‘Poppa!’

The eager voice from above made them look sharply up, while their hands slipped away from each other.

‘Poppa!’ Liza stood on the landing, trembling with eagerness. ‘I thought you weren’t coming home.’

She began to stump down the stairs, awkward on her bad leg. Matteo muttered something, rushing up to help her so that she fell into his outstretched arms.

‘What are you doing up at this hour?’ he chided gently. ‘You should be in bed and asleep.’

‘I was watching for you and Holly.’

‘I’m here,’ Holly said, starting to climb the stairs.

‘Oh, good,’ the little girl said.

She was snuggled contentedly in her father’s arms and Holly sent up a silent prayer of gratitude that this had happened now, reinforcing what she had been trying to tell him. Surely he must see how his daughter loved and needed him?

But as Liza buried her face against him, and he held her, he was staring into the distance, and Holly thought she had never seen so much despair in one man’s face.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MATTEO might resist everything Holly was trying to tell him, but she had her first sign that he was listening to her next morning when he knocked on Liza’s door, calling, ‘Are you up yet?’

Liza’s shriek of delight was answer enough. When Holly opened the door to him Liza held out her arms so that he could lift her and set her down in the wheelchair, which he took downstairs himself. After that breakfast was a happy meal, and before he left for work Matteo glanced at Holly with a question in his eyes, almost as if seeking her approval.

Later that day he called her.

‘We might try again,’ he said, ‘and see if we manage better this time.’

Her heart leapt, and it was only then that she understood how dull the world would have been without the prospect of going out with him again.

Instead of sending a driver he collected her himself and drove to a small, discreet restaurant set on a hill, from which they could look across and see Rome in the distance. The view was magical; the faint glitter of the River Tiber, the floodlit dome of St Peter’s floating in the distance.

This time they avoided dangerous subjects, enjoying the meal and talking on the light level of people who had nothing else to think of.

‘Another coffee?’ he asked at last.

‘Yes, please, I…’ She broke off, seeing that she had lost his attention, and looking at the man who’d raised his hand to Matteo. Then alarm seized her.

‘Police!’

‘Not to worry,’ he said reassuringly. ‘That’s Pietro, whom I know well because he used to be my bodyguard. Good, he’s turning away, too tactful to disturb us.’

When the uniformed man had moved off she said, ‘Bodyguard?’

‘A couple of years ago I presided over the trial of a man called Fortese. He was a nasty character who uttered a lot of threats. So I had police protection for a while, but then the trial ended, I gave him thirty years and he’s been locked away ever since.’

‘He threatened to kill you?’ she demanded, aghast.

He gave one of his rare grins. ‘I suppose he thought it was a better bet than a long sentence. Forget it. It happens all the time. We’re a very dramatic people, as you may have noticed. We scream threats, but nothing happens.’

Holly sat sipping coffee, feeling the world change shape around her. Since she had come to Italy everything seemed tinged with danger, of one kind or another, and now here was a new kind. How sedate England seemed by comparison.

The wisest thing would be to go home, but she had no desire to do so. She was living with an intensity she’d never known before, and part of that excitement was the man sitting here, calmly shrugging aside threats against his life.

This was Italy, not merely a land of beautiful landscapes and ancient buildings, but a place where the stiletto still flashed. Here passions were violent, whether hate or love. And the strangest thing of all was that she felt at home. She had been an Italian ever since the night in the garden with Bruno, when she had discovered the joys of vendetta.

Matteo was watching her. ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.

‘Lots of things, all muddled up,’ she said. ‘That’s how it’s been ever since I came to this country. I’m even beginning to like it. Nothing here is ever quite what it seems.’

‘You most of all,’ he observed.

‘Yes, I suppose that’s true. Even I don’t quite know who I am.’

‘I, too, am confused about you. I didn’t mean to see you again like this tonight. It might have been safer not to.’

‘How do I confuse you?’

‘The day we met-I saw only that you could be useful.’

‘Yes,’ she said, smiling, ‘I realised that.’

‘It’s my way. I see what I want and do what is necessary to get it. It isn’t an amiable trait and I tend to bulldoze my way through life. Being a judge gives me an amount of power that-’ he hesitated ‘-probably isn’t good for any man.’

‘I’m not complaining,’ she said. ‘A bulldozer was just what I needed. Nothing else could have saved me.’

‘But still,’ he gave a self-deprecating smile, ‘now that I’ve got what I wanted, I can afford to reflect that perhaps I didn’t behave very well to get it.’

‘That’s always the best time to reflect,’ she agreed, ‘when you’ve won.’

He glanced up quickly. ‘Are you making fun of me?’

‘Would you mind very much if I was?’

‘If it was you-no. It’s just something I’m not used to.’

‘I don’t suppose there’s been much laughter in your life recently, has there?’ she asked gently.

‘No, but then there never has been. I’m not a man noted for my sense of humour, as you may have observed. When people laugh I always wonder if they’re looking at something over my shoulder, so I play safe and discourage laughter. That, too, is not a pleasant characteristic.’

There flashed across her mind the memory of the man in the photograph with his wife and child, laughing, full of joy. But that man no longer existed. ‘Why are you so determined to put yourself down?’ She added, ‘We all have our unattractive side.’

‘But in some of us it predominates,’ he said, speaking seriously. ‘I don’t think well of myself at the moment-for reasons that I can’t tell you-’

‘I’m not trying to pry, but I would help you if I could.’

She spoke from her heart. Her own instincts and something in his manner told her that there was more here than simply grief at his wife’s loss. He was like a man labouring under a crushing burden, lashing out at one moment, but reaching out for help the next. She wanted to take him in her arms and ease his pain. It took an effort not to touch him.

‘One day,’ he said at last, ‘there are many things I would like to tell you.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘yes…’

But the mood was dispelled by the approach of the waiter with more coffee. She forced herself to smile and seem normal but it was hard when she had seemed to be drawing closer to him.

He too had assumed an air of normality, saying, ‘Last night we celebrated your freedom. What are you going to do with it?’

‘I’m going to use it to stay here. I’ve no reason to hurry back to England. No close family. No job. Nobody who needs me as Liza does.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I think that’s my weakness-I enjoy being needed. It’s my need, someone who depends on me, as my mother did.’

He nodded slowly. ‘You were made to be needed. You have a strength that will always draw others to you. I didn’t see it at first because when we met it was you who needed help, but Liza saw something in you that would sustain her through the dark times.’

‘I still wish I knew more about your wife-of course, I understand why you don’t want to talk about her-’

‘I wonder if you do.’

‘Eight months isn’t very long, and you’re still grieving-’

‘Are you still grieving for Bruno Vanelli?’

She thought for a moment before saying, ‘Only for the person I thought he was. Remember how we talked about this once before? You were right. The happiness I knew with him is something I’ll never know again. But that happiness is dead, just as the man I believed in is dead.’

‘Fool’s paradise,’ he said sombrely. ‘How long it lasts is the luck of the draw.’

‘I suppose it can only be fleeting,’ she said with a little sigh.

‘No, it can last for years.’

‘Did yours last for years?’ she asked.

For a moment she thought she’d gone too far, trespassing on his private feelings. But instead of being annoyed he nodded silently.

‘So you want to know more about my wife?’

‘I need to know the things Liza knows-like, how did you meet?’ she asked bravely.

‘She was over here on holiday, being taken on a conducted tour of the law courts. She came into the court where I was prosecuting a case, and as soon as I saw her it was all up with me. I fumbled, made a fool of myself, lost the case.

‘Afterwards I caught up with her before she left the courthouse. She laughed at me. I was dazzled. That very night I determined to marry her. I was in love in the way the songs describe. We were married the following month. Liza was born a few months later, and I thought I was the happiest man in creation.’

‘You never wanted more children?’

‘Yes, but it didn’t happen. She miscarried the next baby, and suffered so much that I never asked her to try again. Besides, we had Liza.’

His voice softened and he smiled as though he couldn’t help himself. There it was, she thought; the thing she’d been looking for, the overwhelming love of a father for his child.

‘I’ll bet she was a gorgeous baby,’ she encouraged him.

His answer was a grin, open and unselfconscious.

‘She was the best,’ he said simply. ‘No other baby was like her. She did everything before other children, she walked, she talked, she smiled at everyone because she wanted the whole world to be her friend. But she smiled at me before anyone else, even her mother. If only you could have seen how she looked then-’

‘But I have,’ Holly told him. ‘There’s a book of photographs that Liza showed me, with some lovely pictures of the three of you. You seemed such a happy family.’

‘We were,’ he murmured softly.

‘I even felt envious because I never knew my father. I’d have loved to have pictures like that, with his arms about me, looking at me with such love and pride. It would have been something to keep, even when he wasn’t there any more. When you have a memory like that, it’s like being blessed forever.’

He didn’t answer. He seemed lost in a dream.

‘Don’t you ever look at those pictures?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he said flatly.

‘Perhaps you should-to remind yourself-’

‘And if I don’t want to remember?’ he asked quietly.

‘What can I say? I have no right to give you any advice.’

He managed a bleak smile. ‘That never stopped any woman yet. Besides, I’ve made you part of it, so go ahead. Let me hear your advice.’

‘You both loved Carol, and you’re both grieving for her. But do it together. Talk about how wonderful she was.’

‘Wonderful-’

‘Well, wasn’t she? You said she was dazzling when you first met, but wasn’t it more than that, all the years you were together? Isn’t that why you’re grieving for her, because she was wonderful? Maybe you don’t want to dwell on that part, but I don’t think you can get through it without remembering, and sharing it with Liza. You’re the only person who can do that for her.’

‘I know I am,’ he said heavily. ‘That’s the devil of it. But you don’t know what you’re asking. If I could talk to anyone it would be you. I’m like Liza in that. We both lean on you. It’s the effect you have. But even with you…’

His voice faded and the hand that was holding hers clenched convulsively.

‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘It’s all right.’

She wasn’t sure that he’d heard, but the grip on her hand remained tight. After a while he looked up, meeting her eyes, his own full of an unmistakable message. Every nerve told her that she should draw back, be cautious, but that message mesmerised her.

She leaned forward as he reached up to touch her face, drawing his fingertips down her cheek, tracing the outline of her lips. It was the lightest touch, yet the effect was electric, shuddering through her with a brilliant excitement.

‘Holly,’ he whispered. ‘Holly-Holly-’

It was like a lightning flash. Once before a voice had spoken her name on that caressing note, and it had all been a performance. Now another man was luring her into the same trap for his own ends, and she had nearly fallen for it.

This time she’d even known what he was doing, yet the spell had worked. She’d recovered from Bruno, but to fall in love with Matteo would finish her.