She laughed directly into his face. At five foot four inches she had to look up to him, but she still gave an impression of looking him in the eye, he realised.
‘I reckon two doses of Charlie in one day is more than the strongest man should be asked to bear,’ she said. ‘Let me get you an orange juice.’
She fetched it, then had to turn to look after another guest. He watched her, unwillingly impressed by her neat, shapely figure. It was hard to reconcile this flaming creature with the woman Charlie had described, who’d died with her husband. There was something there he couldn’t work out, something mysterious and intriguing.
The room was filling up as more guests arrived. Some of them gave him curious looks, and he guessed the news of his identity had gone around. He became lost in a maze of introductions. Every girl there wanted to flirt with him, and when someone put on some music there was dancing.
In such a small place it seemed impossible that anyone could dance, but they managed it. Luke plunged in with every sign of enjoyment, although he was actually growing tired after so long without sleep. But not for the world would he pass up the chance to win over his tenants, thus making them easier to deal with and, incidentally, giving himself the great pleasure of making Signora Minerva nervous.
At last he had a free moment just as Minnie was passing.
‘You can’t just go like that,’ he said, grasping her hand. ‘You and I have to dance with each other.’
‘Have to?’
‘Of course. When two countries are at war it’s customary to mark a truce by having the two heads of state dance together.’
‘I believe that only happens when the war’s actually over.’
‘Then we’ll set a precedent,’ he said, putting an arm about her waist.
Minnie might have demurred longer, but someone collided with her, pushing her closer to him.
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Just for the look of the thing.’
‘You’re all graciousness.’
Glancing up, she found him regarding her with a look that was half irony and half an invitation to share the joke. Drat him, she thought, for having a kind of fierce attractiveness that could get under her guard, even if just for a moment.
‘How are you feeling now?’ she asked.
‘More human. A lot poorer.’
‘You wait until you see my bill. That really will make you feel poor.’
‘And Charlie’s,’ he reminded her.
‘You don’t think I’d charge Charlie, do you? He’s my brother-in-law.’
He shook his head in despair for her.
‘Why did you tell me that? You should have charged me over the odds for him and put the money into a fund for repairs.’
‘Yes, I don’t make much of a schemer, do I?’ she agreed ruefully.
‘You prefer to confront the foe full-on, rather than plot behind his back. Brave but foolhardy.’
‘Plotting isn’t my style. Besides, I’ve slain a good few foes in my time.’
‘Is that a threat or a challenge?’
‘Work it out.’
Minnie wished the room were a little less crowded so that she wasn’t crushed so hard against his body. She’d seen that every woman in the place admired him, and there was something in that consciousness that infiltrated her own, so that she could understand their feelings, while assuring herself that she was safe from sharing them.
But she would have felt safer still if she could have danced a few inches away. The room was hotter than she’d realised, and it was getting harder to breathe.
As soon as she could she excused herself. ‘I must go and help Netta. Enjoy the party.’
He nodded and let her go. He was beginning to be very conscious that he’d spent the previous night in a police cell, wide awake.
He’d meant to catch up on his sleep at the hotel that afternoon, but he’d become involved in business phone calls and in the end there had only been time for a cold shower. Now he knew it hadn’t been enough. His eyes insisted on closing, no matter how hard he fought to keep them open.
At last, taking advantage of the crowd, he slipped out of the door and found himself by the railing that over-looked the courtyard. Too public. Where could he find a little privacy?
He discovered a small corridor that went through the building, connecting the staircase to the outer apartments that overlooked the road. It was deserted and he sank down to the ground, thankful for a place where a man could rest his head in peace.
He’d return to the party soon, but, just for a few minutes, he would close his eyes…a few minutes…a few…
CHAPTER FOUR
AFTER handing round more drinks, Minnie went into the kitchen to help Netta make coffee.
‘You looked good together,’ her mother-in-law observed.
‘Just doing my duty,’ Minnie said. ‘It was purely formal.’
‘How can you be formal with him? He is a man.’
‘So are a lot of other people here,’ Minnie observed, trying not to understand Netta’s meaning.
‘No, they are not men, like he is,’ Netta insisted. ‘Boys, feeble creatures who look like men but don’t measure up. He is a man. He can bring you back to life. Why were you so careless as to let him leave?’
‘Has he left?’
‘Can you see him anywhere? He’s slipped out with a woman, and they’ve found a quiet place to do things that-’
‘Yes, I can imagine what they’re doing.’ Minnie stopped her hastily. ‘I suppose he has every right to please himself.’
‘He should be pleasing himself with you,’ Netta said stubbornly. ‘And you should be pleasing yourself with him.’
‘Netta, I only met him today.’
‘Huh! I only knew Tomaso one day before I had his clothes off. Oh, it was glorious! Of course he was useless at everything else but I got pregnant and we had to marry.’
‘That sounds like an argument for staying a virgin.’
‘Who wants to be dried up and withered?’ Netta demanded.
Soon afterwards Minnie took the chance to slip away. Her nerves were jangling in an unfamiliar rhythm and she badly needed to calm them.
Taking up a bottle of mineral water, she went out of the front door, rejoicing in the cool night air. She took a long gulp of the water and felt better, then she began to drift down the stairs.
Perhaps Netta’s right, she thought, and I am dried up and withered. But I wasn’t always…
There had been a time when she and Gianni had seemed to exist for passion alone, a time when every night had been a scorching delight, every dawn a revelation, when life’s chief good had been the shape of Gianni’s body, the hot spicy scent of him.
But that time had ended. She’d told herself that his death had brought all desire to an end, and she was content to have it so. She was used to Netta’s attempts to talk her into a different mood, and she’d always laughed them off. Suddenly, mysteriously, she couldn’t do it any more.
Then she heard a noise from nearby. It came from one of the corridors that ran through the building, linking the inner staircase with the apartments that faced outwards.
Signor Cayman, she thought wryly, taking his pleasures.
But this didn’t sound like a man in the throes of physical delight. More like snoring.
She crept inside the corridor. There was Luke, sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, dead to the world. She dropped to her knees and, with the aid of one weak lamp in the ceiling, made out his face, slightly to one side, relaxed for the first time.
She’d seen his mouth tensed in the hard line of a man determined to have his own way, or twisted in derision, but now it was softened into a more attractive shape, one that it was just possible to associate with pleasure. Pleasure for himself, pleasure for the woman who kissed him…
She stopped, annoyed with herself for letting her thoughts wander in this direction. A woman who’d lived almost like a nun for four years should have herself under better control by now, except that somehow control grew harder as time passed.