Page 51 of Villa of Secrets

I gasped at the sheer beauty of it.

‘What?’ Giovanni said, standing beside me.

‘It’s so . . . amazing.’

He nodded. ‘My grandfather claimed it was planted by Dionysus himself.’ He stood next to me, staring at the tree.

‘Dionysus, the god of wine?’ I realised my hand was in his and started to pull away, but he held fast, and turned to face me.

He peered from under his long lashes. ‘Dionysus, the god of fertility,’ he whispered taking a step closer so we were almost against each other. His breath caressed my face and I wanted something more from him, but I wasn’t sure what. I loved it when our eyes met, yet at the same time, I felt shy and embarrassed, and had to look away.

Annoyed with myself for being indecisive, I pulled my hand from his. ‘Behave yourself!’ I remembered all the help he had given us. He pretended to be hard and all knowledgeable, yet underneath I felt he was a very special person. I could feel the beating of my pulse as he took my hand again, his face serious, his eyes the colour of dark chocolate.

‘Just a hug then?’ He drew me to him, and instinctively I closed my eyes. With my face against his chest, I felt the rise and fall of his ribs, and heard his heartbeat. I put my arms around him and wanted to stay there forever, content and safe – but I had responsibilities back at the hut.

‘I should leave soon,’ I whispered easing myself out of his embrace.

Giovanni turned his mouth down in mock disappointment, but his eyes continued to glimmer hopefully. He pulled the hunting knife from his belt.

‘What are you going to do?’ I asked, nervous of the glinting blade.

‘I’m about to get your cinnamon, but this tree is rare, my father says there isn’t another in all Greece, so I have to be careful I don’t kill it.’ He moved towards the trunk and started patting and stroking it quite tenderly. ‘This is important, see.’

‘Why? Shall I do it too?’ I looked up into the dense foliage.

‘Like this,’ he said standing behind me. He took my hand and stroked the bark. ‘I want to kiss you again,’ he whispered against the nape of my neck. ‘I want you to be my girlfriend.’

Shivers of delight raced down my spine. I’d never experienced such feelings before. A thousand butterflies caressed every part of my body as he kissed me gently below my ear. I wanted him to kiss me on the mouth, the way Irini did, but when I turned around we just held each other for a long time, and it was enough.

‘I feel safe in your arms,’ I whispered. ‘I wish I could always feel like this, but most of the time I’m so afraid for my family, I can’t think of anything else. If I believed what you said, about what will happen to them, I would go crazy. It’s heartbreakingly cruel, and I can’t imagine what that news would do to Evangelisa.’

He stroked my face. ‘Don’t waste your energy fretting about stuff you can’t change, Dora. It’s better to concentrate on the things that will make a difference in the end. He held me tightly.’

I nodded, happy to be in his embrace. He held me tightly until I turned my face up to his and he kissed me again. I don’t know how we came to be on the ground, under the cinnamon tree, but we kissed each other on every exposed place. The sensations were so wonderful, his caresses made my skin tingle, and for those moments everything was forgotten. I wanted to stay in his arms, in that safe place without worries or fears, but his breath became laboured and I sensed a change in him so I pulled away.

‘Please, Dora. I only want to kiss you . . . that’s all. Nothing else, I promise. I want to kiss you here,’ he said, quickly sliding his hand up my inner thighs and cupping my secret place.

I was so excited and at the same time shocked that I pulled my hand back and gave him a hefty whack, completely forgetting about my broken wrist and the catapult.

We both cried out in pain. My whole arm seemed on fire. His cheekbone turned dark red.

‘Sorry, I . . .’ I stammered.

‘No, me . . . truth is, I got carried away.’

After a few calming breaths, Giovanni whispered, ‘Wow!’ and glanced sideways at me. ‘We’d better get the cinnamon and go back, okay?’ I nodded and he stroked the tree trunk again.

‘Why are you doing that?’ I asked.

‘I want a piece of her heart, and to get it I have to cut deep. Under this rough bark lies the sweetest spice. If I do it properly . . .’ He continued to pat and stroke down the trunk. ‘If I treat her gently, she’ll give it up, her inner layer. The bark lets go of the cinnamon, so I can take what I want.’ His eyes flicked to mine and he seemed to smile right into my soul.

After a moment, he stopped patting, gripped his knife, and stabbed hard into the tree.

I flinched, and perhaps whimpered.

He removed a rectangle of bark, then a second one from the fine, inner layer, which he gave me to hold.

‘It’s red,’ I whispered.