Читать книгу The Platinum Collection - Эбби Грин, Maisey Yates - Страница 10

‘PERHAPS we could conduct this dialogue over dinner this evening,’ Cesario suggested with rich satisfaction.

The suggestion that she might be fishing for the chance to go out with him again inflamed Jess and stung her pride. She flipped round to face him, light grey eyes bright as silver with antagonism. ‘No, I’m sorry, that wouldn’t be appropriate. I need to talk to you about something relating to my family.’

‘Your…family?’ Lean dark features stamped with a bemused frown, Cesario dealt her an enquiring glance, contriving without effort to look so breathtakingly handsome that he momentarily made it virtually impossible for her to concentrate.

A prickling shimmy of sensation pinched her nipples to tautness and made her spine stiffen defensively, for she recognised that physical response for what it was and loathed it. He was a devastatingly handsome man and she was convinced that no healthy woman with hormones could be fully indifferent to that level of masculine magnetism. Her body was literally programmed to react in what she had long since mentally labelled a ‘knee-jerk response’ to Cesario’s chemical appeal. It was Mother Nature, whose sexual conditioning she could not totally suppress, having the last laugh on her.

Her colour fluctuating in response to her rattled composure, Jess sent her eyes in a meaningful sweep in the direction of the stable staff still within hearing. ‘I’d prefer not to discuss the matter out here.’

His attention locked onto her taut facial muscles and the nervous pulse flickering in a hollow at the base of her slender throat, Cesario was even more curious to find out what she could possibly be so wired up about. He was also noting in a haze of innate sensuality that her skin was so fine that he could see the faint blue tracery of her veins beneath it. That fast he wanted to see her naked, all that creamy skin bare and unadorned for his benefit. Naked and willing, he thought hungrily. ‘Follow me up to the house, then,’ he instructed, irritably shaking free of the sexual spell she could cast to swing into his low-slung sports car.

In the driving mirror he watched her coax the sleeping greyhound from the puddle up into her arms, without worrying about the mess the bedraggled animal would make of her clothes. As she settled the dog into the rear of the old Land Rover she drove her other pets fawned on her as if she had been absent a day rather than an hour. Aware she took in the local homeless animals, he had always been grudgingly impressed by her compassionate nature, even if he could not approve of her indifference to her appearance. Although she was beautiful she did not behave as if she was, and that could only intrigue a man accustomed to finding women superficial and predictable. Somewhere along the line something had happened to Jess Martin that had prevented her from developing the narcissistic outlook of a beauty and the expectation that she should always be the centre of attention.

Jess parked beside the Ferrari at the front of the magnificent rambling Elizabethan house. Built of mellow brick and ornamented by tall elaborate chimneys and rows of symmetrical mullioned windows that reflected the sunshine, Halston Hall had considerable charm and antiquity. Although Dot Smithers had on one memorable occasion entertained Jess and her mother in the kitchen quarters there, Jess had never set foot in the main house. The Dunn-Montgomery family, who had owned the hall for several centuries, and whose male heirs had been often prominent in government, had not held open days at their ancestral home. Dwindling cash resources had forced the family to sell up six years earlier. To the great relief of the staff, who had feared that the property would be broken up and that they would lose their jobs, Cesario di Silvestri had bought the estate in its entirety. He had renovated the house, rescued the failing land with modern farming methods and set up a very successful stud farm.

Dot’s male replacement, following her early retirement, a middle-aged and rotund Italian known as Tommaso, ushered Jess indoors. The splendid hall was dominated by a massive Tudor chimney piece with a seventeenth-century date swirled in the plaster above it. Her nervous tension at an all-time high in the face of such grandeur, Jess defied the urge to satisfy her curiosity and gape at her surroundings. She was shown into a room fitted out like a modern office, in surrealistic contrast to the linen fold panelling on the walls and the picturesque view of an ornate box-bush-edged knot garden beyond the windows.

‘Your family?’ Cesario prompted with a slight warning hint of impatience. Propped up against the edge of what appeared to be his desk in an attitude of relaxation, he was the very epitome of English country-casual style with a twist of elegant designer Italian in his tailored open-necked shirt and beautifully cut trousers.

‘They’re tenants of yours in the village, and my father and my brothers work for you here on the estate,’ Jess volunteered.

‘I was aware of those facts,’ Cesario countered with a wry smile. ‘My estate manager made the connection for me the first time I met you.’

Jess lifted her chin and straightened her slight shoulders, wondering if that information had originally been given to emphasise that she hailed from working-class country stock, rather than the snobbish county set. If so, the news of her humble beginnings and lower social standing must have failed to dim his initial interest, for the dinner invitation had followed soon afterwards. Stubbornly refusing to meet those gorgeous dark eyes in a head-on collision and blocking her awareness to him as she had learnt to do to maintain her composure and show of indifference, she breathed in deep. ‘I have something to tell you and it relates to the robbery here…’

With a sudden flashing frown, Cesario leant forward, any hint of relaxation instantly banished by her opening words. ‘The theft of my painting?’

Beneath that daunting stare, the colour in her cheeks steadily drained away. ‘I’m afraid so.’

‘If you have information relating to the robbery, why haven’t you gone to the police with it?’

Jess could feel her ever-rising tension turning her skin clammy with nervous perspiration. Suddenly aware that she was way too warm, she shrugged free of the heavy jacket she wore over her shirt and draped it clumsily over the seat of the chair beside her. ‘Because my father’s involved and I was keen to get the chance to speak to you first.’

Cesario was not slow to grasp essential facts and his keen gaze glimmered as he instantly added two and two. As the estate handyman, who also acted as caretaker when the hall was unoccupied, Robert Martin had long been entrusted with the right to enter the hall at any time to perform maintenance checks and carry out repairs. ‘If your father helped the thieves, you’re wasting your time looking to me for sympathy—’

‘Let me explain what happened first. I only found out about this matter yesterday. Last year my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer and it was a very stressful time for my family,’ Jess told him tightly.

‘While I am naturally sympathetic to anyone in your mother’s situation, I fail to see what her ill health has to do with me or the loss of my painting,’ Cesario asserted drily.

‘If you listen, I’ll tell you—’

‘No. I think I am much more inclined in this scenario to call in the police and leave them to ask the questions. It’s their job, not mine,’ Cesario cut across her to declare with derision, his lean, darkly handsome features forbidding as he straightened and began to reach for the phone with a lean, shapely hand. ‘I am not comfortable with this conversation.’

‘Please don’t phone the police yet!’ Jess exclaimed, grey eyes wide with urgency as she moved forward suddenly, appearing as if she was trying to physically impose her slight body between him and the telephone. ‘Please give me the chance to explain things first.’

‘Get on with the explanation, then,’ Cesario advised curtly, leaving the phone untouched, while surveying her with dark eyes flaming bronze with suspicion and anger. Even so, on a primitive masculine level he was already starting to get a kick out of her pleading with him. The tables had been turned with a vengeance, he savoured with satisfaction. She was no longer treating him to frozen silence or looking down that superior little nose of hers at him.

‘Dad was worried sick about Mum and he wanted to take her away for a holiday after she finished her treatment, but he had to borrow the money to do so. Unfortunately he borrowed it from my uncle at an extortionate rate of interest.’ Stumbling in her eagerness to tell the whole story, Jess outlined her father’s efforts to deal with being pressed for his debt, followed by the approach and the offer made by her cousins.

‘This is your family you’re talking about,’ Cesario reminded her dulcetly, marvelling at what she was willing to tell him about her less than scrupulous relations. For the first time it genuinely struck him that, for all her educational achievements, she truly was, unlike him, from the other side of the tracks.

‘My mother’s brother was in and out of prison for much of his life. He doesn’t much care how he makes his money as long as he makes it. But his sons have never been in serious trouble with the police.’ Her cheeks burned red with embarrassment as she filled in the disagreeable facts. ‘My father believed what he was told—that Jason and Mark only wanted to get into this house to take photos which they could sell.’

Cesario dealt her a withering appraisal. ‘This property is full of valuable antiques and art works. Are you seriously expecting me to believe that any man could be that stupid?’

‘I don’t think my father’s stupid, I think he was simply desperate to do what they asked and be free of that debt. He was frantically trying to protect Mum from the distress of finding out how foolish he had been,’ Jess confided ruefully. ‘I don’t believe he thought beyond that and what he did was very wrong. I’m not trying to excuse his behaviour. He’s had access to this house for many years because he was a trusted employee and in acting as he did he betrayed your trust, but I’m convinced that my cousins intentionally targeted him.’

His handsome mouth taut with angry constraint, Cesario studied her grimly. ‘It is immaterial to me whether your father was deliberately set-up or otherwise. Your mother’s illness, the debt that ensued…those are not my concerns. My sole interest is in the loss of my painting and unless you have information to offer about how it might be recovered and from whom…’

‘I’m afraid that I don’t know anything about that and nor, unfortunately, does my father. His only function that evening was handing over his key card and the codes for the alarm.’

‘Which makes him as guilty as any man who conspires with thieves and provides them with the means of entry to private property,’ Cesario pronounced without hesitation.

‘He honestly didn’t know that anything was going to be stolen! He’s an honest man, not a thief.’

‘An honest man would not have allowed the men you described into my home to do as they liked,’ Cesario derided. ‘Why did you make this approach to me? What response did you expect from me?’

‘I hoped that you would accept that Dad was entirely innocent of the knowledge that a crime was being planned.’

His sardonic mouth curled. ‘I have only your word for that. After all, there was a robbery and it would not have happened had your father proved worthy of the responsibility he’d been given.’

‘Look, please listen to me,’ she urged with passionate vehemence, her pale grey eyes insistent. ‘He’s not a bad man, he’s not dishonest either, and he’s devastated by the loss that his foolishness caused you—’

‘Foolishness is far too kind a description of what I regard as a gross betrayal of trust,’ Cesario interrupted in flat dismissal of her argument and the terms she used. ‘I ask you again: what did you hope to achieve by coming to see me like this?’

Jess settled deeply troubled eyes on him. ‘I wanted to be sure you heard the full facts of the case as they happened.’

Regarding her with hard cynical eyes, Cesario loosed a harsh laugh. ‘And exactly what were you hoping to gain from this meeting? A full pardon for your father just because I find you attractive? Is that what this encounter is all about?’

Her oval face flamed as though he had slapped her, colour running like a live flame below her skin as he made that statement. It had not even crossed her mind that, with the very many options he had, he might still find her attractive. ‘Of course, it’s not—’

Cesario’s handsome mouth curled with scornful disbelief at that claim. ‘Maiala della miseria…at least tell it like it is! While I may lust after your shapely little body, I don’t do it to the extent that I would forgive a crime against me or write off a painting worth more than half a million pounds. You would need to be offering me a great deal more in reparation.’

Jess was gazing back at him in shock, her soft pink lower lip protruding. ‘What sort of a man are you? I wasn’t offering you sex!’ She gasped in horror as she grasped the portent of his words. ‘Of course, I wasn’t!’

‘That’s good, because in spite of the scurrilous rumours the British tabloids like to print about me I don’t pay for sexual favours or associate with the kind of woman who puts a price on her body,’ Cesario declared with an outrageous cool that mocked her seething embarrassment.

‘I really wasn’t offering you sex,’ Jess muttered in repeated rebuttal, shattered by that demeaning suggestion.

A well-shaped ebony brow lifted above heavily lashed dark-as-night eyes that remained resolutely unimpressed. ‘So, I was just supposed to let your father off the hook for nothing? Does that strike you as a likely deal in such a serious situation?’

‘Deal? What deal? You’re talking like my cousins now. You have a sordid mind,’ Jess condemned chokily, her mortification extreme as she snatched up her jacket and began to fight her way into its all-concealing folds. The remainder of her speech emerged in breathless spurts of smarting pride and resentment. ‘For your information, I don’t sleep around and sex isn’t something I would treat like a currency or…or a takeaway meal. In fact…’

Unexpectedly amused by her bristling, blushing fury and the discovery that she was much more of a prude than he had had previous cause to suspect, Cesario was striving not to picture her creamy, curvy little body writhing in ecstasy on his silk sheets because he was well aware that that was most probably a fantasy designed to go unfulfilled. ‘I’m delighted to hear it.’

‘I’m a virgin!’ That admission just leapt off Jess’s heated tongue and she froze, appalled that she had let that little-known fact slip. ‘Not that that has any relevance when I wasn’t offering you sex anyway,’ she continued, striving to bury her too intimate confession in a concealing flood of words. ‘But I admit that I would have offered you virtually anything else to get my father off the hook. I am desperate…’

She lifted her dark head to find Cesario staring back at her with raw incredulity. ‘A virgin—you can’t be at your age!’

Jess dug hands clenched into fists deep into her pockets and tilted up her chin in defiance of his disbelieving scrutiny. ‘I’m not ashamed of it. Why would I be? I didn’t meet the right person, it just never happened, and I can live with that.’

But Cesario was not sure he could live with the new and tantalising knowledge that she had given him. Suddenly he believed he had finally discovered the source of her discomfort in his radius. Naturally he had assumed she was much more experienced with men and he had treated her accordingly that one evening they had shared. He had probably come on too strong, frightened her off…or very probably his notorious reputation with her sex had done it for him, he reflected in sudden exasperation. Jessica Martin was untouched and, although he had never had a virgin in his bed before, he knew there and then that he would still very much like to be the male who introduced her to that essential missing element in her life. Feeling the taut, charged heaviness of sexual response at his groin in answer to that beckoning tide of erotic imagery, he suppressed a curse and straightened, willing his too enthusiastic body back under firm control again.

‘Look, there must be something I can say to you…something I can do to change your mind about Dad’s role in this horrible business,’ Jess reasoned frantically, literally feeling him disengage from her in the remote set of his shielded eyes and the harsh lines of his lean bronzed features. She was on the edge of panicking. He had asked her what she expected from him and she honestly didn’t know. He had not responded with the understanding that she had hoped to ignite with her explanation about her mother’s illness and her father’s deeply troubled state of mind. He had not responded in the slightest: it had been like crashing into a stone wall at a hundred miles an hour. She had crashed and burned, her persuasive abilities clearly not up to so steep a challenge.

Tears had pooled in her eyes and turned them to liquid silver. Cesario was not a man who responded to tears, but he was unprepared for that feminine softness in her. He had always viewed her as a tough little cookie, assured as she was working in what was so often a man’s field, confidently handling his most temperamental stallions while freezing out his every attempt to get closer to her. Yet seeing those tears he still bit back cutting words.

‘Promise you’ll think over what I’ve told you,’ she urged him in desperation. ‘My father is a decent man and he’s made a really appalling mistake that you have suffered for. I’m not trying to minimise the loss and distress that you have undergone, but please don’t wreck his life over it.’

‘I don’t let wrongdoers go unpunished. I’m much more in the eye-for-an-eye, tooth-for-a-tooth category,’ Cesario delivered, wondering why she was persisting when he had given her so little encouragement. Had she gone on his reputation alone, she would have been expecting him to build a gallows for her father out on the front lawn to stage a public execution. A hard-hitting businessman, he had never had a name for compassion.

‘Please…’ Jess repeated doggedly, standing by the door as he stopped her advance with one assured hand and reached in front of her to open the door for her with the easy display of effortless courtesy that came so naturally to him. Of course, such smooth civility was totally unfamiliar to her. Her brothers would have broken their necks to get through the door ahead of her and her father had never been taught any such refinements.

‘I’m not going to change my mind, but I won’t call in the police to tell them what you’ve told me until tomorrow morning,’ Cesario intoned, questioning why he was even willing to cede that breathing space.

From the front hall he watched her drive off in her noisy ancient four-wheel drive. There must be…something I can do to change your mind…I’m desperate…I would have offered you virtually anything else to get my father off the hook. And finally he thought about the only thing he really wanted that he couldn’t buy and he wondered if he was crazy to even consider her in that light. Was there even enough time left in which he might fulfil that ambition?

He could have her and…Infierno, in spite of the other women he had sought out to take the edge off his frustration he still wanted Jessica Martin! Given some luck he might also be able to gain what he longed for most from her and on the most fair of terms. In a life that was fast threatening to become shadowed by a bitterness he despised, Cesario was in dire need of a distraction. A woman, the very thought of whom could keep him awake at night with sexual frustration, struck him as the perfect solution.

Of course, it wasn’t just desire that motivated him, he reasoned with native shrewdness. She had traits he admired, traits that set her indisputably above most of the women he had known in the past. She was a hard worker who was extremely loyal to her family and she had just willingly sacrificed her pride on their behalf. She devoted all her free time and cash to taking care of animals other people didn’t want. Even his wealth, such a magnetic draw to others of her sex, had failed to tempt her into his bed. She was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a gold-digger. Indeed she had good strong standards and he liked that about her. But would those same standards come between her and her family’s salvation? A ruthless calculating smile starting to play around the corners of his hard mouth, Cesario decided to go for the challenge and give her one last chance.

Jess was on duty until nine that evening and she was very tired and low in spirits by the time she drove home with her dogs fast asleep in a huddle in the back of her car. She kept on expecting her mobile phone to ring and for her to hear her distraught mother tell her that her father had been arrested. Cesario di Silvestri had promised to wait until the next day but she didn’t believe she could afford to have faith in that proviso because, when she thought about their fruitless exchange, she reluctantly appreciated that she had been guilty of asking him for the impossible.

Even if he didn’t personally report her father to the police, Jason and Mark certainly would if they were questioned and implicated in the crime. Her cousins would be eager to spread the blame. The painting had been stolen and there was little hope of retrieving it without the whole sorry tale of its theft being told in detail. There would also be the matter of the insurance claim that would surely be made. Wouldn’t the insurers demand assurance that every possible step had been taken to apprehend the perpetrators? So how could Cesario protect her father from being held responsible for his actions?

Letting her other, waiting three dogs out of their fenced run, Jess headed indoors. The cottage was cold and untidy. The old coal-fired kitchen stove had gone out and she sighed, hurrying off to change into clean clothes. She would grab something quick to eat and go out and tend to the animals’ needs first. Magic, her deaf Scottish black terrier, bounced round the room as though he were on springs, full of pent-up energy. In between getting changed and washed she repeatedly threw his ball down the hall for him to retrieve. Weed, a skinny grey lurcher, hovered ingratiatingly by the door. Years of loving care had failed to persuade Weed that he could afford to take his happy home for granted. Harley, a diabetic Labrador with a greying muzzle, lay quietly on the floor by the bed, just content to be with her again.

Standing by the kitchen window, Jess ate a sandwich and drank a glass of milk before heading out into the fading light of a late spring evening to take care of the usual evening routine of cleaning, feeding and watering her charges. When she finished and went back indoors, she still had to relight the stove, which always took more than one attempt. Gritting her teeth, she got on with the task.

The phone call came when she was getting ready for bed and so bone-weary that she had all the animation of a zombie.

‘It’s Cesario…’ He reeled off his name in that dark deep rich drawl of his as naturally as if he were in the habit of phoning her, when in actuality it was the very first time he had made a personal call to her.

‘Yes?’ she queried, cautious in tone as she swallowed back an instinctive urge to ask him angrily who had given him her mobile number.

‘Can you come back up to the house at nine tomorrow morning? I have a proposition to put to you.’

‘A proposition?’ Jess repeated, intense curiosity leaping high inside her to release a tide of speculative thoughts. ‘What kind of a proposition?’

‘Not the sort that can be discussed over the phone,’ he murmured crushingly. ‘May I expect you?’

‘Yes, tomorrow’s my day off.’

Jess came off the phone, her face pale and still, and then she let out an explosive whoop that startled her pets and jumped up and down on the spot in a helpless release of the tension that had held her fast all day. Evidently, Cesario di Silvestri had listened to her! That phone call had to mean that he had listened to her and mulled over what she had told him. Now, in response, he had come up with a ‘proposition’, which was really just another label for that other word ‘deal’, which she abhorred.

Acknowledging that truth, her ready sense of optimism and relief began swiftly to recede in the face of less comforting thoughts. After all, an eye-for-an-eye guy would be very unlikely to pardon her imprudent father in return for nothing. Hadn’t he said so himself? What would be in it for him? Was sex likely to be involved? With his reputation and the interest he had previously shown in her, it was difficult to believe it would not be. She winced in the cosy cocoon of her sensible pyjamas, thinking of the scars on her abdomen and back, shivering. It was little wonder that she had never been keen to strip to reveal those blemishes to a man or relive the horror of explaining what had caused them. Sex was out of the question. In any case, bearing in mind what she had read in the sleazier newspapers’ ‘kiss ‘n’ tell’ accounts made by his former lovers, she would never be able to measure up to Cesario’s exotic and adventurous habits in the bedroom.