Swept Away!: Accidentally Expecting! / Salzano's Captive Bride / Hawaiian Sunset, Dream Proposal. Lucy GordonЧитать онлайн книгу.
look well.’
‘Just a bit of a headache.’
‘Have you had it all evening? You haven’t said much.’
‘It’ll go away. Just give it time.’
‘Have you taken anything?’
‘Yes.’
‘And it doesn’t work?’
‘It will, in time.’
‘Come back to bed. A sleep may do you good.’
‘Later. Leave me now. I don’t want to talk.’
‘I’m only worried for you.’
‘Will you drop the subject please?’
Dante’s tone was light, but Ferne saw in his eyes something that reminded her of that other time. There was a steely anger, and a determination not to yield, no matter what the cost to himself or anyone else. Hastily she backed off, remembering Toni’s words that to persist would be to endanger Dante, not help him.
She returned to bed, pulling the covers over her head so that she could huddle down and be alone with her thoughts. She lay awake for a long time, telling herself that this must be just an ordinary headache, the kind everyone had.
It seemed that she was right, because the next day he was his normal self. Perhaps it was only her imagination that the ‘other’ Dante had been there, hostile, rejecting.
One evening they bumped into Mario, an old friend from Dante’s college days. The two men plunged into academic conversation, occasionally remembering their manners, apologising and drawing her in. She laughed, not at all offended, fascinated by this new angle on Dante.
When he went to fetch more drinks, Mario said, ‘We all thought he’d be head of the college by now.’
‘Is he really that clever?’ Ferne asked.
‘He could think and write rings around anyone else. I know they offered him a professorship, but he wanted to go off travelling.’
Next day she claimed tiredness, urging Dante to spend some time with Mario. He said she was the nicest, most understanding woman he’d ever known—which made her feel guilty, because she had an ulterior motive.
When she was safely alone she opened her laptop, accessed the Internet and looked up all she could find about his ailment. She had already done this once, on the day before they’d left Naples, but now she had a driving need to know far more.
A sudden bleeding into the space between the brain and an area of the lining that surrounds it; a weak blood vessel that suddenly ruptures.
Sometimes there are warning symptoms, such as headache, facial pain and double vision. This can happen minutes or weeks before the main rupture.
She read everything that she could find, forcing herself to understand every detail. The picture that kept returning to her mind was Dante going back into the burning building to rescue the dog, knowing that it might cost him his life.
When you lived with the possibility of death every moment, how much would you actually fear it? Welcome it?
There were three files that she needed to read again. Quickly she downloaded them, put them in a folder, titled it ‘ZZZ’, then shut everything down quickly. Finally she called Hope. Describing the headache, she said, ‘I was worried at first, but he’s been fine ever since, so maybe it was normal. He seems full of beans.’
‘Thank you,’ Hope said fervently. ‘I can’t tell you what it means to us to know you’re with him.’
‘I’ve got to go now. I can see him returning with his friend. I’ll call again soon.’
Looking out of the window, she hailed the two men, who waved back and pointed up the street to a restaurant.
‘Coming,’ she called down.
It took a moment to slip the printed file into her drawer, then she was ready to leave.
The three of them spent a convivial evening, but at the end Mario seemed to forget Dante and become more interested in looking at Ferne’s plunging neckline. After which, Dante said he needed an early night and swept her off to bed.
Mario departed next morning, but he left a legacy in Dante’s mind. Stretched out on the beach, Ferne was startled to look up and find him doing a crossword puzzle in Latin.
‘It’s not difficult if you’re Italian,’ he demurred when she expressed her admiration. ‘The two languages are so similar.’
‘What’s that?’ she asked, pointing at a clue.
He translated for her and said, ‘The answer is quam celerrime. It means “as quickly as possible”.’
‘Quam celerrime,’ she mused. ‘It has a nice, flowing sound, doesn’t it? What a pity I was always useless at languages. What’s the Italian version?’
‘Il più rapidamente possibile.’
‘No, I definitely prefer quam celerrime. Not that I could do anything with celerrime at the moment. I’m half-asleep.’
‘Bad night?’
‘No, it was a wonderful night, thank you. I just didn’t get any sleep.’
He laughed, and she settled down. She was deep in happy slumber when the sound of her mobile phone reached her from a distance.
‘Someone wants you,’ Dante said, reaching into her bag for the phone. ‘Here.’
It was a text:
Never thought you were the one to turn down the chance of a lifetime. The offer’s still open and this time I want the right answer. Money, money, money. Mick.
‘Who’s Mick?’ Dante asked, reading over her shoulder.
‘Can’t you tell?’ Ferne asked sleepily. ‘He’s my sugar-daddy. He wants to cover me with diamonds and buy me an apartment in the West End, but I told him no. That stuff is old-fashioned.’
‘Now I remember; he’s your agent, isn’t he? You mentioned him on the train the night we met.’
‘Uh-huh!’
She was trying to sound half-asleep, but inside she was alert and wary. She didn’t want Dante asking questions about why she’d refused a big job, in case he stumbled on the truth. Diverting him was going to be tricky.
‘Why is he mad at you?’ Dante asked. ‘What have you turned down?’
She sighed as if it was too boring to be discussed.
‘He wanted me to go back to London and do another theatre shoot with a big star who’s condescending to do a live play. Sandor Jayley with knobs on. No way!’
‘Who’s the star?’
She told him. Dante stared.
‘You rejected him? Just think what you might have—’
‘He’s bringing his fiancée with him,’ she said, trying to sound petulant. ‘No chance for me to be vulgar and unprincipled there.’
Dante grinned, slipping an arm around her.
‘Can I flatter myself that you prefer to be vulgar and unprincipled with me?’
‘I can’t stop you flattering yourself,’ she observed indifferently. ‘Some men are so conceited.’
‘Not me. I can’t believe you’d choose me over the chance to make a lot of money.’
‘You forget,’ she said languidly. ‘I already made my fortune with Sandor.’ She drew a light finger down his bare chest. ‘Now I’m in the mood to spend some of it on, er, the pleasures of the moment.’ She uttered the last words in