‘Let me show you your kingdom,’ Renato said, taking her hand.

Below, it was like a little palace. In the galley Fredo, surrounded by the most modern equipment, was furiously at work on a feast. Along the narrow corridor was the master bedroom, complete with luxurious private bathroom. Everywhere was panelled with gleaming honey-coloured birchwood. At the centre was a huge double bed, the perfect place for lovers on their wedding night.

‘This is yours for today,’ Renato told her. ‘Why not change into a swimsuit?’

‘I don’t even own one.’

He pulled open a wardrobe to display a series of swimsuits on hangers. Heather stared. There must have been about ten, in all colours, styles, and varying degrees of daringness.

‘But how come you-?’ She checked as she saw the wicked humour in his eyes. ‘I’m not even going to ask.’

‘You don’t really need to, do you?’ he asked.

His sexuality was so frank, his appetites so shameless that she didn’t know where to look. She began to rifle through some pastel-coloured costumes, but Renato’s big hand came out of nowhere and stilled hers.

‘Not those,’ he said. ‘This one.’

He held up a bikini but she instinctively shook her head. ‘No, I can’t-’

‘Why not? It’s very modest.’

That was true. As bikinis went it was unfashionably modest. The lower part would cover most of her behind, and the upper part would enclose her breasts satisfactorily. But Heather had always seen herself as a once-piece person.

‘And I can’t wear cerise,’ she argued. ‘I’m too fair.’

‘There’s no law to stop you wearing reds. Risk it.’

‘Right, I will.’

When he’d gone she changed, realising that in this place the dramatic colour seemed natural. She found a matching scarf in the wardrobe and tied it around her head, letting her hair fall free behind it. To cover her semi-nakedness she slipped on a robe of white lacy silk.

Back on deck she found Renato in the stern section, with a table that bore snacks and tall glasses. Above him a striped awning offered shelter from the sun. He handed her gallantly to her seat, and served her. The chilled wine was delicious; the little almond cakes were superb. Heather began to feel that she could easily get used to this.

‘Sicily’s at the centre of the Mediterranean,’ Renato explained. ‘So the boat can take you anywhere, easily. You can go across to Tunisia, or head the other way to Greece, or sail up the coast of Italy.’

‘Where are we going today?’

‘Just part of the way around the island, and then back. We’ll find a quiet bay, take a swim. Are you feeling seasick yet?’

‘Not at all,’ she admitted. ‘In fact, it feels wonderful.’ She took a deep breath of salty air. ‘Mmm!’

He grinned. ‘We’ll make a sailor of you yet.’

They toasted each other and she ate some of the little marzipan fruits, which looked so perfect that at first she thought they were the real thing. Then Renato took the helm and she stood beside him with the wind in her hair and the soft mist of water in her face, suddenly possessed by happiness and well-being.

‘Why not sunbathe?’ he suggested. ‘But first rub in some sun cream-your skin is very fair and you must protect it.’

‘The sun never touches me,’ she said, a little regretfully.

‘English sun,’ Renato said dismissively. ‘What do you know of the heat in my country? Even on land it can be fierce, but here the water reflects the sun back and doubles its strength. There’s sun block in your cabin.’

She chose one of the luxurious lotions in her little bathroom, and went back up on deck to stretch out. Renato watched as she smoothed the silky liquid over her arms and legs. ‘Turn over and let me do your back,’ he said. ‘Think how my brother would blame me if you went to your wedding looking like a lobster! I tremble at the prospect.’

‘Tremble?’ she chuckled. ‘You?’

‘I assure you that under this grim exterior beats the heart of a mouse.’

She gave in and rolled over onto her stomach. The touch of Renato’s fingertips on her spine was unexpectedly light, not forceful, but almost delicate. She rested her head on her hands and began to relax as he worked on the back of her neck, kneading the cream in thoroughly with both hands.

Through half-closed eyes she watched the sun slanting on the deck. The hypnotic rhythm of his hands, strong yet sensitive, was making the edges of the world blur, so that she couldn’t tell where one thing ended and another began, or where she ended and the world began. The blood was pulsing slowly, blissfully through her veins…

Suddenly she was awake, forcing herself back to reality through clouds of contented sensation. Somewhere there were seagulls calling, the waves lashing noisily against the side of the boat, but her heart was beating so loudly that it blotted out these sounds. She turned sharply and found Renato looking at her with something in his eyes that might have been shock.

‘I must return to the helm,’ he said, his voice coming from a long way off.

‘Yes,’ she replied vaguely. ‘You must.’

To her relief he left her. She looked around, finding to her surprise that everything was in its normal place. Her heart was pounding, but gradually it slowed to a soft throb of pleasure. She was breathless, as though she’d been running. And Renato had been the same, she recalled. She lay down again, meaning to puzzle it out, but contentment overcame her, and a moment later she was asleep.

Renato’s light touch on her shoulder awoke her. ‘We’ve dropped anchor,’ he said. ‘Just over there is a little bay.’

The Santa Maria had a small dinghy, already loaded with a picnic hamper and being lowered to the water. Renato handed her into it and they were away, headed for a small golden beach where there was nobody else in sight.

‘Let’s swim before we eat,’ he suggested. ‘Come.’ He seized her hand and they ran down the yellow sand.

The shock of the cool water was delicious. She plunged in and together they swam out to deep water. She’d never swum so far from shore before, and she wasn’t a strong swimmer, but she felt full of confidence as long as Renato was there. They swam for half an hour, then headed back, side by side.

‘Let’s stay in a bit longer,’ he said as their feet touched ground.

‘No, I’ll unpack the picnic. You go back if you want another swim.’

He raced away and plunged back into the water while she dried off her hair, and swung it in the sun for a moment. When she looked out to sea again he’d vanished. The water was clear and level, and there wasn’t a sign of Renato.

Slowly she got to her feet, feeling as though a dark cloud had covered the sun. It was like waking in a lunar landscape where everything was bare and desolate, and no life would ever live again.

Then his head broke the surface and the world was bathed in her relief. He waved and she waved back, discovering that she’d been holding her breath.

‘You scared me,’ she accused him as he walked up the beach.

He grinned. ‘Sorry. I like to swim under water for as long as I can.’

He towelled himself dry, and sat down beside her. The movement gave her a good view of the ugly scar near his wrist, and she shuddered.

‘It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘It’s healed. See.’

He held out his hand and she took it between hers, turning it to see the scar better. As he’d said, it had healed beautifully, but now she saw how large the wound had been, how close he had come to death. His big, forceful hand looked strange against her slim, delicate ones. By tightening it he could have crushed her, but he let it lie there while she gently brushed the sand from it.

‘I always said no woman would ever leave a permanent mark on me,’ he mused. ‘But now one has.’

‘It’s not really funny.’ Something inside her chest was aching.

‘All right, then I’ll tell you something serious. What happened that night told me all about you. One minute you were telling me to jump in the river. The next you were saving my life as cool as a cucumber, despite having been knocked about yourself. And when you did weaken, just a little, you pulled yourself together so that you could clear the driver.’

‘That’s my English reserve and efficiency,’ she teased. ‘We’re well known for keeping our cool.’

‘Does anything throw you off balance?’

‘Probably nothing you could think of,’ she said with a smile.

‘By God, I did the right thing bringing you here!’ he said suddenly.

‘You? It was Lorenzo who brought me here.’

‘Of course, of course. I think we should eat now.’

The picnic was magnificent and Renato explained that Fredo had outdone himself in her honour. As they sipped the cool wine, the slight movement of his face drew her attention to another scar. It made him look as though he’d tangled with a wild animal and emerged battered. She wondered how the animal would look. He caught her gaze and he rubbed it self consciously.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, horrified at herself.

He shrugged. ‘It makes no difference. Nature didn’t make me a beauty to start with. Then I played the fool on a motorbike and got what I deserved.’

‘You did that on a motorbike?’

‘I was wild as a boy. I bought a fast bike and rode it to the limit. The police warned me time and again, but I was a Martelli and that has its privileges. Then I took a mountain bend at an insane speed and nearly killed myself. Luckily nobody else got hurt, and I was left with this scar on my face as a reminder not to be a damned fool.’

‘I can’t picture you wild, somehow. You seem so much in control.’

‘I learned the consequences of not being in control the hard way. Besides, my father was dead by then, and the firm was being run by an uncle who wasn’t very good at it. Somebody had to get a grip while there was still time.’

‘So the firm had to become your life?’

‘It’s a more useful life than dashing about getting myself half killed. And now I find it very satisfying.’

She noticed that ‘now’ and wondered how hard it had been for a young man addicted to excitement to put on a suit and chain himself to a desk.

He said casually, ‘My mother told me that you were reluctant to accept her gift yesterday.’

‘The pearl tiara, yes. It’s a family heirloom. You’re the eldest son. Surely it should go to your wife?’

‘Who doesn’t exist, and never will. The single life suits me too well to give up.’

‘Oh, yes, Elena, Julia and the rest of the crowd. I don’t believe it. It sounds so immature, and I don’t think you are immature.’

He grimaced wryly. ‘I didn’t always feel this way. There was a lady once-her name was Magdalena Conti-the story is nauseatingly sentimental. I was much younger, and I believed in things I don’t believe in now. She taught me a lesson in reality from which I benefited enormously.’

‘Is she why you think all women are fortune-hunters?’

He shrugged. ‘Possibly. She was beautiful, tender, loving. She was also greedy, manipulative and deadly. She aimed her arrows at me for money. I fell for it. She told me she was pregnant. I asked her to marry me. I’d have asked her anyway, but fatherhood thrilled me. I indulged in many dreams in those days.’

He fell silent, looking out over the sea. His eyes might have been fixed on the horizon, or maybe on some other horizon, inside himself.

‘And then?’ Heather asked softly.

‘Then she met another man, much richer, and in films, which she found exciting. At our final meeting I learned for the first time how much I bored her. Then she went off with him.’

‘And your baby?’

‘She never gave birth. I know that much. Perhaps the child was an invention, or perhaps she-’ He shrugged. ‘I prefer to think she was lying about the pregnancy, but the truth is that I shall never know.’

Heather was silent. There was nothing she could have said that wouldn’t have sounded like a mockery of his pain. And the pain was unmistakable, even after so long. Suddenly the air about her was jagged with suffering. At the same time she was wondering about the woman who could be bored by this man.

‘Now the only woman I trust is my mother,’ he finished. ‘Lorenzo is fortunate to have found you.’

‘So you think I can be trusted? Then surely, other women can?’

‘Lorenzo still knows how to give trust. But I don’t. I would invite betrayal by expecting it, and-forgive me-such expectations are always fulfilled in the end. I made my decision, and I’ll stick to it. Take my mother’s gift. No woman will ever challenge you for it.’

She refilled his glass and he accepted it with a slightly forced smile.

‘Do you think you’ll be happy here, Heather?’ he asked quietly.

‘I’ve known it from the first moment. It’s not like me to be so impulsive, but Lorenzo made me feel so wanted.’