An Inheritance of Shame(44)

‘That sounds like a rather empty way to live.’

‘It was. Is. I think…’ He paused, his gaze on their hands once more. He slid his fingers through hers, entwining their hands again. ‘I think I’ve always felt empty.’

‘Oh, Angelo.’ She swallowed, sniffed. He glanced up wryly.

‘I didn’t mean to make you sad.’

‘You haven’t, not really.’

‘And what about you?’ He leaned back, sliding his hand from hers. Self-protection, Lucia knew. He was just starting to realise how much he’d revealed. ‘You must have had a few relationships over the years.’

She let out a little laugh of disbelief. ‘Oh, Angelo, do you really believe that?’

He frowned. ‘Why not?’

‘Because of everything I’ve already said. I’ve spent my entire life in Caltarione, working as a maid. Every single person there knows my history, my shame, even if I never saw it like that. What self-respecting Sicilian man would want me?’

‘I want you,’ he said, his voice rough, and she smiled even as a thrill shot through her at the blatant emotion and need visible in his eyes.

‘That’s certainly enough for me.’

‘Still…are you really saying there’s been no one? I’ve been your only lover?’ His voice had dropped to a whisper and now Lucia knew she was the one blushing.

‘It sounds a bit pathetic, I know.’

‘No, not pathetic.’ He shook his head. ‘It just makes me a little…afraid.’

‘Afraid?’ She hadn’t been expecting that. ‘Why?’

‘Because most people don’t get this kind of second chance, Lucia.’ His expression had turned serious, even grave. ‘I don’t want to wreck it. I don’t want to hurt you like I did before.’

She opened her mouth to say—what? What could she say? She had no assurances or promises to make, for she had no idea if he would hurt her or not. No idea if any of this could really work.

Angelo watched the emotions chase across Lucia’s face, reveal themselves in her eyes. She was afraid, he knew. Afraid of what? How different they were? Afraid that this—whatever this between them was—wouldn’t work? Afraid that he would hurt her, just as he’d said. Certainty lodged inside him, as heavy as a stone. Of course she was afraid of that. So was he.

Her heartfelt admission last night had rocked him to the core, because he’d finally believed her. She did love him. It seemed incredible, impossible, and yet he’d believed, and that belief gave life to something far more precious: hope. He wanted a chance to love her back. A chance to show her he was worthy of her love.

Yet already he felt doubt begin its insidious attack on that first, fragile breath of hope. He’d never loved anyone before, didn’t know what it felt or looked like, and God help him, he didn’t know if he was capable of it. Nothing in his life had prepared him for any of this, not for honesty or vulnerability and certainly not for love. Not even, he realised with a pang, for a conversation like the one they were having right now.

Maybe they needed a break from all this wretched vulnerability. Smiling, he reached for his menu. ‘We should order.’ Maybe if they kept the conversation light, rather than raking through the cold ashes of the past, the fear they both felt would lessen if not leave them entirely.

Lucia nodded her agreement, and after they’d ordered their food they spent the next couple of hours chatting about inconsequential things, tasting each other’s food and simply enjoying each other’s company. Angelo felt himself relax, and more importantly, he felt Lucia relax.

It was late by the time they drove back to Caltarione, and in the darkness of the car Lucia lapsed back into silence once more, staring out the window so Angelo couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

‘A penny for your thoughts,’ he said lightly, although he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. As they’d left the restaurant, Lucia’s expression had turned pensive, even drawn. Was she regretting this, him? Now she just shook her head, and he left it at that.

He climbed the rickety stairs with her to her second-floor apartment, hating the shabby smallness of it all. He wanted to take her to his villa, to give her all the things she’d never even dreamt for herself. Clothes and jewels, yes, but something more. Safety, comfort, the kind of life neither of them had had as children. The kind of life he wanted for her, even if she refused to want it for herself. Giving her those things would be a way to show her he cared, yet he knew she didn’t want them, would refuse his offers. She wanted something else—something he didn’t know if he had in him to give.