An Inheritance of Shame - By Kate Hewitt Page 0,37

love you?’

‘It’s not about my conscience.’

‘What, then?’

The sound of someone pushing a cart came from the corridor, squeaky wheels and a heavy tread. Angelo’s breath released in an impatient hiss. ‘We can’t have this conversation here.’

‘I’m working…’

He opened his mouth and she knew he wanted to order her to stop; it was certainly within his rights as her employer. ‘When do you get off your shift?’ he asked instead, the words coming reluctantly.

‘At six.’

‘Let me pick you up—’

‘And take me back to your villa?’ Lucia finished. She felt herself flush and she knew from the answering heat in Angelo’s gaze that they were both remembering what had happened the last time they’d done that.

‘Then we’ll go somewhere else,’ Angelo said. ‘Out to dinner.’

‘A date?’ she mocked, even though it hurt. ‘Why bother, Angelo? We have nothing more to say to each other.’

‘I have something to say to you.’

She stared at the steely glint in his grey-green eyes, and suddenly she remembered her conversation with Maria earlier in the day. He knows I love him. That’s what matters.

She’d spent so much time and effort pushing Angelo away. What if she stopped? Instead of bearing her love for him like a burden, she’d wear it as a badge.

You’ll only get more hurt.

She’d already experienced so much heartache, and yet she’d survived. She was strong; just as Angelo had said. Tragedy had made her stronger.

Yet strong enough for this? To risk her heart one more time, and this more than ever?

She swallowed, made herself nod. ‘All right, then.’ She turned back to the stacks of sheets. ‘You can meet me at the Borgo Vecchio.’ She wondered if he’d remember the last time they’d gone to one of Palermo’s outdoor markets.

‘The Borgo Vecchio? It’s no more than a street fair.’

She turned back to him, eyebrows raised. ‘Are you too good for a street fair?’

‘No, of course not.’ Annoyance flashed across his features. ‘I just don’t see why.’

Obviously he didn’t remember. It hadn’t been important, at least not important to him. ‘I don’t belong in fancy restaurants,’ she told him. ‘And I won’t be paraded about Palermo as your whore.’

He recoiled. ‘Is that how you see it, Lucia?’

‘It’s how others see it,’ she answered flatly. She saw the surprise in his eyes and knew he hadn’t known, had never realised. Never thought for one moment how her pregnancy and his abandonment would have affected her standing in a tiny place like Caltarione.

God help her, what was she doing? How could she risk this—her heart, her life—with a man who had so little consideration or concern for her?

‘I didn’t realise,’ he said quietly. He pressed his lips together, his gaze averted. ‘I think there are most likely a lot of things I haven’t realised.’

Surprise silenced her. Already he was changing, just a little, but for now she would let it be enough. ‘The market?’ she prompted, and he nodded.

‘I’ll meet you at the Borgo Vecchio, a little after six.’

Lucia nodded back, her heart pounding with both dread and anticipation. Yet in the midst of those turbulent emotions she felt a fragile seed sprout to tremulous, trembling life: hope. She hadn’t felt it in a long time, perhaps ever. And yet with one quiet word from Angelo she began to believe…and finally hope that things might change between them.

Angelo paced the narrow street of the Borgo Vecchio where he’d agreed to meet Lucia. Stalls heaped with lemons and oranges as well as cheap clothing and electronics jostled for space with the many pedestrians thronging the side street. The smell of fried fruit wafted on the hot air, competing with the stink of unwashed humanity and the diesel fumes from the cars and mopeds speeding by.

Why the hell had he agreed to meet Lucia here? He could have had a reservation at one of the city’s best restaurants, champagne chilling in a bucket, caviar and pâté and whatever else they desired immediately on hand. Seated amidst such luxury would have been a much better setting for a seduction.

Yet was that what he intended on doing? Seducing Lucia? No. He was just convincing her of the truth. Making her see the benefits of a loveless affair.

Still he felt uneasy. Unsure. And he didn’t like it. He’d lived his life on clear certainties, hard truths, yet Lucia made him doubt. Wonder. Want.

‘Hello, Angelo.’

He turned and saw her standing before him, her dark hair pulled back in a neat plait, her eyes clear and somehow sad. She’d exchanged her grey maid’s