Читать книгу Ultimate Temptation - Сара Крейвен, Sara Craven - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

FOR heaven’s sake, Lucy castigated herself wearily, not for the first time. You’re not a child. You’ve been in love with a man. You’ve lived with him. So one kiss, even from a complete stranger, is no big deal. Pull yourself together.

She was lying on the bed in her room at the villa, staring at the ceiling. Trying to get all that had happened into some kind of perspective.

The others had been genuinely shocked and concerned when they’d returned from their boutique trip and found out what had happened to her. At first, they’d wanted to call the police, but Lucy had vetoed this. She had neither the number of the motorcycle nor any adequate description of its riders. Besides, apart from the ruin of her bag and trousers, she’d lost nothing, and her only witness had driven off into oblivion.

She’d described him solely as a passer-by. It seemed wiser not to revive Nina’s interest, or lay herself open to any inconvenient questions, she’d decided, passing the tip of her tongue over her still tingling lips.

Nina had driven the Fiat back to the Villa Dante with exaggerated care, while Sandie and Fee had plied Lucy with offers of everything from grappa to a homely cup of tea.

They’d been frankly sceptical, however, when she’d told them about Tommaso. The collective feeling was that she’d gone to the wrong address.

‘I mean, would a man who owns a place like this be camping out in some kind of slum?’ Nina had demanded, and Lucy had to admit it seemed unlikely. Tomorrow, she’d thought, she would make proper enquiries.

However, there was still no sign of Maddalena, which meant Nina and the others had to prepare for their party themselves.

Lucy, however, was not expected to help. Nina had escorted her somewhat perfunctorily upstairs, asked if she wanted anything, and vanished at Lucy’s polite negative.

Once alone, she’d filled the big sunken tub which took pride of place in the adjoining bathroom, and soaked herself luxuriously, letting the warm water soothe as well as cleanse.

She had superficial grazing on her knees and elbows, and there would undoubtedly be bruising to follow, but she would survive, she’d decided with a faint sigh.

But her injured feelings were not as easily mollified, she’d thought as she’d dried herself carefully and put on her lemon silk robe.

It was galling to be classified with the man-hungry Nina, but probably unavoidable under the circumstances. However, she would never have to face her tormentor again, so the only sensible course was to put the whole basically trivial incident behind her, and enjoy the rest of her holiday.

Hers was not the largest bedroom, but it had the best view across the valley, and she liked the uncluttered lines of its furnishings and the plain, heavy cream drapes. It occurred to her now that the room was almost masculine in concept. Maybe this was where Tommaso usually slept, she thought, her flesh creeping at the very idea.

Someone had brought up a pitcher of fruit juice and some paracetemol while she was in the bath. It was a genuinely kind thought, and maybe it would mark a new phase in her somewhat chequered relationship with her companions.

They were younger than her, even if it was only by a matter of a few months, perfectly aware of their own considerable attractions, and looking for a good time. And where was the real harm in all that?

You should stop being so critical and join in more, she told herself forcefully. Make the best of things, starting with tonight’s party. Remember that you’re single too now, instead of half of a couple.

Aided by the painkillers, she slept for a while, her dreams confused and disturbing. And, throughout them all, a man’s dark figure walked on the edge of her consciousness, his face as proud and beautiful as a fallen angel’s.

She awoke in the twilight with a start, her hands reaching across the empty bed for a presence that didn’t exist, and lay still, waiting for the drumming of her pulses to subside.

Philip, she thought. I must be missing Philip.

She did not feel particularly rested, and she was beginning to stiffen up, too, her bruises announcing their existence. It wouldn’t have taken much for her to cry off from the evening’s festivities and stay in her room, she acknowledged, hauling herself gingerly off the bed and over to the big, heavily carved guardaroba. But then solitude had no particular appeal either. It gave her imagination too much scope, she decided wryly.

Most of the clothing she’d brought with her was casual, but at the last moment she’d thrown in a dress that was strictly after-dark gear.

She looked at it without enthusiasm. Philip had urged her to buy it, against her better judgement, during the last week they’d been together. It wasn’t her style, being brief-skirted and body-hugging, with the neckline slashed, back and front, to a deep V, which did no favours at all for her slender curves. And that shade of dark red was wrong for her too, draining her own natural colour.

It seemed to have been designed for a very different woman, and having caught a brief, piercing glimpse of Philip emerging from a fashionable Knightsbridge restaurant with his new lady—a vivid brunette built on voluptuous lines—she could guess only too well who’d he’d been thinking of when he’d picked it out.

But it was the only party wear she had, she thought as she zipped herself into it. And maybe it would do her good to wear it, as a tangible reminder of how little her relationship with Philip had come to mean.

She had spent days and nights since their break-up tormenting herself with self-blame. Asking how she could have been so blind, or why she hadn’t suspected in time to put things right—win him back.

Now, as she brushed her hair into a smooth curve swinging just above her shoulders, she knew there was nothing she could have done. And found herself questioning for the first time whether she should even have tried.

For the truth was, she realised almost dispassionately, that the magic had gone out of their lives long before he’d left.

In the first, euphoric flush of love, she’d ignored the fact that their lovemaking fell short of rapture for her. That Philip had always seemed more concerned for his own satisfaction than hers. That, invariably, she was left stranded, aching for a fulfilment which she could only guess at, having never actually experienced it in reality. And, towards the end, it had become perfunctory—almost a mechanical ritual because they shared a bed.

But how was it that she could suddenly see all this so clearly? she wondered, biting her lip in confusion.

Because today a man had kissed her—someone she would never meet again—and in those few moments when his mouth had possessed hers she had been shaken to the depths of her being, her body shocked into an instant arousal she had never known before.

In her dreams, it was not Philip she had sensed at all, but this other man—the warmth of his breath on her cheek, the scent of his skin, the casual strength of the arms which held her. And in her dreams she had wanted more—much more—than his kiss alone.

She looked at herself, half-wonderingly, in the mirror, her hand going once more to her lips.

She thought, Dear God, what’s happening to me? And could find no answer in her heart.

In spite of all her good resolutions, Lucy could not get into the swing of the party.

The guests had arrived, already uproarious, bringing a crate of assorted wine and a ghetto blaster blaring out heavy rock.

Fee had prepared an enormous bowl of spaghetti carbonara, which they ate in the dining room. Lucy winced as she saw Dave carelessly stub out his cigarette on the comer of the huge polished table.

‘What a fabulous place,’ Ben commented, leaning back in his chair. ‘You were damned lucky to find anywhere in this neck of the woods. When my parents first came out here looking for a holiday place, they found everything in the district belonged to a crowd called Falcone—bankers from Florence, by all accounts. And they weren’t prepared to part with one inch of land, or a single brick of property.’

‘Falcone?’ Lucy questioned, frowning. ‘How strange. There’s a carving of a bird like a falcon over the main door here. I wonder if there’s a connection?’

‘Lucy,’ Fee said patronisingly, ‘is heavily into old buildings. She notices things like that.’

Hal leaned forward. He was tall and blond, older than the others.

‘Maybe she could switch to the present day and notice me instead.’

He gave a mock leer, making everyone laugh, but Lucy noticed how his eyes lingered on her cleavage, and felt uncomfortable.

Ben picked up one of the bottles on the table. ‘Or we could all notice this—Chianti Roccanera—one of the Falcone local by-products.’ His voice took on a reverent tone. ‘Dad would kill me if he knew we’d helped ourselves to some of this.’

Nina raised her glass. ‘Then let’s drink a toast to Ben’s father, and all the Falcones, including the one over the door,’ she said lazily. ‘And our landlord, Tomasso Moressi, who managed somehow to beat the system.’

When supper was finished, they rolled up the rugs in the salotto and danced. Lucy found herself watching the pairing-off process with detached interest. That it was not going to be to everyone’s liking was more than evident.

Nina singled out Greg, with whom she’d been flirting on the plane and who was, apparently, unattached, so that was all right. But Ben’s girlfriend, Sue, was frankly mutinous watching him gyrate with a laughing Fee. And Sandie was blatantly intent on winning Dave away from Clare.

Aware that Hal was heading in her direction, Lucy decided hastily that she would be better employed in clearing the remains of the meal. The dining room looked as if a bomb had hit it, she thought ruefully as she collected the dirty plates. Food had been spilled. A puddle of wine had collected on the table from an overturned bottle and dripped onto the floor. A lamp on a side-table had been knocked over and damaged, and one of the beautiful crystal goblets had been smashed.

And the kitchen was even worse. Fee seemed to have used every pan and bowl to concoct her spaghetti. Lucy sighed soundlessly, tucked a towel round her waist, and set to work.

The noise of the party seemed to be receding, and presently she heard splashing and laughter coming from outside. When she went to investigate, she found them all down at the poolside.

It was a warm, sultry night, with the sky blazing with stars. The ornamental lamps had been lit, and someone had changed the cassette for one with music of a slower, dreamier tempo.

Greg and Nina were dancing slowly, as if they were welded together. He was kissing the side of her neck, pushing down the straps of her dress as he did so.

Fee and Sandie were in the water with Ben and Dave, obviously skinny-dipping, their discarded clothing lying in untidy heaps on the tiled surround. Sue’s face was frozen as she watched them, and Clare was biting her lip, close to angry tears.

There’s going to be trouble, Lucy deduced resignedly. And I don’t really want to be involved.

As she turned to go, she found Hal blocking her way.

‘Running out on us?’

Lucy lifted her chin. ‘I’ve had a bad day. I think I’ll go to bed.’

‘What a wonderful idea.’ He gave her a slow, meaningful smile. ‘I’ll keep you company.’

She didn’t return the smile. ‘I think you’d do better to stay with your friends,’ she said evenly. She nodded towards Sue and Clare. ‘Some of them don’t seem very happy.’

‘They can look after themselves,’ he dismissed. ‘I’ve been watching you all evening. You’re a bit of a dark horse, Lucy.’ His eyes slid over her, making her feel as naked as the revellers in the pool. ‘So, what’s your story?’

She took his hand from her arm. ‘I haven’t one. And, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go.’

‘Oh, but I do mind.’ His voice hardened slightly. ‘Whatever the lads get up to tonight, tomorrow it’ll be kiss and make up with Sue and Clare. I’ve seen it all before. I’m sticking with you. You intrigue me.’

‘I’m afraid it isn’t mutual.’ Lucy’s tone was icy. She turned away, seeking another means of retreat, but Hal grabbed her by the shoulders and swung her round to face the others.

‘The lady wants to leave,’ he announced. ‘What do you say?’

‘Oh, let her go,’ called Fee. ‘Winters by name, wintry by nature,’ she added with a giggle. ‘She’s no loss.’

‘No, chuck her in here.’ Ben’s voice was slurred. ‘Serve her right for being a spoilsport.’

‘But don’t ruin her pretty dress,’ Greg added, leering, and Nina began to laugh.

‘Off, off, off,’ she chanted, and the others joined in, only Sue and Clare maintaining a tight-lipped silence.

Lucy froze as she felt Hal’s hands, odiously familiar, fumbling for her zip. Felt her dress beginning to slide from her shoulders.

‘No.’ Frantically, she kicked backwards, her sandal heel connecting smartly with his shin. He swore and his grip slackened fractionally—momentarily.

It was enough. Lucy pulled free and ran round the pool towards the sheltering darkness of the garden, desperation lending her speed, in spite of her aches and pains.

She had some crazy idea of trying to reach the car parked at the side of the house. But there was something blocking her way again. Or someone, her mind registered helplessly as she was captured and held.

Greg must have cut her off. At the very least, she was going to be stripped and thrown into the water, and every fibre of her being recoiled in revulsion from the thought.

‘Let me go.’ She began to struggle fiercely, punching and clawing at the imprisoning arms. ‘I said, leave me be, damn you.’

‘Sta’ zitto.’ The low voice was grimly familiar. ‘Shut up, you little fool, and be still.’

‘You?’ Lucy stared up at the dark, patrician face, and her voice cracked with relief, and another, less easily recognisable emotion, as she acknowledged, ‘It’s you.’

Involuntarily, she found herself pressing against him and burying her face in his chest as she drew a shuddering breath.

For a moment he let her remain where she was, then he put her away from him and walked forward into the lamplight.

All heads had turned towards him as if they were on strings. The laughing and shouting had died away as if a switch had been thrown, to be succeeded by a strangely intense silence into which his voice, quiet and cold, fell like a stone.

He said. ‘I am Giulio Falcone. And this is my house. May I know what you are doing here?’

‘Your house?’ Nina was the first to break the spell his appearance had created. She faced him, flushed, tousled and frankly aggressive. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘Easy,’ Ben intervened sharply. ‘It is him. It’s Count Falcone himself.’

‘I don’t care who he is,’ Nina flung back. ‘This place belongs to Tommaso Moressi, and we’re renting it from him.’

‘You are mistaken, signorina.’ Count Falcone’s voice was like steel. ‘The man you speak of, Moressi, is no more than the nephew of my servant, Maddalena. He owns nothing apart from what he can steal,’ he added contemptuously. ‘I hope you have not been unwise enough to pay him anything.’

‘I’m afraid we have.’ Lucy spoke, her voice hollow, her hands shaking as she put her dress to rights. ‘Three weeks’ rent, plus the use of a car and maid servce. Only the maid has disappeared—and so has Signor Moressi.’

‘I don’t doubt it.’ Giulio Falcone shrugged. ‘Almost certainly word of my unexpected return spread at once, and he took fright.’ He shook his head, more in sorrow than in anger. ‘Poor Maddalena. She has always indulged that worthless fool’

‘Poor Maddalena?’ Fee echoed shrilly. ‘To hell with that. What about us—our money?’

She had climbed out of the pool, and the Count’s face tightened with distaste as he glanced at her.

‘Be good enough to cover yourself at once, signorina,’ he directed with icy formality. ‘I regret that you have been the victim of a confidence trick, but that is hardly my problem. What I must demand is that you vacate my house immediately.’ He looked around, frowning. ‘Are you all staying here?’

‘No.’ Ben was huddling into his clothes. He looked awkward and faintly ridiculous. ‘My parents have a place near Lussione.’

‘Then I suggest you return there. And take your friends with you,’ Giulio Falcone added bitingly.

‘No,’ Lucy said forcefully, her shocked negation instantly echoed by Sue and Clare.

‘You bring these slags back with us and I walk out.’ Sue glared at Ben.

The Count’s lip curled. ‘We seem to have an impasse,’ he drawled. ‘I suggest you settle it amongst yourselves before I am forced to call the polizia.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Shall we say fifteen minutes?’

His mention of the police had an oddly galvanising effect. Within seconds, the poolside was clear and the erstwhile tenants of the Vila Dante were on their way upstairs to pack.

As Lucy passed the door of the salotto, she could hear a furious argument going on between Ben and the others. Hal detached himself from it and came to the door.

‘It’s all right, sweetheart.’ His eyes swept over her in an appraisal that combined sensuality with malice. ‘You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ve got my own room at Ben’s place. I’ll make sure you’re looked after—as long as you start being friendlier.’

She said with icy clarity, ‘Over my dead body,’ and went up to her room, two stairs at a time.

Her heart was thudding like a sledgehammer as she began to empty the chest of drawers and the wardrobe, hardly aware of what she was doing as she tried to think—to plan. She’d have to cut her losses altogether, she told herself as she piled everything untidily into her case. Somehow she’d have to make her way to Pisa and get a flight home. Anything else was unthinkable.

She presumed she’d be able to transfer the return half of her ticket to a different flight. If not, she’d simply have to pay all over again.

I’ll worry about that when I get there, she told herself as she dashed into the bathroom to collect her toiletries.

When she returned to the bedroom, she realised with another thump of the heart that she was no longer alone.

Giulio Falcone was lounging in the doorway, watching her.

‘You don’t have to check up on me,’ she said quickly, aware that her breathing had quickened, and resenting the fact. ‘I’ve almost finished.’

‘So I see.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Are you so eager to go to Lussione?’

‘You know I’m not.’ She pitched her toilet bag into the case and rammed the lid shut.

‘No? You don’t want to be with your friends?’

She bit her lip. ‘They’re not my friends.’

His brows lifted sceptically. ‘Yet I observed an unusual level of intimacy for mere acquaintances,’ he murmured.

Lucy flushed, remembering exactly what he must have seen. ‘They’re just some people we met on the plane,’ she said. ‘Nina and the others wanted to give a party—and invited them here tonight.’

‘Yes,’ he said with chill emphasis. ‘I have seen the trail of destruction they have left—particularly in the dining room.’

‘I didn’t get around to that,’ Lucy admitted wearily. ‘But I tidied the kitchen.’ She lifted her chin. ‘And I’m sure we’ll be happy to make good any damage.’

He laughed. ‘You are being naive, signorina. Both the lamp and the glass were antiques of great value. Replacement would be impossible, and the cost inestimable.’

Lucy’s heart sank. ‘Well, we could all chip in,’ she returned bravely. ‘And, of course, the police may find Tommaso Moressi and get our money back. You could have a claim on that, I suppose.’

‘I think Tommaso will be a long way from here by now, with his tracks safely covered,’ Giulio Falcone commented drily. ‘Leaving his unfortunate aunt, as usual, to pick up the pieces,’ he added cuttingly.

Lucy looked down at the floor. ‘I understand now why she didn’t want us here. She seemed very frightened.’

‘I can imagine,’ he said sardonically. ‘Yet it should have been safe. I had no plans to use the villa myself until the time of the vintage. But circumstances intervened.’ He shrugged. ‘You are unfortunate, signorina. You could so easily have enjoyed your holiday uninterrupted and innocently unaware that your occupation was illegal.’

The last word seemed to hang in the air between them, raising all kinds of disturbing implications.

Lucy shivered. She said, ‘I’m not sure enjoyment is the word.’

‘No?’ The amber eyes surveyed her reflectively. ‘Yet you are dressed for an evening of pleasure.’

Lucy gritted her teeth. That damned dress, she thought.

‘A bad mistake,’ she said. ‘Like the entire trip.’ She forced a smile. ‘And being mugged was really the last straw anyway. I didn’t need to be conned as well.’

‘How did you meet Moressi—hear about this place?’ he asked curiously.

‘The others used to visit a pizzeria after their Italian classes. The manager arranged it. He and Tommaso must have been in league with each other.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘I wasn’t sure about him from that first moment in Pisa. And when I saw this house—how beautiful it was, and how old—it seemed even stranger. He didn’t—fit somehow.’

‘He never has.’ His voice was abrupt. There was another silence, then he said, ‘So, what is the alternative to Lussione?’

‘Pisa,’ she said determinedly. ‘And the next flight home.’

‘That could present problems. This is, after all, the holiday season. There will be few spare seats available—if any,’ he added starkly.

Lucy shrugged defensively. ‘Then I’ll find somewhere to stay—go on stand-by,’ she said with more confidence than she actually felt as she did a hasty mental calculation of her available funds.

‘Can you affford that?’ Clearly he wasn’t fooled.

‘I don’t have a choice.’ She gave him a defiant look.

‘How fortunate,’ he said softly, ‘that I was able to read your mind so accurately.’

‘What do you mean?’ Lucy was suddenly very still.

‘Your friends have gone. I told them you would not be accompanying them.’

Lucy stared at him, suddenly, tensely aware of how quiet the house had become.

‘You mean they’ve left me here alone?’ Her voice almost cracked. ‘Without even a word?’

His smile deepened. There was something pagan in the curve of his mouth, she thought, a stir of unbidden excitement warring with the growing apprehension inside her.

He said gently, ‘Not alone, signorina. You forget that I shall be here too. From now on you will be staying as my guest.’ He paused. ‘And also,’ he added softly, ‘as my companion.’