Chapter 3 GRACE GRACE

'GRACE! Grace!' Lorenzo's welcome was as ecstatic as his face as he caught sight of her, but in the next moment, as she gathered the thin ten year old child into her arms, he burst into a storm of weeping, stringy arms tight round her neck.

'Hush, now, hush,' she soothed softly, sitting down on one of the massive stone steps that led up to the studded front door and holding Lorenzo close against her, until the sobs racking the small frame lessened. 'It's all right, darling.' What stupid things we say in moments like these, she thought silently as she nuzzled her chin into the small black head beneath hers.

Lorenzo had just lost, his beloved mother to whom he had been

exceptionally close; of course it wasn't all right. Nothing was all right in his small world.

'I did not know if you would come.' Lorenzo raised dark, tear-smudged eyes to her gentle gaze. 'You have been away so long.'

'I told you Grace would come; did I not?' Donato asked over their heads, his voice soft. 'And now here she is, just as I promised, but she does not want to be drowned before she has set foot inside the house,' he added warningly.

'Benito is waiting to see her too, you know, and he has a few more words in his vocabulary to show her, not all of them good,' he finished darkly.

Lorenzo gave a weak smile and now his voice held a touch of its normal sparkle as he whispered, 'One of the new gardeners taught him some bad words.'

'Did he?' Grace smiled, hugging him close once more before rising. 'And knowing Benito I'm sure he repeats them with great relish?' Benito was Lorenzo's parrot, a huge bird whose big, compact body, strong, rounded wings and short, stout hooked bill were as formidable as his nature. He either loved or hated, there was no halfway house with Benito, and he could use his lethal bill and clawed feet to painful effect on occasion. However; the irascible bird adored his small master, who could do anything with him, and had never suffered so much as a small peck.

Lorenzo took her hand and they moved towards the open front door, and although the small, warm fingers clutching hers were wonderfully

comforting, Grace was vitally aware of that tall; dark figure just behind her as they stepped across the threshold of Casa Pontina.

The light, cool hall, with its beautifully polished wooden floor and white walls' hung with exquisitely framed paintings, was quiet and still, the air scented with a large bowl of freshly cut flowers, and for a moment Grace couldn't believe that Liliana's tall, gracious figure wouldn't sweep out of the imposing drawing room to greet her, her lined but still beautiful face wreathed in smiles of welcome.

Liliana had lived for her family, loving all three of her children with an intensity that was very Italian, and Grace knew for a fact that Bianca's being adopted had made her even more precious to her mother; that was the way Liliana was. Once Grace had married Donato she had become a second daughter in her mother-in-law's eyes.

Lorenzo pulled her along the hall before she had time to reflect further, past the formal drawing room, ornate dining room and Donato's massive study, and down the two steps that led ta the back of the house where the breakfast room, kitchens and two large family rooms were situated. It was through one of the latter, specially designated to Lorenzo, and filled with his toys and computer equipment, that they walked, and out onto a small covered patio that overlooked green lawns and trees, and in the far distance the vivid blue of an Olympic size swimming pool.

Benito was sitting on his perch, grumbling to himself as he watched one of the gardeners weeding a patch of

salvias some fifty yards away, but at the sound of Grace's voice he showed his pleasure by dancing clumsily and screaming a welcome in his harsh voice, ruffling his brightly coloured plumage and lowering his short neck for her to tickle his head, his bright, beady eyes half closed in delight.

'He remembers me.' Grace was almost reduced to tears by the bird's

faithfulness. 'I thought he would have forgotten me by now,' she said thickly, fighting back the weakening emotion as she stroked the beautiful silky feathers.

'You are not easily forgotten.' Donato's voice was low and pitched only for her ears but the hypocrisy hit her as though he had shouted the words, and when she spun round to glare at him hot colour stained her cheeks scarlet.

He had been silent for twelve months, not a phone call, a letter, not even a brief postcard, and now he dared to say she was not easily forgotten?

'How is Maria these days?' she asked tightly, as though the question was a natural follow on to his comment which to her it was. Maria Fasola: young, beautiful, family friend ... and Donato's mistress. 'Well, I hope?' she added griIilly before he could speak.

'As far as I know.' He looked at her expressionlessly, his eyes veiled and dark. 'Is there any reason why she shouldn't be?'

'None at all.' Her voice was cold and she was about to say more when she noticed Lorenzo's puzzled gaze as he glanced towards them, obviously unsure of what exactly was being said. 'And I need not ask if Benito is well, need I?' she asked the small boy, forcing a playful note into her voice. 'He looks enormous, Lorenzo; I'm sure he has grown several inches since I saw him last'

'It is because he is fluffing out his feathers, Grace.' The young voice was very earnest; Benito was his pride and joy and could do no wrong. 'He is not fat.'

'Grace! Grace!' The irrepressible bird screeched her name noisily. 'Donato and Grace!'

'All right--That is enough!' Donato waved a finger at the parrot who stared back at him cheekily, head on one side as he considered how far he dared go.

' 'Enough! Enough!' he mimicked wickedly. 'Naughty Benito! Bad bird!

Scusi, scusi.'

Grace saw Donato close his eyes for one infinitesimal moment and turned away to hide a smile. The autocratic head of the Vittoria empire might control his family and those about him with a rod of iron, his power arid influence absolute and unquestioned, but in a battle of wills with Benito the parrot won every time. He was a definitea thorn in Donato's flesh and she couldn't help admiring the bird's intrepid spirit.

'Come, you must refresh yourself and then Anna will serve lunch.' Donato took her arn as he spoke, but before she allowed him to lead her back into the house she promised Lorenzo she would be back shortly as the small boy raised an anxious face to hers.

'Grace?' he called after her, his thin voice high. 'You are not leaving again?

You are staying at Casa Pontina now?'

She felt Donato stiffen at her side and turned slowly, not knowing how to reply, but then the little white face in front of her caught at her heartstrings and her well-laid plan of escape after three days blurred and softened. She knew how it felt when everything that was normal was whipped out frown under your feet, and Lorenzo was a sensitive child, very loving and given to deep emotion. Although he was as close to Donato as the difference in their ages allowed, he needed the warmth and understanding of a motherly heart at this time, she thought rapidly.

Admittedly there were the female servants-Cecilia, the elderly cook, and Anna and Gina, the two young maids and also the capable tutor Donato employed for his brother's education, who came to the villa for several hours each day Monday to Friday, but Lorenzo was not close to them and, being a Vittoria, had been taught to maintain a stiff upper lip at all times.

The small boy's love and devotion at the time of Paolo's death had been an enormous comfort to her, and now she could do something for him when he needed her most, she reasoned painfully. All she wanted to do was to leave Casa Pontina and the memories of this past life and return to England as fast as she could, but she couldn't abandon Lorenzo now.

In a few weeks, less even, the harsh shock of his mother's death would begin to fade and the mercurial resilience of all children would come into play.

This was the important time, the crucial time that might shape his

personality for good or ill; she could spare him a few weeks of her life, surely? But could she stand being so close to Donato? She took a deep breath and smiled at the little face watching her so closely. She had no choice, as Donato had known all along.

'I have a home in England now, Lorenzo, but I am going to stay with you until you are feeling better and don't need me any more. Is that all right?' she asked softly, knowing she had done the only thing possible when the small face relaxed and the look of panic and dumb confusion left the big dark eyes.

'Si.' He nodded slowly before suddenly running to her, flinging his arms round her middle and hugging her tight, only to leave the room in a mad scamper, head downwards, to hide his tears of relief.

'So ... ' Donato stood with her, looking after the small figure as it disappeared. 'This is not what you envisaged.'

'No, no, it isn't.' His cool, controlled voice grated on her nerve endings like barbed wire and she raised shadowed eyes to his. He had known what he was doing when he had sent that telegram, she thought bitterly, known her love and respect for his mother would force her to make the journey to Italy in spite of their failed marriage, and that once here she wouldn't turn her back on Lorenzo's plight.

He hadn't bothered about her for months, had continued quite happily with his life here and all it held an image of Maria's lithe, sleek figure flashed into her mind and she dismissed it abruptly and then when he needed to use her, and 'use' was the right word, she told herself with acid resentment, had had no compunction about turning her life upside down for a second time.

She saw that the dark gaze had seen into her mind and now, Donato

shrugged slowly, his voice low. 'I cannot help the love he has for you, Grace; it has always been so.'

And you? You once loved me too, she thought with a pain that shocked her.

Before it all went wrong, before the death of our child drove me nearly insane and you into the arms of another woman.

Oh, she shouldn't have come. She turned from him, tears pricking at the back of her eyes with burning ferocity. She should have forgotten Liliana, Lorenzo, all of them, should have stayed in England where the nights were cool and the days humdrum arid nothing disturbed her peace of mind.

'Grace, I know this is hard for you-'

'Don't touch me!' As he reached out to her she sprang back with a

suddenness that surprised them both, her voice shrill and defensive. 'Don't you dare touch me, Donato. I've said I'll stay for a few weeks until Lorenzo is feeling better but that doesn't give you the right to maul me about.'

'Maul you?' He was utterly outraged, his big, muscular body taut and rigid and his handsome face black with fury. 'I have never mauled a woman in my life,' he said grimly.

'Of course not,' she agreed with icy sarcasm. 'They just fall at your feet all by themselves.' Like Maria. She didn't want to feel such anger; she'd thought she had come through the fire of desolation and betrayal and had finally put it behind her, but since the first moment she had seen him again her vulnerability where this man was concerned had hit her as strongly as ever and it frightened her frightened her more than she could say. 'It amazes you, does it, that any woman could resist your fatal charm?' It was a cheap jibe but she couldn't help it; any defense was better than none.

His eyes continued to hold hers for one more long moment and then she saw him take a deep pull of air as he shook his head slowly. 'You used to conduct yourself with refinement and charm,' he said tightly. 'What has happened to you that you have become so uncivilized?'

She heard the words as though in a vacuum, the sheer audacity of them failing to register for a few seconds, but when they did her hand shot out to connect with the hard, tanned skin of his face in a resounding slap that actually echoed in the room. 'You can ask me that?' She hissed furiously, her hand drawing back to strike again, but this time his fingers shot out to entrap her wrist in a steel hold that was bruising.

'Yes, I can ask you that,' he rasped, his eyes dangerous and the imprint of her hand beginning to stain the brown skin red. 'I have every right to ask you to explain yourself; I am your husband.'

'Not any more--'

'The courts would disagree with you,' he said harshly. 'You are my wife, Grace, legally and before God. There has been no divorce; the marriage contract still stands.'

'Not in my eyes.' She was panting hard, her slim fairness overshadowed by his dark nudeness as he held her fast. 'You might be my husband by contract but that is all, and without love our marriage certificate becomes just a piece of paper.'

'That is a very convenient line of thought but one that is totally without foundation,' he said icily, 'as you well know. Legally--'

'I don't care about "legally", Donato,? she ground out slowly, punctuating

.each word with a significant pause. 'Do you understand that? I don't care about our marriage, you, all of this. '

'No?' Now he drew her closer, his hold on her intimidating rather than restraining. 'But I think this is not altogether the truth, mia piccola,' he said with a dangerous softness, 'and I also think you are trying to convince yourself rather than me.'

'Let go of me!' He had both her wrists in his hand now, holding them against the hard muscled wall of his chest as he fitted her against him, his other hand in the small of her back. She had always been tiny against the hard male breadth and height of him and she knew it was useless to struggle;

nevertheless that was exactly what she did do as his dark head lowered to take her lips.

He growled softly, the sound impatient as she postponed the inevitable, and then his mouth covered hers, plundering the sweetness within as he urged her even closer against the hard frame of his body. She fought for long seconds she fought, even more so when the realisation that his familiar touch and smell were evoking feelings she could well have done without dawned on her consciousness, but eventually she became still, knowing that she couldn't win. She would never win against Donato.

When she had left the Vittoria mansion twelve months ago the same

knowledge had had her pale faced and shaking as Liliana had clung to her, the older woman's normally proud and composed face awash with tears as she had begged her daughter-in-law to wait before asking Donato for the divorce Grace had said was inevitable.

'Why? Why now, Grace?' Liliana had wept, holding the younger woman

close to her as they had waited for the taxi Grace had ordered. 'He loves you-

-I know this. I know it. Please, for my sake, do not be hasty. Give yourself some time apart but do not be hasty.'

But as much as she loved Liliana Grace couldn't tell her what she had learnt only that moming of Donato's affair with Maria; she had felt too raw, too humiliated at the time. Later she had regretted it, knowing that Donato would have covered his tracks well and that his mother would have been forced to think that she had ended the marriage on a whim, but by then she had made a new life in England and had believed there was always the chance, some time in the future, to put the record straight with Liliana. But

'some time' had never come.