CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Marco made tea and flipped pancakes while Sapphire showered, dashing in and out as the temperature of the water made her shiver. Marco smiled at her antics as she passed by, running on the spot to stay warm as her towel threatened to pool at her feet.
He felt good. No, he felt better than good. He was doing the right thing here and it was time that his life moved on. Sapphire had purged him of the remnants of love he’d felt for his wife and he hoped he was now done with the self-loathing that overwhelmed him when his needs were met by one of the socialites on the circuit. They had merely been a means to an end, but Sapphire brought his soul to life again.
‘We could go to the hotel today to check it out, if you would be happy with that?’ He turned to Sapphire. She looked radiant. Sex was good for her, he decided, smiling. He looked a bit closer; she looked wary – uncomfortable even.
‘Yes, fine. It looks as if the rain is here to stay, but it’ll be good to blow the cobwebs away.’ She twiddled with a lock of her hair and chewed her lip.
Marco strode over to her. ‘Come here.’ He pulled her closer to face him, smoothing her hair out of her eyes and holding her face, so that she had no choice but to listen to him. ‘Don’t go all polite on me, Sapphire; I don’t want banalities and pleasantries. I know the English are fixated on the weather, but I can tell the difference.’
‘It’s hard for me, Marco.’
‘What is?’ He could hazard a guess, and in a way, he didn’t blame her. ‘Is it the being-your-boss thing?’
She nodded. ‘I think so. It’s fine when we’re – you know.’ She jerked her thumb in the direction of the bedroom. ‘But I seem to forget that bit once we are dressed again.’
Marco sighed. ‘I can see we need more time together. And luckily for you, we can spend the whole week here.’
Her eyes widened. ‘How come?’
‘I booked the cottage for a week.’
‘Without mentioning it to me?’
He held his hand up. ‘Wait. Don’t think it was intentional – it was seven days or nothing.’ He shrugged. ‘We don’t have to stay that long, if you don’t want to.’
She rolled her eyes, but he could tell that she liked the idea. ‘We’ll be sick of each other by the time we leave.’
‘We will not.’ He moved in for a kiss to convince her. ‘And if I have to keep taking you to bed to reassure you, then …’ He shrugged, ‘… so be it.’ He kissed her slowly and languidly, his fingers raking through her hair. He groaned and pulled away. ‘Let’s go buy some wet-weather clothes before the temptation to undress you again becomes too much.’
Even as he spoke the sun lit up the kitchen, appearing from behind the heavy clouds like an answered prayer. ‘Here we go – even the sun wants us to stay.’
***
They ate breakfast and Sapphire relaxed a bit more. She plaited her hair to stop it blowing in her face when they went out, and layered the fisherman jumper over her flowery dress. Then they braved the weather once more, heading for the shops in the high street.
Marco bought her a rain mac and some bright red wellingtons, which prompted her to do a little jig of happiness when she put them on; she’d never owned such brightly coloured footwear.
They strolled along the beach, hand in hand, and Sapphire collected a few seashells, popping them into her pocket. She picked up a large limpet shell before realising it had a dead crab inside and Marco snapped a picture of her horrified expression, laughing when she threw it at him, shell and all. He chased her over the fine white sand and, pretending to rugby tackle her, drew her to the ground, where he kissed her and fanned her hair out on the sand. ‘You’d make a gorgeous mermaid,’ he said, straddling her and stroking her hair away from her face.
‘No self-respecting mermaid would have hair this frizzy – imagine what the sea water would do to it.’ Sapphire laughed up into his eyes, her own eyes brim-full of love.
Marco heaved himself off her and lay on the sand, spreading his arms wide. ‘Relaxing is so good for the soul.’
‘Relaxing? I’m totally knackered.’ Sapphire lifted herself up on one elbow before throwing herself on top of Marco. ‘And I’m starving. Let’s go and get some lunch.’
‘I’m starving too, but only for you.’ He wrapped her inside his – now decidedly sandy – cashmere coat and they shut out the world for several minutes while they kissed, their bodies responding to each other. Marco finally pulled away, saying, ‘Tell me this is more delicious than food.’
‘Man shall not live on bread alone. Matthew 4,’ Sapphire parroted, raising herself to a sitting position.
‘Ah, I’ve got a good Catholic girl on my hands, have I?’
‘Sadly, I’ve read the Bible more times than I care to admit, but I’m not a Catholic.’
‘But you are very good,’ Marco waggled his eyebrows.
Sapphire blushed. ‘I have a very good teacher. Now, proper food.’
She pulled Marco towards the pub, visible in the distance, and as they meandered along, a huge dog ran up to them, snuffling around in excitement. Its owner, an old man with a walking stick, raised his cap to them, saying, ‘A fine day for walking. You’re staying at Tideline Cottage, are you not?’
‘Yes, I believe we are,’ Marco said.
Sapphire turned to Marco. ‘The name explains the proximity of the sea last night, then.’
Marco squeezed her hand. It was a night he would never forget. ‘I will forever be grateful to the high tide,’ he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
‘Ah, wonderful cottage for young newlyweds.’ The man called his dog to heel with a high-pitched whistle, before continuing. ‘Generations of babies have been conceived in Tideline. It’s a lucky cottage; you’ll be well blessed.’
Sapphire gave Marco big, scared eyes. ‘Right. Lovely to know, thanks for that,’ she replied politely.
‘More condoms – we need more condoms,’ Marco whispered as Sapphire giggled, although for a brief second, she imagined what it would be like to have Marco’s children.
‘I’ll drop you a sea bass round later when my son gets back with his boat,’ the old man said, tipping his cap.
‘Thank you, very kind.’ Marco saluted the old man and made to move on, but it seemed he wanted to chat.
‘Although you might be interested in coming to The Crown tonight as they’re doing a Stargazy pie. Everyone comes over to eat and we have a bit of a knees-up afterwards.’
‘Okay. Lovely. Stargazy pie sounds fabulous.’
‘It’s not – it’s made from pilchards usually, and it’s foul, but luckily we have a top chef coming over from Devon who is replacing the pilchards with prawns and making a sauce from rabbit meat and chicken. Thank God, is all I can say – had far too many years with pilchards giving me the evil eye from the buttery grave of a Stargazy pie.’
‘Right. Well, we’ll try to be there anyway. Thank you.’ Marco shook his hand and they made a hasty retreat.
They garnered a few looks from the locals as they sat down at the same pub that Sapphire had escaped to, when they’d first arrived. ‘Why are people staring at us – aren’t they used to tourists?’ she whispered, under her breath.
‘It’s because you look like a glorious movie star,’ Marco said. Or maybe it was because they both looked so happy, he thought. He looked at Sapphire with her long curls, rosy cheeks and big eyes and wondered how she managed to be so unaware of her beauty. He put it down to years of being ridiculed for her red hair – but he loved her hair, and it certainly reflected her spirited personality.
‘And what are you staring at?’ Sapphire teased as she perused the menu.
‘A woman who has transformed my view on redheads.’ Marco leaned forward and lifted a lock of her hair, allowing it to fan over his fingers.
‘For the better, I hope,’ Sapphire said as she put the menu down. ‘I think I’ll just have soup.’
‘Me too, as I’m not hungry now I’ve had my fill of you.’
Sapphire spluttered into the drink she’d just raised to her lips. ‘Did you really just say that?’
‘Yes, I am trying to be romantic.’ He grinned, as he nudged her leg with his knee.
‘Then, thank you.’ But her eyes danced with laughter and she stifled a giggle.
‘I won’t bother next time.’
‘Just stick to being you – it’s better for both of us,’ she said, patting his arm, but her insides curled with pleasure. The stern, severe Marco had all but disappeared and she was delighted that she was the cause of his transformation. She wanted him to stay like that forever, which, she realised with a jolt, must mean she wanted to be with him forever. It was true; she was totally in love and wasn’t sure whether to be scared or happy because of it. She put it from her mind and said, ‘We haven’t been up to the hotel yet. Are they not expecting you?’
‘They don’t know I’m coming.’
‘What?’
Actually, the hotel I have in mind is not even up for sale.’
‘We came all this way for nothing?’
‘Not at all. Everyone has a price. At the very least the owners will agree to reach a compromise.’
‘What sort of compromise?’ Sapphire wasn’t sure she wanted to hear about his business tactics, fearing that she might not like Marco Cavarelli the businessman, quite so much as the lover.
But he was quick to notice her disapproval, saying, ‘I’ll offer to refurbish their hotel to a standard they would never achieve, allow them to retain part ownership, keep their staff and remain in their own little kingdom. Consequently, I will have their undivided loyalty and the management will ensure the hotel is run to my dictate, because they will want it to succeed as much as I do. After a while, I’ll take a back seat and the profits will roll in for the shareholders. Simple.’
‘Is that what you’re doing with Hot Air?’
‘Yes, apart from being more hands-on for Robert Clarke, as he is not a well man.’
‘And I thought you were just harassing me.’
Marco laughed. ‘I assure you, I have too many other problems to sort out to spend time harassing one of my staff.’
‘And are you still going to leave Hot Air?’ The question sounded innocuous, but Sapphire was praying that he wouldn’t leave now.
Marco’s expression was shuttered. He picked up his glass, looked at the contents and put it back on the table. His face was calm but a giveaway muscle pulsed as his jaw clenched. ‘I still have business to sort out, but I will step back at some stage.’
And that’s it, thought Sapphire. He wants me to be open and divulge my soul to him, yet he can’t manage to tell me where I fit in with his plans.
‘Let’s go back to the cottage. The hotel can wait another day.’ Marco drained his drink and Sapphire scrambled to her feet, hoisting her bag over her shoulder. Something had upset him and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what it was.
They wandered across the beach in no hurry to visit the hotel, each other’s company being enough for now. Sapphire had lost the uncertain edge she’d had with Marco, who showed himself to be funny, solicitous and very loving: a different person from the Marco he’d presented at Hot Air Aviation, He kissed the top of her head. ‘I’d be happy to stay here, with you, forever.’
‘That’d be nice, but only if you can guarantee a tiny bit more sunshine at some stage of the game,’ she agreed, as they picked their way back to the cottage through rivulets and deep pools of water, caused by the retreating tide and the fierce storms.
They spent the afternoon listening to the rain again as they dozed on the sofa with the television on in the background. Sapphire snuggled down in Marco’s arms and listened to his heartbeat, her head resting on his chest. Contentment was mixed with wonder that she was finally with Marco – and in love. It was a heady mix and it was scary; she was used to having the things she loved taken away from her. She snuck her hand into his and he squeezed it, before allowing his hand to roam leisurely across her waist, sneaking up to her breast.
‘We need to move or else we’ll end up in bed again,’ he said, letting her go and throwing his legs over the side of the sofa. ‘Come on, let’s go and see what this Stargazy pie is all about. I’ve googled it and it does sound pretty weird. Says it originates from Mousehole in Cornwall and is served up around December in remembrance of some fisherman braving the storms to feed the village.’
‘I guess if it brings in the tourists they’ll happily pinch the idea and celebrate it every weekend, and we do have the stormy weather.’
‘Let’s hope the famine isn’t coming our way too.’
‘Well, I guess we should go and eat while we still can then, just in case,’ Marco teased.
Sapphire would secretly rather have stayed on the sofa, contentedly using Marco’s chest for a pillow, but she roused herself and they headed out once more to test out the Stargazy pie.
They heard the pub before they saw it, drawing closer to see customers spilling out of the door. The heady smell of hops and fish made them wonder if they were doing the right thing, but the noise from a local band playing folk music, was tempting enough to make them push on. A fiddle, a Bodhrán and a guitar accompanied two singers who belted out songs with gusto, although they were almost drowned out by the noise of the customers shouting over the top of each other to be heard.
Marco grinned at Sapphire as they shouldered their way through the noisy crowd of people. He ordered a beer brought in from the local brewery for himself, and an apple juice for Sapphire, and they fought their way back through the throng of people to find a tiny corner of space to stand together.
‘If this beer is any good I’m going to serve it in the hotel – and that St Martin’s wine we have at the cottage. Stargazy pie too, maybe. Got to keep in with the locals.’
‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I think I’m traumatised.’ Sapphire pointed to the huge pie that was sitting in a food warmer next to a pile of mashed potato. Fish heads, complete with baleful eyes, poked out of the top of the pastry crust, staring up to the sky.
‘Well, I guess we now know why it’s called Stargazy pie,’ Marco grinned. ‘But the lovely name doesn’t make it look any more palatable.’ He took a closer look at the pie. ‘Hmm, think it might even be up there with haggis and samphire on the list of excluded foods, unless I manage to find that chef – the one the old man mentioned.’
‘Don’t know what happened to him, but I’m glad we have bread and cheese back at the cottage as I really don’t think I can stomach even one mouthful of that.’ Sapphire couldn’t take her eyes of the fish heads and didn’t think she’d ever seen a meal look so unappetising.
‘Certainly sounds a lot better made with prawns and chicken,’ Marco agreed. ‘I’ll find out the chef’s name for my new hotel.’
Sapphire enjoyed talking about Marco’s plans as it made her feel part of his life, and that was what she wanted. She sipped at her drink, contentedly watching the band and the locals, and wondered if it was worth doing battle at the bar again for some crisps.
A man playing a Spanish guitar started up a sweet confection of chords and a singer joined him, picking out a soulful tune. It all looked very impromptu and haphazard, which added to the charm of the evening. A couple of people started dancing, cheek to cheek, and then another two drifted onto a space in front of the singer that doubled up as a makeshift dance floor. They moved in unison, inching around the floor in a circle, the woman’s head nestling into the hollow of her partner’s collarbone.
Marco picked up Sapphire’s hand and she looked up, ready to smile at his sentiment, but, unexpectedly, he pulled her to her feet. ‘I haven’t danced with you, yet. Can’t be considered a proper relationship until we dance together.’
‘Really, why’s that?’ Sapphire eyed the tiny space, wondering if they would even fit in there.
‘What if we don’t synchronise? It will be the end for us. Being able to dance together is more important than sex.’
‘You’re joking, right?’
‘I never joke about dancing.’ He drew her over to the tiny dance floor and pulled her in to him. ‘I should have mentioned that when I went to Cambridge University, I learned ballroom dancing. I kid you not – as you English would say. Follow my feet, and you’ll be fine; we are basically just shuffling around, here.’
Sapphire put her hand on Marco’s shoulder and he placed his arm around her waist. Their free hands met and she was terrified that he would start to prance around the floor, like something out of Strictly, doing proper ballroom stuff, but he just tightened his grip on her waist and took the lead.
He pressed up to her body; there was barely a gap between them and it felt strangely erotic. Marco brought his hand up to her shoulder and she leaned in to him as he stroked the back of her neck with his thumb. The singer crooned an Ed Sheeran song about being perfect and Marco started to hum under his breath. It resonated through his chest and Sapphire relaxed into the rhythm of their slow dance. It was as if it was just the two of them; no-one else mattered as they moved, wrapped up in each other. Sapphire felt that she was melting with longing for Marco, the sweet ache that always seemed to be there for him pulsing through her veins. She had found the man of her dreams, unlikely as it was. His heart beat next to hers and she pressed her breasts into his chest, her thigh into his thigh, feeling the strength of his muscles as they moved in unison around the dance floor.
Marco groaned as Sapphire pressed her pelvis into the erection she could most definitely feel. ‘This is interesting,’ she whispered into his ear.
‘This is difficult,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘I don’t think I want them to put the lights on any time soon,’ His eyes were smouldering with heat when he finally pulled away to gaze down at her.
‘Did we pass the test?’ Sapphire’s voice was unsteady as she came back down to earth, out of the trance that Marco’s humming and manly warmth had put her in.
‘I’m not sure. I think we need to get back to the cottage quickly to check out the sex again. We need a proper comparison.’ Although his eyes danced, his tone was urgent, his voice unmistakably throaty as he ushered her off the dance floor, hunger burning in his eyes.
Sapphire felt the same heat flash through her body and was as desperate as Marco to get back to the cottage. Who’d have thought that just dancing could do that to a person, she thought, fanning her face. She grabbed her rain mac from the chair as they sailed straight past their drinks and their table and out of the door.
‘I kind of want to run.’ Sapphire laughed, as Marco grabbed her hand. She threw him a challenging look as she broke into a trot. Marco grinned and started running. She upped her pace to keep up with him, jumping over potholes and swivelling around gorse bushes as he sprinted ahead.
They crashed into the cottage, barely taking the time to shut the door, before they were undressing each other, their kisses frantic, hands fumbling and desperate. They made love in a frenzy of passion, Marco slamming in to Sapphire over and over, until they both came in a synchronised gasp and fell backwards on the bed, heaving in deep breaths.
‘Okay, I think it was a close tie between the dancing and the sex,’ Marco said, as they finally landed back down to earth. Sapphire giggled and he threw an arm across her, drawing her into his chest.
‘Just remind me not to dance with you again, unless there is a bed within yards.’ Sapphire snuggled into him and pulled the duvet over them both. ‘I’ll brush my teeth in a minute,’ she said, yawning.
‘Boarding-school conditioning?’ Marco asked, his own voice sounding sleepy.
‘Yes, I guess so. Maybe this can be the start of a new defiant me. Sod it, I’ll leave it until the morning.’
‘Atta girl. Look forward to the morning breath.’ Marco kissed her cheek as he settled into the mattress.
She smiled in the darkness, listening to Marco’s breathing as it steadied; she was exactly where she wanted to be.
That night a fresh storm woke them, lightning flaring so bright that it seemed to come from inside their room. The rain had battered the skylight and thrummed on the windows in a cacophony of noise, which only emphasised their cosy room and the warmth they shared. Marco threw a leg over Sapphire and hooked her into him when she awoke with a start at the sound of thunder.
‘Hmm, this is my idea of a stormy night – someone to keep me safe and warm,’ he said against her throat as he trailed kisses over her skin.
‘You’re the man, Marco – you’re supposed to keep me safe,’ she replied, a small moan of pleasure escaping as his hand drifted down to her breast.
‘I didn’t think you were one for stereotypes, but if it makes you happy, don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.’ He kissed her hair.
‘Promise?’
‘Forever, Cara Mia.’
Sapphire was content to stay in the circle of Marco’s arms as she listened to the rain, the words forever playing over in her mind. For the first time in her life she feared she would be unable to cope without a constant love – Marco’s love. She pressed her body into his, as if she could melt into him, so he had no choice but to be part of her for ever.
Marco stirred and lifted himself up on his elbow and looked down at her. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m scared, Marco.’
‘You don’t need to be scared; I’ve told you I’ll keep you safe.’
‘I’m not scared of the storm.’ She needed his reassurance. If he kissed away her fears, she would put her absolute faith in him.
‘You look so ethereal in this light, Sapphire.’ He teased away her frown with a light kiss.
She caught his head in her hands and moved in for a proper kiss, wishing she was brave enough to tell him she loved him. But she stayed silent as he, once more, took her in his arms and showed her ways in which he loved her, without the words she longed to hear.
They didn’t make it to the hotel until the last day of their stay and, even then, Marco was loath to leave her alone. ‘You must come with me. We’ll have lunch and you can spend some time at the spa while I sort out my very neglected business emails. I shall decide whether to take my plans any further when I see how the hotel is located.’
She showered and dressed as Marco phoned up the hotel to book lunch, giving his name in the happy belief that no one in the Isles of Scilly would have heard of him.
The hotel was a rather run-down affair from the outside, with moss and grime coating the black granite walls. The stone steps leading up to the entrance were broken and worn, and a headless statue reclined next to a mature cherry tree that shed its leaves as the wind blew.
Mournful terns cried out overhead and a huge seagull eyed up Sapphire and Marco from the top of one of the pillars.
‘It’s a bit depressing, isn’t it?’
‘It has potential though, don’t you think? I’m seeing a helipad over there.’ He waved his hand in the direction of a large field. ‘A swimming pool could go over there; maybe a maze to inject a little fun. The glass dome would be on that part of the hotel.’ He pointed to a long flat extension that looked as if it had been added at a later date. ‘I’m guessing that is a ballroom or large dining area, but it would be perfect for my stargazers. I would have to install shutters to keep out the light at night-time so that we don’t cause light pollution, but that is a minor tweak.’
‘Wow! That’s ambitious. Here I was imagining a lick of paint was what you had in mind.’
‘Wait and see; in two years, we’ll come back here and I’ll show you how I turned a fortress of outdated misery into a magical castle.’ A strong gust of wind shook even more leaves from the trees and Sapphire twirled around, laughing, snapping them between her hands as they fluttered down like confetti, her happiness spilling over.
Marco caught her around the waist and kissed her. ‘This will be my English retreat. Our English retreat.’ He picked a leaf out of her hair and turned it over in his fingers, his expression serious. ‘Maple leaves – the colour of your hair.’ He crumpled it in his hand as he glanced at her. ‘Your hair haunted me, you know, in my dreams.’
As comments went it wasn’t the most profound, but to Sapphire it meant everything. She stood under the tree with the leaves drifting down over them both and for one second imagined that it really was confetti.
‘I love you, Marco.’ Although she hadn’t meant to blurt it out quite so readily, she felt light as a feather – as if her burden had been lifted. She pulled at Marco’s coat lapels to draw him in for a kiss, the sheer joy of being in love propelling her forward, but something in his bearing stopped her, and it took her a moment to process that he hadn’t returned the sentiment.
She stopped in her tracks as his eyes clouded. ‘That is a very sobering statement to make,’ he said.
Immediately she regretted her words. Her arms dropped to her sides and she turned away as tears blurred her eyes. ‘Not quite the reaction I hoped for,’ she stammered in humiliation. He didn’t love her – of course he didn’t – and now she had embarrassed them both.
Marco let the crumpled leaf trickle through his fingers, concentrating on the tiny shards as they scattered onto the ground. His lips were set in the severe line she remembered so well from before – well, before they’d fallen in love. She laughed bleakly. Before she’d fallen in love, it seemed.
‘It doesn’t matter – that, you know, you don’t …’ She backtracked, but could barely get the words out and just shrugged unhappily as her words trailed away.
‘It does matter, Sapphire.’ Marco’s voice was gruff and his face stern. Whatever sentiment had caused it was certainly not love – she knew that much. He should be smiling with her, celebrating the joy of being alive and loving each other.
She shook her head. ‘No, really, it doesn’t. It was just a silly spur-of-the-moment thing to say.’ She tucked her hair behind her ears and straightened her back.
‘We’ll talk about it later.’ His gaze was sorrowful as he touched her cheek with his thumb, wiping away – oh, God, was it a tear?
The burn of shame lit up her cheeks and she pulled away from him, feeling patronised, as he tried to tuck her hand into his. He looked unhappy and slightly lost and she wished she could turn the clock back. She’d ruined everything. She trailed behind him to the restaurant – she couldn’t think what else to do than follow him.
Marco was as attentive as ever during their lunch, and Sapphire tried to be light-hearted and cheery, although she pushed most of her food around the plate before finally giving up the pretence. She folded her napkin over the top of the food, hoping that the chef wouldn’t be offended. She thought she’d pulled off the joviality act reasonably well, until Marco took her hand and considered her for a long moment.
Anxiety shot through her spine and radiated out towards her limbs. Her mouth dried. She was expecting the worst. He was going to tell her that their time together had just been a pleasant interlude – an escape from reality. She decided to pre-empt the knock-back. ‘I wonder if the weather is better in London. Be good to get back and see some sunshine, won’t it?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. I should not have spent so long away from my business dealings, really; I’ll need to make up for lost time.’
She drew in a sharp breath, unable to help herself. So, business comes first – she should have known. Had she been totally naïve? Perhaps she deserved her newly built fantasy world to come crashing down on her. Maybe, in the fast world that Marco inhabited, it was considered totally normal for a man and a woman to spend a week together and then go their separate ways – like a friends-with-benefits holiday. She had assumed they were starting something incredible together, but maybe she was, after all, just a small part of the relaxing break that Marco had professed to need.
She was stunned by the realisation, felt as if she was waking up from a dream. She looked at Marco as if she was seeing a different man. Was the man she’d fallen in love with a sham, or had it all been a game in which, once again, she hadn’t understood the rules?
Marco’s smile was natural and warm when he took her hand and said, ‘Let’s sit by the fire with our drinks, shall we?’
She dutifully rose, clutching up her drink with hands she tried so hard to keep steady as she followed him, watching his bearing for any sign that he was wobbling as much as she was; but he didn’t appear to be upset or annoyed, or anything really – just seemed like Marco.
Sapphire pulled up a chair by the fire while Marco sought out the manager and asked to set up an appointment with the owner of the hotel, who lived on the island but not on site. Taking out her Kindle, she thought she would try to relax but soon caught herself staring into the fire, trying to imagine life without Marco; how quickly someone else could shape her world and how dangerous it was to allow love into her life. She should have stuck with animals, she thought ruefully, returning her Kindle into her bag, unable to face reading.
She watched Marco as he talked to the manager. Eloquent, handsome, a smart dresser, great physique, rich; she sighed. What did she have to give him in return – apart from her body and her hang-ups?
Panic beat at her heart as she wondered, for the first time since they had become lovers, if he was, after all, playing her as Fin had warned. She shook her head. No, he wouldn’t be capable of such duplicity, not to her, anyway. But the nagging doubt had taken a hold in her head and she feared that the holiday – if not the rest of her life – had been ruined. Holiday – ha! It was just a business trip, quite clearly. There was nothing she could say to repair the damage; he simply didn’t love her and she couldn’t make him.
She bit her lip to stop the threatening tears from surfacing once more. She would be grown up and dispassionate, if that was how he wanted her to be. But inside she was howling with pain and loss.
Her smile was brittle as he returned with two cups of coffee and she continued to play her part. ‘So, home tomorrow?’
‘Yes.’ Marco sipped his coffee, regarding her over the rim, his dark eyes once more serious.
‘How was the manager?’ She suddenly felt as if she had no right to ask such an impertinent question – she was an employee, not a confidante.
‘Fine. He has arranged for me to meet the owner tomorrow, before we leave.’
Sapphire nodded, reeling that he didn’t invite her to join him this time. She felt ridiculously excluded and her smile slipped. ‘I’d better get packed later. It’s been a lovely break, thank you.’
She rummaged around in her handbag so that Marco couldn’t see how hurt she was, certain it must show in her eyes. Wondering what on earth she would produce from the depths of her bag, her fingers touched her small sketchpad, now brimming with clandestine pictures of wildlife and fauna, seascapes and the beautiful night sky, not to mention miniatures of Marco that she’d drawn as he slept.
She had used every moment away from Marco to draw what was in front of her eyes, but it was always the images of him that drew her back, over and over. Guilt sometimes made her want to blurt out her secret to Marco as she drew him – his back as he slept; the back of his head, showing one ear and a tousle of dark hair – but she burrowed her sketchpad away each time; she was not yet ready for that particular concealment to be revealed.
She worried that he would be cross if he found out she’d been drawing him in secret, though maybe it wouldn’t matter either way once she was back at work. She picked out a tissue and dabbed at her lips, mostly for something to do, but a sudden flash of bright light from the doorway distracted her.
She and Marco turned simultaneously to see a man looming close, pointing a large camera lens at them. Another bright light flashed in their faces and the man disappeared with a clatter of heels. The barman chased after him, shouting, ‘Oi! What are you up to?’
‘What was that?’ Sapphire rose from her seat, panicked, but Marco put his hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s fine. Just some silly newspaper reporter, I imagine.’
He pulled Sapphire back down to her seat, his face a tight mask of irritation as he stared at the doorway.
‘Does it happen often?’
‘Reasonably often, but I wouldn’t have expected it out here. If this gets published I won’t be happy.’
‘Because of me?’
‘I don’t like such intrusions – and damn it, yes. If they find out who you are.’ His mouth twisted and his eyes flashed, suddenly reminding Sapphire of the man she’d first met, whose forbidding attitude she’d all but forgotten.
His anger appeared to be directed at her and it made her own sense of injustice flare. ‘Who I am? Because I’m your employee or because I’m your …’ She lifted one shoulder, unable to decide what word should be used to describe her relationship with Marco.
‘I do not wish to be seen in a compromising position, that is all.’
Sapphire blanched. She accepted that Marco had had far more dealings with the paparazzi than she ever had but, even so, she felt insulted.
‘I think it’s time we left.’ He offered her his hand but she pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the gesture. She knew it was churlish, but at that moment she couldn’t bear him to touch her, didn’t want the electricity that passed between them to give her any false expectations. Their bodies were perfectly in tune, but their sentiments it seemed, were miles apart.
That night she lay stiff in Marco’s arms, tears coursing silently down her cheeks as he slept. He either had no inkling that she was distraught or he didn’t care. Earlier they had discussed their trip home and she wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, because of her earlier faux pas, but Marco appeared to be withdrawing from her, in front of her very eyes.
His demeanour was becoming more formal with each hour that passed; he slipped on a veneer of politeness as easily as he slipped on his expensive cashmere coat. If it wasn’t for the fine grains of sand still glinting on it, she might believe that this wasn’t the same man who had lowered her to the ground and said she looked like a gorgeous mermaid.
By the time she’d watched the sun rise in the clear blue sky and heard the seagulls caw noisily as if celebrating the change in the weather, she’d already decided that she would wear the same mask as Marco. If polite distance was to be the state of play for them both, then she would win hands down. She’d had a whole lifetime of walking the walk and talking the talk.
Sapphire had opened her heart to Marco by telling him the truth and now she was bruised beyond repair – and if she could do nothing about it, then at least she could put on a good show of not caring; Marco Cavarelli would not find her lacking in that department, of that she would be sure.