Italian Invader Read online

  Her whole body felt alive, though, when Max ma­noeuvred himself round and placed an arm about her shoulder and they set off.

  Their progress to the cable car station was slow. Max insisted on carrying his skis, and even though Elyn knew that he was in pain, because of his mammoth pride, she had to let him.

  'Not much further now,' she remarked encouragingly as they went slowly downwards and began to mingle with the masses enjoying a Saturday afternoon of sport. Really, she fretted, as with Max's arm about her they made for the cable car, he might be hurting like hell, but apart from the barest traces of a limp—his right foot, she rather thought—anyone would be hard put to it to spot that he had injured himself.

  Stubborn, brave, proud darling, she thought tenderly when, having at last made it to the first cable car, they stood close waiting for it to start off. She looked up at him, wanting to check that he was all right—and found that he was looking straight down into her eyes.

  'You didn't hurt yourself?' he enquired urgently, and Elyn could only love him the more. She guessed then that her eyes must have been moist from the sensitivity of her feelings, but the fact that he could forget his own pain and sound so concerned about her made her want to weep.

  She didn't weep, of course—she had pride too. Pride that he should never guess just what, with a few en­quiring kind words, he could do to her. 'Not in the slightest!' she assured him brightly—and received a grunt for an answer.

  Then the cable car started up and, save for his arm, still round her shoulders, holding her more firmly—sup­porting her this time, holding her steady when the cable car jumped a little as they passed over a pylon—there was no more communication between them, even when they exchanged one cable car for another.

  They reached the bottom and had left the cable car and were walking through the covered entrance when Elyn spotted a wide window ledge. 'If you'd like to sit there,' she suggested, indicating the low ledge, 'I'll go and see about getting you a taxi.'

  Her mind was racing on to wonder if she would get her head bitten off if she dared to further suggest to this proud man that he have that right foot checked over at a hospital when, ignoring her first suggestion, he in­formed her coolly, 'My car's outside,' and with his arm still about her shoulders he propelled her forward and out to the car parking area.

  Elyn saw the Ferrari almost straight away, albeit it now had a ski-rack fitted to it. But as they went over to it she began to get more and more anxious about Max. For, away from other eyes, his limp seemed to her to become more pronounced.

  'Do you—er—think that maybe a—doctor should take a look at you?' she enquired when at his car he racked his skis, then opened up the boot.

  'No,' he clipped, 'I don't.'

  Count ten, Elyn, she told herself when his tone and his manner started to niggle her. He's in pain, she re­minded herself—and felt dreadful for having even felt a moment's crossness with him.

  'Here,' he rapped, and limping round to the driver's door, he unlocked it and instructed, 'Sit there.'

  At that point Elyn experienced a decided aversion to being bossed about by him. But she bit it down. 'Very well,' she replied calmly, and in the circumstances, rather than give him more hassle, she sat sideways in the driver's seat, her feet on the outside of the car, ready to assist him in when needed.

  She had presumed he had opened the boot ready to exchange his ski footwear for some ordinary shoes, but discovered that she was wrong on two counts, because it seemed he had decided to change later. For all at once he closed the boot and, apparently not needing her as­sistance, limped round to the passenger's side of the car, got in—and closed the door!

  Elyn slewed round in her seat, giving him a surprised look. But as she stared at him, wondering what they did now, to her utter amazement, not to say horror, Max did no more than stretch out a hand and made to pass the car keys over to her. And, while she was still staring at him trying to deny the messages her brain was trying to tell her, 'Shut your door—and drive,' he instructed.

  'Drivel' she echoed, not believing it for a moment. A Ferrari, for heaven's sake! He'd got to be joking!

  He didn't look as if he was joking though. 'Drive!' he barked.

  Damn you, she fumed, and didn't care a button how much he hurt then as her pride spiralled upwards. She was not feeling at all well disposed towards him as she snatched the keys from him, rammed them in the ig­nition and sat for a few moments studying the controls.

  Then, praying that he wouldn't answer 'Home' which she knew to be somewhere between Bergamo airport and Verona, she asked, 'Where to?' through clenched teeth.

  'I've borrowed a friend's chalet for the weekend; it's uphill on the outskirts of Cavalese,' he told her. 'I'll give you directions as we go.'

  Elyn didn't wait for anything else but, grabbing at courage while she was still angry enough not to care, she turned the key in the ignition—and found the Ferrari was a much easier car to drive than her own car had been.

  It was not a very long drive, however, and inside ten minutes she was pulling up outside the single-storeyed chalet. 'Hang on, I'll come round and give you a hand,' she said as she cut the engine and left the driver's seat.

  Max already had the passenger door open by the time she got there, but he seemed glad of her shoulder to lean on as she helped him up the drive, up the steps and on to the half-closed-in timbered veranda of the building.

  'I'll take my boots off here,' he declared, and lowered his length on to a bench and first of all took off his left boot. Elyn was hovering anxiously near him and took the boot from him. Heavens, it weighed a ton! How on earth did they manage to walk in them, much less ski?

  'Gently,' she instructed, wanting to wince for him when she saw him gingerly at work with his right boot. 'Let me…' she offered quickly, putting down the boot she held. But then she recalled how on the mountain he had told her she had done more than enough, and held back.

  Suddenly, though, she was unable to bear to watch, and looked over the veranda to concentrate her at­tention on his black Ferrari. Had she really driven that fiery monster?

  The 'clonk' of his right boot hitting the wood floor caused her to glance swiftly back at him, her eyes going at once to his sock-clad foot. 'It—doesn't look too swollen,' she commented thoughtfully, although, since he'd probably got several pairs of thick socks on to keep out the cold, it was in truth difficult to tell.

  'Should I apologise?' he snarled sarcastically, and Elyn had to wonder at this love business. For while it hurt her that he was hurt, at the same time she felt she could have cheerfully have boxed his ears for his sarcasm. Stormy green eyes looked into his unrepentant dark ones, then, just when she was starting to admit that in all honesty it was her fault that he was in pain—and like a bear with a sore head because of it—he got to his feet, extracted a key from a pocket in his ski-jacket and, opening the door to the chalet, ordered, 'Go and make some coffee.'

  'I'll bet they loved you at charm school!' she snapped, and marched into the chalet, hardly crediting that the bark of sound behind her had sounded suspiciously like a bark of laughter. She didn't want to amuse the sar­castic swine—to throttle him would have suited her better!

  She walked straight into a sitting-room that was pleasantly furnished with several luxurious rugs over a polished wood floor. There were several doors leading off the sitting-room, but one of them was open and she saw at once that it was a kitchen. She made for it.

  The percolator was set to boil when she heard sounds of Max making his way across the sitting-room. Immediately she felt guilty. She should have been there to help him, to let him lean on her.

  A door closed somewhere and she knew he had made it to wherever it was without her help. Soon afterwards she heard the sound of running water and realised that, after his skiing exertions, he must be taking a shower. How he was managing to do that when he could barely stand upright without overbalancing was a mystery to her, but knowing a little of the man, she had an idea that i
f he was decided on something then that would be that. Nothing would stop him.

  The coffee had been ready some while when Elyn began to wonder if he'd had his lunch yet. She had a look in the fridge and, espying some bread and cheese, took it out. Then she took off her jacket and got to work. She had just finished making him some cheese sandwiches when she heard him limp into the kitchen behind her. She turned round.

  He had showered, she saw from his still damp hair, and was now dressed in casual trousers, a shirt and a fine sweater; his feet were bare of shoes and were clad in woollen socks.

  'How's the foot?' she asked evenly.

  'Strapped up!'

  'Good. Where are you having your coffee?'

  His answer was to take a chair at the kitchen table. Elyn placed a plate of cheese sandwiches and a cup of coffee in front of him. 'Where's yours?' he asked.

  'I had something to eat on the mountain,' she told him.

  'Coffee?' he queried, and because it seemed churlish not to, she poured herself a cup. When she turned round again, she could see that he had moved a chair out from the table for her. She took her coffee over and went and sat down.

  'I didn't know you were coming here this weekend,' she murmured conversationally.

  'Had I known that you were, Elyn believe me, I'd have thought twice about it!' he retorted, and suddenly it was her turn to be amused—she couldn't help it. At the barely concealed hint that had he known that out of all the resorts she'd chosen Cavalese and that he'd find her standing there on the ski-run as he came down full pelt, he'd have avoided the place like the plague, her mouth started to curve upwards.

  She saw his glance go to her mouth, but suddenly then, as her heartbeats became laboured, her defence mech­anism was activated, and she knew she had to guard against him seeing that he could make a nonsense out of her.

  'I was coming here with a friend, but he couldn't make it—he had to work,' she added quickly, just in case Max thought that her friend had gone off the idea. 'Anyhow, as the room reservations were made, he suggested I had a lift with his sister, who was coming this way, and…'

  'So you're here all alone?' he cut in—and Elyn in­wardly groaned. Heaven help her, she must be boring him to tears!

  'Yes,' she agreed. 'And you?' she enquired, waving a hand generally about the chalet. 'Are you here on your own?'

  He nodded. 'I had this odd notion that I'd like to commune with the elements this weekend.'

  Elyn was immediately immensely heartened that there was no madly attractive female on his agenda that weekend, and almost apologised again for being the cause of his accident and spoiling his communion with nature. But, having already thought she must be boring him out of his skull, she thought for a moment, and then, remembering that the Ferrari had been far easier to drive than she had anticipated, she offered, 'I'll drive you back to wherever it is you live, if you like.'

  Max was shaking his head long before she finished. 'I'm going nowhere but here until Monday,' he stated determinedly, but relented to enlighten her, 'Because of the hell of a week I've got planned for next week, I've come away this weekend with the express purpose of clearing my brain.'

  'You're in Rome next week,' Elyn recalled, and, her sensitivity on the march again, she realised that were he back in his home and laid up with an injured foot, there was every likelihood that he would find some work to do.

  'You've remembered,' he commented, and while she thought it unlikely she would forget a word he had ever said to her, she also thought he seemed pleased that she'd remembered that snippet from the time they had shared a meal together.

  'Of course,' she said matter-of-factly, but became in­wardly agitated in case he recalled how, after that meal, he had taken her home and how, unresisting, she had gone into his arms. 'So you're here until Monday, and I'm returning to Verona on Sunday afternoon,' she added hurriedly, more from a need to say something to get her mind, and his, off such memories than for any other reason.

  'How are you getting back?' he enquired mildly.

  Elyn gave an inward sigh of relief to feel in safer waters. 'Diletta Agosta, Tino's sister, is picking me up on her way back from visiting her fiancé's family,' she told him, realising only then that she had as good as told him who the friend was she had been coming away with. Not that Max looked devastated by that snippet—she should be so lucky! 'But if you're insisting on staying here, how will you get back?' she asked. If he was taking off from Verona or Bergamo airport for Rome on Monday, he'd still need to somehow get from Cavalese to his own home.

  Max shrugged. 'I'll worry about that on Monday,' he drawled, and after a moment or two of looking at her thoughtfully, promptly proceeded to completely as­tound her, by adding matter-of-factly, 'In the meantime, you can leave your hotel and move in here to look after me.'

  'M-move in here?' she exclaimed, staring at him thun­derstruck, her heartbeat racing at just that very thought. 'I'm not doing anything of the kind!' she denied her emotions to tell him forthrightly.

  'You don't think you owe me something?'

  'Not that much!' she retorted.

  'Even though it's your fault that I can't look after myself?' he challenged, the truth of that weakening her.

  'I—er…' she mumbled, the weakness of wanting to do nothing better than stay with him, and to look after him joining in the general melee of her emotions. 'So,' she found herself agreeing, 'I'll look after you today. But I'll go back to my hotel tonight and come up again in the morning to see if there's anything you need.'

  'You're too good to me!' he grunted, and while her heart went out to him, he got up and limped from the kitchen.

  Elyn stayed in the kitchen for some while after he had gone. She loved him so much, and the gods were really smiling on her—indeed, must have been working overtime to arrange it—this time alone with him. And yet she felt too shy to move.

  She rinsed through the china they had used, then set about generally tidying up the kitchen. She could hear Max moving about in the sitting room, so she knew he hadn't gone to rest his foot up on his bed as she had thought he might.

  Once more she investigated the fridge. By the look of it, Max had been intending to have most of his meals out, she concluded. She investigated the cupboards. Macaroni cheese and oven-baked chips from the freezer compartment of the fridge might not do a lot for his gourmet soul, but that was what his stomach was getting for supper!

  She checked her watch and was surprised to see that it was gone four o'clock. She was then taken by an over­whelming urge to see him, and left the safety of the kitchen to go to the sitting-room. Max had put a light to a most appealing log fire, she observed, and was now taking his ease on a wooden-armed settee.

  'Fancy a cup of tea?' she enquired as he looked over at her, just the sight of him making her heart turn over. She slid her glance from him and to where he had switched on a small table lamp.

  'Only if you'll join me,' he accepted pleasantly, and as she glanced back at him Elyn met his gaze full on.

  'Right,' she murmured, and got out of there to make it to the kitchen with a fast-beating heart.

  'So, tell me about Elyn Talbot,' Max suggested when ten minutes later they sat sharing a pot of tea.

  'There's nothing to tell,' she smiled, and, looking from him to his bootless feet, 'Do you mind if I take my boots off too? It's warming up in here.'

  'Would you like me to find you a pair of socks?' he enquired.

  'Certainly not!' she teased with mock-hauteur. 'I've got my own socks, thank you very much.'

  She loved it when he grinned, and swiftly bent down to undo her boots lest he should see from the expression on her face how just to have him good-humoured with her played ducks and drakes with her heart.

  'So,' he tried again, 'tell me where Elyn Talbot learned to make such fantastic cheese sandwiches?'

  'Oh, Max!' she giggled, and, at the warm look of friendship in his eyes, brought herself up short—this was wonderful, too wonderful; there'd be tears before bedt
ime. 'At my mother's knee,' she told him soberly, and, feeling all over the place inside, she got to her feet. 'May I investigate the plumbing?' she enquired brightly.

  By seven o'clock that evening she knew what lay behind each of the doors in the chalet. At Max's invi­tation to, 'Take a look round,' she had discovered, by mistakenly opening the bedroom door first, that it was one-bedroomed accommodation, with the most modern of bathrooms being the next-door room. By seven o'clock that evening too she and Max, their talk imper­sonal, had discussed many things. From the glass that was used in making a mosaic they had moved on to the hard crystalline rock that was used for the sculpture work at Zappelli Internazionale. And from there, admittedly in answer to her many questions, Max had told her a little about Verona, situated as it was at the junction of major routes, and about the many Roman remains to be found there.

  She was an avid listener, but when Max again brought the subject around to her with, 'That's enough about my country—tell me, have you always lived in Bovington?' she grew afraid of revealing too much about herself, of perhaps revealing something of her caring— for him—and she could not help but shy away from his questioning.

  'If I'm going to get you something to eat for your supper before I return to my hotel, I'd better get a move on,' she declared suddenly, and leapt to her feet.

  'Elyn!' Max's stern tone stopped her mid-flight. She paused, and shot him a worried glance.

  'Yes?' she asked, and knew she had given away the agitated mess she was inside.

  Strangely, though, Max did not—to her great relief—refer to it, but, after several long moments of just looking very solemnly at her, all at once a reassuring half-smile came to his expression. 'I think you should know that I shall refuse to eat a crumb of anything more today— unless you share it with me.'