Chapter 8

Sakura scurried along beside him. "What did happen to you, then? "This was the first time his curt tone and stony scowl had failed to discourage intrusive questions about his past. No wonder the woman had landed in trouble the moment she'd stepped off the boat.

It alarmed Itachi to find himself tempted to confide in her. With ruthless force, he quelled the mutinous urge. "I prefer not to dwell on the past. I will thank you not to raise the subject again."

Sakura's lush lower lip thrust out in a rebellious expression. Her changeable eyes flashed with sparks of emerald vexation and something even more dangerous to his peace of mind. Burning curiosity.

What had happened to the man that he was so grimly determined not to speak of? Sakura fairly sizzled with curiosity as he bundled her into a two wheeled gig driven by one his workers.

"Mahmud, fetch Miss Haruno back to the house and tell Ah-Ming to make her comfortable." Uchiha Itachi took leave of Sakura with a stiff bow. "I will see you at dinner this evening. We can talk then."

As the gig pulled away, she wondered what they would talk about. How would they ever become acquainted if he refused to tell her about his past? It was bad enough having to wed a stranger. But how much worse would it be, married to a man who seemed resolved to remain one? She didn't know what to make of Uchiha Itachi. As she had freely admitted, he was nothing like what she'd expected. In many ways he was a great deal better. He could not be much above thirty and he was quite attractive in spite of his grave severity. He'd shown great courage, facing down that hostile crowd to rescue her from danger. And he'd used his wits to do it, rather than brute force. Set against all those fine qualities was his forbidding manner and secretive, solitary air.

Besides, he was clearly disappointed in her. No doubt he'd wanted a meek, mousy wife who would never question him about anything and always behave with perfect propriety. What would he think if he suspected she'd come to Osaka in search of a mutineer? He might toss her back on the streets, among those angry people whose language and ways were a dangerous mystery to her.

Sakura was still so shaken by what had happened that she did not dare speak to the driver, a brown-skinned man. It felt rude speak to the driver, a brown-skinned man who wore a white turban. It felt rude to ignore him, but she feared he might take offence at her innocent overture. To cover her confusion, she stared around her as if spellbound…which was not far from the truth.

The gig moved quickly through a tight-packed, bustling area of shops and warehouses along the banks of the river. Then it passed through a large open square with only a few large white buildings around the edge and lines of tents off in one corner. A hill topped by a cluster of low buildings and a tall flagstaff towered behind it. After crossing the square, the gig headed down a wide road lined with large properties, each occupied by a big white house nestled in spacious grounds.

"My word!" Sakura's eyes widened as they drove through a gate and stopped in front of a sprawling villa with spotless white walls and a vast red roof. A deep, pillared veranda wrapped around the whole house. She'd known Uchiha Itachi was a successful merchant, but only now did she realise how great a fortune he must have. Why had such a man been obliged to send all the way from the north for a wife? And why on earth had Mr Northmore thought an inexperienced Welsh nursemaid would be a fitting mistress for this grand house?

Her driver turned Sakura over to the care of an Asian servant woman,whose high-necked tunic and baggy trousers looked three times too large for her tiny frame. With the most perfect courtesy and no hint of surprise at her master's unexpected guest, she introduced herself as Ah-Ming, the housekeeper. She wasted no time seeing to Sakura's comfort, offering all manner of food and drink. When those failed to tempt the guest, Ah-Ming made another offer of hospitality that Sakura could not refuse—a bath.

After her long voyage it felt blissful to bathe and wash her hair. The luxurious soak relaxed Sakura, restoring a measure of her usual hopeful spirits. By the time she finished, her trunk had arrived and she was able to change into clean clothes.

With her hair combed out and left hanging long to dry, she thanked Ah Ming and accepted her offer of tea. While the housekeeper went to fetch it, she wandered into the spacious sitting room. In some ways it looked like the house where she'd worked back in Newcastle. But the ceiling was much higher and the walls were not papered but clean, stark white. There were many more windows, too, all tall and narrow, with rolled-up blinds made of thin wooden slats instead of curtains. And there was no sign of an imposing mantelpiece the likes of which dominated most rooms back home. The whole place had an air of light and openness that appealed to her free spirit.

A warm breeze blew in through the windows, carrying the fresh tang of the sea mingled with aromas of tropical flowers and spices. After the bustle of the harbour, Uchiha Itachi's house was a haven of tranquillity. The only sounds Sakura could hear were the familiar, calming rhythm of the sea and a shrill clicking sound she'd never heard before.

Then she picked up another sound, faint but growing louder as it drew nearer—a pair of high-pitched voices talking back and forth in hushed tones, speaking a language Sakura could not understand.

A moment later, another Asian woman appeared. She wore the same sort of loose tunic and trousers as Ah-Ming, but she looked older and even tinier. She was accompanied by a little European girl. The child wore a white muslin frock with a pale green sash. Her dark hair was plaited in two long braids, tied with green ribbons to match her sash. She had delicate features and enormous brown eyes that fixed on Sakura with a look of uneasy curiosity.

"Pardon me." The child made a graceful curtsy, then began to back away. "I didn't know we had company." She spoke with a charming accent, a bit like the French governess at the house in Newcastle where Sakura had worked.

"Please don't go on my account." Sakura dropped to one knee and smiled warmly. "Shall we introduce ourselves? My name is Haruno Sakura. Do you live here?"

Perhaps Uchiha Itachi had another partner besides Mr Northmore. Before the child could reply, her companion spoke in a sharp tone, as if offended by the question. "Missy lives here, of course. She is Uchiha Rosalia Eva da Silva . Her father is master of this house."

Father? The word rocked Sakura. She was quite certain Mr Northmore hadn't said anything about Uchiha Itachi having a child. But perhaps this explained why he'd chosen a nursery maid as a wife for his partner.

She could not decide how she felt about coming into a ready-made family like this. The childlike part of her longed for a little playmate to romp about with, and this dainty little creature was vastly appealing. But marriage would be a difficult enough adjustment without the added responsibility of a young daughter right away.

"You came from England?" Rosalia gave Sakura no time to sort through her confused feelings. "That is where Uncle Sasuke went. Ah-sam says it is very far away. Did he come back to Osaka with you? It was clear from her tone that Rosalia was eager to see her uncle Sasuke again. Sakura hated to dash her hopes. She remembered the bitter disappointment of waiting in vain for the return of a loved one.

"I met your Uncle Sasuke in England." She tried to break the news as gently as possible. "I think he means to stay there for a while. I don't think his wife would want to make such a long journey with a wee one on the way." Rosalia's dark brows bunched. "A wee what on the way? Where was it coming from?"

"Er…" Sakura chided herself for speaking so freely to a young child about such matters. She was certain Rosalia's father would not approve. Fortunately the servant woman rescued her from awkward explanations by crying out, "Wah! Mr Sasuke has found a wife and started a family? This is good news! First Mr Shisui, now him. Only one left now."

All trace of her earlier annoyance with Sakura disappeared, replaced with a beaming smile reserved for the bearer of welcome news. "What brings you to Osaka, my lady?"

A shrewd twinkle in the woman's dark eyes suggested that she guessed the reason. Sakura made a special effort to mind her tongue, for the child's sake. If Mr Itachi had not told his little daughter of his marriage plans, she did not want to blurt out the news that Rosalia would soon be getting a stepmother. She would rather make friends with the child first. "I've come for a…visit." With a beseeching gaze she silently urged the servant not to betray her suspicions. "And I might stay longer if things work out." Quickly she changed the subject. "Rosalia isn't a name I've heard before, but it's very pretty.

"Yours is very nice too." One corner of the child's rosebud lips arched upward in a bashful half-smile. "I hope you will stay. So many ships come here, but we never get any company." Rosalia's wistful tone went straight to Bethan's heart. "When I was your age, I lived in a quiet little village. We never got much company, either. At least you have your father here with you. My daddy had to go away to work." His visits home had been the best times of her young life. The worst had been the day her mother told her he would never be coming home again.