A Sicilian Husband - Kate Walker [60]
Gio found that to his surprise the smile that was needed in response came unexpectedly easily, sharing in her amusement.
‘So long as we don’t risk the brandy as well.’
‘No brandy, I promise you.’ Terrie laughed again, leading the way out of the lounge and across the tiled hallway.
In the kitchen, Gio leaned against the pale wood cabinets, watching her as she moved around, intent on the simple task. She looked like a pale, exotic flower in a simple sleeveless dress the same shade of turquoise as the swimming costume she had worn yesterday, but so many tones lighter that it looked as if it had faded over time, washed to something very close to white.
Because of the warmth of the day she had caught her hair up in a neat coil at the base of her skull and as she bent her head over the cafetière, concentrating on measuring the right amount of coffee grounds, the delicacy and vulnerability of the curve of her neck affected him strongly.
He felt the clutch of desire deep inside. But at the same time he also felt a rush of gentleness, a fiercely protective rush of emotion that made his head spin with its sheer power.
Unable to stop himself, he moved forward, coming behind her, and dropped a soft, lingering kiss on the exposed skin at the top of her spine.
‘Mm…’
Her response was soft and sensual, like a small cat’s purr. But then she twisted round to face him, looking deep into his eyes, a faintly puzzled frown creasing the space between her brows.
‘What was that for?’
‘Because I wanted to. And you can’t complain because…’
He lifted both his hands and spread them out on either side of her, bronzed fingers splayed wide.
‘See…no hands.’
To Terrie’s intense relief there was no darkness in his tone, no underlying thread of anger or reproach. Instead there was a lightness and humour that amazed her, relaxing the strain of muscles held taut with uncertainty.
‘I’ll let you off, then,’ she returned on a matching note, then, drawing in a deep, strengthening breath, she seized the chance his mood had given her. ‘Would it help to talk about it? About Lucia?’
She fully expected rejection. Was sure that he would close up, turn against her, or at least tell her it was none of her business. But instead he sighed, flexing his shoulders under the silver-grey silk jacket, and said, ‘What do you want to know?’
Terrie swallowed hard, unsure of how to answer that.
‘Whatever you want to tell me.’
Gio swung away from her again, but to her relief she saw that it was not to reject her, but so that he could pace up and down the big farmhouse-style kitchen, his restless movements obviously reflecting the unsettled nature of his thoughts.
‘We were both only sixteen when we met…’
His voice sounded cracked and rusty, as if it was a long time since it had been used, and he was clearly not finding it easy to use the right words to express his memories. Terrie longed to go to him, to hold him, to help him, but she sensed intuitively that this was not the right moment. Gio needed to handle this on his own. Later, when he had finished, that would be the time to go to him and try to comfort him.
If he would let her.
‘I took one look at her and I just knew.’
Gio paused in his restless pacing for just a second, pushed both hands through his hair, staring into space as if picturing the scene, then launched into movement once again.
‘Cesare always says that the men in our family fall heavily when they fall in love. That it’s a once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing…’
Terrie could only be grateful that as the words left his mouth Gio was at the far end of the kitchen, where his long, restless strides had taken him. His back was to her and so he never saw the way that she flinched at his words, the pain that darkened her eyes at that ‘once in a lifetime’.
‘Certainly, that’s how it was with Roberto and my mother. He lost his heart to her when she was still married to my father. So when Papa died he was there to help her