the subject so abruptly.”
He turned away with a shrug, as if to say, And I should care because? But she was having none of that. She’d been stonewalled long enough by doctors and nurses and therapists. She’d be damned if she’d put up with the same treatment from a man claiming to be her husband.
Grasping his arm, she stopped him before he could put more distance between them. “Don’t ignore me, Dario. You implied that I’m lying, and I want to know why. What have I done to make you not believe me?”
Before he could answer, the housekeeper came to announce that dinner was ready. Obviously relieved at the interruption, he took Maeve by the elbow and steered her the length of the terrace, to a table and chairs set under a section of roof that extended from the house. Long white curtains hung to the floor on the open three sides, no doubt to provide protection from the sun and wind during the day, but they were tied back now and gave an unobstructed view of the moon casting a glittering path across the sea.
It was, she thought, as he seated her and took his place opposite, like a scene out of the Arabian Nights. Candles glowed in crystal bowls and sent flickering shadows over a marble-topped table dressed with crisp linen napkins and heavy sterling cutlery. Music with a distinctly Middle-Eastern flavor filtered softly from hidden speakers. Some night-blooming flower filled the air with fragrance. Yet the harmony was tainted by the tension still simmering between her and Dario.
Antonia reappeared from inside the house and proceeded to serve from a sideboard positioned next to the wall. The meal began with a salad of tomatoes, olives, onions and capers dressed in oil flavored with basil, followed by grilled swordfish on a bed of linguine. And since Antonia remained at her post well within earshot as they ate, the opportunity to pursue the cause of Dario’s sudden change of mood had to go on hold in favor of inconsequential chitchat.
At length, however, the meal was over, the dishes removed and they were alone again. Pushing aside her water goblet, Maeve interrupted him as he waxed eloquent about the therapeutic benefits of the many hot springs on the island, and said, “Okay, Dario, it’s just you and me now, so please forget being a tour guide and answer the question I put to you before your housekeeper interrupted us. And don’t even think about telling me to forget it, because I’ve had about as much as I can stand of people not being straight with me.”
“I spoke out of turn,” he said carefully, seeming to find the contents of his wineglass more riveting than her face. “I’ve met more than a few business acquaintances whose idea of a gentleman’s agreement turned out to be as meaningless as their handshake. Sad to say, it’s left me somewhat jaded as a result.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Yes, it is,” he agreed, finally meeting her gaze. “I apologize if I insulted you, Maeve. It was not my intention, and I quite understand if you feel compelled to kick me under the table for being such a brute.”
His smile was back, dazzling as ever. Basking in its warmth, she said, “I’ll forgive you on one condition. So far tonight I’ve done most of the talking, when what I’d really like is to learn more about you.”
“All right.”
“And I wouldn’t mind going for a walk while I quiz you.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it? This is your first day out of hospital, after all.”
“But I haven’t been bedridden for a few weeks now. As long as I don’t have to rappel down a cliff or run a marathon, I’m quite sure I’ll be fine.”
“Then we’ll take a stroll through the grounds.”
He led her along a crushed stone path that meandered around to the landward side of the villa and through a series of small gardens.
“Why is each one enclosed like this?” she wanted to know, finding the high stone walls almost claustrophobic.
“To protect them from the winds. These lemon trees here, for instance, would never survive if they were exposed to the sirocco.”
She supposed she once knew that, along with the thousand other trivial details that made up daily life on this tiny island, but rediscovering them could wait. For now, sketching in the major figures that shaped her particular situation had to take precedence. “I can see I have a lot to relearn, so let’s get started.”
“D’accordo. Where shall I begin?”
“With your family, since they’re also now my family by marriage. Do they live here some of the time, as well?”
“Yes.”
“Are they here now?”
“Yes.”
“I haven’t seen any sign of them.”
“They don’t actually live in my dammuso.”
“You’re what?”
“Dammuso,” he repeated, his grin gleaming in the dark. “Plural, dammusi. It’s an Arabic word loosely translated as house although more accurately meaning vaulted structure. The style and method of construction is the same for all residences on Pantelleria.”
Not quite, she thought. They might all be shaped like sugar cubes with arched openings and domed roofs, but most were a far cry from the elegant luxury that defined his and the others perched on this remote headland. “Then where do they live?”
“Here, we’re close neighbors. My sister lives next door, and my parents next door to her.”
“And when you’re not on the island?”
“Our home base is Milan where our corporate headquarters are located. But we’re not on top of each other there the way we are here. In the city, you and I have a penthouse, my parents also, but not in the same building, and my sister and her husband have a villa in the suburbs.”
“You have no brothers? Just the one sister?”
“That’s right.”
“Does she have children?”
“Yes, but it’s probably not a good idea to confuse you with too many names and numbers just yet.”
“Okay, then tell me about these corporate headquarters, which sound imposingly grand. Exactly what sort of corporation is it?”
“A family business going back over ninety years. Costanzo Industrie del Ricorso Internazionali. You might have heard of it.”
She frowned. “I don’t think so.”
“My great-grandfather started it in the early 1920s. After hearing about and reading of the misery and destruction during World War I, particularly of children left orphaned and homeless, he vowed he’d dedicate himself to creating a better, more beautiful world for those who’d been born into poverty. He began small here in Italy, buying abandoned land and creating parks in areas of our cities where before, rat-infested alleys were the only playgrounds.”
“Then you do know of at least one man who kept his word.”
“Sì.”
