The Jealous Husband

' You are my wife, Grace,' Donato continued. 'There has been no divorce, the marriage contract still stands.'

'Not in my eyes.' She was painting hard, her slim fairness overshadowed by his dark maleness 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...'

'EXCUSE me, but are you feeling all right?'

'I'm sorry?' Grace felt as though she had just returned from a dark, cold place as she focused her deep blue eyes on the concerned face of the stewardess bending over her, the gentle murmur of conversation from the other

passengers on the plane penetrating the horror that had held her in its grip.

'Oh, yes, yes, thank you, I'm fine.' The pretty young face watching her didn't look convinced and she added quickly, 'A headache. I've had a headache all day, that's all.'

'Oh, you should have said.' The tall, slim stewardess smiled her professional smile of sympathy as she straightened. 'I'll get you a couple of aspirin, shall I?'

'Thank you.' Grace nodded her appreciation. 'If it's no trouble,' she added quietly, forcing a smile from somewhere.

A headache. If only this fear and panic that had made eating and sleeping impossible since she had received the telegram could be dealt with as easily as a headache. The flat formality of the printed words swam into her mind again as her stomach churned.

I have been instructed by Donato Vittoria to inform you of the sudden death of his mother, and to request your presence at the funeral on 23rd April. The service will be held at the Church of the Madonna ill Mezz' Loreto at midday.

That had been all. No explanation, no suggestion that she call or contact the family in any way, just a cold, terse announcement from the Vittorias'

solicitor, Signor Fellini.

But it hadn't really been an announcement, had it? she thought sickly. It was a demand, a decree, by the autocratic head of the Vittoria clan, whose word was law and power absolute. Donato. Oh, God, I shan't be able to stand it, she prayed desperately; help me get through the next few days...

'Here we are.' Again the smooth, pleasant voice of the stewardess brought her back from the edge of despair and into the real world as she handed Grace a glass of water and the aspirin. 'Not long now and we'll be landing; you'll feel better then,' she added brightly, the tone faintly patronizing.

'Thank you.' Grace obediently swallowed both the aspirin and the water and settled back in her seat as she closed her eyes. She knew what the stewardess was thinking; it had been transparently obvious. Poor little thing, she's frightened of flying. Well, she was frightened all right, absolutely terrified, but not of flying.

Oh, she had to pull herself together, she told herself angrily. She was a grown woman of twenty-three, not some nervous; over excited schoolgirl who couldn't say boo to a goose. If only she looked her twenty-three years, that would give her a little more confidence for the days ahead but her petite five feet four inches added to red gold curls that defied all efforts at smoothness and a naturally elfin face took at least five years off her age despite her careful choice of clothes.

But she was old inside. She shuddered her hands clenching on her lap.

Ancient, antediluvian inside. More than old enough to cope with Donato and the rest of the Vittoria family.

That thought carried her through the rest of the journey and the arrival at Naples airport, and once through Customs she collected the one suitcase she had brought with her and prepared to find a taxi, her face white and strained and her small, slim body held erect amidst all the bustle and chaos wound her.

'Grace.' She froze for an infinitesimal moment, mind and body registering the Shock of hearing that deep, cool voice with its heavy Italian accent speaking her name, and then forced herself to turn slowly as she took a long steadying breath.

'Donato.' A smile was beyond her as she took in the tall, dark man watching her so closely, his black eyes narrowed in the tanned hardness of his face and his firm, sensual mouth unsmiling like hers. He was still the same! She felt her heart begin to slam against her ribcage with the force of a sledgehammer and, willed the panic to cease. She had to be in control, give the impression of calm and cold restraint; anything else would be seized upon as weakness and used against her. 'I'm very sorry about your mother,'

she said quietly, hoping the slight quiver in her voice would pass unnoticed.

'She was a truly great lady.'

'Yes, she was.' He was standing very still, his loose fitting trousers and dark blue cotton shirt immaculate as always and sitting on the big, lithe body in a way guaranteed to make any female heart beat a little faster.'

But not hers. Grace took another hidden breath before she spoke. Definitely not hers, never again. 'The telegram said it was sudden?' she asked carefully, keeping her voice neutral. His had been quite expressionless, cold and flat.

'A hemorrhage, in the brain.' He touched his forehead as he spoke, the movement emphasizing the heavy gold watch on his wrist and the thick gold band on the third finger of his left hand. 'She knew nothing about it. Now...'

He turned slightly, gesturing to someone behind him. 'Antonio will take your bags-- "

'I'm not staying at Casa Pontina!' She had spoken too sharply and too quickly but it was too late to try and moderate her tone as the handsome male face in front of her darkened. 'I...I've made arrangements,' she said hastily. 'It's all taken care of.' How had he known of her arrival? Why was he here? What was all this in aid of? As the numbing shock of the sudden encounter began to fade Grace found a barrage of questions attacking her mind.

'Where else would stay but at Casa Pontina?' The arrogance was pure Vittoria and as such hit her on the raw, causing her soft mouth to tighten in response to the challenge.

'I'm booked in at the Hotel La Pergola,' she said coldly, 'for three nights.'

'I think not.' He smiled now, but it didn't touch the glittering blackness of his eyes. 'It would not be fitting in the circumstances and this you know. It will be expected that you stay at Casa Pontina.'

He spoke as if the matter were settled, and as the uniformed chauffeur reached for her case again at Donato's tight nod she found herself whisking it behind her and stepping back a pace.

'I don't have to do what is expected of me, not any more,' she said fiercely.

'I'm answerable to myself and no one else. You can't order me about like you do everyone else.'

'Everyone, Grace?' The dark voice was quiet and silky now, with a thread of steel that she knew was meant to intimidate. 'I had forgotten how you like to exaggerate.'

'That doesn't surprise me,' she tossed back bitterly. 'I'm only surprised you remember my name.'

'Oh, I remember your name, mia piccola.' The soft endearment hit her like a punch in the chest and it took all of her will power not to let it show. 'I remember everything about you. Now, you will let Antonio take your

luggage,' he continued in a smooth, conversational tone of voice that was belied by the glittering intensity in his eyes, 'and you will stay at Casa Pontina.'

'Why should I?' she asked hotly, her blue eyes stormy.

'Because it is what my mother would have wanted.' She stared at him, the anger and bitter resentment draining away as the truth in his words left her pale and shaking. Liliana would have wanted her to stay at the family home, she acknowledged painfully. In fact the matriarch of the Vittoria clan would have been horrified at anything else.

This was one last thing she could do for Liliana, she thought sadly, for the tall, proud, aristocratic Italian woman who had wielded such power and influence within her own family and shown Grace nothing but love and kindness from their first meeting. Yes, she would do this for Liliana; for Liliana she would even endure living under the same roof as Donato for three days and nights.

'Very well.' She saw the flash of triumph in the jet black eyes and had to bite her lip to prevent more hot words. Liliana was dead, the last tentative link with Italy was broken by her demise, and she would endeavor to see out this final travesty with the sort of dignity and aplomb that the genteel Italian woman would have expected from her. 'I shall have to cancel my reservation at La Pergola on the way to Casa Pontina.'

'Si, of course; this will be no problem.' The words were smooth and self satisfied and caused' her stomach muscles to tighten.

Donato nodded in a sharp little bow, clicking his fingers at Antonio, who reached behind her for the case, his pock marked face beneath its chauffeur's cap of blue and gold apologetic. 'Scusi, signora.' The voice was humble, the appearance of the big, beefy individual anything but.

Antonio might not know any English, Grace reflected with a touch of wryness, but he had certainly had no trouble in following the general theme of the conversation.

She had always thought Donato's chauffeur resembled a member of the Sicilian mafia rather than a household servant, and this idea was reinforced now as she followed the swarthy, dark figure out to the Vittoria Mercedes, Donato's hand at her elbow feeling for all the world as though she was being led to her execution.

The fifty or so mile drive to Donato's magnificent villa in Sorrento would be no problem-the Mercedes excellent air conditioning added to the fact that the late April temperature was only just touching seventy degrees made traveling at midday still a pleasure, unlike in high summer but sitting in close proximity to Donato for well over an hour was a different matter.

Grace had planned to stay overnight in Naples and travel down to Sorrento early the next morning by hire car in time for the funeral, returning the same day. That would have meant she could have paid her last respects to Liliana while retaining some degree of independence, but ... she might have known Donato would overrule any arrangements she had made.

Donato opened the car door for her but she paused before sliding in, looking up into his cold, handsome face as she asked, 'How did you know I was coming today, and on that flight?'

'Does it matter?' His voice was cool and dismissive, his manner remote. It was an attitude she had seen him adopt many times in the past and it usually had the desired effect of forestalling further conversation, but not so with her, and not today.

'Yes, it does, to me.' She continued to hold his glance, her vivid blue eyes with their thick, curling lashes dark with determination. 'I wasn't aware I told anyone of my plans.'

'Possibly not,' he said .

'Well, then?' Her gaze was becoming a glare but she couldn't do anything about it; his arrogance was bringing up a strong feeling of rebellion. 'How did you know?' she asked again.

'I know most things about you, Grace.' The way he said her name still had the power to make her weak but she would rather have walked through coals of fire than admit it, even to herself.

'Meaning?' she snapped tightly, her eyes hot.

'You want me to list all the things I know about you?' he asked smoothly, with simulated surprise. 'Here? Where we could so easily be overheard?'

'Stop playing games, Donato.' She said it with a touch of weariness that narrowed his eyes on the whiteness of her face, in which exhaustion was suddenly all too evident.

'Is that what you think I am doing, mia piccola?' he said softly. 'Playing the game? Nothing could be further from the truth.' For a moment something fierce and hot, blazed in the heavily lashed black eyes but then his lids shuttered the fire as he half turned from her, gesturing into the car. 'Get in and I will tell you what you wish to know.'

She got in--there was really little else she could do after all, she told herself flatly--and when he joined her a moment later on the spacious back seat, and her senses caught a whiff of the familiar aftershave he had specially made for him, the wickedly blended allure of spices and lemon and something indefinable made her nerve ends jump. How many nights had she spent locked in his arms, she asked herself tremulously, breathing in that heady fragrance after hours of mad, passionate love? Hours that had sent her up to the heights, hours that had had her begging, pleading for sweet relief and then barely able to stand the ecstasy when he had obliged.

She had thought then that they would be together for the rest of their lives, that nothing in this world or the one beyond could possibly separate them, that they were two halves of one glorious whole. But she had learnt. Her mouth tightened and she breathed deeply through her nostrils. Oh, how she had learnt.

'Well?' She forced her face to remain blank she turned slightly, although his nearness sent her heart flickering into her throat. 'How did you know I was arriving today?'

'I have been aware of all your movements in the last year, Grace,' he said calmly. 'You surely did not think it could be otherwise?'

'All of my movements?' she echoed, puzzled. 'I really don't see...' And then it dawned. 'You don't mean ... You haven't had me watched?' she asked

angrily, her voice and colour rising in unison. 'Is that what you're saying?'

'Of course.' He eyed her coldly, the straight line of his mouth expressing distaste at her lack of control.

'Of course?' Her cry of outrage made him wince slightly, but she had given up trying to maintain the new cool image; she had never been so furious in all her life.

'You dare to sit there and tell me you've been spying on me,' she hissed heatedly, 'without the slightest shred of guilt or embarrassment? How dared you do that, Donato? I can't believe even you would sink so low.'