‘They’re all my homes.’
She frowned. ‘I don’t think it works like that.’
His laugh was gruff and he stopped walking, pulling her into his arms and kissing her as though he simply couldn’t help himself. ‘Why not?’
But the kiss robbed her of breath and the ability to think, momentarily, so she had to concentrate to get her brain back into gear.
‘Well, a home’s a home. I think by its very definition it has to be where you spend the lion’s share of your time. It’s where you feel most comfortable, the place you crave when you want to just exist.’
Something flitted in the depths of his eyes, but then he kissed her once more and turned away, taking her hand in his and continuing their walk. ‘Where’s your home, then?’
‘Almer Hall,’ she responded without missing a beat. And because she knew and understood him on a soul-deep level, she sensed the tension that tightened his body even when she didn’t comprehend the reason for
it.
‘You spend a lot of time there?’
‘No.’ Her smile was wistful. ‘I have to live in London, but I go back to Almer Hall when I can...’ She bit down on her lip, aware she’d been about to say more than she wanted.
‘But?’ he prompted, his voice gravelly.
She looked up at him and something in the region of her heart panged. The sun was low behind his head, the sky a stunning shade of pink with streaks of purple cutting through from the horizon, but nothing was as breath-taking as Cesare Durante, and the full force of attention he was giving Jemima.
‘It makes me sad too.’ She shifted her head so she was looking straight ahead. It was easier to speak without looking directly at Cesare.
‘Why should you feel sad?’
‘That’s a long story.’ She tried to imbue her voice with light-heartedness and failed.
‘And you don’t want to tell it?’
She never really spoke about Cameron—not to anyone other than Laurence, anyway. It was hard. So hard to think of what they’d lost, of the life he should have been living. And yet, in that moment, on this secluded island, she did want to talk about him. To remember him and mourn him openly.
‘I had a brother,’ she said slowly, the words dragging across her heart.
Cesare didn’t speak, and she was glad. She needed a moment to rally her thoughts and find her way to the words. ‘Cameron. He was seven years older than me, so I grew up worshipping him, and he treated me like a pet.’ Her smile was laced with that particular brand of happiness that reflected loss and remorse.
‘He was kind to me and liked to make me laugh. I adored him, and for my parents...well...he was the second coming. The heir to the title, to Almer Hall, the first-born son of the first-born son of a first-born son.’ She shook her head. ‘You get the picture.’
‘Yes.’ The word was tight, forced from his lips.
‘He died.’ Tears filled her eyes; she didn’t bother to push them away. ‘I was six, and I didn’t understand. One day he was there, and then he wasn’t, and no one talked about it. My parents didn’t know how to cope. They buried him without a funeral—it was just them and a priest at the family crypt. It was like he’d never existed. I couldn’t understand it. It took me a long time to come to grips with what had happened.’
When she shifted her gaze to Cesare, he was watching her intently.
‘He committed suicide. He was thirteen years old and he decided to end his life.’ The words were raw, cut to shreds by the knives in her throat. ‘He didn’t leave a note or anything, but I caught up with some of his friends a long time afterwards. He was gay,’ she said thickly. ‘And he had no idea how my parents would react. He struggled for a long time, apparently, and just couldn’t see a way past it.’
She swept her eyes shut and saw Cameron’s beautiful, happy face. ‘He was still a kid. Problems seem a lot bigger when you’re young, and there was a lot of pressure on him. He grew up hearing about his legacy, his responsibility, the future of our family.’ Jemima couldn’t keep the disapproval from her voice. ‘Such stupid notions in this day and age.’
Cesare stopped walking and Jemima did likewise, but she kept her face trained on the rocks in the distance.
‘I wish I’d been older. I wish he’d trusted me enough to talk to me. I wish he’d known what an enormous hole he’d leave behind. I wish he knew how much I needed him, how much our parents loved him.’
Tears fell unchecked down her cheeks now.
‘I’m sorry,’ Cesare muttered, and because the words didn’t seem sufficient, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight to his body, his chin resting on top of her head. She stayed there, bundled against him, and breathed deeply, his masculine fragrance spreading along the rivers of her veins into every cell of her body. And despite the fact she’d carried this grief for almost two decades, it seemed to shift a little inside her now.
‘I guess it’s why I’m so close to Laurence,’ she whispered. Cesare’s hand, which had been stroking her back, stilled for a moment before continuing its reassuring journey. ‘After Cam died, I was so alone. Mum and dad really went completely off the radar. It broke them. They blamed themselves; I see that now. I know they wish they’d done more, somehow made him see that they would love and accept him always.’