stairway.
When she climbed up to it she found that she could look right over the romantically shaped rooftops, domes and towers of Mdina to Rabat, the big casal beyond the ramparts.
There the streets still glittered with lights strung along and across them. A procession of men, chanting and carrying life-size statues, had just emerged into the packed square. Above Mdina’s silence she could hear the distant roar of voices and the brassy din of bands. An occasional rocket still sprayed the sky with fire.
“I told you Malta loved its religious festivals, didn’t I?” a voice asked beside her. Her heart leaped. For something to say she asked if he ever took part in them. He shook his head.
“Unlike most Maltese families, we Valmontez are Protestant.” He moved beside her and went on, “So you’ve discovered my favorite thinking place?”
She turned her head to find him smiling down at her, melting the resistance she was trying to build up against him.
“I hope it isn’t private,” she said with a touch of diffidence.
“If it was, I hereby make you free of it.”
“Thank you.” She stole a glance at him, unseen.
He began pointing out the various casals whose lights they could see, and telling her about them.
“They’re unlike any village you’ve ever seen,” he said. “They’re more like forts, with tall, thick-walled buildings. It’s the easiest thing in the world to lose yourself in them. They’re a maze of narrow twisting alleys and cul-de-sacs. I recommend you to get Mark or myself to go with you the first time you try to navigate any of them. We wouldn’t want you to disappear without a trace.”
She laughed and gathered her stole about her shoulders, thinking he probably wanted his aerie to himself.
He thought how young and lovely she looked in the starlight. She didn’t, he assured himself, arouse any emotion in him other than pleasure and admiration—but still, he was glad he hadn’t sent her back to London.”
“Going down? I expect you’re very tired.”
“A little. The excitement and novelty of everything, perhaps.”
As she looked up at him she caught again that flash of warmth and charm that evoked an immediate emotional response from her, in spite of herself.
“Don’t let excitement keep you awake,” he warned. “We’ve quite a day before us tomorrow.”
“I won’t. Good night, Professor Vining.”
“Goodnight.”
As she picked her way across the terrace, a sudden blare of car horns shattered the quiet.
Startled, she swung around. She heard Dominic mutter, “Good God, what is it?” Then she saw him move quickly to the balustrade surrounding the well that gave on to the courtyard below.
She went to look, too, frankly curious. She heard loud knocking, shouts of, “Nibblu! Open the gates!”
Nibblu came out a minute or two later, struggling into his coat and yawning, a look of astonishment on his dark round face. When he swung open the big gates, three cars drove in. They decanted a hilarious party of men and women in evening dress.
Louise was among them, in her swirling, jewel red gown.
“Welcome to Santa Clara,” her deep voice called, “Open the doors, Nibblu. And in you go to the dining room my pets. Oh, and put out the drinks, Nibblu, and glasses and plenty of ice. And ask Lotta or one of the girls to rustle up some snacks. We’re starving.”
“ Si, signora .”
Nibblu sounded unwilling and doubtful, though polite enough.
“We’ll turn the stereo on—roll up the carpet and dance when we’ve had a drinkie or two,” Louise went on gaily. “Time this old morgue was wakened up.”
There was a lot of loud laughter and noisy ragging. Someone tried to carry Louise across the threshold.
Then suddenly the courtyard was empty. The visitors poured in a mass into the house and the doors clanged shut.
Chloe heard Dominic let out a long breath, as though he had been holding it.
“That’s just a taste of what we may expect to happen so long as
When she climbed up to it she found that she could look right over the romantically shaped rooftops, domes and towers of Mdina to Rabat, the big casal beyond the ramparts.
There the streets still glittered with lights strung along and across them. A procession of men, chanting and carrying life-size statues, had just emerged into the packed square. Above Mdina’s silence she could hear the distant roar of voices and the brassy din of bands. An occasional rocket still sprayed the sky with fire.
“I told you Malta loved its religious festivals, didn’t I?” a voice asked beside her. Her heart leaped. For something to say she asked if he ever took part in them. He shook his head.
“Unlike most Maltese families, we Valmontez are Protestant.” He moved beside her and went on, “So you’ve discovered my favorite thinking place?”
She turned her head to find him smiling down at her, melting the resistance she was trying to build up against him.
“I hope it isn’t private,” she said with a touch of diffidence.
“If it was, I hereby make you free of it.”
“Thank you.” She stole a glance at him, unseen.
He began pointing out the various casals whose lights they could see, and telling her about them.
“They’re unlike any village you’ve ever seen,” he said. “They’re more like forts, with tall, thick-walled buildings. It’s the easiest thing in the world to lose yourself in them. They’re a maze of narrow twisting alleys and cul-de-sacs. I recommend you to get Mark or myself to go with you the first time you try to navigate any of them. We wouldn’t want you to disappear without a trace.”
She laughed and gathered her stole about her shoulders, thinking he probably wanted his aerie to himself.
He thought how young and lovely she looked in the starlight. She didn’t, he assured himself, arouse any emotion in him other than pleasure and admiration—but still, he was glad he hadn’t sent her back to London.”
“Going down? I expect you’re very tired.”
“A little. The excitement and novelty of everything, perhaps.”
As she looked up at him she caught again that flash of warmth and charm that evoked an immediate emotional response from her, in spite of herself.
“Don’t let excitement keep you awake,” he warned. “We’ve quite a day before us tomorrow.”
“I won’t. Good night, Professor Vining.”
“Goodnight.”
As she picked her way across the terrace, a sudden blare of car horns shattered the quiet.
Startled, she swung around. She heard Dominic mutter, “Good God, what is it?” Then she saw him move quickly to the balustrade surrounding the well that gave on to the courtyard below.
She went to look, too, frankly curious. She heard loud knocking, shouts of, “Nibblu! Open the gates!”
Nibblu came out a minute or two later, struggling into his coat and yawning, a look of astonishment on his dark round face. When he swung open the big gates, three cars drove in. They decanted a hilarious party of men and women in evening dress.
Louise was among them, in her swirling, jewel red gown.
“Welcome to Santa Clara,” her deep voice called, “Open the doors, Nibblu. And in you go to the dining room my pets. Oh, and put out the drinks, Nibblu, and glasses and plenty of ice. And ask Lotta or one of the girls to rustle up some snacks. We’re starving.”
“ Si, signora .”
Nibblu sounded unwilling and doubtful, though polite enough.
“We’ll turn the stereo on—roll up the carpet and dance when we’ve had a drinkie or two,” Louise went on gaily. “Time this old morgue was wakened up.”
There was a lot of loud laughter and noisy ragging. Someone tried to carry Louise across the threshold.
Then suddenly the courtyard was empty. The visitors poured in a mass into the house and the doors clanged shut.
Chloe heard Dominic let out a long breath, as though he had been holding it.
“That’s just a taste of what we may expect to happen so long as
Similar Books
