cousin, Nico.
He wished he could breach the distance that existed between them. A distance he felt was widening as she grew older. Even though Rosa could now hear with the cochlear implants, he did not know how to reach his little girl. Deep in his heart he admitted that he found her deafness difficult to accept. In his darkest thoughts he wondered if he was to blame for her loss of hearing.
Why was he allowing his mind to dwell on the blackness within him? Salvatore asked himself. He was sure that Darcey’s expertise would enable her to help Rosa learn to talk and, more than that, he felt instinctively that she would be able to connect with his daughter in a way he could not. When he had stood outside the dining room and watched her with Rosa he had been struck by her genuine kindness to his daughter. Somehow he had to persuade her to come to Sicily.
‘Rosa needs you.’
Darcey hesitated, her indecision apparent on her expressive face. Salvatore sensed that she was close to giving in. He glanced towards the butler, who had stepped into the hall.
‘The chef has prepared dinner for you and your guest, sir.’
The timing was perfect. ‘Thank you, Melton. Ms Rivers and I will make our way to the dining room,’ Salvatore said smoothly.
CHAPTER THREE
‘IT IS MY fault you were delayed tonight, and I feel bad at the thought of you driving home to cook a meal this late in the evening.’ Salvatore forestalled the argument he could see Darcey was about to make. ‘Also, my chef is French, and very temperamental. If he is upset he’s likely to serve me frogs’ legs for breakfast.’
Darcey chewed on her bottom lip, disconcerted by the revelation that Salvatore had a sense of humour. She was torn between wanting to leave, which was by far the most sensible option, and a wholly emotional response to his daughter, who aroused her sympathy.
While she dithered Salvatore opened the door to the dining room. ‘Come and eat,’ he invited.
His harsh tone had softened and the sensual warmth in his voice melted Darcey’s resistance. Against her better judgement she followed him.
The moment she sat down at the table the butler appeared, to serve a first course of classic French consommé. The piquant aroma rising up from the bowl teased her tastebuds and her stomach gave a growl, reminding her that it was hours since she had eaten a sandwich for lunch.
The butler offered her wine, but knowing that she had to drive home she refused and opted for water. To her surprise, Salvatore did the same. She glanced at chiselled features that gave no clue to his thoughts and sensed that his mind was far away. He was not the most talkative host, she thought ruefully as she searched her mind for something to say to break the silence.
‘Why did you choose to become a vintner?’
He shrugged. ‘As a child I was drawn to the vineyards. I was fascinated to see the grapes swell on the vines and I wanted to understand the process by which they were turned into wine. I was lucky enough to have a good teacher.’
‘Your father?’
‘No.’
Salvatore saw that Darcey was surprised by his curt reply, but her questions had ripped open his heart and exposed the pain he had been trying avoid for the past hours. He did not have time to mourn for Pietro now. He would pay his respects to his old friend when he returned to Sicily. But for one of only a few times in his life his emotions threatened to overwhelm him and grief lay heavy in his heart. The painkillers he had taken had not kicked in yet, and his head throbbed. He wished he could be alone, but it was important that he secured Darcey Rivers’s agreement to take the job as Rosa’s speech therapist.
Truly, she had never met such a surly man as Salvatore, Darcey thought as she gave up trying to make conversation and finished her soup. She could see it was going to be hard work to persuade him to interact with his daughter.
It was a relief when the butler arrived to serve the main course of herb-crusted salmon and new potatoes. She picked up her knife and fork and realised that they were made of solid silver, to match the ornate candelabra standing in the centre of the table. Glancing around the sumptuous dining room, she found her attention caught by the painting on the wall that she had noticed when she had brought Rosa down to dinner earlier.
‘That can’t be an original Monet?’ she murmured. She had recently read in a newspaper that one original Monet painting had sold for several million pounds.
Salvatore flicked a brief glance at the painting. ‘It is.’
Darcey looked at him curiously. ‘Are you interested in art?’ An appreciation of art suggested that beneath his granite exterior he might actually be human.
‘I am interested in artwork for its investment value.’
She grimaced. ‘That’s not what I meant. Are you only interested in things for their financial worth?’
‘Money makes the world go round,’ he said sardonically. ‘And, speaking of money...’ He slid a piece of paper across the table towards her. ‘This is the amount I am prepared to pay if you will agree to come to Sicily.’
Her heart lurched as she stared at the figure scrawled on the cheque.
‘I hope you will find the amount adequate recompense for forgoing your holiday. I thought the money would be useful for when you establish your private practice.’
‘It certainly would be,’ she said faintly. If she accepted the money she would not have to apply for a bank loan to set up her business, Darcey mused. Heck, she wouldn’t have to work at all for a year. ‘You must have a huge amount of faith that I will be able to help Rosa.’
Salvatore shrugged. ‘I trust James Forbes’s judgement that you are an excellent speech therapist, and of course I checked your qualifications before I made the decision to appoint you.’
Darcey stared at Salvatore’s hard-boned face and felt chilled by his complete lack of emotion. It was no good telling herself that Rosa was not her problem. The little girl needed her—just as her sister had needed her help and support when Mina had struggled to cope with her deafness. But Salvatore’s arrogant assumption that she would be impressed by his wealth infuriated her. He was going to find out that, although he might be used to flashing his money around to get whatever he wanted, he could not buy her.
‘You have no idea, do you?’ she said as she tore up the cheque and pushed the pieces back across the table.
Salvatore’s eyes narrowed. Why had he thought that Darcey might be different from the countless other women he had met who were seduced by his wealth? he asked himself derisively. Clearly she was out to get what she could, and having recognised an original Monet on the wall had decided to push for more.
‘Is it not enough money?’ he demanded curtly.
‘It’s an obscene amount of money.’
He frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I