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Three more days and Thea was woken by Polly bouncing into her cabin. ‘Oh, my lady! Come and see—it’s a volcano, a real one with smoke and everything!’
‘Mount Etna,’ Thea said, rubbing her eyes as Polly bundled her into her wrapper. ‘It won’t go away.’
‘But come and see!’ Polly danced out of the cabin, more excited by the mountain than she had been by Venetian canals, dolphins or African traders.
Thea had to agree that it was a staggering sight when she joined Polly and Hodge on deck. Against the pink morning sky the plume of smoke trailed sideways in long streamers from the top of the conical mountain. At its foot lay Taormina and a string of small towns and villages. ‘I would not want to live there,’ she said with a shiver. ‘There was a city called Pompeii that was buried when another volcano, Vesuvius, erupted in Roman times. They say Napoleon had scholars digging it up.’
‘Brrr.’ Polly gave an exaggerated shiver. ‘We’re not stopping here, are we?’
‘The harbourmaster at Crotone said he thought the Aquila was making for Syracuse, farther along the coast, so we will go straight there.’ Thea was beginning to have qualms about descending unexpectedly on Godmama. What if she really was on a romantic escape with a lover? At least with her own ship she could be independent and not intrude. She would have to play it by ear—if they ever caught up with the prince’s yacht.
‘Dolphins,’ Signor Vincenzo called from the stern. He had learned that Thea had an inexhaustible passion for the creatures, however many they saw and, in the absence of much else to do, he had become dolphin lookout.
Thea joined him. ‘We are being followed.’ Well behind them another ship of a similar size was on the same tack.
‘He has been there since dawn,’ the Italian said. ‘Heading for Syracuse, too, I hope.’
‘You hope?’
‘Black sails, fast lines. Perhaps he is a pirate. With the end of the fighting there are no French or British warships to keep them in check.’
‘That is perhaps more excitement than I wanted.’ Thea shaded her eyes to watch the sinister ship in the distance. ‘Will you tell the captain that I wish to make straight for Syracuse with good speed?’
* * *
And here we are, safely in Syracuse harbour, Thea wrote in her journal that evening. The night air was cool and she had gone to her cabin after dinner, leaving Hodge and Polly the privacy of the deck to stroll, hand in hand.
We have found the Aquila and the harbourmaster at Taranto was right: Godmama is in love. We saw the yacht at once: sleek and white with brown sails and a huge figurehead of an eagle in gold. I did not want to intrude so I borrowed the captain’s telescope and there they were on deck, arm in arm, so intent, with eyes only for each other. Just talking, but I could feel the closeness even across the water.
I will send a note over tomorrow morning to warn her, then Godmama can make certain I see only what she wants me to see. I hope he is a good man. I pray he makes her happy, for she deserves joy for herself after all she has done for others.
The black ‘pirate’ ship came into harbour before we sat down to dinner, so it is a harmless voyager after all. You would laugh at me if you knew I was quaking in my shoes at the thought of pirates, Rhys. Or perhaps the fluttering in my stomach was caused by foolishly romantic ideas of a corsair: I have definitely been reading too many novels from the Minerva Press!
I am sure the reality is far more sordid. Besides, what use is a dashing pirate villain if you are not there to rescue me? I can imagine you, knife between your teeth as you swing on board to do battle....
The cabin door creaked open and Thea pulled a sheet of loose paper over the page. This journal was her private letter to Rhys.
‘Polly?’ She looked up to find the narrow doorway filled, not with a woman’s slender figure, but the bulk of a broad-shouldered man silhouetted against the bulkhead light behind. The pen dropped from her fingers, leaving a splatter of ink across the paper. Hodge would not open her cabin door without knocking and no other man would approach her here.
Thea got to her feet, sending the chair thudding to the deck behind her as she reached for the paper knife. Were her lurid imaginings real after all?
The man ducked his head and came into the cabin and she found her wits and her courage. ‘Get out or I will scream!’
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘I would rather you kissed me.’ Rhys closed the door and leaned back against it. The candle flames on her desk flickered and steadied as the air stilled.
He was wearing a white shirt, open at the neck, form-fitting black breeches, soft black boots and nothing else.
‘I was thinking about corsairs,’ Thea said and he caught her meaning and laughed as he pushed his over-long hair off his face.
‘I am sorry. I should have swung on board at the head of a gang of ruthless pirates, I suppose.’
‘Just you is enough.’ Enough to remove the air from the cabin and the sense from her head. Enough to leave her so weak she had to grip the edge of the desk to stay on her feet. ‘Is the black schooner yours?’
‘Yes. Is that what put corsairs into your head? It was the fastest thing I could find at Venice.’ He studied her face, but made no move to approach her. ‘Why are we discussing corsairs and ships?’
‘Because I am in shock and I have no idea why you are here.’ It was the truth. ‘I thought you had gone to Rome.’
‘Yes. Dreadful journey. I felt...wrong. Didn’t know why, thought I was coming down with marsh fever perhaps. First thing I did was to go to the British Consulate to sign the book and the third person I saw there was Benton. He took one look at me and said, “You left her, then, you bloody idiot?” No greeting, just a flat statement. I hit him.’ He rubbed the knuckles of his clenched right fist into the palm of his left and winced.
‘Poor Giles! Was he hurt? And in the Consulate of all places.’ Thea groped for the chair, set it upright and sat down before her legs gave out.
‘No, he wasn’t hurt and I bribed the porter not to make a fuss. Benton took me back to his lodgings—he’s having a fine old time in some library or other—poured a large brandy down me and observed that I might be a fool, but at least I had a respectable right hook.’
‘What...what did he say about me?’ Surely Giles would not have betrayed her?
‘Beyond enquiring punctiliously about your health, nothing. Nor did he explain himself. We went out to eat, got roaring drunk. I woke up the next morning rolled in a blanket on the floor of his parlour with a head like a steam hammer, but a very clear understanding of why I felt so bad. I left for Venice just as soon as we’d downed a pot of coffee.’
‘Why did you go back?’ It took her two attempts to get the words out of her dry mouth.
‘For you.’
‘We...agreed that it was not a good idea to continue our affair. We agreed there might be scandal and that would affect your chances of making the marriage that you want. We had always agreed that you would leave me in Venice.’ It was not easy to sit there and not go to him. All that kept her in the seat was the knowledge that to be with him again and then face another parting would break what was left of her heart. ‘This is not sensible, Rhys.’
‘I love you.’
No. No, he does not believe in love. He does not mean it. Does not want it. ‘No.’ Apparently she had been wrong. All it took to break her heart was to hear Rhys say those three words.
‘Yes. And I think you love me.’
‘No! I told you...’
‘You never denied it. I should not allow myself to forget how very good you are with words when you need to be, Thea.’
‘So you believe I love you and your gentlemanly conscience has driven you back to Venice and then right along the coast of Italy in search of me to do the decent thing, has it?’ She pushed herself upright and flung away to stare out of the porthole into the darkness.
‘No, the realisation that I cannot live without you has done that.’ From his voice, he had not moved from his position flat against the door. It was as though he would not use his touch, his body, his lips—only his words.
Somehow that was the most convincing thing that he could have done. Faint hope began to flutter deep inside her. ‘You do not believe in love.’
‘I was wrong. I did not understand how being with you made me feel. At first I thought it was a mixture of friendship and lust. Then we made love and I understood that I desired you, that I felt more fulfilled in your arms than I had with any other lover. But I talked myself into believing it was our friendship that made it special.’
Thea kept her gaze on the porthole. She could see Rhys reflected in it, just part of his hand and arm where he had rested his palm on the bulkhead. His hand was shaking. Tears she could not understand and did not know how to stop began to run down her face.
‘It was not friendship,’ Rhys said, his voice as steady as his hand was not. ‘It was our love.’ He must have heard her sob, despite her effort to choke it back. ‘I know how much love means to you, Thea. I would never tell you I loved you if it were not the truth, even if you begged me on bended knee. I would not lie to you—’
