A Rumoured Engagement Page 4

  ‘To be fair, the fancy obviously took them both simultaneously. I could tell from the way the clothes were discarded—’ Saskia swallowed hard, suddenly sorry she’d eaten so much at dinner.

  Luke reached out and grasped her hand tightly in silent comfort.

  She let out a deep breath. ‘What a fool I was. I really thought he cared for me. It was a big step on my part, actually moving in with Francis. But I think he’s still in love with Amanda. Otherwise.’

  ‘Otherwise?’

  Saskia’s face flushed with heat in the darkness. ‘Well—people usually separate after making love. Disentangle themselves and so on.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’

  She shrugged. ‘Anyway, even fast asleep Francis was still holding Amanda tightly, and she him. As though they couldn’t bear to let go of each other. It was that I couldn’t get out of my mind.’

  ‘Are you still in love with him?’ asked Luke neutrally.

  She shook her head. ‘No. Which is mortifying, in a way. I must be a very shallow sort of female. Or a very mistaken one. Whatever feelings I had for Francis didn’t survive that Friday afternoon in Romney Court. It’s odd. If I had seen them lunching somewhere, or even if Francis had come to me and told me what had happened—that for some reason his wife had needed comforting and one thing led to another, and so on, and it would never happen again—I would probably have been able to handle it. Because I hadn’t seen for myself.’ She shivered. ‘But I can’t forget the scene I walked in on. I’d never thought what “in flagrante” meant before, but that day it was brought home to me with a vengeance. I’m just grateful I didn’t arrive any earlier.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ Luke said dryly, and got up. ‘Come on, Sassy, let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.’

  Saskia shivered slightly as she got to her feet. ‘A good thing your Tom Harley picked his grapes, then.’

  ‘A very good thing.’ Luke followed her along the hall with the tray, his eyes searching her face when they reached the brightly lit kitchen. ‘No tears?’

  She shook her head, smiling. ‘No. I’m not much one for tears, Luke. When I ran away from Francis that day I was swearing like a trooper, not crying.’

  ‘How did Marina react when you turned up in Oxford again?’

  ‘When I gave her an edited version of the scene in Francis’s bedroom she lost her temper in true Latin style, and wanted to storm up to London and inflict physical injury on him. My mother’s Italian half tends to dominate under certain circumstances.’

  Luke grinned. ‘I know.’

  ‘But that was just gut reaction.’ Saskia shrugged. ‘When she calmed down she became intensely practical, as always, and suggested I come here to lick my wounds, since I’d already arranged to be away from my job for a fortnight. Francis was going to take time off, too, you see, so we could enjoy playing house for a while.’ She breathed in deeply. ‘Sam was wonderful. He arranged a plane flight, bless him, and drove me to the airport. So here I am. Mending my broken heart at the Villa Rosa.’

  ‘Is it really broken?’

  ‘No.’ She managed a creditable little laugh. ‘Dented a bit, maybe, but not broken. And I’ve learned a very valuable lesson—no more falling in love.’

  Luke smiled a little. ‘Not until the next time, anyway.’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Right then, Saskia,’ he said briskly. ‘No more moping alone here. Come with me tomorrow.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I’ll drive you to San Gimignano, then you can browse round the town while I chase up some of the local wine. It shouldn’t take long. I’ll buy you lunch afterwards.’

  Saskia smiled. ‘Sounds good. Thanks; I’d like that.’

  Luke raised an eyebrow, as though he’d expected opposition. ‘Good. I’ll say goodnight, then, Sassy.’ He paused, looking down at her steadily. ‘I’m glad you told me.’

  ‘So am I.’ She hesitated. ‘And I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Zoë.’

  ‘Thank you. Though I feel it only fair to mention that my heart isn’t broken either.’

  ‘I didn’t think it was.’ She grinned. ‘It’s you who does the heartbreaking, from all I hear.’

  ‘Certainly not,’ he said virtuously. ‘I’m really a very nice, kind sort of chap.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ Laughing, Saskia went off to bed, feeling a great deal better than at any time since her flight from Romney Court.

  Next morning Saskia woke early, with a feeling of anticipation she realised came from the proposed outing with Luke. Her mother would be surprised, she thought, smiling as she dressed. Marina was always defending Luke to her daughter, never able to understand why Saskia wasn’t as charmed by him as she was.

  ‘You were up early,’ said Luke accusingly as he came into the kitchen later. ‘I crept around like a mouse not to disturb you, and here you are, up with the lark.’

  ‘If this sunshine’s likely to end soon I want to make the most of it. Want some tea? Proper British tea? I brought it with me.’

  ‘Right, then,’ said Luke, after breakfast ‘Let’s be on our way.’

  They were both dressed in jeans and white shirts, Saskia with a pale green sweater knotted round her shoulders, Luke carrying a jacket over his arm.

  ‘Will I do?’ she asked mockingly. ‘Do I come up to scratch?’

  ‘You certainly do.’ He held the car door for her, his eyes making a leisurely survey from her expensive haircut to her gleaming leather shoes. ‘I take it you’ve decided to stop wasting time on regrets over Lawford?’

  ‘Of course I have,’ she said irritably, and slid into the passenger seat of the Alfa-Romeo. ‘Let’s not mention him again. I want to enjoy the day.’

  ‘Amen to that.’ Luke drove down the hairpin bends from the house to the main road, his skill at the wheel coming as no surprise to Saskia.

  ‘Other than in a taxi, I’ve never been in a car with you before,’ she remarked as he turned on to the road which would take them to the hilltop town of San Gimignano.

  ‘Not surprising. At times in the past I had the impression you hated being in the same room, let alone the same car.’

  ‘I’ve grown up a bit now. And if it’s any consolation I think you drive very well. But then,’ she added tartly, ‘one of the reasons I used to resent you was the fact that you do everything well.’

  Luke laughed. ‘The secret of my success is simple—I make it a rule only to do things well within my capacity. I knew I could never be an academic, like Dad, but I had a feeling for wine from my first trip to the Napa Valley. So, I’m a success at what I do because it interests me, I work damned hard, and I’ve got a reasonable head for business.’

  ‘And a knack of knowing what people want so you can supply it.’

  ‘True.’ He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Do you realise, Saskia Ford, that you said something very important just now?’

  ‘Did I? What, exactly?’

  ‘You said you used to resent me.’

  Saskia said nothing for a moment, her eyes on the ageless beauty of the scenery unfolding before her. ‘So I did,’ she said slowly. ‘Since you arrived at the Villa Rosa you’ve been very kind. Different, somehow. Especially last night. I feel better since I got all that stuff off my chest.’

  ‘Good.’ He glanced at her again. ‘Do you want me to put the hood up? Your haircut is suffering a bit.’

  ‘No fear!’ She laughed, thrusting her hands through her streaming hair. ‘All my cobwebs are blowing away.’

  Luke drove her to one of the car parks below the town, and Saskia went off on foot to explore, promising to meet him in the Piazza della Cisterna at midday.

  San Gimignano, the ‘city of beautiful towers’, had retained only fourteen of the original seventy-six, but otherwise looked much the same in the morning sunshine as it had done since the thirteenth century. Saskia’s previous visit here had been a brief one with her grandparents several years before, and she was glad to find the hilltop town unchanged. Th
e two main streets still retained their medieval feel, with shops displaying boars’ heads and the local wine, others selling hand-woven fabrics and locally made ceramics. There were galleries selling jewellery and paintings, and here and there was an artist seated at an easel, painting watercolour views of the town.

  She strolled through the streets, stopping to browse in the tempting shops every so often, wondering if Luke would fancy a visit to the duomo after lunch. There was a wealth of frescoed paintings to be seen in there, she knew, but exploration was better done in company in the awe-inspiring cathedrals of Italy.

  Saskia lingered to watch one of the artists at work, and bought a watercolour for her mother and Sam. She chose a view of the many-towered skyline of San Gimignano, with a cleverly executed backdrop of the countryside beyond, exchanged a few words with the artist, then wandered on again and bought wild boar pâté in a dark cavern of a shop, postcards for the twins in another.

  The entire town was a living museum, and it was pleasure enough just to wander through the streets in the cool sunshine, looking at the beauty of the ancient buildings, none of which dated from later than the fourteenth century.

  When she reached the Piazza della Cisterna, Saskia ordered mineral water at one of the restaurants, and sat down to write her postcards at a table outside so she could keep an eye out for Luke. She scribbled away busily, and prompt to the minute, as midday began to toll, a shadow fell across her table, and she looked up to see him smiling down at her.

  ‘Hello, Sassy. Have you been waiting long?’

  ‘I was early, and who could mind hanging about in a place like this?’

  ‘What have you been doing?’

  ‘Just browsing in the shops, mainly. But I got this for Mother and Sam from the artist working near the duomo.’ She took out the watercolour to show him. ‘And I bought a present for you, too.’

  Luke eyed her for a moment, surprised. ‘A present?’ he said guardedly.

  Saskia chuckled, and handed him the pâté. ‘I hope you like it.’

  His lips twitched as he thanked her gravely. ‘My favourite,’ he assured her. ‘Come on, I’m hungry. A gentle little stroll will take us to a place where we can eat under a pergola of vines.’

  Because it was early they were given the best table in the restaurant, with a panoramic view of central Tuscany to add to the pleasure of the food.

  ‘But no wine at this time of day for me,’ said Saskia as she studied the menu.

  ‘We shall both keep to virtuous mineral water,’ he agreed. ‘The driver will content himself with thoughts of wild boar pâté for supper.’

  ‘You don’t have to eat it!’ she assured him, chuckling. ‘I won’t be offended if you loathe it.’

  Luke shook his head in wonder. ‘I can’t quite believe this new, mellow you, Saskia. I keep expecting that sharp tongue of yours to lash out at any minute.’ He grinned. ‘It adds a certain piquancy to proceedings.’

  She grinned back, waggling the tip of her tongue at him outrageously.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ he said abruptly.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, startled. ‘I didn’t mean—’

  ‘I know. And this is me, so no problem. But don’t try it with other men.’

  ‘Too rude?’

  He shook his head. ‘Too provocative. Now, what do you fancy to eat? This place is known for its truffles and mushrooms.’

  ‘Sounds good. I rarely eat meat in Italy; they have so many fabulous dishes with vegetables,’ said Saskia rapidly, feeling oddly disorientated by Luke’s rebuke. ‘Tagliolini with tartuffi and porcini, then.’

  Luke chose the same, then sat back in his chair, looking at Saskia’s averted face as she studied the breathtaking view. ‘So what else did you buy?’ he asked, deliberately conversational.

  ‘Just postcards.’ She turned with a smile, determined to preserve this new, precarious amity with Luke. ‘Have you somewhere else to go today?’

  ‘No. I’ve sorted out my wine supplies, and that’s about it for this trip. My time is at your disposal. If you want it,’ he added, the lopsided smile in evidence.

  ‘I do, actually. Will you come and look round the duomo with me this afternoon? I didn’t fancy it on my own.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I wasn’t old enough to appreciate it when my grandparents brought me here. I was in rebellious teenager mode at the time.’

  ‘I remember it well,’ he said lightly. ‘And as it happens I’d very much like to explore the duomo.’ His mouth went down at the corners. ‘Would you believe I’ve never been inside the place?’

  Saskia stared at him in surprise. ‘But you’re always tripping back and forth to Tuscany.’

  ‘I tend to make flying visits, purely on business, alas. I rarely have time to do the culture bit as well.’ He paused as their pasta was served, then gave her a very direct look. ‘Look, Sassy, I quite fancy doing some of the usual tourist things here now the summer crowds have gone. You’re on your own. I’ve given myself a few days off. I vote we join forces.’

  Saskia looked at him in surprise. ‘Do you really want to do that?’ She flushed. ‘I mean, you’re not just being kind because of Francis?’

  ‘No,’ he said with exaggerated patience, ‘I am not. In fact I suggest you forget the prat ever existed. I’ve got the car, so we could go as far as Urbino, or there’s Arezzo—and Florence, of course. We mustn’t forget the dress.’

  She tasted a mouthful of her pasta thoughtfully, more pleased with Luke’s suggestion than she would ever have imagined possible. ‘I’d like that very much,’ she said at last, after the first, delicious mouthful had gone down.

  ‘Good. That’s settled,’ he said briskly, and applied himself to his lunch. ‘This, Miss Ford, is almost as good as the pasta you made for me.’

  ‘Which is quite a compliment, because this is wonderful.’

  Luke grinned. ‘I meant it, nonetheless. Somehow I’ve never associated you with skill in the kitchen.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Where did you think my skills lay, then? If any?’

  ‘In your posh merchant bank, of course. All that highpowered finance and so on.’

  Saskia looked around her at the crowded restaurant, where local inhabitants were giving serious concentration to the delights on offer. She looked out again at the view, then returned to her plate, shaking her head. ‘At this moment in time the FT index, and the Nikkei and Dow Jones seem like things from another planet. The people here look as though food is a far more important factor in life than the stockmarket.’

  ‘Add wine, sex, music and football—though not necessarily in that order—and you’re probably right’ Luke’s eyes gleamed with laughter, reflecting the green of the overhead ceiling of vines.

  Saskia chuckled. ‘It’s definitely time I changed my job.’

  ‘I wish I had one to offer you, but my own personal assistant is a very efficient lady, and very knowledgeable about wines. I could hardly boot her out to indulge in nepotism and give her job to you,’ said Luke with regret.

  ‘I should think not!’ Saskia eyed him challengingly. ‘Is she pretty?’

  ‘Very. So are her teenage daughters. And a large, possessive husband drops her off every morning.’

  ‘Oh.’ Saskia shrugged apologetically. ‘Somehow I’d imagined you surrounded by employees like Zoë.’

  ‘Far from it. Though I’m amazed you thought of me in any context,’ he said, scouring his plate with a large hunk of bread. ‘But I’ll keep my ear to the ground. If I do hear of anything less frenetic in the job line, I’ll let you know.’

  On the point of telling him she was perfectly capable of finding her own job, Saskia held her tongue and reminded herself that it was time she stopped snapping Luke’s head off at every opportunity. She was no longer fifteen years old. And Luke, for the first time in their acquaintance, was treating her like an equal, instead of an irritating younger sister.

  ‘I’d be grateful,’ she said, and sat back with a sigh. ‘I’m going to have to stop eati
ng all this pasta. I’ll never get into any of my office suits at this rate. And I’ll need to for a while, because I’ve no intention of quitting my job before I find another.’

  ‘Very sensible.’ Luke eyed her steadily. ‘But you won’t have any problem with that.’

  ‘I hope not.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ve been at the bank for three years. It’s a bit scary to think of putting myself in the market place again.’

  ‘You possess experience in a very prestigious kind of job, you look good and you dress well.’ He smiled. ‘I imagine most employers in need of your kind of expertise would snap you up the minute they laid eyes on you.’

  ‘That’s very comforting.’ She smiled cajolingly. ‘Now, in spite of the calories, could I have a pudding? I haven’t eaten anything sweet since I pigged out on chocolate after finding Francis in bed with his wife.’ She giggled suddenly. ‘How silly that sounds.’

  ‘If you can laugh about it, you’re over it,’ Luke assured her, and signalled to a waiter. ‘What would you like?’

  After an earnest discussion with the waiter Saskia chose panna cotta, the universal, creamy pudding of Italy, this time served with chestnuts in a red wine sauce. ‘And tonight,’ she said firmly, ‘I shan’t have any dinner. Not that I mind rustling up something for you, though.’

  ‘My word, Saskia,’ teased Luke. ‘I can hardly credit the change in you. Are you likely to revert when we get back to London? I hope not.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I prefer you this way, little sister. I begin to see why there was always a line of hopefuls beating their way to your door.’ He was suddenly very serious. ‘Though why you settled on Lawford rather than any of the others is a complete mystery to me.’

  ‘It is to me now,’ she said morosely. ‘Why on earth I fell in love with him in particular I don’t know. But I did. Which has taught me a salutary lesson—I’ll never trust my emotions again.’