it until now. If he carried
any scars from the experience, they were beneath the surface.
She
smiled a little, admiring the gorgeous, very masculine body stretched before
her. “And then?”
“When
the war was over, I left the navy and travelled a little.” His tone was light,
as if what he discussed was inconsequential. The stiffening in his shoulders
was barely perceptible.
“What
is a little?”
“Nearly
three years.”
She
did the mental calculations. So he had not been home long. “Why did you come
back?”
“My
father died, and it was time for me to take up my place as head of the family.”
“Did
you mind having to come home?”
He
was silent for a long time. “At first I did.” His mouth twisted in a smile.
“All the time I was travelling, I was searching for something, only I didn’t
know what it was. In coming home I found what I had been looking for.”
“What
was that?” Her voice was hushed.
He
raised himself up on an elbow to look at her. “I found where I belong. This is
my home, it’s my future. No matter what has happened, no matter what will
happen, these are my people.”
She
nodded. She had felt that same sense of belonging, from the moment the carriage
had left Naples and begun the twisting, heart-stopping journey on the narrow
shelf of rock between sea and sky, she’d felt at home. But she didn’t have the
luxury of being able to stay. These weren’t her people.
Then
she heard the echo of his last words. “Why do you say ‘no matter what’?”
His
face clouded. He stared out into the distance, across the still water to the
mainland. “Change is coming. There is restlessness in the air. It’s time for us
to make a new future for this country, but I am afraid of the direction that
future will take.”
“The fascisti ?”
Stefano
nodded.
“I
saw what happened on the steps of the church the other night.” She bit her lip.
“I
am sorry you saw that.” He reached forward to brush a tress of her hair back
behind her ear with a soothing caress. “We are a volatile people. But nearly
all Positanese are related, so every fight is like a family quarrel. But that
...” He scowled, his bright eyes dimming for a moment. “Those men were
outsiders. That is not who we are.” Then the irrepressible smile softened his
grave expression. “But let’s not borrow tomorrow’s problems. This day is too
precious to waste a moment.”
He
traced a pattern down the inside of her thigh with light fingers, setting her
skin alight where he touched her.
She
swatted away his hand. “You’re distracting me.”
“That
is my intention.” He took the sketch pad and pencil from her nerveless fingers,
glancing down at her drawing.
She
blushed. It was not a picture she could ever show to another living person. But
it was a memory she would treasure all her life, long after this Italian idyll
was over.
“I
like it,” he said simply, setting the book carefully aside, unembarrassed to
see himself naked upon the page.
They
kissed, they tasted, they explored. This time their lovemaking was not slow and
sensuous as it had been before, but wild and fervent. Knowing what to expect,
Isobel opened herself up to him, and he took the invitation, plunging harder
and faster, holding nothing back until they soared together.
“Bella,
you will get sunburnt if you stay in the sun much longer.” Stefano placed a
tender kiss on the exposed skin of her shoulder, already turning pink. She
blinked open her eyes, still basking in the afterglow of his loving, her limbs
soft and liquid.
“We
should go inside, and I will prepare lunch.”
Though
she didn’t want to leave the comfort of his arms, she climbed ahead of him down
the ladder into the cabin. She made herself comfortable on the narrow bunk,
wrapping a thin blanket around herself. Once again she propped the sketch pad
against her knees.
Stefano
prepared a simple meal in the tiny kitchen area, his movements deft and economical.
Completely
any scars from the experience, they were beneath the surface.
She
smiled a little, admiring the gorgeous, very masculine body stretched before
her. “And then?”
“When
the war was over, I left the navy and travelled a little.” His tone was light,
as if what he discussed was inconsequential. The stiffening in his shoulders
was barely perceptible.
“What
is a little?”
“Nearly
three years.”
She
did the mental calculations. So he had not been home long. “Why did you come
back?”
“My
father died, and it was time for me to take up my place as head of the family.”
“Did
you mind having to come home?”
He
was silent for a long time. “At first I did.” His mouth twisted in a smile.
“All the time I was travelling, I was searching for something, only I didn’t
know what it was. In coming home I found what I had been looking for.”
“What
was that?” Her voice was hushed.
He
raised himself up on an elbow to look at her. “I found where I belong. This is
my home, it’s my future. No matter what has happened, no matter what will
happen, these are my people.”
She
nodded. She had felt that same sense of belonging, from the moment the carriage
had left Naples and begun the twisting, heart-stopping journey on the narrow
shelf of rock between sea and sky, she’d felt at home. But she didn’t have the
luxury of being able to stay. These weren’t her people.
Then
she heard the echo of his last words. “Why do you say ‘no matter what’?”
His
face clouded. He stared out into the distance, across the still water to the
mainland. “Change is coming. There is restlessness in the air. It’s time for us
to make a new future for this country, but I am afraid of the direction that
future will take.”
“The fascisti ?”
Stefano
nodded.
“I
saw what happened on the steps of the church the other night.” She bit her lip.
“I
am sorry you saw that.” He reached forward to brush a tress of her hair back
behind her ear with a soothing caress. “We are a volatile people. But nearly
all Positanese are related, so every fight is like a family quarrel. But that
...” He scowled, his bright eyes dimming for a moment. “Those men were
outsiders. That is not who we are.” Then the irrepressible smile softened his
grave expression. “But let’s not borrow tomorrow’s problems. This day is too
precious to waste a moment.”
He
traced a pattern down the inside of her thigh with light fingers, setting her
skin alight where he touched her.
She
swatted away his hand. “You’re distracting me.”
“That
is my intention.” He took the sketch pad and pencil from her nerveless fingers,
glancing down at her drawing.
She
blushed. It was not a picture she could ever show to another living person. But
it was a memory she would treasure all her life, long after this Italian idyll
was over.
“I
like it,” he said simply, setting the book carefully aside, unembarrassed to
see himself naked upon the page.
They
kissed, they tasted, they explored. This time their lovemaking was not slow and
sensuous as it had been before, but wild and fervent. Knowing what to expect,
Isobel opened herself up to him, and he took the invitation, plunging harder
and faster, holding nothing back until they soared together.
“Bella,
you will get sunburnt if you stay in the sun much longer.” Stefano placed a
tender kiss on the exposed skin of her shoulder, already turning pink. She
blinked open her eyes, still basking in the afterglow of his loving, her limbs
soft and liquid.
“We
should go inside, and I will prepare lunch.”
Though
she didn’t want to leave the comfort of his arms, she climbed ahead of him down
the ladder into the cabin. She made herself comfortable on the narrow bunk,
wrapping a thin blanket around herself. Once again she propped the sketch pad
against her knees.
Stefano
prepared a simple meal in the tiny kitchen area, his movements deft and economical.
Completely
Similar Books
