A Sicilian Husband - Kate Walker [56]
If she could have done so without provoking suspicion she would have tossed aside the towel and plunged back into the blue depths of the pool, wanting to have them close over her head, conceal her from Gio’s prying eyes. She longed for the shock of the cool water against her heated body, dousing and controlling the pounding blood in her veins, the ache of need that was uncoiling low down in the cradle of her pelvis.
‘But now it’s time for you to go inside,’ Gio was saying, lowering his son slowly and setting his small bare feet safely on the ground.
‘No!’
Paolo’s small face set into stubborn lines that made him look unnervingly like his father. ‘I stay with Treeza! I love Treeza! Treeza—love ’oo.’
Teresa sensed rather than saw Gio’s sudden stiffening, but she didn’t dare to look into his face to see the effect his son’s innocent words were having on him. Never before had she felt the ambiguity of her position in Gio’s household as strongly as she did now. Admitting to cowardice, she concentrated fiercely on the little boy.
‘And I love you, sweetie. But you must do as your daddy says. If he says it’s time to go in…’
‘And Nonna is here,’ Gio added, forestalling the protest Paolo was obviously about to make. ‘She’s waiting to see you.’
The bribe worked. Paolo adored his paternal grandmother. His smile restored, he set off at a fast pace, heading for the big patio doors into the house.
Gio watched him go, waiting until he saw his son safely indoors before he turned back to Terrie.
‘You’re a strong swimmer,’ he commented, though Terrie had a firm feeling that he was speaking to say anything, fill the silence, with his mind not on the subject he had raised at all. ‘Where did you learn?’
‘My mother taught me. She loved the water. And then at school I was in the competition team.’
She was hunting for her cover-up as she spoke, finding the loose cotton shirt on a sun-lounger near by. The sense of relief with which she shrugged it on was ridiculous, she knew. The fine weave of the white cotton made the garment almost totally transparent anyway, and at best it was a concession to modesty, nothing more. It certainly wasn’t any protection from the dark, assessing gaze that roved over her body in the clinging swimsuit with evident approval.
‘Did Lucia like to swim?’
She wouldn’t have asked the question if she hadn’t already been off balance. Since her arrival at the villa, Lucia Cardella had been a forbidden topic between them. It was impossible to ignore the photographs of the petite, dark-haired woman that were scattered around the large, elegant rooms, but Gio’s first wife had never actually been discussed. So now she froze in apprehension, wondering if perhaps she had overstepped some unseen barrier, crossed a line that she didn’t even know was there.
‘No, she hated it,’ he said slowly. ‘As a matter of fact, she was terrified of water. Her father was one of those who believed that the way to overcome a nervous fear is to confront it head-on. So, when he saw her hesitating on the side of the pool as a child, he picked her up and threw her in.’
‘Oh, poor Lucia. That would just make matters worse!’
‘It did.’
Gio’s voice was low and flat, dull as his eyes. He seemed to be staring out across the rippling water of the pool, his gaze unfocused, and Terrie had the feeling that he was looking back into his past, reliving some memory. Her heart twisted at the thought of his loss, the loneliness of his life since, and, reacting automatically, she reached out and laid a gentle hand on his arm.
‘I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have…’
Gio started brusquely at her touch, his hazed eyes going sharply to her face. For a couple of blank seconds it was as if he didn’t recognise her, as he stared straight through her, then he blinked hard and came back to himself.
That had never happened before, Gio realised. Terrie had asked him a question about Lucia and it was only when she had that he had realised that his wife, while still so vivid in his memories,