He put his coat back on. Then, before she realized what he had in mind, he leaned over and scooped her into his arms. She squeaked in surprise, as she had when she was pinched in Balzano. It was a very endearing squeak.
"You really are freezing," he commented as she shivered against him. He arranged her across his lap and settled comfortably against the cliff wall as he began rubbing her back, shoulders, and arms, trying to get her blood moving again. She had a delicious scent of rosewater and oranges.
"This is most improper," she murmured into his lapel.
"Yes, but warmer for both of us. Think of your duty, Miss Walker," he admonished. "You may prefer to solidify into a block of ice yourself, but will you condemn me to the same fate?"
She pulled her head back and gave him a darkling look. "You're teasing me."
He grinned. "Making your blood boil should keep you warm."
Elizabeth knew that she really should not permit this, but she lacked the will to resist. It wasn't just his wonderful physical warmth, which was beginning to thaw her out; it was the intimacy of being in his arms. This was surely the most romantic thing that was ever going to happen to her, and she might as well enjoy it. She nestled closer, savoring the faint aroma of apple-scented tobacco that clung to his coat, but total comfort was prevented by a hard object pressing into her hip. She shifted her position. "II that is your pipe in your left pocket, I may be in danger of breaking it."
"Wrong pocket. I thought that one was empty, actually. Excuse me while I investigate." He removed his arm from around her and dug into the pocket, finally withdrawing an object in triumph. "Here it is."
His whole body stilled. Elizabeth twisted to see what had caught his attention, then sighed with delight. The lapis Solaris figure of the Bambino had seemed crude by daylight, but now darkness transformed it. Cupped in Randolph's palm, the Holy Infant glowed with a soft, magical light, miracle child come to bring hope to the hearts of men.
"I took it out of the presepio set earlier and must have slipped it into.' my pocket by accident," he murmured.
Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. "Not by accident. The Bambino came to remind us that tonight is a special night, the night of His birth. Remember that the Italian climate is similar to that of the Holy Land. It might have been just such a night as this in Bethlehem when the angels visited the shepherds." Quietly she began quoting from the book of Luke, beginning with the words, " 'And it came to pass in those days that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed . . . '" Not for nothing had she been raised in a vicarage; word-perfect, she retold the immortal story.
" 'For behold, I bring you tidings of great joy,' " Randolph repeated softly when she had finished. "Thank you, Elizabeth. You have just delivered the most moving Christmas service I've ever heard."
The only sounds were the crackle of the fire, the occasional distant bleat of a sheep, and the sighing of the wind. When the fire began to die down, Randolph asked, "Are you warm now?"
"Wonderfully so." She did not add that the heat that curled through her body was more than just temperature.
"Then it's time to make some adjustments. I don't suppose either of us will sleep much, but we might as well be as comfortable as possible."
To her regret, he removed her from his lap, so he could tend to the fire. When it was burning steadily again, he positioned the rest of the wood so that it could be easily added, a piece at a time. "If you lie down on your side between me and the fire, you should stay fairly warm, though I'll probably disturb you whenever I add wood to the fire."
She took off her spectacles and put them in the basket, then stretched out as he had suggested, the lap rug tucked around her. Randolph lay down behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close so that they were nestled together like two spoons. The ground was hard and cold and not very comfortable; Randolph was warm and firm and very comfortable indeed. Elizabeth gave a sigh of pleasure and relaxed in his embrace, thinking that this was even better than being on his lap.
"Merry Christmas, Randolph," she whispered. She had never been happier in her life.
RANDOLPH did not precisely sleep, but between bouts of tending the fire he dozed a little. Elizabeth was a delightful armful as she cuddled trustfully against him. Unlike him, she had slept soundly. The fruits of a clear conscience, no doubt.
As the sky began lightening in anticipation of dawn, he carefully lifted himself away and added the next-to-last piece of wood. The air was bitter cold, but fortunately the night had been dry and within an hour or so the temperature should start to rise.
Before he could settle back, Elizabeth stretched and rolled over on her back, then opened her eyes and blinked sleepily at him, her hair curling deliciously around her face. There was something very intimate about seeing her without her spectacles—rather as if she had removed her gown and greeted him in her shift. Thinking improper thoughts, he murmured, "Good morning."
She gave him a smile of shimmering, wondering sweetness, as if this morning were the dawn of the world and she were Eve greeting Adam for the first time.
It seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean forward and give her a gentle kiss. Elizabeth's mouth was soft and welcoming—and sweet, so sweet. He lay down beside her and drew her into his arms, wanting to feel the full length of her slim, supple body against him.
As the kiss deepened, her arms slid around his neck, and her responsiveness triggered a wave of fierce, demanding desire that brought Randolph to his senses. Knowing that if he did not stop soon, it would be impossible to stop at all, he pulled abruptly away from her. His breathing unsteady, he said, "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. You have a most extraordinary effect on me."
She stared at him, her eyes wide and stark. Then she sat up and grabbed her glasses from the basket, donning them hastily as if they were a suit of armor. Under her breath, she said, "The effect seems to be mutual."
Spectacles and propriety once more in place, she said, "Since the fire won't last much longer, shall we toast some of the cheese and spread it on the last of the bread? Hot food would be very welcome."
Randolph did not know whether to feel grateful or insulted that she was ignoring what had been a truly superior kiss. Dangerously superior, in fact; the idea of kissing her again was much more appealing than bread and cheese, and the results of that would warm them both through and through.
With difficulty, he turned his attention to practical considerations. "An excellent idea," he said, "though I think I would trade everything in the basket for a large pot of scalding hot tea."
"That is a cruel thing to say, Lord Randolph." Longing showed in her face. "Strong Italian coffee with hot milk would do equally well. And lots of sugar."
He laughed. "We shouldn't torture ourselves like this. Tomorrow morning we will be able to drink all the tea or coffee we want, and will appreciate it more for today's lack."
The melted cheese and toasted bread turned out to be an inspired
choice for fortifying themselves for the rigors of the day. By the time the fire had flickered down to embers and the sun had risen over the horizon, Randolph felt ready to face the difficult conversation he had known was inevitable. "Elizabeth, there is something we must talk about."
Daintily she licked the last crumbs from her fingers. "Yes, my lord?"
"Since we have spent the night together, I'm afraid that you are now officially ruined," he said baldly. "There is really only one recourse, though I know it is not agreeable to you."
"Nonsense," she retorted. "I'm only ruined if people learn about last night, and probably not even then. I'm not an English girl making her come-out, you know. As a foreign woman of mature years, I exist outside the normal structure of Italian society and won't be judged by the same rules. Therefore I won't be ruined even if what happened becomes generally known." A glint of humor showed behind her spectacles. "Indeed, most Italian women would envy me the experience of being 'ruined' by you."
Ignoring her levit
y, he said, "Do you think the family of the terrible (wins, who want a cold-blooded Englishwoman to govern their hot-blooded daughters, will be so tolerant? Or other potential employers?"
Uncertainty flickered across her face as his words struck home. "There could be problems if last night became generally known," she admitted, "but I still think that is unlikely. I am not really part of the Neapolitan English community. Who would bother to gossip about me?"
"You think that everyone in this part of Campania hasn't already heard that there were two inglesi trapped up here on Christmas Eve? If the story hasn't already reached Naples, it will today." Randolph grimaced. "Unfortunately, I was engaged to dine at the British Embassy last night, and my absence will have been noted. The local gossips know we have been spending time together. How long will it take someone to guess who the marooned inglesi are? Your reputation will be in shreds and you will be unemployable, at least as a governess."
Her face pale, she said, "Shouldn't we wait and see before assuming the worst?"
"Perhaps my anxiety is premature, but I don't think so." His mouth twisted. "I know you don't want to marry me, Elizabeth, but if there is the least hint of scandal, I swear I will drag you off to the nearest Protestant clergyman. Even if you have no concern for your reputation, I'll be damned if I want to be known as a man who refused to do the right thing by you."
Elizabeth was staring at him, her shock palpable. Cursing inwardly for having upset her, Randolph said in a softer voice, "I swear that I won't force you to live with me, or to do anything else you don't want to do. I will settle an income on you and you can live wherever you choose and paint until you lose track of what year it is. But I will not let you be injured by an accident that would never have happened if you had not been acting as my friend and guide."
She swallowed hard. "But how can you marry me? What about your wife?"
"My wife?" he asked, startled. "Where did you get the idea that I was married?"
"When we were at Solfatara," she faltered, "you said that the loneliest place on earth was a bad marriage. You sounded so much as if you were speaking from experience that I was sure you must be married. It' seemed to explain so much about you."
Randolph was silent as he thought back. "You're very perceptive, Elizabeth. I was speaking from personal experience, but my wife died three years ago, after not much more than a year of marriage."
He remembered the day before and frowned. "Good God, did you refuse my offer yesterday because you thought I was setting up to be a bigamist, or lying in order to seduce you?"
She was so surprised that she let go of the lap rug and it slid from her shoulders. "You were asking me to marry you?"
"Of course. What did you think I was doing, offering you a carte blanche?" He said it as a joke, and was appalled to see her nod. "I would never have offered you such an insult, and I think I should be angry that you believed me capable of it."
Her face flamed and she looked down. In a choked whisper, she said, "I didn't feel insulted, I felt flattered. I was just too cowardly to accept."
Seeing the humor in the situation, Randolph began laughing. "I certainly bungled that proposal, didn't I?" He stood and crossed the half-dozen feet to where she sat regarding him uncertainly. Going down on one knee, he caught her hands between his. "I will try again and see if I can get this right. Elizabeth, will you marry me? Not to save anyone's reputation, but a real marriage, because we want to be together?"
Her cold hands clenched convulsively on his. Behind her spectacles, her eyes were huge and transparent as silent tears began welling up. "Randolph, I can't."
She tried to pull away, but he kept a firm grip on her hands. Yesterday he had accepted rejection too quickly, and that was not a mistake he would make again. "Why not? Is it that you can't abide the thought of having me for a husband?"
"I can think of nothing I would like more."
He smiled; they were making progress. Patiently he asked, "Do you have a husband somewhere so you aren't free to marry?"
"Of course not!"
"Then, why won't you say yes? I warn you, I will not let you go until you either accept me or offer a good reason for refusing."
She turned her head away, her face scarlet with mortification. "Because . . . because I could not come to you as a bride should."
He thought about that for a minute. "Could you be more specific? I want to be sure I understand."
"Before William went into the army"—her breath was coming in ragged gulps, and she could not meet his eyes—"we . . . we gave ourselves to each other."
"I see." Profound tenderness welled up inside him, and another emotion too unfamiliar to name. Releasing Elizabeth's hands, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close so that her head was tucked under his chin. She was trembling. Gently he stroked her unruly curls, trying to soothe away the unhappiness he had caused. "Because you gave yourself in love to the man you were going to marry, you think that you are unfit to be a wife? Quite the contrary. I can think of no better qualification for marriage. Will you marry me, Elizabeth? Please?"
She pulled back and stared at him. Her glasses had steamed from her tears and she took them off so she could study his face better. "Do you really mean that, Randolph? Or would you have second thoughts later and feel cheated?"
"Yes, I mean it." He stood and drifted over to the steps of the shrine, searching for the best way to explain his feelings so that in the future she would never doubt him. "As you guessed, my marriage was not a happy one," he said haltingly. "I wasn't really in love with Chloe, but I had given up hope that Alyson would ever return and I wanted to marry. Chloe was well-bred and very beautiful, and she made it clear that she would welcome an offer from me. Everyone said what a 'good match' it was. She was very proper and reserved, but I thought that was just shyness, which would quickly pass once we were married.
"I was wrong." He turned to face Elizabeth, who stood a half-dozen feet away in grave silence. "I had thought her desire for matrimony meant that she cared for me, but soon I realized that though Chloe wanted the status of wife, she did not want a husband. Perhaps it was me in particular that she couldn't bear, but I don't think so."
He looked away, swallowing hard, thinking that it was simple justice that he must speak of something that was as painful for him as Elizabeth's confession had been for her. "She did not like to be touched, ever. Nor did she ever touch me, except in public sometimes she would take my arm, to show other women that I belonged to her.
"I don't mean just that she disliked marital relations, though she did. As soon as she had done her duty and conceived, she told me not to come near her again. Being denied her bed did not bother me half so much as her total lack of interest in giving or receiving any kind of affection. Perhaps the need for warmth and affection is deeper than physical desire. Even when she was dying, she would no7t take my hand. There was nothing she ever wanted from me except my name and fortune."
He caught Elizabeth's gaze. "Do you understand now why I welcome the knowledge that you are a warm and caring woman? If you could give me even half as much warmth as you had for William, I would think myself the luckiest man alive."
"Unfortunate Chloe, to be unable to accept any love or affection," Elizabeth said with deep compassion. In a few swift steps she closed the distance between them and flowed into his arms. "And unfortunate Randolph, to have so much to give and no one to value the gift or the giver."
Her embrace was more than passionate, it was loving. And as he crushed her to him, Randolph identified the emotion that had been growing inside him. "I was wrong," he said softly. "There are second chances. I thought I wanted to marry you for companionship, but my heart must have known before my head did. I love you, Elizabeth. I came to Italy for sunshine, and I found it when I met you, for your smile lights up the world."
"Truly?" She tilted her head back. "You hardly know me."
"Wrong." He rubbed his cheek against Elizabeth's curly hair. She was a very convenient heig
ht. "We may not have known each other long, but I know you better than I knew Alyson, and infinitely better than I knew Chloe." He gave her a teasing smile. "Is it safe to interpret your shameless behavior as a willingness to wed?"
"It is. You were quite right, Randolph, I am ruined, so hopelessly, madly, passionately in love with you that I shall be good for nothing unless you marry me." Elizabeth gave him the heart-deep smile that made her incomparably lovely. "Just as Lady Alyson is your past, William is mine. I loved him and part of my heart died when he did, but the woman I am now, plain middle-aged spinster that I am, is yours, body, heart, and soul. Will that do?"
"You are going to have to stop talking such nonsense about how plain and middle-aged you are. Just how old are you?"
"Thirty."
"A wonderful age. Thirty-one will be better, and fifty better yet."
Randolph kissed her with rich deliberation, working his way from her lips to a sensitive spot below her ear. She gasped, thinking her knees had turned to butter.
He murmured, "Do you think I would want you this much if I thought you were plain?"
Elizabeth was twined around him so closely that she had no doubts about just how much he did want her. "I think that you need spectacles more than I do," she said breathlessly, "but since beauty is in the eye of the beholder, your opinion is inarguable."
"Good. I can think of much better things to do than argue." Randolph was about to start kissing her again when a shout sounded from the direction of the path.
Elizabeth called out an answer. After a lengthy exchange, she reported, "Vanni says they will have us out within two hours, so we can be in Naples for Christmas dinner."
"Tell them not to rush," Randolph murmured. His slate-blue eyes warm with love and mischief, he removed her spectacles and tucked them in his pocket. "We don't want your glasses to steam up while we wait, do we?"
Her heart expanding with joy, Elizabeth lifted her face to his, and as the Christmas sun rose in the sky, they celebrated the season of hope. Together.