‘It’s not,’ he said with a smile in his voice, easing away slowly, as though he didn’t quite trust that she was stable now. ‘It’s the wind.’
‘What wind?’
Barely a ripple interrupted the mirrored surface of the sea in the bay.
‘This is the Isola d’Elba. There is always wind. The maestrale blows today.’
‘The what?’
‘Shh, just feel it on your face.’
She didn’t particularly want to indulge her feelings right now, but she lifted her nose, surprised by the lightest whisper against her cheeks as she held still. ‘It’s cool,’ she commented. ‘And soft.’
His grin made her wonder what she’d said to elicit such a reaction. ‘That’s the maestrale,’ he declared. ‘The northwestwind. The winds are like neighbours here. When it blows from the south-east, the air is heavy and hot. The west wind can be like a storm on the coast. Today, we have a very gentle maestrale – perfect for learning to windsurf.’
‘I’ve lived on the coast my entire life and I’ve never really thought about the direction of the wind – just the strength of it.’
‘Do people windsurf in Weymouth?’
She nodded. ‘All year round.’
‘You’ll have to join them after I’ve taught you.’
After her first experience holding the sail, she didn’t share his confidence.
‘You always want the foil to be downwind of you,’ he began, taking the strap from her. ‘If you hold it upwind—’ Before he could even finish his sentence, she witnessed the consequences of holding the sail the wrong way. It flipped around in an instant and caught both of them, knocking her right into him. Her hands fell to his chest as she struggled for balance and his arm came around her again to steady her as he wrestled with the sail.
‘This wind is a bad neighbour,’ she said through gritted teeth as she drew away, her cheeks hot. The wind was a bloodymatchmaker, except there was no match to be made here.
‘Sometimes,’ he agreed with a chuckle. ‘Bossy, anyway. You can’t fight the wind. You have to work with it.’
She made the mistake of looking at him, finding a disturbing glint in his eye – of dismay and also something else. Something she feared was mirrored in her own eyes. ‘Right, let’s get out on the water.’
It was more than the maestrale lightening Gabri’s mood.
Ever since he’d gone to bed last night, her brittle tone echoing in his head, his chest had felt tight, itchy with the need to alleviate…somethingfor her.
He hadn’t told her the full story, but she understood well enough. He’d escaped his old life in a way she could only do temporarily. He’d left it all behind as only amancould. But she was still smiling at him today. So accepting, even though he probably didn’t deserve it.
As he helped her push the board – now with the foil attached – into the shallows, he tried not to let his attention linger on her face, but there was so much to find in her features. She had such a determined jaw, wry, expressive lips and wary eyes.
Today, her eyes were brighter, her jaw extra determined.
He let the foil float on the water and grasped her shoulders, showing her the right place to stand by the board. Perhaps he could have achieved the same result with words, but the touch felt necessary nonetheless.
‘One knee up, then the other.’ He prompted her with a pat on the board. ‘Feet sideways, as wide as your shoulders.’
The board wobbled as she clambered up. His board wasn’t the best for beginners. It wasn’t anything too advanced either, but he regretted not hiring her a nice, wide one when he felt the tremor in her body, transferring to the board.
‘Whoa!’ Her hands landed on his shoulders and the board shifted as she struggled to find her centre of gravity. A moment later, she crashed into the water, belly first. ‘Shit,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘You didn’t mention this would cost me my dignity.’
‘I thought that was a very dignified dive.’
‘You shouldn’t lie, Gabri,’ she replied, swiping water off her forehead. ‘I can see right through you.’
He tried again. ‘Allora, you look cute when your face is squeezed up like this.’
‘Cute?’ The dubious expression was even cuter. ‘I’m thirty-nine years old.’
