Nicole would not be so distressed if it wasn't. As for Matteo...where was he? Why was he turning his back on the wanting that had pulled Nicole out of this room with him?
Totally exasperated with the situation and wanting to discuss her thoughts on it, Isabella looked to see if Rosita was on her way back from the powder room. Her heart skipped a beat as her gaze found Matteo standing just inside the entrance to the function room, his face tight as though it had just been soundly smacked, his eyes projecting a glowering intensity as they watched the occupants of the dance floor, notably Peter and Nicole, no doubt.
His hands clenched.
But he didn't move to get closer or cut in on Peter.
In two minds about what his next action should be? Isabella wondered.
Rosita appeared behind him. Isabella instantly signalled for her to grab Matteo and bring him over to her. Rosita heaved a reproachful sigh but went ahead and touched his arm to draw his attention. Matteo turned a frown on her, then cleared his face as he saw who it was. They conversed for a few moments. Rosita gestured towards their table and Isabella gave her grandson a bright look of expectation, which sealed his reluctant acquiescence as deftly as she had sealed Nicole's.
He hooked Rosita's arm around his and escorted her back to her chair, acting the gentleman Isabella had trained him to be. "Nonna..." He nodded to her. "...I take it you're still enjoying yourself? Not ready to retire yet?"
"Such wonderful nights do not come very often, Matteo. At my age, who knows how many more I will have?'' Which was a fine piece of emotional blackmail. She smiled an appeal. "Do draw up another chair and share a few minutes with me."
A slight wince as he bowed to her pressure, taking a chair from another table and placing it next to hers. He dropped into it with an air of resignation. He aimed a dry smile at Rosita. "Fine selection of sweets you've got on the table in front of you."
"Help yourself, Matteo," she invited effusively. "The cheesecake is very good."
"No, thanks. Not hungry. I'm glad you're enjoying them."
"And you, Matteo?" Isabella broke in. "Have you been enjoying yourself?"
He shrugged. "The show was great. Certainly a night to celebrate." "Perhaps you would like to dance now. Am I keeping you from it?" "It can wait," he answered in a careless tone.
Isabella put the needle in. "I see Nicole dancing with Peter. It must be nice for her to renew their old acquaintance."
"No doubt. A shared background is always congenial."
Was that the problem? He'd read Ollie's Drum. Did he think Nicole's background precluded her from making a life up here? Didn't he know that if a love was strong enough, place didn't matter? Her own mother had sailed halfway around the world to be with her father in a very foreign land. She herself would have gone to the Kimberly Outback if her husband had survived the war. Was Matteo nursing some woolly-headed prejudice?
"I do not think those memories are ones Nicole cherishes," she said. "They were hard years for her. She has said many times how much she likes the life around Port Douglas. I think she may stay after she finishes the project."
"Doing what?" came the mocking question. "She's bound to head back to Sydney once her contract is over. There's nothing for her up here."
"What is in Sydney for her?" Isabella countered. "She has no family to draw her back. No permanent home. Nicole plans to take time off and try her hand at writing fiction. One can write anywhere, Matteo."
He frowned and muttered, "The heat will get to her. Six months in the tropics will be long enough for the novelty to wear off."
"Many people love the tropical climate. Look at Hannah. She was from Sydney."
"Hannah doesn't have red hair and white skin," he retorted tersely.
Isabella looked at him in astonishment. "What has that got to do with anything?"
He grimaced and made a sharp, dismissive gesture. "Nicole will get burnt. Or suffer sunstroke. She's obviously not suited to..."
"You've met the King family from the Kimberly," Isabella cut in, exasperated by this superficial judgment. "Tommy King's wife, Samantha, has carrot-red hair and very fair skin. She was born and bred in the Outback, with heat and sun that's even more blistering than what we get in Port Douglas."
"That's always been her life," he argued.
"And you think Nicole Redman can't manage it?" Isabella tossed back, barely able to keep the scorn from her voice. "Didn't you say you'd read her book about her father, Matteo?''
"Yes, I did," he snapped, not wanting to be reminded of it.
"Then didn't it occur to you that Nicole is a survivor?" Isabella bored in, relentless in her mission to pull the wool from her blind grandson's eyes. "Given some of the worst circumstances a child could face, that girl came through everything with a strength I can only admire. With a grit and determination that would have served some of the leaders in this country well. With amazing and fearless enterprise, she coped with enormous difficulties and..."
"In my opinion, she wasted her young life on a man who didn't deserve what she did for him," Matteo flashed at her, a black resentment in his eyes.
"He was her father," Isabella retorted, outraged by this view. "Would you not have rescued your own father if you could have done so?"
"Yes, I would have braved the cyclone that killed him if I'd been anywhere near him, but..."
"A child does not think of the cost to themselves. We are talking blood family here. Sticking to family. It is a quality all too lacking in modern day society. It is a quality I value very highly. I am disappointed that you do not, Matteo."
"Nonna..." Sheer fury looked at her. He jerked his head away, took a deep breath, expelled it slowly, then rose to his feet and looked down at her with hooded eyes. "I really don't wish to discuss Nicole Redman any further," he stated flatly. "I have an early flight in the morning so please excuse me. Goodnight, Nonna...Rosita..."
He strode off with stiff-necked pride, not glancing at the dance floor, intent on denying any interest whatsoever in Nicole Redman. But Isabella was not in any doubt that he had been trying to justify a view which he was using as an excuse not to commit himself to a serious relationship with Nicole. Why he wanted an excuse was beyond her.
Did freedom mean so much to him?
"He is very angry," Rosita murmured.
Isabella sighed. "I lost my temper." She turned to her old friend. "But have you ever heard such nonsense, Rosita?"
She made one of her very expressive Italian gestures. "I think he is hurting badly but he doesn't like to say so. Matteo has always been like that. He jokes to make little of things that hurt."
"He wasn't joking tonight."
"Which means it is a very bad hurt."
"They are both hurting." Isabella shook her head worriedly. "The question is...can they get past it? I may have smashed the barriers in Matteo's mind tonight, but is he prepared to smash the barriers he put in Nicole's?" Her eyes flared her deep frustration. "That is beyond my power. Only Matteo can do it, Rosita. Only he...if he wants to enough."