under the blue sea surface. Before she could answer, a party of tourists appeared in the courtyard far below them, their laughter echoing off the old walls. Their prosaic reality seemed to pierce the quiet, tense web around her and the Duke, tearing their isolation.
She moved away from him, pressing her back to the wall.
‘I beg you, Clio, do not try to make out my character,’ he muttered. ‘I could not bear for you, of all people, to discover the truth of what I hide there.’
‘Discover what?’ Clio asked, her throat dry. She felt as if she were teetering on a crumbling precipice, staring down at the rocky shoals of truth. One sharp push would send her tumbling down and down, falling into that whirlpool that was him . She was surely closer to discovering the essence of him than ever. Yet did she really, truly want that?
Maybe she was one of those eccentric souls who were drawn to the mysteries of the dangerous sea.
‘I am many things, Edward, but coward is not one of them,’ she said. ‘I am not afraid of you, even if your soul is as fearsomely black as this castle’s dungeon. There must be a reasonwe keep meeting. Why our lives keep colliding. Perhaps I am meant to discover it now.’
He studied her for a moment, the air tense between them as the visitors’ voices grew closer, louder. Finally, he nodded. ‘I know very well you are no coward, Clio. But consider that you are warned. I am no fit company for a young lady.’
‘Perhaps you are not. But Muses are contrary beings, are they not? Seldom sensible, and never wanting what is good for them. And I have told you before, I can’t bear a mystery.’
‘So, I am like one of your antiquary sites, am I?’ he said, a thread of shimmering amusement in his voice. ‘Just like your farmhouse.’
‘Oh, no. You are beyond my poor excavation skills.’
He did not answer, but he held out his hand to her as they turned back towards the stairs. She took it, letting him lead her down the steep, dim tower as if he led her into the puzzles and perils of Hades itself.
Something had changed between them there on that windswept tower; she felt the crack and shift of it deep in her heart. What that change could be—if it would destroy her in the end, keep her as captive as poor Persephone—she did not know. But she realised there was no turning back now.
Edward followed Clio as she led him back down the winding path to the valley where her family waited. Here, in the shadow cast by the castle, the wind ceased its cold moan, sunlight lay in warm, golden ribbons on the dusty earth. Here the world was solid again, they were firmly linked to the elements of growing, living things, of the present and future. Yet the silence was just as profound, just as rich, as it was high up in their fairy-tale tower.
Clio’s tall figure moved lightly through the glow of the sun,her skirts catching on the scrubby clusters of lavender and goldenrod. The wind had loosened her hair, long auburn tendrils that escaped their pins and lay against her long neck like silk. She carelessly brushed them back, leaving one dusty smudge on her cheekbone. She did not even seem to notice; her gaze, shielded behind her restored spectacles, was far away, full of inward thought. She didn’t even seem to notice his close regard.
But that yearning, that burning desire he felt for her, became ever larger, a palpable, pulsating thing that overcame all else when she was near, when they were together. The touch and taste of her were intoxicating, all-drowning, far more than the alcohol he had craved when he had been young and wild. Clio wrapped around all his senses until she was all he knew, all he wanted. He forgot everything else, and that was dangerous. He needed to be alert here in Sicily, at all times.
She glanced back at him as they made their slow progress down the narrow hillside, her expression serious. ‘I have heard many tales of this island since we came here,’ she said.
‘Magical
She moved away from him, pressing her back to the wall.
‘I beg you, Clio, do not try to make out my character,’ he muttered. ‘I could not bear for you, of all people, to discover the truth of what I hide there.’
‘Discover what?’ Clio asked, her throat dry. She felt as if she were teetering on a crumbling precipice, staring down at the rocky shoals of truth. One sharp push would send her tumbling down and down, falling into that whirlpool that was him . She was surely closer to discovering the essence of him than ever. Yet did she really, truly want that?
Maybe she was one of those eccentric souls who were drawn to the mysteries of the dangerous sea.
‘I am many things, Edward, but coward is not one of them,’ she said. ‘I am not afraid of you, even if your soul is as fearsomely black as this castle’s dungeon. There must be a reasonwe keep meeting. Why our lives keep colliding. Perhaps I am meant to discover it now.’
He studied her for a moment, the air tense between them as the visitors’ voices grew closer, louder. Finally, he nodded. ‘I know very well you are no coward, Clio. But consider that you are warned. I am no fit company for a young lady.’
‘Perhaps you are not. But Muses are contrary beings, are they not? Seldom sensible, and never wanting what is good for them. And I have told you before, I can’t bear a mystery.’
‘So, I am like one of your antiquary sites, am I?’ he said, a thread of shimmering amusement in his voice. ‘Just like your farmhouse.’
‘Oh, no. You are beyond my poor excavation skills.’
He did not answer, but he held out his hand to her as they turned back towards the stairs. She took it, letting him lead her down the steep, dim tower as if he led her into the puzzles and perils of Hades itself.
Something had changed between them there on that windswept tower; she felt the crack and shift of it deep in her heart. What that change could be—if it would destroy her in the end, keep her as captive as poor Persephone—she did not know. But she realised there was no turning back now.
Edward followed Clio as she led him back down the winding path to the valley where her family waited. Here, in the shadow cast by the castle, the wind ceased its cold moan, sunlight lay in warm, golden ribbons on the dusty earth. Here the world was solid again, they were firmly linked to the elements of growing, living things, of the present and future. Yet the silence was just as profound, just as rich, as it was high up in their fairy-tale tower.
Clio’s tall figure moved lightly through the glow of the sun,her skirts catching on the scrubby clusters of lavender and goldenrod. The wind had loosened her hair, long auburn tendrils that escaped their pins and lay against her long neck like silk. She carelessly brushed them back, leaving one dusty smudge on her cheekbone. She did not even seem to notice; her gaze, shielded behind her restored spectacles, was far away, full of inward thought. She didn’t even seem to notice his close regard.
But that yearning, that burning desire he felt for her, became ever larger, a palpable, pulsating thing that overcame all else when she was near, when they were together. The touch and taste of her were intoxicating, all-drowning, far more than the alcohol he had craved when he had been young and wild. Clio wrapped around all his senses until she was all he knew, all he wanted. He forgot everything else, and that was dangerous. He needed to be alert here in Sicily, at all times.
She glanced back at him as they made their slow progress down the narrow hillside, her expression serious. ‘I have heard many tales of this island since we came here,’ she said.
‘Magical
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