Lucy Gordon - The Mediterranean Rebel’s Bride

He stirred, groaning softly, and she returned to the bed.

‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I’m here. Let it go.’

She could hardly have said what she meant by those words, but he seemed to understand them at once and became quiet. She drew up a chair and sat close to the bed, leaning forward to whisper, ‘Let it go. There’ll be time later. But for now-let her go.’

He gave no sign of hearing, so she couldn’t tell if he’d heard the subtle change she’d made in the words.

One by one Ruggiero’s family looked in. Sometimes they spoke to her in whispers; sometimes they merely smiled. Hope opened the door quietly and stood watching Polly by the bed, her eyes fixed on Ruggiero. She waited a long time for Polly to move, then smiled, nodded to herself, and backed out, unseen.

A few minutes later Evie wheeled in a small trolley, laden with party food, plus wine, mineral water, and a pot of tea. Polly drank the tea thankfully. Tonight looked like being a two-pot problem.

Ruggiero lay without moving and she sat beside him, relieved that he seemed calm at last. When she was sure he was resting properly she rose and crossed again to the window. It was now quiet enough for her to risk opening it and looking out to where the last of the guests were drifting into the cars that would take them away, waving goodbye to Hope and her husband Toni.

She was about to draw back when another car drew up. The driver got out and pulled a bag from the back seat, showing it to Hope, who made a gesture of satisfaction.

Then Polly stiffened and leaned out further, frowning as she recognised the bag as her own, and the truth dawned on her. Hope had sent someone to the hotel to bring her things here-and she’d done it without so much as a by-your-leave.

Toni glanced up, saw her, and nudged Hope, who also looked up. In the lamplight Polly saw her smile in a slightly guilty way, and shrug as if to say, What else could I do?

She drew back, closing the window, and a minute later Hope was there at the door, beckoning her into the corridor.

‘Don’t think badly of me,’ she begged, ‘but you are so good for Ruggiero I had to make sure he had you looking after him all the time.’

‘So you just hi-jacked me?’ Polly observed mildly.

‘We will make you very welcome here,’ Hope promised, avoiding a direct answer. ‘You’ll be paid, and of course your hotel bill has been taken care of. Please don’t be angry with me.’

Her manner was placating, but it was clear that Hope Rinucci had simply taken the shortest route to getting her own way. Polly was more amused than annoyed. For one thing, moving into the villa would be helpful for her mission.

Just down the corridor she heard a door open, and the chauffeur went into the room next to Ruggiero’s with her suitcase.

‘I think you’ll be comfortable here,’ Hope said, leading her inside. ‘You have only to ask for anything you want.’

After the cramped poverty of the hotel, the luxury of this room was a pleasant change. The double bed looked inviting, and there was extensive wardrobe space and a private bathroom. This was the home of a wealthy family. Ruggiero’s own bedroom, though severe and reflecting a masculine taste, was furnished with the finest of everything.

Polly took a quick moment to unpack her few clothes, then changed her party outfit for jeans and flat shoes. For her top she chose a plain white blouse that she hoped would make her look nurse-like. Then she returned to Ruggiero and prepared to settle down for the night.

Hope looked in one last time, and after that the lights went off and the house grew silent. Slowly the hours ticked away, and Polly’s eyelids began to droop. It had been a long day, filled with incident, and weariness was catching up with her.

Suddenly her body gave a little jerk and her eyes flew open. She breathed out hard and forced herself to wake up properly. Then she realised that Ruggiero was looking at her. She thought he was smiling faintly, but in the dark it was hard to be sure.

‘All right?’ he asked.

‘Was I asleep long?’

‘About ten minutes.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one who finds things happening that weren’t planned.’

He hauled himself up painfully in the bed.

‘I think I ate something that disagreed with me-or drank something. Can you help me to the bathroom?’

He put an arm around her shoulder and she steadied him as far as the bathroom door, where he gingerly felt his ribs.

‘You may have been right,’ he conceded. ‘I’m not saying you were, but you might have been. I’ll manage from here.’

When he came slowly out she’d remade the bed and put on the small lamp. She reached out to help him but he waved her away.

‘I’m feeling a bit more human now my stomach’s settled. Ah, that’s better.’

He lay down and let her pull the duvet over him.

‘How’s the pain?’ she asked gently.

‘My head isn’t too bad, but my shoulder and side feel as if they’ve been bashed with a sledgehammer.’

‘It’s time for a couple more pills. But they don’t mix well with alcohol, so no more drinking until you’ve stopped taking them.’

‘When will that be?’

‘When I say,’ she told him with quiet authority.

He took them from her, and accepted a glass of water, as docile now as he’d been aggressive before. When he lay back she turned out the lamp again, so that the only light in the room was the soft touch of moonlight.

‘There’s something different about you,’ he said suddenly. ‘You’ve changed your clothes.’

‘Yes, I’m here for a few days. I’ve checked out of my hotel and into the room next door.’

‘How did Mamma persuade you to do that?’

‘Good heavens-you don’t think she asked me first, do you?’

He gave a short bark of laughter that ended in a gasp of pain. ‘Of course. I should have remembered Mamma’s way. When did you find out?’

‘When my things arrived.’

‘I’m sorry. Just taking you over like that-what about your holiday?’

‘That doesn’t matter,’ she said hastily. ‘Go to sleep now.’

He stared at her for a while before saying vaguely, ‘Was it you by the track?’

‘Yes, it was me.’

‘Are you sure? No-that’s stupid-I mean-’

‘Who did you think it was?’ she risked saying.

‘What?’

‘I need to know how much you can remember. It’ll tell me how serious your concussion is.’

‘I did several laps and everything was all right. But then-’ He took a long, shaking breath. ‘Why did you come onto the track?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘But you did. You were walking straight towards me, and your hair was blowing in the wind. I could have ridden right over you, but you didn’t seem to realise that. You were smiling-like the time-’

His breathing was becoming laboured and she went to him quickly, trying to soothe him.

‘It wasn’t me. Truly. It was the speed that confused you, and that visor. You couldn’t have seen anything properly. Just an illusion-someone who wasn’t really there.’

‘But-she was there,’ he whispered. ‘I saw her-’

‘You couldn’t have. It’s impossible.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘Because-’Suddenly realising that she was straying onto a dangerous path, she checked herself. At this moment she couldn’t tell him why she was sure he would never see Sapphire again. The truth would crush him.

‘Because if there had been anyone on the track you’d have hit them,’ she said.

‘You can’t hit a ghost,’ he said wearily. ‘Do you believe in ghosts?’

‘Yes,’ she murmured, saying it almost against her will. ‘I try not to, but sometimes people just won’t let go-no matter what you do, they’re always with you.’