Читать книгу Claimed For The Italian's Revenge - Natalie Rivers - Страница 9

CHAPTER TWO

CLAUDIA ran until she could run no more. Then she kept on walking, trying not to dwell on the complicated mess her life had suddenly become. Soon she’d have to face up to it—she had to travel to the Caribbean to marry Primo Vasile. But now, for just a couple of minutes, she needed to blot it out of her mind.

She wouldn’t think about the appalling scene at the Ritz, when Vasile and her stepmother had blackmailed her. And she definitely wouldn’t think about her encounter with Marco De Luca. It was far too distressing.

Instead, she found herself heading automatically towards the offices of the magazine she worked for, writing reviews of new digital cameras. She’d always intended to pop into work that evening to pick up a new model she was testing—and there was no reason to change her plan. She needed to cling on to normality—that way everything else didn’t seem so bad.

That was how she had got through the last few months when her father, Hector, had become terribly ill. She’d visited him in Italy as much as she could, taking long weekends and using flexitime, then eventually she’d persuaded her boss to let her work from home for a while. But all the time she had been working hard, taking pride in her professionalism, she’d secretly known at the back of her mind that she was simply making a futile effort to keep life the way it was.

She’d been devastated by Hector’s illness. He was her only living relative and she loved him dearly. She’d already lost her mother when she was just five years old, her beloved grandmother who had been so important to her throughout her childhood. Now her father was leaving her.

It seemed that everyone she loved eventually left her.

Even the only man she had ever loved, Marco De Luca, had left her.

Suddenly, the sound of someone calling her name caught her attention. It was her friend, Rosie, from work.

‘What are you doing here so late?’ her friend asked curiously. She was just leaving the building where the magazine had its offices.

‘I came to collect a camera.’ Claudia smiled warmly at her friend, despite the way she was feeling inside. ‘What about you?’

‘I’ve got a date later on and there wasn’t any point going home first,’ Rosie said. ‘We’re going ice-skating. Have you met my boyfriend, Rob?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Claudia said, noticing that Rosie was following her back into the building. Although a large part of her wanted to be left alone right then, she knew instinctively that a little distracting company wouldn’t hurt. ‘Is he the tall, gorgeous one?’ she asked, thinking of another man that description could equally well apply to.

‘Yes.’ Rosie grinned. ‘Walk with me to Somerset House and I’ll introduce you.’

‘I’d love to,’ Claudia said, ‘but I don’t think I’d be very good company this evening. I’m feeling really tired.’

‘Come on,’ Rosie said. ‘You don’t have to stay—actually, I’d prefer to keep him all to myself—but I just want to show him off!’

‘All right—’ Claudia laughed ‘—I promise I’ll just admire him, then I’ll take myself home and leave you two together.’

They walked down to The Strand, where an ice rink had been set up in the courtyard of the magnificent eighteenth century building of Somerset House. A giant Christmas tree was illuminated at one end of the rink and the ice was glittering under the sparkling coloured lights.

It wasn’t long before Rosie’s boyfriend arrived, then a few minutes later Claudia waved goodbye as they joined the queue for the next skating session.

She stood beside the railings for a moment, watching the skaters circling the rink. It was a beautiful scene, full of happy couples and families skating together.

Suddenly a wave of sadness washed over her. She felt more alone than ever before.

‘You know where everything is,’ Gwen said, handing Claudia the key to the old fisherman’s cottage. ‘Stay as long as you want—there’s no one booked in till the New Year.’

‘Thanks, Gwen,’ Claudia said, leaning forward to kiss the eighty-year-old Welsh lady affectionately on the cheek. She was an old friend of her grandmother’s, but she was still as sprightly as someone ten, or even twenty, years younger. ‘I can only stay a night or two, but I just had to get out of the city for a little while.’

‘Should I call Rhys to give you a lift down the hill?’ Gwen asked in her wonderful accent.

‘No thanks. My bag isn’t heavy,’ Claudia said, turning to leave. She didn’t want to bother Gwen’s son, Rhys. He must be close to retirement age, but she’d seen him busy working in his vegetable garden as she’d walked from the bus stop. ‘After the train and bus, I could do with some fresh air.’

‘Plenty of that here,’ Gwen laughed as she wrapped her woolly cardigan tightly around herself and closed her front door.

Claudia hefted her bag on her shoulder and set off along the winding road that led down to the cottage. She’d been coming to this part of Wales all her life and it was like a second home to her. In fact, until her grandmother died when she was thirteen, it had felt more like her home than the pristine town house she’d lived in with her father and Francesca.

Gwen had been her grandmother’s friend and neighbour for sixty years. After her grandmother died, Gwen had extended a permanent invitation for Claudia to visit whenever she wanted. Gwen and her son Rhys owned a little cottage that they rented out to holidaymakers for a bit of extra income, but whenever it wasn’t booked Claudia was welcome to stay in it.

It was mid-afternoon by the time she got to the cottage and, as she wanted to fit in an hour’s work before it got dark, she grabbed her camera and headed straight down to the sea.

It was good to be back in Wales. It was the one place in the world where she felt a strong connection with her mother. Maybe here, far away from all her troubles, she might find some much needed peace of mind—if only for a day or two before she gave herself over to Francesca and Vasile’s unthinkable scheme.

It was at this cottage that Marco had left her four years ago, and she’d briefly wondered whether it was wise to come here and risk stirring up memories. But it was already too late—meeting Marco yesterday had seen to that. Besides, she’d been to the cottage lots of times since he’d left, and right now the blustery conditions couldn’t have been more different from the glorious summer weather they had enjoyed when she’d brought Marco to her mother’s home village.

The water foamed around the slick black boulders as she carefully picked her way out across the rocky beach towards the incoming tide. The water was already filling the deeper recesses between the rocks and she had to tread carefully so as not to slip. She knew there was still plenty of time to make it out to her favourite vantage point—a particularly giant rocky mound that stood higher than the surrounding beach.

It felt good to be working. For a few minutes she could put all her troubles out of her mind and concentrate on taking photos. Photography had always been her passion. She felt so fortunate that her job included taking photos to assess how each camera performed in different conditions.

The sky was low with dark clouds and the churning sea was a deep slate grey with an ever-moving pattern of white water as the waves broke across the rocks. A strong wind whipped her hair about and roared in her ears, combining with the sound of the crashing waves to create a wild, atmospheric soundtrack. It was a dramatic scene—and it suited her mood.

But, despite her efforts to clear her mind, Claudia’s thoughts turned to Marco. She bit her lip and stared out across the bay, but she wasn’t seeing the view. She was remembering how devastated she’d been when Marco had left her.

She’d woken up early in the morning, the thin dawn light filtering through the curtains in the cottage bedroom, to find him gone. At first she’d been frantic with worry, imagining something terrible had happened to him. But then she’d realised that his sports car was gone and he’d packed and taken all his things with him.

Then she’d remembered he’d received a phone call late in the evening. At the time she hadn’t thought anything of it. He had always worked, day and night, and phone calls had been an inevitable part of that. But, when she’d thought about it, she didn’t remember him coming back to bed afterwards—she must have fallen into a deep sleep after hours of lovemaking that evening, and had been oblivious to him packing and leaving.

She’d started to worry that he’d received terrible news, that maybe his sister had been in an accident or perhaps there’d been an incident at one of the businesses he owned.

But she’d never found out what had happened.

His mobile phone had been switched off, then later on the number had been discontinued. His PA had changed immediately to someone she didn’t know—a brisk Italian woman who’d stonewalled all her attempts to contact him by any method.

She tried to get in touch with Bianca, but her number had been changed too. Eventually, the only information she ever received to explain what happened, was a brief text message from Bianca, saying that Marco was taking her to America, to set her up with contacts in the fashion industry.

And that was it.

After a while Claudia had been too upset to try any more. It was clear that she hadn’t been anything more to Marco than a summer fling. He had broken her heart and it had taken a long time to heal. Maybe it had never healed.

But Bianca had hurt her too. She’d thought they were friends, but the nineteen-year-old girl had been quick enough to drop her when exciting new opportunities arose.

Claudia shook her head decisively. She wouldn’t dwell on the past. She took a deep breath of the fresh sea air, lifted the camera and concentrated on the task in hand. She was here to work.

She told herself firmly that the tumultuous conditions were perfect for some excellent shots, with huge waves rolling in and crashing spectacularly over the jagged rocks. Although the afternoon light slanting down in erratic bursts through the gaps in the clouds would be challenging.

Marco De Luca strode purposefully across the meadow that led down to the beach. He frowned as he glanced around, disconcerted by how familiar everything looked—the rocky beach, the spectacularly eroded dark grey limestone outcrops that flanked the bay and even the rickety wooden stile that led to the cliff path.

It was more than four years since Claudia had brought him here, and it was winter now rather than summer, yet for some reason he seemed to recall everything with absolute clarity.

He’d been surprised by how easily he’d found the old fisherman’s cottage but, as he’d wound his sports car through the maze of narrow farm lanes, he’d remembered exactly which turnings to take.

Claudia had not been at the cottage, so he’d come to the beach to look for her. He reached the edge of the shingle and paused to scan the small bay. It was cold and damp and, as the light was starting to fade, he guessed Claudia couldn’t be far away. Despite her love of the outdoors, she wouldn’t want to get caught on the beach or cliff path after dark. There were no street-lights here and, with the amount of cloud cover, it seemed unlikely there’d be much moonlight either.

It only took him a couple of moments to spot her, perched on top of a rocky mound that appeared to be surrounded by the sea. He realised she was taking photographs and started walking towards her.

Suddenly he was taken aback by the familiarity of her body language. Although she was quite a distance from him, and was crouched down looking out to sea, he knew with complete certainty what expression would be on her face. He could tell she was lost in her craft, only aware of the dramatic seascape in front of her and how it appeared through the lens of her camera.

That meant there would be a faraway look on her beautiful face. Her brow would be smooth and relaxed and she’d hardly notice as her hair blew in her almond shaped eyes, catching in her exquisitely long eyelashes.

He stopped abruptly and his dark eyes narrowed dangerously as he stared at her. What was he doing, letting his thoughts run away like that? He started striding purposefully towards her once more. Then, for the second time in as many minutes, he was suddenly brought up short again. It didn’t just look as if Claudia was surrounded by the sea—she really was cut off.

A bolt of alarm shot through him. The incoming tide had got the better of her while she had been distracted by her photography. And so far she still seemed completely oblivious to her perilous situation.

Foolish girl! He cursed her angrily and broke into a run, quickly assessing the terrain between them for the highest, safest route out to her. The black rocks were slick with sea water washing over them and were interspersed with deep, ankle-turning crevices that he had to avoid.

‘Claudia!’ He shouted her name, but the wind swept his voice away and she did not turn towards him.

Running as fast as he safely could, it didn’t take long to reach her. Then, as he splashed through knee-deep water foaming on the platform of rock that surrounded her vantage point, he knew he’d only just been in time. The water was continuing to rise with each new wave that crashed towards the beach.

He called her name again and this time she heard it. He saw her jolt back to her senses and she whipped round to look at him.

‘Marco!’ She stared at him in shock, then almost at once an expression of anger descended over her face. ‘What are you doing here? Did you follow me?’

‘Come on!’ Marco shouted above the sound of the crashing waves and held out his hand to her.

‘I’m not going anywhere with you!’ she exclaimed furiously. ‘How dare you follow me here—you had no right!’

‘There’s no time to mess about—look around you!’ Marco barked, stepping closer and reaching up to seize her arm. ‘We’re about to get cut off by the water.’

As Marco’s hand closed round her forearm, Claudia automatically pulled back against him, trying to shake him off. Then suddenly his words sank in.

Her eyes widened with alarm as she looked around, finally taking in the situation. The tide was coming in fast and she was surrounded. Marco, standing up to his knees in the churning water, was reaching up and trying to pull her down from her rock.

Anger that he had followed her to Wales still filled her, but now a surge of adrenaline mixed with it. If she didn’t move quickly she would be completely stranded and even the rock she was perched on would be submerged as the tide reached its maximum height.

But she did not need Marco’s help.

She jumped to her feet, jerking her arm out of his grip, and slid off the rock. The water felt freezing as it flooded into her boots. Then a wave hit her legs, knocking her off balance, and she stumbled backwards, bashing the camera that was clutched in her hand into the rock.

‘Come on,’ Marco snapped, seizing her arm and pulling her towards the shore. ‘There isn’t much time before we’ll be in serious trouble.’

‘Let go of me!’ She pulled her arm out of his grip again and started heading inland. It was almost impossible to see through the swirling water and she inched forward, feeling her way carefully with her feet. ‘I don’t need your help.’

Suddenly a particularly strong wave crashed into the back of her legs, making her stagger forwards. She plunged down into the cold, salty sea and felt her hand slide off the edge of the boulder they were standing on, into the deep water surrounding it. She sucked in a frightened breath, knowing she was about to dive headlong into the chasm between the rocks.

The next instant the water closed terrifyingly over her head. She flailed around in panic, trying to find something to grip on to. Then, a split second later, she felt herself being hauled upright.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears and water streamed down her face. For a moment she didn’t know what had happened—then she realised Marco had saved her. She was still trying to catch her breath, but he was already pulling her towards the shore again.

‘We have to keep going,’ he said, his arm clamped tightly round her.

Claudia started moving through the water once more, but the waves continued to tug mercilessly at her legs. She was shaking from the shock of what had happened and it was hard to keep up with the fast pace Marco was setting.

Suddenly he turned and swept her up into his arms.

‘Put me down!’ she protested, automatically fighting his grasp.

‘Lie still!’

His voice shot through her, somehow compelling her to obey, and she stopped struggling immediately. Marco’s arms were strong and his body powerful, and the panic that had filled her when she’d plunged beneath the water gradually subsided.

The waves pushed and pulled around his legs, occasionally making his stride uneven, but Claudia felt secure. It didn’t take long to reach the edge of the water. But, when he didn’t put her down, she realised that he planned to carry her right across the beach to the meadow beyond. The dark grey shingle crunched and shifted beneath his feet and she felt him instinctively tighten his hold on her.

As his powerful muscles flexed, she suddenly became completely aware of his body. She was no longer distracted by the sea swirling around them, and she noticed every movement he made as he walked. She could sense the muscular strength of his chest and feel the resilient power in his legs as he carried her over the unstable shingle. She could feel the heat radiating off him, passing straight through the cold sea water that had soaked them both. It was as if a physical, sensual connection was growing between them.

Her heart started to beat faster and, despite the cold, she felt a flush rise to her cheeks. The next moment they reached solid ground and Marco dumped her unceremoniously on to her feet.

‘What the hell were you doing?’ He launched straight into her, gripping her upper arms and looking at her in a way that demanded an instant response.

She stared at his furious expression in shock and pushed her dripping hair back from her face with a small, jerky gesture that was restricted by the way he was holding her so tightly. His brows were drawn low, making his eyes appear almost black with anger, and his lips were pulled into a fierce line.

A flash of irritation whipped through her. What did he have to be so angry about? What made him think he could sweep in and start manhandling her, acting as if she had to answer to him for something that was none of his business?

‘What was I doing?’ she asked incredulously, trying in vain to shrug her arms out of his iron grip. ‘What about you—what are you doing here? Why did you follow me to Wales?’

‘Didn’t you realise it was nearly high tide?’ he demanded, totally ignoring her questions and giving her a little shake that sent droplets of water flying from her hair.

‘I knew the sea was coming in—but I was working,’ she said, trying to sound as if she’d known exactly what she was doing when in fact she’d been shocked to see just how high the water had risen. ‘You get better photos that way. The splashes are bigger. There’s more dynamic energy in the water.’

She pulled back again but he tightened his grip, suddenly making her ultra-aware of his hands on her arms. The rest of her body was still cold and wet but, where his hands touched, a fiery heat was burning through her sodden clothes and penetrating the flesh beneath.

‘For God’s sake!’ Marco exclaimed. ‘You were cut off.’

‘You didn’t need to come out to get me,’ she said crossly, pulling her arms sharply out of his grip and stepping away from him.

She wobbled slightly, but she held her head high. She did not need to explain herself to him—and she wasn’t going to let herself be distracted by the feel of his hands.

‘You could have been swept away,’ he said harshly. ‘What would have happened if I hadn’t been here?’

‘I’m a good swimmer. And I can clamber over rocks just like anyone else,’ she said. ‘I didn’t ask you to come out to get me. And I didn’t need you to carry me!’

‘Swimming doesn’t come into it—not with those white horses pounding you!’ he exclaimed, gesturing fiercely towards the huge white crested waves that were breaking over the rocks.

Claudia turned and stared at the wild sea with startled eyes. Suddenly her head was spinning and her legs felt weak. But it wasn’t the power of the waves that was roaring in her ears and making her dizzy. It was hearing Marco describe them as ‘white horses’.

She had taught him that phrase.

Four years ago when she’d brought him to Pembrokeshire—to the tiny village where her real mother had grown up—she had told him how much she loved to photograph a stormy sea. The weather had been beautiful as they’d sat together on the headland, looking out over the mirror-flat surface of the bay. On that day it had been almost impossible to imagine the sea anything other than a tranquil backdrop to a perfect summer’s day.

Claudia had been so happy. So in love. She’d looked deep into Marco’s eyes and he had pulled her close to him. His lips had found hers and they’d tumbled down on to the springy thyme-scented grass, totally lost in each other.

But she had given her heart—and her body—to nothing more than a fantasy. Marco’s feelings for her had not been real. He had used her and discarded her. That exact same night, Marco had walked out while she had been sleeping—without bothering to tell her he was going, or even to leave her a message.

‘Claudia—’ Marco’s voice, hard and insistent, broke into her reverie and brought her hurtling back to the present ‘—you’re shivering!’

She stared at him with wide eyes.

He was right—she was shivering. But whether it was from the cold, or the shock of plunging into the sea, or from the unexpected force of her memories she couldn’t say.

‘Why did you follow me to Wales?’ she demanded—repeating the question he had evaded earlier. Her voice caught in her throat as she spoke, but she needed to know the answer. ‘How did you even know I was here?’

‘Your friend at work told me,’ he said.

‘You mean Rosie?’ Claudia looked up at him in surprise. ‘She shouldn’t have done that. And you had no right to go behind my back, asking questions about where I was.’

‘Why not—I wanted to see you,’ he responded. ‘To talk to you.’

She stared at him, knowing it couldn’t really be that simple. No one followed another person that far just to talk to them. There must be something else. He must want more.

He was standing with his back to the sea and she could hear the waves crashing dramatically on to the rocky beach behind him. It was an unfamiliar, wild and stormy setting for them to be together. Their brief, intense affair had taken place during the summer, mostly in the elegant and stylish northern Italian city of Turin—and that was where she’d usually thought of him.

But somehow Marco’s raw masculine presence seemed to fit the untamed beach in the wilds of Pembrokeshire perfectly. His clothes were soaked through, his black hair was spiky with salt water, and the edgy, slightly dangerous quality that usually characterised his expression seemed to echo their elemental surroundings exactly.

‘If you knew where I worked, why didn’t you just leave me a message?’ she asked, suddenly feeling unnerved by the brooding sexual energy that glinted in his dark eyes.

She wrapped her arms across her body and hugged herself tightly. It was an instinctive gesture, as much about defending herself from Marco’s penetrating gaze as about keeping warm. But he had seen her reaction to him, and his eyes glittered all the more.

‘Oh, but I forgot—you don’t do messages,’ she added quickly, determined to stand up for herself and not let the sheer force of his personality overwhelm her.

‘I couldn’t wait that long.’ He was unfazed by her barbed comment and deliberately let his eyes drift down across her body, leaving a sudden flare of heat where they passed. ‘I needed to see you—now.’

‘Why?’

But Claudia already knew the answer. And if the potent message in his dark and meaningful gaze wasn’t enough, his voice had dropped to a sensual purr that shimmied across her body like a lover’s caress.

‘After you’d gone, I couldn’t get you out of my mind,’ he said.

His eyes burned into hers and Claudia knew exactly what he was thinking about. And that was enough to fill her own mind with powerful images of Marco making love to her.

But it was not what she wanted. Although her pulse was racing and the deep, dark longing to lie in Marco’s arms again was making it hard to think straight—the thought that he had followed her all the way to Wales simply to bed her was utterly crushing.

Was that really all she’d ever been to him—someone to warm his bed? Didn’t he care enough about her to ask how she’d been since he’d left her? Of course not. If he cared at all, he would never have left her so heartlessly.

Terrible tremors ripped through her body, making the shivering that had gripped her even more intense. But it wasn’t just the cold and wet of her physical condition that was affecting her—it was the brutal reminder of just how little she’d meant to Marco.

‘We have to get you out of those wet clothes,’ he said, suddenly closing the distance between them. Then, before she could react, he lifted her up again and started striding across the meadow to the cottage.

‘Put me down!’ Claudia gasped, struggling against him. The idea of him undressing her flashed through her mind in a series of erotic images which aroused and scared her at the same time. ‘I said, put me down!’

‘We need to warm you up right away,’ he said, his voice showing no sign of effort as he hurried towards the cottage. ‘You’re soaked through—we stood in the cold wind too long.’

As Marco held her tight against his chest, he was shocked by just how hard she was shaking. He could even hear her teeth chattering.

He didn’t know much about hypothermia. A dip in the December sea obviously wasn’t ideal, but he wouldn’t have thought she’d be at serious risk that quickly. However, she was shivering so intensely that an unpleasant jolt ran through him and settled like a wedge of ice in his chest. He could not let anything happen to her!

‘Stop struggling!’ he barked. ‘If you catch your death of cold, you’ll be no good to anybody.’