Lucy Gordon - Italian Attraction

She took another sip of coffee, her face contemplative, and Maisie wanted to snatch the cup away from Liliana’s lips. Don’t stop. Go on. But it appeared Liliana had finished. She drained her coffee and stood up, her manner suddenly brisk. ‘I shall go to early mass tomorrow and give thanks to the Holy Mother,’ she announced with dramatic intensity. ‘She has spared my family more pain.’ And with that she disappeared into the house.

Maisie licked her fingers. She was tempted to follow Liliana and see if she would say more; the brandy had obviously loosened the old woman’s tongue. But then that would be somewhat sly and underhand, she admitted, refusing to acknowledge the little voice that said she had been less than honest in letting Liliana rattle on in the first place.

She had just listened, she told herself. Had provided a sympathetic ear at a time when Liliana needed one. That was all. She frowned to herself. And really she knew little more than she had initially, except that Blaine’s old love had been Italian and dearly loved by his parents by all accounts.

Francesca. Beautiful name. Probably beautiful woman. Long black hair, hauntingly lovely face, stunning figure. Model-thin.

There were two pastries left on the plate and Maisie divided them between the ecstatic dogs, the three she had already eaten now screaming their calories in her head. As Humphrey stood guard over the last of the crumbs on the floor, fur bristling as he almost choked trying to lick up every morsel before any of the others nosed in, she smoothed her hands over her rounded hips. OK, so she wasn’t grossly fat but she would never be a supermodel. She was, as boyfriends in the past had described her, cuddly.

She sighed, staring across the lawned garden directly in front of her to where the two horses were standing in the paddock in the distance under the shade of a big old green oak tree. The sunlight was already dappled; within an hour or two the vivid blue of the sky would begin to mellow and her first full day at the villa would come to an end. She wasn’t going to like it when she had to return to England.

The thought brought her out of the doldrums with a jolt. What was the matter with her? she asked herself crossly. She had weeks and weeks to look forward to in this glorious place; why on earth was she whining about having to go back home now?

It was the emotion of the last hour, she decided, rising to her feet and then smiling as the dogs rose expectantly, tails wagging and tongues lolling. ‘Just a walk down to see your slightly bigger friends then,’ she told them, picking up a couple of apples for the two horses from a bowl on one of the small tables on the veranda.

As she stepped out of the shade into the blaze of late afternoon sunshine she lifted her head to the heat. The foreign brightness to the quality of the light and the overall intensity of colour about her made her feel alive from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She was going to stop analysing everything, she told herself firmly. From now on she would just take each day as it came. No more heart-searching. No more regrets. Blaine was right. Jeff would never have suited her in the long run, nor she him. But she was free, free and footloose and independent. Mistress of her own destiny and answerable to no one. Anticipation and excitement flooded her blood.

This wonderful crazy feeling might not last, she thought as she walked down towards the paddock, the dogs sniffing and bounding and tumbling each other over. But it was enough that she had felt it today because now she knew she would feel it again. Her life wasn’t over because Jeff didn’t want her—far from it. She had got herself into a tangle of maudlin self-pity in England; she had needed a complete change of scene to break the cycle.

As the two horses came ambling over to her when she reached the fence of the paddock, their large expressive eyes fixed on the apples in her hands, she laughed out loud. ‘Cupboard loves.’ She let their velvet nuzzles nose the food out of her hands.

She would thank Blaine when she saw him next, she decided as the horses crunched their titbits. She would tell him it had been the right decision for her to come here, that she was grateful to him for suggesting it.

She pictured the long lean length of him in her mind as she stood on the bottom rung of the fence, her hair wafting about her face in the hot breeze. The striking, almost luminescent black-lashed eyes, the firm hard mouth, chiselled cheekbones, strong jaw. His body was superb but aggressively masculine, virile, unyielding. He would make love all night and still want more. The core of her sexuality stirred, shocking her as an aching thrill of pleasure took hold.

Colour flooded her cheeks and she jumped down from the fence, amazed at herself. Blaine Morosini wasn’t her type, not at all, so why did she feel as though he had just caressed her in the most intimate place? It was ridiculous, nonsensical, but true nonetheless. She had never felt like this before, even when Jeff was kissing her and touching her, so how could Blaine produce such sensual feelings when he wasn’t even here?

Rebound. She seized the word and held on to it like a lifeline. That was all this was. For some reason her body had reacted to Blaine from the first time she had seen him; it was a relief to admit it to herself at last. He was so very different, the opposite in fact, to the sort of male she usually liked and so, hurt and upset as she had been over Jeff, she had swung to the opposite end of the scale. Classic rebound scenario. Didn’t mean a thing. And she had known a man like Blaine couldn’t possibly be interested in someone like her so her subconscious had told her she was safe.

‘Whew.’ She sighed loudly. What a relief. She wasn’t going round the bend after all. Her body was going a bit haywire, admittedly, but she could control that. She wasn’t a nymphomaniac, far from it. She dared to bet there weren’t too many twenty-eight-year-old virgins around these days.

A whine at her feet brought her eyes down to Humphrey, who clearly thought he was due a bit of attention. She smiled, kneeling down and fussing the little animal, who promptly rolled over on his back in submissive adoration. ‘You’re more lucky than you know,’ she murmured, rubbing the jumbo size ears which felt like velvet. ‘No complicated relationships or muddled thoughts for you. You see, you like, you conquer. If the lady is willing, of course. If not, you sail off looking for the next lucky female. No broken heart or hurt feelings. Totally sensible.’

Humphrey seemed to laugh at her, tongue lolling and eyes bright. She fussed him a little more and then stood up and together, the rest of the dogs following, they walked back towards the house.

THE following day was a peaceful one. Maisie mucked out the stables and, once they were fresh and sweet-smelling, exercised Iorwerth, the stallion. Before she had left, Jenny had told her the name was Welsh and meant Lord of worth; Iola, the mare’s name, being the feminine diminutive. ‘My father was Welsh,’ Jenny had explained when Maisie had asked how the names had come to be chosen. ‘Although his parents immigrated to America when he was only four years old, he was careful not to lose knowledge of the language, and all the horses on our ranch had Welsh names. I suppose I just carried on the tradition here.’

Italian, American, Welsh—Blaine certainly had a cocktail of blood flowing in his veins, Maisie thought as she walked back to the house after taking the dogs for another long walk in the afternoon. Perhaps that was why he was so … unusual? The word mocked her with its meekness.

She felt sticky and hot as she ladled out the dog and cat food into the respective bowls, which she then placed on the veranda at the back of the house. It was the only place in the whole of the villa that Liliana allowed the animals to eat and drink, but as Maisie stood watching the rows of dishes—red ones for the dogs and white for the cats, with Leonardo, the Labrador, having his own special black one because he was on a prescribed diet for diabetes—and the little heads all avidly eating, she reflected that they didn’t do too badly. Plenty of good food, canine and feline company, lovely surroundings, all their needs catered for—if she came back as an animal she’d love it to be a cat or a dog under Jenny’s care!