Night with a Stranger

by Joanna Mansell

  She decided she might as well give them back to him right away. If he was still tied up with his phone calls, then she could just leave them somewhere he could easily find them.

  As she reached the foot of the stairs, though, Lewis came out of the library. He glanced at her, and then his gaze shifted to the clothes she was carrying.

  'What were you planning to do with those?' he enquired.

  'I was going to give them back to you, of course.'

  'And what am I meant to do with them?'

  'I've no idea,' Lorel replied. 'Perhaps you could send them back to the boutique?'

  'They've been worn, which makes them secondhand,' he pointed out. 'The boutique won't take them back again.'

  'Well, I can't keep them,' she declared.

  'Why not?'

  'Because I can't afford them!'

  Lewis's mouth shifted into a distinctly impatient line. 'No one's asked you to pay for them.'

  'I'm certainly not accepting them as a gift,' Lorel shot back immediately.

  'Because they came from me?'

  'Of course not. I wouldn't take them from anyone.'

  'You can carry independence a little too far,' he told her. 'They're a couple of skirts and dresses, that's all.'

  'Expensive skirts and dresses,' she reminded him.

  His eyes narrowed. 'That really does bother you, doesn't it? Why this big hang-up about money?'

  Lorel's brows drew together darkly. 'I haven't got any hang-ups. I just like to earn what I spend, that's all. And I don't like taking gifts from people I don't even know very well.'

  Lewis's gaze altered perceptibly. 'You don't think we know each other?' he challenged softly.

  She could feel that nervous tingling running along her spine again. With an effort, she shook it off.

  'I don't want to argue about this,' she said briskly. 'Now that I've got my own clothes back, I don't need these any more. What you do with them is entirely your business. I'm very grateful for the use of them, but I don't want to keep them.'

  To her surprise, Lewis didn't argue with her any further. Instead, he took the clothes from her, tossed them on to a nearby chair, and then stood looking at her thoughtfully for a few moments.

  'Well?' she demanded slightly belligerently, more unnerved than she cared to admit by that steady scrutiny. 'Is there something else you want to say to me?'

  'Yes, there is. But not here, in the middle of the hall. Come into the drawing-room.'

  She followed him into the room, with its massive pictures, decorative ceiling, ornate chandeliers, beautifully carved furniture, and handsome mosaic floor. It was a rather overwhelming room, with its richness of colour and the magnificence of its furnishings, but it certainly didn't overshadow the man who had just entered it. Lorel had the feeling that Lewis Elliott would stand out in any surroundings, no matter how splendid.

  'All right,' she said with a touch of edginess. 'What do you want to say?'

  'I thought you ought to know that I'm leaving for Florence first thing in the morning. I'll probably be there for several days.'

  'Oh,' she said, in a rather deflated tone. She hadn't been expecting to hear something like that. 'Oh—I see. That changes the situation quite a lot, doesn't it? I suppose you want me to leave.'

  'Did I say that?'

  'Well—no. But I can hardly stay here after you've gone.'

  'I don't see why not. If you're nervous about staying at the palazzo on your own, I'll arrange for Maria to sleep here overnight.'

  'It's not that. I just thought ‑'

  Amusement showed briefly in his eyes. 'Thought what? That I wouldn't trust you? That, since you stole my briefcase, I was afraid you might run off with a couple of paintings, or perhaps some of the rather nice silver that's lying around?'

  'I'd never do anything like that!' she said hotly. 'You know that!' Then she flushed slightly. He didn't know any such thing. In his eyes, she had already proved herself a thief. She didn't have the slightest idea why she had taken his briefcase, but one fact stood out like a sore thumb. She definitely had taken it, so there was no reason why he shouldn't think her capable of stealing something else.

  'I wouldn't take anything,' she muttered again, although without much hope that he would believe her.

  'I didn't think for one moment that you would,' Lewis replied, to her complete astonishment. 'Let's drop the subject, and get back to my original question. Do you want to stay here, or not?'

  'I don't know,' she said uncertainly.

  'I thought it would be a good chance for you to see something of Venice. Your holiday was more or less ruined by that knock you took on your head. This would be an opportunity to make up for it.'

  It certainly was a very tempting offer. 'How long could I stay?' she asked slowly.

  'How about until I get back?'

  Lorel raised her head. She hadn't realised he would be returning here, to the palazzo. She had assumed he would fly straight back to England from Florence.

  'I'm not sure I get this,' she said slowly. 'Are you telling me that you want to see me again?'

  One of Lewis's dark eyebrows lifted noticeably. 'Is that so incredible?'

  'I just didn't expect it,' she said, rather defensively.

  'Didn't you?' His soft challenge raised a whole load of new possibilities that she wasn't sure she wanted to explore just yet.

  'You've already branded me a thief,' she reminded him, a sudden wave of nervousness making her tone sharp. 'And most of the time, I feel as if I've been nothing but a nuisance to you ever since you first clapped eyes on me. Now, you're suddenly offering me the use of this palazzo, and telling me you want me to stay here until you get back.'

  Lewis's expression revealed absolutely nothing. 'Perhaps I just like girls with big brown eyes,' he suggested.

  'That's silly!'

  'Mmm. Maybe,' he murmured. 'Or do you think the romance of this city is beginning to get to me?'

  Lorel's mouth twitched nervously. 'I don't think you've got a romantic bone in your body! And I don't know why you're winding me up like this.'

  His blue eyes flickered for an instant, and then became still again. 'I think if anyone's getting wound up, then it's me.' He came a step nearer, and Lorel's stomach abruptly turned over. 'You get to me,' he went on, and his tone was a little thicker now. 'And I think you know exactly how much.'

  She swallowed hard. 'I don't,' she whispered. 'I really don't.'

  'Want me to show you?'

  She didn't think that she did, but she couldn't seem to actually say so. Lewis took another couple of steps forward, and she gave an involuntary shiver as his shadow fell over her.

  'Cold?' he said, noticing it. 'Or are you scared of me?' Then he shook his head. 'No, I don't think it's either of those things. Which leaves a much more interesting possibility...'

  He was touching her before he had even finished speaking. One of his hands ran leisurely up her bare arm, and she shivered all over again, more convulsively this time.

  'I'm shivering, too,' Lewis told her softly. 'Only inside, where you can't see it. Want to feel?' he invited.

  He took her hand and slid it inside his jacket. As he pressed it flat against his lower chest, she could feel the tiny tremors racing over his skin.

  'I don't know why you do this to me,' he went on huskily. 'But I like it. I definitely like it.'

  'Well, I'm not at all sure that I do,' she flashed back at him. 'It's—it's ‑'

  'A little frightening?' he suggested.

  'You're always finishing my sentences for me,' Lorel muttered in annoyance.

  'Perhaps that's because you always seem to end up a little speechless when I'm around. Or maybe you don't really want to talk at all,' he added, his gaze sliding over assessingly. 'Come to think of it, I'm rather tired of words...'

  There was a whole lot more that Lorel wanted to say to him, though. It was just that she never got the chance. His mouth moved smoothly over hers before she got out a single syllable, a
nd once the kiss got under way all thoughts of talking flew straight out of her head.

  Lewis paused only to take a quick breath and mutter something appreciatively. Then the kiss began all over again, more fierce this time, as if he were tired of waiting for something he wanted so much.

  His hands curled round her, inched their way down her spine, curved round the firm swell of her buttocks, and then relentlessly pulled her closer. His mouth didn't ease up for an instant, and the closeness of his body made her startlingly aware that he wanted very much more than just this kiss.

  An indignant cough from the doorway made sure that he wasn't going to get it, though. Reluctantly but swiftly, he let go of her; then he turned to shoot an apologetic smile at Maria, who was standing there with her arms folded, glaring at him.

  While Lewis launched into a smooth flow of Italian, obviously offering Maria some kind of explanation, Lorel slowly got her senses back. She still felt hot and flustered, though, and she had the feeling that they might very well have ended up on the comfortable sofa just behind them if Maria hadn't come in at that moment. To her alarm, she found that the idea didn't completely shock her.

  After Maria had been placated, and gently but firmly shooed out of the room, Lorel stared at Lewis.

  'What did you tell her?' she demanded.

  'That I'm leaving for Florence in the morning, and that was just a friendly goodbye kiss.'

  Lorel's eyebrows shot up. 'And she believed you?'

  'Of course not,' replied Lewis cheerfully. 'And we won't get a chance to repeat it,' he added regretfully. 'Maria's going to spend the next few hours watching the two of us like a hawk. It looks as if she's personally taken on the task of safeguarding your virtue.'

  Lorel wasn't sure if she was sorry about that, or not.

  'What time are you leaving in the morning?' she asked.

  'Early. I've got my first meeting scheduled for the afternoon. After that, it'll be more or less all work for the next few days.' His eyes gleamed regretfully. 'I wish I could take you with me.'

  Lorel blinked. 'To Florence?'

  'Yes. Unfortunately, it's just not possible. I'll be staying with some friends, and they're an extremely conservative Italian family. They'd be shocked—and insulted—if I turned up with an unattached and un-chaperoned female in tow.'

  'I don't know that I even want to go to Florence,' she told him, with a rather poor attempt at defiance.

  Lewis took absolutely no notice of her prickly tone. 'You'd like it. In its own way, it's just as beautiful as Venice.' His blue gaze fixed on her. 'Perhaps we could go at some other time?'

  'You seem to be making a lot of plans without even consulting me,' Lorel said, a little resentfully. Over the last couple of years, she had got used to running her own life. She wasn't sure that she liked someone stepping in like this, and trying to take it over.

  'I'm not trying to force you into anything,' Lewis pointed out. 'Just suggesting one or two things that might turn out to be fun.'

  She gazed at him warily. 'Your idea of fun is probably very different from mine.'

  'It's possible,' he agreed. Then his mouth curled lazily into a smile. 'But think how nice it would be if it turned out to be exactly the same.' His eyes locked on to hers, and steadily held her gaze. 'Do you suppose there's any chance of that, Lorel?' he questioned her softly.

  'I shouldn't think so,' she forced herself to say, but somehow there wasn't the slightest hint of conviction in her voice.

  Lewis's eyes never left hers for an instant. She began to feel as if she were drowning in his vivid blue gaze.

  'And do you think you'll still be here when I return from Florence?' he challenged her.

  Lorel tried to remember that she was fully independent. She didn't have to let any man—and certainly not this man—make her decisions for her. If only his eyes weren't so damned hypnotic! She could almost feel her will-power floating away on a tide of deep blue...

  ' Will you be here?' Lewis repeated.

  'I don't know—I might be—probably will be ‑' she admitted weakly, furious with herself for sounding so completely feeble, but quite incapable of doing anything about it.

  Lewis looked as if he had never been in any real doubt about it. Then I'll see you when I get back. Once I've tied up my business affairs in Florence, we'll have all the time we need to sort out where we go from here.'

  Lorel wasn't at all sure that she wanted to go anywhere, not with Lewis Elliott. She seemed to have run clean out of arguments for the moment, though. In fact, even standing up straight was annoyingly difficult. There was a definite sensation of weakness around her knees.

  You'll feel a lot better once he's gone, she tried to convince herself. He makes you nervous, hanging around, kissing you when you're not expecting it, and dropping all those odd hints about the future.

  She bit her lip nervously, and knew that she was going to wait for his return with a mixture of apprehension and excitement.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Although Lorel was up early the next morning, she found Lewis had already left. She tried to convince herself that she was relieved. She also tried to convince herself—although with an equal lack of success—that she still had a choice. She could leave any time she liked. She certainly didn't have to hang around here until Lewis returned, not if she didn't want to.

  Then Lorel sighed. What was the point in trying to kid herself? She did want to stay. She didn't have the slightest idea what Lewis was doing to her, but she did know it would take a major catastrophe to shift her out of the Palazzo Gregolino before he returned.

  With Lewis gone, the days seemed unexpectedly long. Although Lorel filled them with a concentrated programme of sightseeing, the hours still dragged. And Venice itself seemed to have lost a lot of its magical glitter now that she wasn't sharing it with Lewis. She dutifully trudged around churches and museums, she rode up and down the canals in vaporetti, admired paintings, gazed at statues, and fed the pigeons in St Mark's Square. She took a trip out to Murano, to visit the glass-making factories, explored the Doge's Palace, and pottered round the markets. And all the while she was aware that she was just filling in time. What she was really doing was waiting for Lewis to return.

  She was rather alarmed by this discovery of her intense interest in him. It seemed to have crept up on her and caught her unawares, and now she couldn't shake it off. She wasn't even sure that she wanted to, and that alarmed her even more.

  'You don't know anything about him,' she told herself more than once. Then she would sigh. That wasn't strictly true. There were all the things he had already told her, and a whole lot more which he hadn't actually put into words, but which she could guess at. For instance, the fact that he led an unexpectedly lonely life. He couldn't relate to his stepmother or stepbrother, and though he was clearly very fond of his stepsister, she had now married and moved away from him. His business life seemed to leave him with little time for personal relationships, and she had the feeling that he was a man who wasn't particularly interested in casual affairs.

  Lorel furrowed her brow. There were still huge gaps in her knowledge of him; she was well aware of that. Yet something was telling her that it wouldn't be too difficult to close those gaps—if she wanted to.

  By the end of the week, she seemed to have a permanent headache. She told herself it was from tension, and tried to relax. For a while, she felt a bit better. Then she woke up the next morning feeling distinctly nauseous, and with a small groan, crawled back under the covers and lay there feeling very sorry for herself.

  'Too much of Maria's cooking,' she muttered weakly, and was sure that was the cause of her queasy stomach. Maria kept piling up her plate with enough food for half a dozen people, and Lorel always valiantly tackled it, not wanting to offend her by leaving any.

  When Maria came in later and found her still in bed, she fussed around endlessly, which made Lorel feel even worse. The Italian woman was obviously agitated that Lorel had become ill while Lewis was away.
In the end, Lorel forced herself out of bed just to try and put Maria's mind at rest.

  In fact, she felt rather better once she was up. By tea time, she could even face a light meal—which fortunately turned out to be salad, with no sign of the pasta which had been turning up in such huge quantities all week.

  Next morning, she was up fairly early and tottering around, although she couldn't honestly say she felt much better. The queasiness was back again, along with an unpleasant dizziness which only gradually eased off as the day wore-on. She abandoned the sightseeing programme she had worked out for the day. There was no way she could face a tiring tramp around the streets of Venice feeling like this.

  She spent the next couple of days flopped out lethargically in a chair most of the time, either dozing or rather half-heartedly skimming through a paperback. When there was enough warmth in the sun, she moved out into the small, walled garden at the back of the palazzo. Worn stone statues peered out from behind overgrown bushes, grass and weeds pushed their way up in between the flagstones, and the entire garden could obviously do with the attention of a keen gardener, but Lorel liked it just the way it was. The quiet peacefulness and the fresh air made her feel much better.

  It was nearly a week and a half now since Lewis had left. During that time, she had heard from him only a handful of times. His last call had come a couple of days ago, to say that his business in Florence was taking rather longer than he had expected. He hadn't spoken to her for long—there had been voices in the background, and she assumed he was at some sort of meeting or reception—but he had promised to be back at the palazzo before the following weekend.

  In fact, he returned on Thursday evening. Lorel was dozing on the sofa in the drawing-room, and didn't actually hear him come in. What woke her up was the sound of Maria's voice, launching into a dramatic flood of Italian. Blinking sleepily, Lorel then heard Lewis's voice asking a couple of sharp questions. Maria answered volubly, her voice rising and falling with emotion, and Lorel groaned. She could guess what Maria was telling Lewis. Her minor illness was being given the full soap opera treatment! Lewis was going to walk in expecting to find her wan and wasted, almost too weak to twitch her little finger.