A Night In His Arms. Annie West

Domenico was just as quick, his expression concerned as he broke his own unspoken rule and encircled her wrist with long fingers.

      Instantly Lucy stilled, willing her pulse to slow.

      ‘What is it, Lucy?’

      ‘Nothing. I just wanted to move.’

      Grey eyes searched her face and she held her breath, praying he couldn’t read her thoughts. She could barely understand them herself. Amazing as it seemed, she cared for Domenico in a way that made the idea of leaving him send panic spurting through her.

      ‘Liar.’ To her addled brain the whisper sounded like a caress.

      The stroke of his thumb against her wrist was a caress. She clamped her hand on his to stop it, looking down to see his dark golden fingers cradle her paler ones.

      They held each other, fingers meshing. Strength throbbed through her. How could she give this up?

      Because she must.

      ‘You promised—’

      ‘I promised not to revisit the past.’ His breath was warm on her cheek. ‘But this isn’t about the past, is it, Lucy? This is about the present. Here. Now.’

      Unable to stop herself, she turned her head and met his eyes. Molten heat poured through her as their gazes locked. The world receded, blocked out by the knowledge she read there, the awareness.

      ‘I can’t—’ Words clogged in her throat.

      ‘It’s all right, Lucy. You don’t have to do anything.’

      ‘Domi? Lucy? What’s wrong?’

      Domenico looked down at Chiara and Lucy felt the sudden release of tension as if a band had snapped undone around her chest. She breathed deep, trying to find equilibrium. But Domenico still held her, his touch firm and possessive. A thrill of secret pleasure rippled through her.

      ‘Everything’s fine, little one. I’ve got a surprise for you both.’

      * * *

      The surprise was a trip to the mainland, to a town that climbed steep hills in a fantasy of pastel-washed houses. Lucy wished she had a camera. Everywhere she turned were amazing vistas and intriguing corners.

      ‘Come on, you’re so slow.’ Chiara tugged her hand.

      ‘I’ve never seen any place like this.’ Lucy lifted her gaze past a tree heavy with huge golden lemons to the view of green hilltops above the town. ‘It’s beautiful.’

      The little girl tilted her head. ‘Isn’t it pretty where you come from?’

      Instantly Lucy had a vision of grey concrete and metal, of bare floors and inmates scarred by life. It seemed like a dream as she stood here in the mellow afternoon sunlight.

      ‘Yes, it is pretty.’ She thought of the village where she’d grown up. ‘The bluebells grow so thick in spring it’s like a carpet in the forest. Our house had roses around the door and the biggest swing you ever saw underneath a huge old tree in the garden.’

      Summers had seemed endless then. Like this one. Except it had to end.

      She’d have to forget trying to find a bookkeeping job. Instead she’d look for casual waitressing when she got to England. Something that didn’t require character references.

      ‘Come on.’ Chiara tugged her hand again. ‘Domi said we can have a gelato in the square.’

      Lucy let herself be led back towards the centre of town. Domenico would have finished his errand for Chiara’s nonna. He’d be waiting. Her heart gave a little jump that reminded her forcibly that it was time to leave for England.

      Yet her smile lingered. For this afternoon she’d live in the moment. Surely she could afford to store up memories of one perfect afternoon before she faced the bleak future?

      They were passing some shops, Chiara hopping on one leg then the other, when a shout yanked Lucy’s head around.

      ‘Look! It’s her!’

      A thin woman on the other side of the narrow street pointed straight at Lucy and Chiara.

      ‘I told you it was her when they walked up the hill, but you didn’t believe me. So I went in and got this. See?’ She waved a magazine, drawing the attention not only of the man beside her, but of passers-by.

      Lucy’s heart sank. She took Chiara’s hand. ‘Come on, sweetie.’

      But the woman moved faster, her voice rising.

      ‘It’s her I tell you. She’s a killer. What’s she doing with that girl? Someone should call the police.’

      Nausea roiled in Lucy’s belly as she forced herself to walk steadily, not break into a sprint. That would only frighten Chiara. Besides, fleeing would only incite the crowd. She remembered how a mob of inmates reacted when they sensed fear in a newcomer.

      Skin prickling from the heat of so many avid stares, she tugged Chiara a little faster. Around them were murmurs from a gathering crowd.

      The woman with the magazine came close but not close enough to stop their progress. But the malevolent curiosity on her sharp features spelled trouble. For a moment Lucy was tempted to snarl a threat to make her shrink back.

      But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bear to regress to that hunted woman she’d been, half-savage with the need to escape, ready to lash out at anyone in her way.

      It had only been a few weeks since her release but they’d altered her. She’d lost the dangerous edge that had been her protection in prison. Besides, what sort of example would that set? She squeezed Chiara’s hand and kept walking.

      ‘Why doesn’t someone stop her?’ the woman shrieked. ‘She’s a murderer. She shouldn’t be allowed near an innocent child.’

      Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw the picture in the magazine she waved like a banner. It was a close-up of Lucy getting into Domenico’s limousine. The headline in blood-red said, ‘Where Is Sandro’s Killer Now?’.

      Her heart leapt against her ribcage as fear battered her. The nightmare would never end, would it? Now Chiara was caught in it. She felt the child flinch as the woman screeched. Anger fired deep inside.

      She stopped and turned, tugging Chiara protectively behind her.

      The woman shrank back apace. ‘Don’t let her hurt me! Help!’ Instantly others surged forward, curious.

      ‘Signora—’ Lucy dredged up a polite tone ‘—please don’t shout. Can’t you see you’re frightening my friend? It would be much better for everyone if you didn’t.’

      The woman gawped, opening then closing her mouth. Then she hissed, ‘Listen! She’s threatening me.’

      ‘Lucy?’ Chiara’s voice was unsteady, her eyes huge as Lucy turned to reassure her, stroking her hair and plastering what she hoped was a confident smile on her face. But inside she trembled. This was turning ugly.

      ‘Grab her, someone. Can’t you see she shouldn’t be with that child?’

      There was a murmur from the crowd and Lucy sensed movement towards her. She spun around to confront a sea of faces. Her stomach dived but she drew herself up straight.

      ‘Touch me or my friend and you’ll answer to the police.’ She kept her tone calm by sheer willpower, her gaze scanning back and forth across the gathering.

      * * *

      The words were loud even over the mutterings of the crowd. And enough to hold them back...for now.

      Domenico took in the defiant tilt of Lucy’s head and her wide-planted feet, as if she stood ready to fight off an attack. But she couldn’t fend them off. Her hands were behind her back, holding Chiara’s.

      She looked like a lioness defending her young.