Wife By Arrangement

CHAPTER NINE

WHEN they met at breakfast her mood was cool. Naturally she was glad of Renato’s restraint the night before. If he’d tried to come to her bed it would have clouded the issue and she would have been angry at his calculation.

But the apparently easy way he’d resisted her was also a kind of calculation, and of the two it was the more insulting. She blushed to recall that she’d left her door unlocked, and he hadn’t even tried it. One small victory to him. If she weakened he would control the situation, and that she mustn’t allow.

He didn’t seem to notice her reserve. His own mood was edgy. Over breakfast he spoke tersely, smiled very little and looked haggard.

The horses were brought round. Soon after they set out she realised that Renato had been right when he’d said the story of the sheep would be all over the district. Wherever they went she found none of the suspicion or hostility that she would have expected, considering that she was a stranger and a foreigner. By some mysterious bush telegraph they knew Renato had chosen her for his wife, they regarded the match as settled, and they approved.

Before long the beauty of the day had its effect on both of them, softening her mood and making him less tense. They stopped at a farm and sat in the sun, drinking rough home-made wine and eating goat’s-milk cheese. Heather had been enchanted by Sicily from the first moment. Now she found new things to delight her wherever she looked.

‘I love that,’ she said, pointing to the ruins of a Greek temple in the distance, with sheep and goats munching contentedly nearby. ‘A great, ancient civilisation, side by side with everyday reality. The sheep aren’t awed by the temple, and the temple isn’t less splendid because of the sheep.’

He nodded agreement. ‘It was built in honour of Ceres, the goddess of fertility and abundance. The more sheep the better.’

‘And seeing them in harmony like that sums up so much about this country.’

‘Do you know how like a Sicilian you sound?’ he said. ‘Talking as though this was a separate country, instead of part of Italy. We all do that.’

‘Yes, I’d noticed. And it’s more than a separate country. It’s a separate world. There’s nothing like it anywhere else.’

‘And will you leave it? Turn your back on the welcome it’s given you?’

‘You’re a very clever man.’ She sighed. ‘You’ve simply gone over my head again. Your mother has decided, the tenants have decided, Father Torrino tells me how much it will cost to repair the church roof-all because you’ve let them think it’s a done deal. It makes me feel like the last piece in a jigsaw puzzle.’

‘That’s a very good analogy,’ he said, tactfully bypassing her accusations. ‘This is a jigsaw puzzle, with all the pieces fitting perfectly. You come into our lives from another country. You have different values, a different language, and yet there’s a space waiting for you that’s exactly your shape. The differences you bring will only enrich us. We can all see it. Why can’t you?’

‘Maybe because you come as part of the package,’ she said darkly.

He gave her the vivid grin that could so powerfully disconcert her. ‘Be brave. I’m not really so bad.’

‘You are.’

‘I’m not.’

‘You are.’

They laughed at the same moment. It was pleasant to be sitting in the bright day, squabbling light-heartedly. In another moment she might have yielded. But then some perverse imp made her ask, ‘Why did you change your mind? A couple of weeks ago nothing would make you consider it.’

‘Mamma gave me a stern talking-to, and as I’m afraid of her I gave in.’ He added outrageously, ‘But very reluctantly.’

‘Oh, stop it. I’m trying to be serious.’

‘Then let’s be serious. Arranged marriages can work very well when neither party is burdened with extravagant expectations. We’ve both seen the dangers of that, haven’t we?’

‘If you put it like that,’ she said with a sigh, ‘I suppose we have.’

‘Shall we call it a bargain? Come, say yes so that I can call Mamma.’

‘I suppose she’s sitting by the phone, waiting to hear my answer?’

‘Possibly, although I think she knew it was virtually decided.’

She frowned. ‘Decided? Now wait a minute. No way was it decided.’

He made a hasty gesture. ‘I put that badly. It’s just that I told her I thought that when you and I had talked about it calmly-’

‘What you told her,’ Heather breathed, her eyes kindling, ‘was that I was bound to give in. “Just give me a few hours to talk some sense into her, Mamma, and you can start sending out the invitations.” It was bad enough that you fooled people around here, but how dare you tell your mother it was settled?’

She got hastily to her feet.

Renato swore and rose too. ‘Heather, will you listen to reason?’

‘No, because I don’t like your kind of reason. You pulled my strings to marry me to Lorenzo, only he wasn’t there. Now you think you’re going to pull my strings again-only, this time, I won’t be there. Somebody ought to put you in a cage and charge admission, because you come right out of the ark. And you’re the last man I could ever marry.’

A look of stubbornness settled on his face. ‘But I’ve given her my word.’

‘And my word is no.’

‘This is Sicily, where a woman’s word counts for nothing beside a man’s.’

‘Well, maybe I’m not as much a Sicilian as we all thought.’

‘Why can’t you face the inevitable?’

‘Because I don’t think it is inevitable. I’m meant for a better fate than to save you from the results of your own pride. Go back to your light affairs, Renato. Pay them, and forget them. That’s all you’re good for.’

His sharp intake of breath told him she’d flicked him on the raw. She stormed away to where the horses were tethered. The farmer was there and he smiled at her in a way she was coming to recognise. The sight only increased her sense of being trapped. She thanked him for his hospitality before jumping on her horse and galloping away.

Faster and faster she urged the willing animal, as though she could outrun all the furies that pursued her whenever Renato Martelli was around. She could hear him behind her now, galloping hard to catch up, shouting something.

She couldn’t make out the words, and she missed the signs that would have warned her what was about to happen: the sudden drop in temperature, the darkening of the sky. The first crack of thunder took her by surprise. Her horse was alarmed, missed his footing, found it again and managed to go on. But he’d lost speed, and in the need to control him she’d taken her eyes off Renato. Next thing he’d caught up with her.

‘Go on to the temple,’ he cried. ‘It’s nearer than the farm.’

Before she could reply there was another crack of thunder and the heavens opened. She gasped. This wasn’t rain as she knew it. It was a flood, a torrent that crashed onto her all at once, pounding like hammers, drenching her in the first second.

‘Come on!’ he yelled.

She could no longer see the temple in the downpour, and found it only by following him. It loomed suddenly out of the wall of rain, no longer cheerful as in the sun, but almost sinister.

‘There,’ he cried, pointing to the far end. ‘There’s some cover.’

But the cover turned out to be too small. There was only just room for the horses, so they put the distressed animals inside, and endured the downpour themselves.

‘Damn!’ he yelled. ‘I thought we had another day at least.’

But now she’d got her second wind Heather was feeling good. The noise of the water, the thunder, the fierceness of the rain against her body, was exhilarating. Renato stared at her, realising that this wasn’t the woman he knew, but a new one who revelled in the violence of the elements. She turned and stared back at him, laughing, challenging. The next moment he’d pulled her into his arms.

It felt good to be kissed by a man whose control was slipping, who wanted her almost against his will. There was a driving purpose in his lips that thrilled her. He kissed her mouth, her nose, her eyes, seeking her feverishly as though nothing was ever enough. She gasped and clung to him. The rain had soaked through the thin material of their shirts, making them almost vanish. She relished in the feel of his body, the muscular shape of his arms and shoulders, the heavy bull neck, the sheer primitive force of the man. This was what she’d craved even while she was fending him off, because, like him, she needed her own terms.

But what was happening between them was on nobody’s terms: need, craving, curiosity, antagonism. They were all there, mixed up with a desire that obeyed no laws but its own. Her heart was pounding so wildly that he felt it and laid his hand between her breasts.

‘Could Lorenzo make you feel like this?’ he demanded. ‘Can’t you feel the difference?’

‘There’s no difference,’ she cried. ‘You and Lorenzo are two of a kind. Both selfish, careless of other people’s feelings, thinking of women as creatures to be used.’

She wondered what perversity made her hold out against a man who was gaining such a strong hold on her heart and senses. But ancient, wise instinct warned her not to let Renato have too easy a victory. She didn’t know what their future would hold, whether it might be love or just desire. But it would be built on what was happening now, and if she didn’t stand her ground she would always regret it.

But he too seemed to understand this, because he was making it so hard for her to hold out, caressing her with his lips that murmured seductively of passion and pleasure, passion so intense that it was destiny, pleasure too great to be resisted.

Hell is desire without love.

They shared desire but no love, and a marriage based on that faulty basis could only end in bitterness. She must cling to that, but it was hard when her body clamoured as never before for what only this man could give.

As abruptly as it had started, the rain eased off to a light drizzle. She broke free and turned away from him, but that helped her not at all. Wherever she looked she saw the carvings and statues depicting Ceres and the fertility she demanded. Here was corn, ripe for harvest, there were animals mating vigorously on a frieze that ran all around above their heads. And everywhere were men and women united in a fury of ecstatic creation.

Ceres was a ruthless goddess, sworn to make the little people she ruled fruitful, at any cost. To tempt them she dangled the sweetness of desire, but when her purpose was achieved the desire turned to ashes.

Renato came up behind her. He’d followed her gaze and understood everything she was thinking. ‘There’s no fighting it,’ he said. ‘Certainly not in this place, which was built to remind us how helpless we are in the hands of the gods.’

‘Do you believe that?’

‘I believe there are some forces we can’t withstand.’

‘And what do you think the gods meant for us?’ she asked, turning on him.

‘I’ll tell you what they didn’t mean. They didn’t mean for us to live peacefully. You and I could never do that. There’s something in you that drives me crazy, and there’s something in me that brings out a temper you never show to anyone else. We’ve fought from the moment we met, and we’ll probably fight until the last moment of our lives. But we’ll pass those lives together because I will not let you marry any other man.’

Looking into his face, she was swept by a wild mood. It was the same as the one that she’d known on the jet ski when she had incited him to ride on out of sight of the boat. It had almost cost her her life then, and now it might decide the rest of her life.

‘Do you understand?’ he said. ‘Answer me.’

She answered, not in words, but in a slow smile that made him growl and pull her hard against him. ‘Are you tormenting me for the pleasure of it?’

‘What do you think?’ she asked, speaking quietly so that he couldn’t hear, had to make out the movement of her lips.

‘I think I won’t let you torment me any more,’ he growled.

She laughed recklessly. ‘How will you stop me?’

‘Don’t challenge me, Heather. You’ll lose.’

‘I think I’ve already won.’

She’d won his lips crushing hers, one arm tight around her waist, the other behind her neck, so that she couldn’t have escaped if she’d wanted to. But she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay in his arms and enjoy her prize to the full. Because afterwards would come the day of reckoning, when she would discover what else she had won with this strange, mysterious, complicated man.

‘Tell me that you never slept with him,’ he said hoarsely.

‘If I did, I had every right to. I was his, not yours.’

‘Tell me you didn’t.’

‘It doesn’t concern you. You don’t own me. You never will.’

He stepped back from her. He was trembling as though he’d run a long race.

‘I do,’ he said. ‘And I always will.’

He fell silent. He might have been waiting for her response, but she was determined to say nothing. Slowly the stormy look died out of his eyes, leaving bleakness behind. ‘The rain has stopped,’ he said. ‘We should leave before it starts again.’

At the villa he stayed only long enough to dry off and change into some of the dry clothes that were still in his room. Heather went to her own room to change, and when she emerged Renato had already gone.

‘He said to say goodbye,’ Jocasta explained. ‘But he couldn’t stay.’

‘No, I didn’t think he would.’

She ate alone that evening, and picked so delicately at the food that Jocasta privately berated her husband, demanding to know if he wanted to drive the mistress away by his bad cooking.

She was late going to bed. As the moon came up she wandered in the garden, finding her way easily along silvered paths. The rose bush shone in the cool light, symbol of a love that had never really died.

That was what she’d thought awaited her here: the sweetness and tenderness of love. It was the kind of gentle experience that, as a northerner, she had instinctively understood.

Instead, in this country of fierce sun and fiercer rain, she’d found a passion as primitive as time itself, passion as these varied, unpredictable people understood it, and it had revealed that at heart she was one of them.

Very well. If she was to be a Sicilian, then she would meet the problem not merely with Sicilian intensity, but with Sicilian cunning.

She was swept again by the memory of Renato’s lips on hers, the way he’d pulled her against him so that her body moulded itself against his. These things had made her want to cry Yes with every part of her.

But his mouth had spoken the language of pride and possession, and no woman of spirit could consent to that. So her words had denied him while her senses clamoured for him. It seemed there was no way to solve the riddle.

Unless…

Next day she drove down to the Residenza in the late afternoon, and found Baptista fresh from her nap, bright-eyed and cheerful. They had tea and cakes together on the terrace as the afternoon light faded. The rains had left everywhere looking freshly washed, and now that the hottest part of summer had gone this time of day was cool and pleasant. Encouraged by Baptista, she described how she was spending her time at the villa.

‘The local priest paid me a ceremonial visit, and said very anxiously that he hoped I played chess. I assured him that I did, and he went away happy.’

Baptista chuckled. ‘Father Torrino is a dear man but the worst chess player in the world. You’ll have to let him win sometimes. So you’re fitting into the community. That’s excellent.’

‘Oh, they’re all looking me up and down and wondering if I’ll “do”,’ Heather said with a smile. ‘They seem to think that I will. It’s a happy place. No wonder you love it.’ After a moment she added significantly, ‘I really don’t want to leave.’

‘I was sure you wouldn’t.’

‘But it’s not that easy.’ Heather sipped her tea and thought for a moment before asking, ‘How many men did you turn down before you finally said yes?’

‘Five or six. My poor parents were tearing their hair, but they persevered.’

Out of the corner of her eye Heather became aware of a shadow on the curtain, and then the figure of a man appearing. She was sure Baptista also knew he was there, but neither of them took the slightest notice of him. Nor did he speak. He was listening intently.

‘It’s not just the man who has to be right,’ Baptista continued, ‘but the circumstances. That’s one advantage of using an intermediary. You negotiate the important decisions first, and then there’s less to quarrel about.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Heather murmured, still refusing to acknowledge Renato’s presence, although he’d poured himself some tea, and taken a seat a little behind them. ‘With certain people there would always be something to quarrel about because they’re just naturally annoying.’

‘I totally agree. A good intermediary takes that into account. Some men are harder to match than others on account of being-how shall I put it?’

‘Full of themselves,’ Heather supplied.

Baptista gave a delighted snort. ‘I love your English idioms. So perfectly expressive. And you have another one-“where to get off!” Such a man needs a wife who can tell him where to get off. As for her, if perhaps she finds her life a little unfocused and lacking in direction, and if he can offer her a life that can remedy these problems-she might well decide to overlook his deficiencies.’

‘There’s another matter to be settled,’ Heather pointed out. ‘Fidelity. The party on my side wouldn’t want to find herself standing in line behind Julia and Minetta and-’

‘Never heard of them,’ growled a masculine voice from behind.

‘I think he’ll decide to forget that he’s ever heard of them,’ Baptista observed blandly.

‘Good,’ Heather said. ‘My party would expect things to stay that way. Did somebody speak?’

The voice growled again. ‘Zoccu non fa pi tia ad autra non fari.’

‘We seem to have been joined by a spirit presence,’ Baptista remarked, unperturbed. ‘It has just reminded us of a Sicilian proverb: Do not do to others what you don’t wish them to do to you.’

‘The point is taken,’ Heather observed gravely. ‘Fidelity on both sides.’

‘Excellent. There are certain other matters to be decided in advance. Like, where they are going to live. I refused two suitors because they disliked Bella Rosaria and wouldn’t spend any time there. All I wanted was a few weeks in the summer, but they wouldn’t budge.’

‘A few weeks in summer sounds ideal,’ Heather said.

‘And the rest of the time here because he does so much business from this house.’

‘Of course, he would need to remain at the heart of his business,’ Heather agreed. ‘But I expect you slipped away to the villa sometimes on your own?’

‘Indeed I did. As I’m sure you would wish to do. Although I doubt you’d be on your own because he loves the place too, and might burden you with his company more often than you’d like.’

‘I wouldn’t mind. He’s at his best at the villa.’

‘Ah, you’ve discovered that.’

‘Almost human. And it’s nice to have something in common.’

‘Once that has been decided,’ Baptista resumed, ‘all that would remain would be to call in the lawyers and arrange the legal details. As to the dowry-’

‘The bride offers Bella Rosaria, a very desirable estate,’ Heather pointed out.

‘An excellent dowry,’ Baptista agreed, ‘which will remain her property-’

‘But I thought-that is, she thought she’d be giving it back to the Martelli family,’ Heather protested.

‘After the marriage she’ll be part of the Martelli family,’ Baptista pointed out. ‘Besides, a woman is in a stronger position in Sicily if she has some property of her own. You should advise your party to take my word for it.’

Heather nodded. ‘She will do so. In fact, she’s very aware of how much she owes to your wisdom and judgement in bringing this difficult case to a successful conclusion. Have we forgotten anything?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘In that case,’ Heather said with a sudden air of resolution, ‘you can tell your party that my party finds the arrangements quite satisfactory.’

She rose. Baptista held out a hand and Heather helped her to stand. Then the two women went slowly into the house, leaving Renato alone in the gathering twilight, drinking his tea and staring moodily out to sea. Neither of them had spared him so much as a glance.