Читать книгу Promise Of The Unicorn - Сара Крейвен, Sara Craven - Страница 6

THERE was a brief silence, blank, almost stunned, then Angelo burst out laughing.

‘Is that a proposal, mia cara? If so, I’m more flattered than I can say, but it is more usual, you know, for the man to do the asking.’

‘Of course it’s not a proposal.’ Sophie glared at him, stormy colour flaring in her face. ‘I wouldn’t marry you if …’ She paused belatedly, realising her denial could have been more politely worded.

‘If I were the last man left on earth?’ Angelo supplied silkily. ‘Why not have the courage of your convictions, Sophie, and say what you are undoubtedly thinking. So—let us agree that neither of us would be the choice of the other. Presumably you have met a man who meets all your stringent criteria as a husband. I am happy for you. Is that what you wanted to hear. Did you come here today to ask my blessing?’

‘Not entirely.’ Sophie fidgeted with her fork. She said carefully, looking down at her plate. ‘You see, my parents don’t want me to marry him, and I’m hoping you will persuade them to change their minds.’

There was another silence. She peeped at him under her lashes, and saw that he was frowning.

‘You are of legal age, Sophie. Why do you need their consent?’

‘Because of Grandfather Ralston’s will,’ she said baldly. ‘Look, I’d better explain everything from the beginning.’

‘I think you should.’ He refilled her glass.

‘I met Mark in the village a few months ago,’ she said. ‘I was caught in a shower of sleet, and I went into the antique shop in Market Street to shelter. It belongs to Mark’s aunt, and he was looking after it for her while she went to some sale or other. Well, we got talking, and he made some coffee, and …’ Sophie paused. ‘Well, that’s how it started,’ she said flatly. ‘We—fell in love.’ She gave him a challenging look. ‘Nothing to say?’

He shrugged. ‘The story seems conventional and innocuous enough. What is your parents’ objection?’

Sophie hesitated again. This was the difficult part. ‘As it happens, Mark hasn’t got a job. At least, he’s had a couple since he left university, but they haven’t worked out. Now, he has the most marvellous chance to go in with a man he knows called Craig Jefferson, making software for computers. He’s been offered a partnership, a share in the business, but, of course, he has to buy it and …’

‘And he has no capital,’ Angelo finished for her. She saw his frown had deepened. ‘I hope he has not tried to borrow money from John.’

‘Oh, no.’ Sophie shook her head quickly. ‘There’s no need. You see, there’s the Ralston money that Grandfather left me. It isn’t a great deal in your terms, but it would be enough to give Mark the start he needs. Only Grandfather was a real dyed in the wool male chauvinist. I only inherit the money when I’m twenty-one, or if I marry before that with the consent of my parents.’

‘Which they will not give.’ It was a statement not a question. ‘They can hardly be blamed, cara.’

‘You’re as bad as they are.’ Sophie bit her lip. ‘I’ve heard all the arguments over and over again, and they don’t matter. Mark and I love each other, and I want to do this for us. I want to give him the Ralston money and give him a start in life.’

He said drily, ‘It is more usual for a man contemplating marriage to provide his own start. But I’m sure John has already made this point to you.’

‘Many times,’ said Sophie defiantly. ‘And it makes no difference.’

‘I imagined it did not,’ he murmured. ‘So—you have come to me. Why do you think I should recommend this—Mark as a suitable husband for you?’

‘Because of a promise you once made.’ Sophie fumbled for her bag, pulling out the tissue wrapped parcel with fingers that shook. ‘You said if there was ever anything I really wanted—all I had to do was return it to you.’ She unwrapped the unicorn and stood it on the table between them, where the sunlight turned it to fire. ‘or are you going to tell me now that it was a piece of childish foolishness—something to keep me quiet, and that you didn’t really mean a word of it?’

There was a long silence, then he said expressionlessly, ‘If I said it, then I meant it. Be in no doubt of that.’

‘Then you promised you’d help me obtain my heart’s desire.’ Sophie’s pulses were beating strongly and heavily, and she was conscious of an odd film of perspiration on her brow suddenly.

Angelo’s dark eyes were fixed on her broodingly, a strange harshness in their depths, giving the impression he wasn’t really seeing her at all. He didn’t answer at once, and she repeated breathlessly, ‘You’ll help me?’

He leaned forward, and picked up the unicorn. For an instant, it seemed as if the long, lean fingers were going to crush it into splinters, and Sophie watched in a kind of bemused horror, then the moment passed, and perhaps, after all, it had only been a figment of her imagination, because he was smiling at her easily, and slipping the little figurine into his pocket.

‘As I promised, cara, you shall have whatever you most desire.’ He paused. ‘That is—if you are sure you know what it is?’

‘I’m sure,’ she said huskily. ‘I love Mark. We love each other. And he deserves this chance. My parents are just prejudiced against him for nothing. They don’t really know him.’

‘Then improving their acquaintance must clearly be a priority,’ Angelo said lightly. ‘Now, finish your lunch, Sophie, or William will be angry with us.’

Her chicken had cooled rapidly, but she didn’t care. She felt so exultant that she could have eaten sawdust and tasted only ambrosia. In the end, it had been easy, she told herself. He had remembered, after all, and he was going to keep his word.

He had also, she realised regretfully, kept the little unicorn, which she hadn’t intended at all.

William reappeared, with offers of dessert which Sophie refused, opting for coffee alone. She sat impatiently, watching Angelo peel himself a peach, the strong brown fingers moveing deftly. She wished that lunch was over and she could make an excuse and leave. She wanted to get back to Bishops Wharton, and tell Mark the fantastic news.

When William had served the coffee and brought Angelo a cognac, he departed, and they were alone once more.

Sophie cleared her throat. ‘So—how will you go about it then? Convincing my parents, I mean?’

He shrugged, watching the swirl of cognac in his glass. ‘I haven’t decided yet, but naturally, I wish to meet your Mark. I should only be a fool if I urged your marriage to someone I had never seen in my life. Will he be at the anniversary party, or has he been forbidden the house?’

‘Oh, no,’ Sophie said. ‘I’m allowed to see him. It’s just the idea of marriage that they’re so against.’

‘It is hardly surprising.’ His tone was dry. ‘Why not be patient, Sophie? Why not wait until you are twenty-one as your grandfather’s bequest states?’

‘I can’t. If we wait much longer, Craig Jefferson’s going to find himself another partner, and Mark will have missed out on the chance of a lifetime.’

‘On the chance of a partnership, certainly,’ Angelo agreed. ‘But, does it have to be that? Are there no other positions with the company? A different starting point, perhaps, from which he can make his own way without the help of his bride’s legacy.’ He paused. ‘I presume you have told him about the Ralston money?’

‘Naturally. I have no secrets from Mark.’

‘Admirable,’ he said sardonically. ‘And was it his idea to approach me for help, once you’d told him of the rash promise I gave you with the unicorn?’

‘Er, no.’ Sophie had to tread warily again. Mark’s actual suggestion had been far more direct and basic. ‘The guy’s loaded, sweetie. Couldn’t you persuade him to lend you the money?’ A suggestion she had flinched from. It had only been afterwards that she’d remembered the glass unicorn, and wondered if it might be a way out of their difficulties. ‘Actually, it was all my own doing. Mark hasn’t the least idea that I intended to approach you.’

‘And presumably, if he had known of your intentions, he would have moved heaven and earth to stop you.’

She hated that undertone of sarcasm. ‘Why should he?’

Angelo shrugged. ‘Perhaps—because I am not noted for offering favours. And perhaps because he might be frightened I might take—advantage of you.’

There was another silence, and Sophie’s discomfort deepened. Mark had frowned when she’d tried to explain about her fraught relationship with Angelo.

‘For heaven’s sake, Sophie,’ Mark had exclaimed impatiently. ‘Don’t you know you can’t afford to upset men in his position. If you’d played your cards right, you could have had him eating out of your hand by now. He’s not exactly immune to beautiful girls, you know.’

Snapping her attention back to the present, she said quickly, ‘I don’t suppose it even crossed his mind. Mark trusts me implicitly.’

‘He sounds a paragon,’ Angelo murmured. ‘I shall be interested to see who has managed to awaken such a passion of devotion in you, if nothing else.’

Sophie set down her coffee cup with an indignant rattle. ‘What do you mean by that?’

He smiled faintly, his eyes lingering in the wide eyes, then down to the vulnerable curve of her mouth. ‘That in spite of your protests, you are still very much a child, Sophie, and that marriage is a drastic way to achieve maturity. Why don’t you enjoy your first love for what it is, and forget marriage for a while?’

Sophie bit her lip as she rose to her feet, reaching for her jacket. ‘That’s exactly the sort of cynical remark I’d expect from you. I hope you’re not suggesting that I should follow your example, and have one affaire after another.’

‘On the contrary.’ Angelo had risen too. He was standing, his head thrown back slightly, watching her, his face speculative. ‘But I hope in turn that you have not fallen in love with this young man because he is the first one to have kissed you. That is hardly a sound basis for matrimony.’

Sophie’s face burned as she struggled into her jacket. ‘That’s none of your business.’

He said flatly, ‘You have made it my business.’ He walked round the table towards her. ‘And the least I can do, Sophie mia, is provide you with grounds for comparison.’

She wanted to run, but the chair was behind her, blocking her way, and as she tried to thrust it from her path, Angelo reached her, his long arms pulling her effortlessly against him.

She said hoarsely, ‘Don’t you dare to …’ but the remainder of her words were lost beneath the pressure of his mouth on hers.

He was very strong, some part of her brain acknowledged numbly. Under the elegant suit, his body was like whipcord, and the kiss should have been hard too. But it wasn’t. Instead his lips were warm and devastatingly sensuous as they explored her own, coaxing them apart to provide him with a more intimate access to her mouth.

Her mind was repeating ‘No’ over and over again, but her mouth was surrendering, her body melting against his, here in this sunlit cage of a room.

He wasn’t even holding her any more. His hands were caressing her instead, stroking the nape of her neck under the smooth fall of her hair, tracing the curve of her spine beneath her jacket, his fingers scorching her flesh through the thin material of her blouse.

She could have stepped back away from him, only she didn’t, because suddenly she wanted the kiss to go on. And she knew too that she wanted him to go on touching her too. That she wanted to know how his hands would feel on her bare skin.

Sanity returned like a drenching with cold water, shattering the sensual dream world which had so insidiously enfolded and enticed her. She wrenched herself free, a hand going instinctively to cover the aroused fullness of her parted lips.

A voice she hardly recognised as her own, said, ‘You had no right to do that.’

He shrugged, his eyes bright and merciless as they studied her. ‘What right did I need? You are not this Mark’s wife, Sophie, not yet.’

She said unsteadily, ‘But I will be. And if I tell him what you’ve done …’

‘Ah.’ He smiled. ‘But you won’t tell him, will you, cara? Or, if you do, you won’t tell the whole truth. Just as you didn’t share the secret of the unicorn with him.’

His shrewdness appalled her. She flung back her head. ‘I would never lie to Mark.’

His brows rose. ‘So—what will you tell him? That it began with a kiss, and ended with both of us wanting more—much more.’ He added softly.

Colour flared in her face. She said thickly. ‘You’re disgusting.’

‘I’m honest,’ he said cynically. ‘But you, mia cara, are a little hypocrite, denying the responses of your own body.’ He took a step towards her, his smile deepening. ‘Shall I prove it to you?’

She recoiled, almost stumbling in her haste. ‘Don’t touch me.’

He halted. The dark eyes met hers, holding them effortlessly in thrall, and to her dismay she felt a shock of totally physical desire shiver through her body. He didn’t have to touch, or even speak. The invitation was there in the way he was looking at her, and it would be easy, so fatally easy to cross the brief space which separated them, and answer that invitation with her lips, and her body.

She closed her eyes, blotting him out, rejecting him with her mind, a shudder of self disgust quivering through her.

But at least she was back in control again, and her eyes opened, unleashing at him all the scorn she could muster. She said quietly, ‘You’re despicable, and I wish with all my heart that I’d never come here.’

‘Ah, but you did,’ he said softly. ‘And the bargain between us still stands, Sophie mia.’

She said violently, ‘Well, I want no further part of it,’ and, turning, walked away out of the room and away from him, wishing that her dignity would allow her to run.

By the time the train pulled in to Bishops Wharton, Sophie was almost able to convince herself that she’d been drunk. There was no other explanation for her behaviour. She’d had that sherry, and then he’d kept topping up her glass with wine, and she wished she knew a word bad enough to call him.

She went straight round to Market Street. Miss Langton was in the shop, and she gave Sophie an indifferent nod as the shop bell tinkled.

‘He’s in the flat,’ she advised briefly. ‘Go on up.’

As Sophie obeyed, she wondered about Mark’s relationship with his aunt. As far as she could gather, each was the only relative the other had, yet there didn’t seem to be a great deal of mutual affection. And when she’d tentatively asked Mark if his aunt couldn’t lend him the money for the Jefferson partnership, he’d stared at her as if she was crazy.

‘Aunt Edwina?’ He’d laughed. ‘Darling, that glorified junk shop of hers doesn’t provide that kind of income.’

Sophie didn’t argue, but she wondered whether Mark wasn’t too dismissive of his aunt’s business. The shop was always attractive and well-stocked, and Miss Langton appeared to have a shrewd knowledge of the value of each and every item.

Mark was stretched out on the sofa, watching television, but he sat up eagerly as Sophie came in.

‘Darling.’ He drew her down to him and kissed her, his lips lingering on hers. ‘God, you look beautiful—like a million dollars.’

She smiled rather tautly, and sat down beside him. ‘While we’re on the subject of money, I went to see Angelo Marchese today.’

‘You did?’ Mark almost yelped. ‘You wonderful girl. What did he say? Is he going to help us?’

‘Up to a point.’ Sophie chose her words carefully. ‘He wants to meet you, and after that, hopefully, he’s going to talk my parents round about our marriage.’

‘Fantastic.’ Mark hugged her, his face jubilant. ‘So all I have to do is convince him I’m a solid citizen, and worth a boost in the right direction. Consider it done.’ He shook his head at her. ‘And you didn’t want to approach him.’

‘I still wish I hadn’t.’ Sophie stared down at the carpet. ‘He made a pass at me.’

‘Well, I’m not surprised,’ Mark said cheerfully. ‘You look delectable. I can hardly keep my hands off you myself,’ he added with a ferocious leer.

Sophie didn’t smile. ‘Don’t you care?’ she asked curiously.

He sighed almost impatiently. ‘Of course I care, darling, but I don’t suppose it was any big deal. You’re a member of his family now, after all. Besides, according to the papers, he has bigger fish to fry,’ he added carelessly. ‘Some dress designer woman. There was a picture of them at some nightclub last night.’ Mark slid his arm round her shoulders. ‘Now, tell me everything Marchese said.’ He paused. ‘I don’t suppose he mentioned lending you the money.’

‘No, he didn’t,’ Sophie said. ‘And I could never ask him, Mark. Please believe that.’

‘All right.’ He gave a faint shrug. ‘We’ll play it the way you want it, darling. It seems to have worked pretty well up to now. What did you do? Appeal to his better nature?’

‘I don’t think he has one,’ Sophie said bitterly. ‘No, I—I reminded him that he’d been kind to me when I was a child—that’s all.’

He grinned. ‘Well, it was certainly enough.’

More than enough, Sophie thought bitterly. It disturbed her that Mark seemed to have failed to understand her feelings in all this. He regarded the events of the day as some kind of unqualified triumph, as if all their difficulties had been swept away in one fell swoop.

Sophie, however, was far from sure about this. She had no doubt that Angelo could persuade her stepfather to do almost anything he chose—if he wished, but he had made no actual guarantees.

She said slowly, ‘Mark, perhaps it would be safer not to hope for too much.’

‘Nonsense,’ Mark said briskly. ‘Can’t you see, darling, that just to meet someone of Angelo Marchese’s stature is the biggest break I’ve ever had. It’s the kind of chance I’ve dreamed of.’

Sophie gave him an uneasy glance. ‘Still, maybe it would be better not to say anything yet to Craig Jefferson.’

He shrugged. ‘Probably not.’ He smiled at her. ‘Who knows? If I play my cards right, maybe I won’t need Jeffersons any more anyway.’

Her alarm deepened. ‘What do you mean?’

He sighed. ‘Oh, come on, Sophie. If it comes to a choice between Jeffersons and—say—the Marchese bank, then it’s no contest. Even you must be able to see that.’

‘But there is no choice,’ Sophie protested, beginning to feel desperate. Mark seemed to be disappearing out of sight suddenly.

‘Not yet. But then I haven’t met your cousin.’ Mark said almost absently. ‘When and where is this meet to take place? Should I ring the bank? Make an appointment?’

Sophie sighed. ‘No—you’ll meet him at my parents’ anniversary party. And he’s not my cousin,’ she added sharply.

He gave her an indulgent smile. ‘Don’t quibble, sweetheart. And do cheer up. After all, this is exactly what we wanted.’

‘It’s what you wanted certainly,’ Sophie said coolly. She rose, smoothing a non-existent crease in her skirt with hands that shook a little. ‘I just hope we don’t live to regret it.’

She felt no happier on the night of the anniversary party itself. She’d been on edge all day, but trying to hide it as she helped Barbara and Mrs Curzon the housekeeper to complete the final touches.

She was dreading the moment when she would have to face Angelo again. The memory of that shameful kiss he had inflicted on her was still strong, and she was unable either to laugh it off as unimportant, or shrug it away as experience. In fact, she was in danger of becoming obsessive about it, she told herself. And the most galling reflection was that Angelo would undoubtedly be highly amused if he knew of her heartsearchings over such a triviality.

She was in her room when his car swept up the drive. She caught a glimpse of the chauffeur opening the back of the Rolls, and his dark figure emerging, before whisking herself away from the window. The last thing she wanted was for him to look up and catch her peeping at him like a schoolgirl.

She took all the time in the world to bathe and dress for the party, timing her descent to the drawing room to coincide with Mark’s arrival.

She took a long look in the mirror, and nodded with qualified approval. The new dress in white chiffon with its draped Grecian bodice and floating skirt was becoming, and she hoped her hair, piled into a carefully casual top-knot gave her some added sophistication.

Mark was standing before the appletree-log fire which had been kindled on the drawing room’s wide hearth. He looked unfamiliar in the formality of his dinner jacket, and endearingly apprehensive as he glanced towards the door. Sophie went into his arms like a homing bird, lifting her mouth for his kiss.

‘God, you look beautiful,’ he said huskily.

She smiled up at him. ‘We aim to please,’ she whispered teasingly.

He swallowed. ‘Is he here?’

She nodded. ‘He arrived about a couple of hours ago,’ she said neutrally.

‘Has he said anything?’

Sophie bit her lip. ‘I—er I haven’t seen him yet,’ she offered rather weakly. ‘I was upstairs when he arrived and …’

Mark groaned. ‘I suppose you’re avoiding him,’ he accused. ‘Sophie, for heaven’s sake. We need to be nice to the man, and that includes you.’

‘Fine,’ she said tautly. ‘Just how nice would you like me to be? I’m sure he’ll meet me more than halfway.’

‘Darling,’ he said patiently. ‘You’re very innocent in many ways. Are you sure you didn’t just—misinterpret an avuncular gesture?’

‘Perfectly,’ Sophie said. ‘Any uncle who behaved like that could end up in court.’

He gave her a coaxing smile. ‘My poor love, you sound as if you had quite a shock. But you’re quite safe. I’ll take care of you.’

It was what she wanted to hear, and as his arms closed round her again, she melted eagerly against him, closing her mind to everything but the realisation that this was Mark who she loved and who loved her …

From the doorway, Angelo said drily, ‘La disturbo? Am I disturbing you?’

Mark released her hurriedly, and Sophie stepped back, her face flaming, avoiding Angelo’s ironic gaze as he came slowly across the room towards them.

He said coolly, ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am Angelo Marchese, and I think you must be the young man Sophie intends to marry.’

‘I’m Mark Langton, yes.’ While they shook hands, Sophie sought to recover her composure.

‘I must apologise for my thoughtless intrusion,’ Angelo was saying pleasantly. ‘But I did not expect to find the drawing room occupied. Sono molto dispiacente.’

Mark said eagerly, ‘It really doesn’t matter. After all, the main purpose of my being here is to meet you.’

Angelo’s eyes rested on his meditatively. ‘As you say,’ he agreed. ‘Perhaps we could further our acquaintance over a drink? Sophie—will you act as hostess for us. I’ll have whisky with ice if you please.’

‘And with soda for me,’ Mark put in, and Sophie noted irritably that his tone was almost deferential.

She said expressionlessly, ‘Of course’ and went off to get the drinks. When she returned Mark was in full spate about Craig Jefferson’s company and the amazing opportunity for investment it presented, while Angelo listened with courteous interest. Mark broke off almost reluctantly to accept the drink she handed him.

Angelo lifted his glass to her. ‘You are an enchantment to the eyes, mia cara,’ he said softly. He looked at her empty hands. ‘You don’t drink with us. Not even a sherry—or perhaps—a glass of wine?’

Sophie shook her head, her eyes meeting his unflinchingly. ‘I don’t think alcohol agrees with me,’ she said.

Angelo’s eyes narrowed mockingly, but he made no reply, and at that moment John and Barbara came into the room, Barbara exclaiming distractedly because they had not been the first downstairs.

After that, the evening seemed to merge into a blur for Sophie. At the dinner table, she was nowhere near either Mark or Angelo and couldn’t hear what, if anything, they were saying to each other.

And when the meal was over, she had to do the dutiful rounds of the other guests before she could ask her mother tentatively if she knew where Mark was.

Barbara frowned. ‘He and Angelo seem to be smoking cigars in the conservatory,’ she said tartly. ‘I hope that young man doesn’t mean to be a nuisance and monopolise Angelo for the remainder of the evening. He seems to be following him about, and as he’s your guest, it’s up to you to see that he behaves. I don’t want Angelo to be annoyed.’

‘Oh, God forbid,’ Sophie’s chin lifted. ‘It doesn’t occur to you, Mother, that they might have mutual interests to discuss this evening?’

Mrs Marchese gave her a dry look. ‘Frankly, no, darling. Now please rescue Angelo. After all, he comes down here to relax.’

‘Oh, really?’ Sophie was openly sarcastic. ‘I thought he had Signora Vanni for that.’

Barbara’s expression was scandalised. ‘Sophie—that is no concern of yours.’

Sophie shrugged wearily. ‘Of course not. I’m sorry. I’ll—go and break up the smoking party.’

But as she moved along the covered walk to the conservatory, Mark was already coming to meet her, his face alight, and his eyes gleaming with excitement.

‘There you are.’ He grabbed her arm, bruising the flesh. ‘I’ve got to talk to you.’

Sophie detached herself, rubbing her arm ruefully. ‘Is this private enough?’ she asked, indicating the long cane seat which stood against the wall.

‘Yes, of course.’ He said down with her. ‘Sophie, you’re all wrong about Angelo Marchese. He couldn’t have been nicer to me. He thinks, like me, that Craig’s offer is the chance of a lifetime.’ He paused, drawing breath. ‘He says that I have ambition, and he likes that,’ he disclosed with a kind of awe. ‘He wants to get to know me better—discuss my future in more depth—his own words.’ He took both her hands in his. ‘Sophie, he’s invited both of us to stay with him on this private island he has. He wants us to join him there at the end of the month.’ He paused again. ‘What do you think of that?’

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘Angelo has invited you—us to Avirenze? I don’t believe it.’

‘Why not?’ Mark’s tone held a touch of aggression. ‘I just told you—we got on well together.’ He grinned. ‘And I have the distinct impression he means to make me an offer himself.’

‘An offer you can’t refuse?’ Sophie asked with a kind of desperate flippancy, then sobered. ‘Mark—do we have to accept this invitation?’

‘Of course we do.’ He stared at her as if she was mad. ‘A millionaire’s hideout near Capri—that’s fantasy stuff, and I’m not missing out. It’s different for you,’ he added a shade peevishly. ‘I suppose you’ve been there a dozen times already.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I never have. My parents go each year, but they were always invited during term time.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘I can understand why, I suppose. I was enough of a brat to have started asking embarrassing questions about why Angelo was there with a different lady each time.’

‘Was he?’

Sophie’s brows lifted. ‘You sound envious,’ she accused with a smile in her voice.

But Mark didn’t seem to hear the smile. He said flatly, ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Is this why you don’t want to go to Avirenze? Because of some silly childhood embargo?’

She shook her head. ‘Of course not. But I don’t understand this invitation, and I can’t really believe it’s all as simple and friendly as you seem to think.’ She took a breath. ‘What it boils down to is—I don’t like Angelo, and I don’t trust him either.’

‘Oh for God’s sake, you’re letting your prejudices run away with you,’ Mark said irritably. ‘This is important to me, Sophie, and important to my career. Hell, after we’re married, we’ll have to entertain clients, and you’re not going to like them all, but you’re going to have to behave as if you do. Well, start practising with your cousin Angelo.’

‘Angelo is not my cousin,’ Sophie reminded him wearily. ‘And he’s not noted for his philanthropy either.’

Mark shrugged. ‘He agreed to help you when you asked him, didn’t he,’ he demanded unarguably. ‘Anyway, I don’t know what you’re complaining about. A couple of weeks in the sun off the coast of Italy. Where’s the harm in that?’

The harm, Sophie thought, was Angelo—the shadow in that sun. But it was clearly pointless pursuing any such argument with Mark. She’d seen Angelo’s charm in operation before, and although she was immune, Mark was bound to be flattered by the attention he was receiving.

She said quietly, ‘If you’re really set on going, I suppose I must agree.’

‘Sophie—don’t act like a martyr,’ he appealed with an irritated groan. ‘This could be a turning point in our lives.’ He kissed her. ‘It will be wonderful,’ he whispered. ‘I know it will.’

She made herself smile, return his kiss, but the warmth of his lips did little to dispel the chill of unease within her—the chill that reminded her that the Marchese family had been manipulating people since the time of the Doges of Venice.

The party didn’t break up until nearly three in the morning. It had been a great success, and people were leaving with obvious reluctance.

Mark was among the first to go. ‘I don’t want to out-stay my welcome,’ he murmured as he kissed her goodbye. ‘After all, I want your family to like me.’

Sophie was troubled, however, as she made her way back to the drawing room. John and Barbara had been little more than civil all evening, and she could imagine their reaction when they learned Mark was going to Avirenze. If Angelo’s ploy was to force Mark into their company, then it clearly wasn’t going to work, and so she would tell him.

But finding an opportunity to do so was another matter. Angelo was deep in conversation with her stepfather, and they looked as if they might be there for the rest of the night, so at last, she admitted defeat, and said good night to the room at large.

But once in her bedroom she made no attempt to get undressed. She felt too jittery to rest or relax, and she sat by the window for a while, watching the stars fade.

It seemed ages before she heard the sounds of movement and muted voices which suggested the party had broken up at last.

She waited until the house was quiet, then slipped out of her room like a little ghost and made her way to the room Angelo occupied when he stayed with them.

She knocked, but there was no reply, and she hesitated. Surely, he couldn’t be asleep already. She went to knock again, but as she did so, the door opened abruptly, and she was caught off-balance, her hand raised, feeling foolish.

She said lamely, ‘Oh, there you are.’

‘Where else did you imagine I would be at this hour?’ Angelo returned drily. ‘What do you want, Sophie?’

‘I need to talk to you.’

‘Then could it be at a more civilised hour? As you see, I was about to go to bed.’

Yes, she saw. He was wearing a dressing gown in dark red silk, reaching to mid-thigh and loosely belted at the waist. The neck hung open in a deep vee, revealing an expanse of hair-darkened skin. and the long muscular legs were bare too. His black hair looked damp and slightly ruffled, as if he’s just taken a shower.

His eyes surveyed her impatiently. ‘Well?’

‘I’m sorry, but I’d rather it was now,’ Sophie said. ‘I—I won’t keep you long.’

‘That,’ he said grimly. ‘I can guarantee.’

As he motioned her past him into the room, and turned to close the door, Sophie knew a twinge of misgiving.

‘Perhaps it would be better if I waited …’ she began.

She saw the familiar gleam of mockery in the dark eyes. ‘Nervous, Sophie? But of what? Surely not me—but perhaps—yourself?’

She flushed dully. ‘That is not what I came here to discuss,’ she said icily.

‘How disappointing,’ he said, and for a moment, the dark eyes rested on her lips like a disturbing caress.

She felt the breath catch in her throat, and hurried into speech. ‘Why have you asked us to Avirenze?’

His brows lifted. ‘I understood from your parents, it had always been one of your ambitions to go there.’

‘When I was a child, perhaps.’ Sophie said with hauteur.

‘But no longer?’ The long brown fingers cupped her chin, turning her reluctant face up to his. ‘What is your objection?’

Sophie trod carefully. ‘Because there’s no need for you to go to these lengths. I know I asked for your help, but …’

‘You did,’ he said. ‘And now you are questioning the way in which that help is to be given. Isn’t that a little churlish, Sophie?’

Well, she should have expected that, Sophie thought grimly. She said, ‘I thought you intended to encourage my parents to get to know Mark.’

‘I do,’ he said. ‘And how better than during a relaxing stay on Avirenze. It’s a very small island, Sophie mia. It encourages intimacy—at all levels.’

He was baiting her, but she refused to rise to it. A lot of the wind had been taken out of her sails anyway. ‘You mean—Mother and John are coming as well. I—I didn’t realise.’

‘Naturally they will be there,’ Angelo said. ‘Anything else would hardly be decorous.’

‘Oh?’ Sophie’s voice was tart. ‘I wasn’t aware that decorum was any big deal with you.’

He sent her a sardonic grin. ‘But where members of my family are concerned,’ he said softly. ‘It will amaze you how decorous I can be.’

‘I’m not a member of your family. I’m a Ralston,’ she said flatly. ‘Will other people be there too?’

His grin widened. ‘Plenty of other people,’ he said silkily. ‘With a little care, cara, it should be possible for you to avoid me completely.’

She flushed mutinously. ‘Will Gianetta Vanni be among them?’ She could have bitten out her tongue the moment the question was asked. She expected a crushing snub in return.

But, all he said, quite mildly, was, ‘You wish me to supply a guest list for your approval, cara?’

‘No,’ she snapped, hating him. ‘It’s your island. I suppose you’re entitled to invite anyone you like.’

He laughed. ‘Graciously spoken. So—have I allayed your fears? Do you still believe that I am willing to help you to your heart’s desire?’

The words were lightly spoken, but she was aware that he was watching her keenly, and she moved awkwardly, avoiding his gaze.

At last, she said stiltedly, ‘I’m sorry. I’m clearly putting you to a great deal of trouble.’

‘You talk nonsense,’ he said. ‘And it was always my intention to invite you to Avirenze, cara.’ He added softly. ‘I was only waiting for you to become a woman.’

There should have been some smart comeback to that, but for the life of her, Sophie couldn’t think of one.

Instead, she heard her voice sounding very young, and rather breathless, as she bade him good night and turned, heading blindly for the door.

He was there ahead of her, opening it courteously for her. But that meant she had to brush past him, and suddenly he was altogether too close, the cool clean scent of his skin overwhelmingly in her nostrils.

For a startled moment, her whole body seemed to breathe him, and she knew an overpowering longing to turn to him, to feel his arms close around her, to know once more the taste of him—the touch …

She felt as helpless as a puppet. Invisible strings were drawing her. Nameless desires were turning her limbs to water, slowing her instinctive flight. She wondered crazily what he would do if she put her lips against his skin, where the neck of his robe parted, and the breath choked in her throat as she realised exactly what she was inviting.

She couldn’t look at him in case she saw in his face some recognition of her torment. Because if he knew—if he had the least idea, she would be shamed forever.

She thought, ‘Oh, God, what am I doing here?’ and fled, her heart hammering like that of a terrified bird.