Mary Lyons - The Italian Seduction

by The Italian Seduction (lit)

  ‘I just wanted to apologise for my bad temper yesterday,’ he was saying as he reached over to pick up the glass of orange juice. ‘I have no doubt that if there really had been a dangerous explosion—or if it had been real gunfire, rather than those stupid fire-crackers—your action would have saved my life.’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s all in a day’s work,’ she told him lightly.

  ‘No, it’s not,’ he contradicted her firmly. ‘You may see it as merely performing your normal duties but it was an entirely unselfish and brave thing to do.’ He paused for a moment while he took a sip of orange juice.

  ‘The fact is, Antonia,’ he continued, placing the glass back on the tray, ‘I’m afraid that I did not behave at all well—again. Not only was I angry and bad-tempered, but I had no right to take my resentment at the situation out on you.’

  ‘Please—there’s no need for this,’ she told him hurriedly.

  It seemed so strange to have Lorenzo begging her pardon that she wasn’t quite sure how to deal with this entirely new side to his character.

  ‘There’s really no need to apologise,’ she continued. ‘Your reaction was perfectly normal. You were just in a state of shock, that’s all.’

  ‘Shock?’ He glared at her. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Antonia! I may have been cross and angry—but I certainly was not in what you call “a state of shock”.’

  Hah! So much for the apology! Antonia told herself, fail­ing for a moment to see the funny side of the situation.

  ‘OK. Have it your own way—you usually do!’ she told him grimly. ‘I’ll try and remember that you were, at all times, as cool as a cucumber and an absolute paragon of sweetness and light. That you would never, under any cir­cumstances, have allowed yourself to be shocked and stunned into a display of bad temper. Is that better?’ she added, in a dulcet tone of voice.

  There was a long silence as Lorenzo stared at her with a grim expression on his face, before giving a wry, rueful bark of laughter.

  ‘Antonia! You are, without doubt, the most maddening woman it’s ever been my misfortune to meet!’ he informed her bluntly, his broad, naked shoulders shaking with amuse­ment.

  ‘However,’ he added with a sigh, ‘I regret to say that you are, as always, quite right. Yes, although I hate having to admit the fact, I obviously was not myself.’

  ‘You weren’t the only one,’ she pointed out. ‘Just about everyone else in that crowd was in a high state of panic.’

  ‘But not you, Antonia,’ he murmured, taking hold of her hand. ‘You remained absolutely firm and in control throughout all the noise and furore.’

  ‘Well ...um...no, not really...’ she muttered, distracted by the warm touch of his long, tanned fingers, and finding it almost impossible to ignore the effect that the sheer force of his overwhelming sex appeal was having on her pulse rate.

  ‘No,’ he agreed softly. ‘Because there was a brief period when neither of us was fully in command of our emotions, hmm?’

  ‘Yes, well, I... er...I really don’t want to talk about it,’ she retorted, her cheeks burning as she stared helplessly down at their entwined fingers. ‘In fact, I...I think we both ought to forget the... er… the whole unfortunate incident. As fast as possible!’ she added wildly.

  ‘Yes, I came to exactly the same conclusion,’ he agreed soothingly, letting go of her hand for a moment as he set­tled himself more comfortably against the pillows.

  Almost sagging with relief at being let off the hook, and not having to explain her totally inexplicable behaviour, Antonia raised her head to give him a wide, beaming smile.

  ‘On the other hand,’ he drawled, slowly sliding his ban­daged arm about her slim waist, ‘I now find myself recall­ing the episode with considerable pleasure. And an even, I confess, strongly tempted to repeat the... er... the experi­ence.’

  ‘What...?’ She gazed at him in confusion for a second, until she felt his other arm closing about her. ‘Now—just a minute!’

  ‘Well...maybe two minutes?’ he murmured, the arms closing about her forcing her up against his bare, hairy chest.

  ‘No...please, Lorenzo—this is a really bad idea!’ she gasped, her senses once again totally bemused as she gazed helplessly at the warm, sensual curve of his lips, poised only inches away from her own.

  But, no matter what protest she might make—or the fact that she knew, only too well, that any close contact with this man was absolutely fatal!—Antonia couldn’t seem to get a grip on reality. Not when her heart was pounding like a sledgehammer, and the determined gleam in his blue eyes was prompting a sudden, deep clenching in her stomach as his dark head came down towards her.

  And then, as his mouth lightly touched hers, she found herself caught up in exactly the same whirlwind of bewil­dering, confused emotions which she’d experienced yester­day.

  Only, now ... now it was somehow different. She was able to feel the exciting, erotic warmth of his naked body through her thin white linen blouse, was aware of the in­toxicating, musky aroma of his smooth, hard flesh as he softly brushed his mouth over her lips, again and again, until she was almost driven crazy by a sudden, overwhelm­ing surge of sexual hunger and desire.

  As his kiss deepened and she found herself helplessly responding to the utter mastery of his lips and tongue, she could almost feel herself physically drowning in passion. It seemed as if her mind and body were slipping slowly and inexorably out of control, and she was unable to stop her­self from fiercely. and wantonly pressing her body closer to his, or to prevent the sound of a slight moan of disappoint­ment as his lips left hers to trail slowly down over her neck.

  But, as her eyelids fluttered open, and she found herself almost blinded by a shaft of brilliant morning sun pouring in through the wide casement window, Antonia found her­self sharply jarred back to harsh, cold reality.

  ‘Oh, no!’ she gasped, before making a supreme effort to pull herself together. ‘I can’t ...I can’t believe this is ...is happening to me. Not again!’ she exclaimed huskily as she swiftly twisted out of his arms, feverishly scrambling off the bed and staggering over to the window on legs which felt as though they were made of cotton wool.

  You blithering idiot! You already knew that this guy was absolutely lethal-certainly as far as you’re concerned. So allowing yourself to go anywhere near him was an absolute recipe for disaster! she railed at herself, determinedly keep­ing her back to Lorenzo as she frantically tucked her shirt back inside the waistband of her jeans. .

  Finally grabbing her courage in both hands, she took a deep breath and turned around to face him.

  ‘Now, listen up, Lorenzo. I’m really not going to...’ she began, before the man in the bed lifted his hand, imperi­ously cutting her off in mid-stream.

  ‘No—I want you to “listen up”, Antonia!’ he said in a hard, firm voice. ‘What has just happened between us is not the end of the world.

  ‘Yes ...yes,’ he added impatiently as she opened her mouth to protest. ‘I am well aware of your views regarding any close encounters between yourself and someone you regard as a client. But what we have here, cara, is merely a case of two people who happen to find themselves at­tracted to one another. A very common occurrence—and not exactly earth-shattering, hmm?’

  You speak for yourself! she told him silently, since she really was feeling totally shattered by their recent encoun­ter. But not the cool Signor Foscari, of course, she thought grimly. The damn man clearly hadn’t a care in the world­—leaning casually back against the pillows, and regarding her with a bland, enigmatic expression on his handsome face.

  ‘All right...’ She sighed. ‘I’m prepared to go along with ...er...some of what you’ve just said. Part of the way, at least. Because it does seem that you and I...’ She shrugged, bitterly aware of her cheeks reddening under his calm, unruffled gaze as she took another deep breath.

  ‘OK. I’ll admit that I find you a very attractive man, Lorenzo,’ she continued, determined to set the record straight. ‘
And I’m quite sure that you have any number of glamorous girlfriends back in Italy equally happy to con­firm that statement,’ she added sardonically.

  ‘Ah, cara—I can assure you that I’m certainly no Lothario!’ he protested with a slight laugh.

  But she’d caught the brief flicker of his thick eyelashes, and an almost imperceptible tightening of his lips, which would seem to confirm her statement. And really, she told herself, it would be astonishing if such an attractive man didn’t have a whole horde of girlfriends at his beck and call.

  ‘However,’ she said as firmly as she could, ‘while you’re under my close protection—and I would remind you that I am still on duty—a line must be firmly drawn, and main­tained, between us. So, there’s going to be no more hanky­panky—OK?’

  ‘No more—what?’

  ‘You heard!’ she snapped. ‘And don’t even think of try­ing the old cliche: “I no understanda de Inglish” . Because we both know that your command of the language is prob­ably far better than mine!’

  He gazed at her with a completely blank expression for a moment, before throwing back his head and roaring with laughter.

  ‘O Dio... Dio! You’re absolutely priceless!’ he mur­mured, lifting a corner of the sheet to wipe the tears of mirth from his eyes.

  ‘Well?’ she demanded, struggling to prevent herself re­sponding to the infectious sound of his laughter as it rang around the room. ‘Have we got a deal?’

  ‘Yes, Antonia,’ he agreed slowly, the amusement drain­ing from his face. ‘Yes ...I can promise you that I have no intention of ...how shall I put it? ...of trifling with your af­fections. I will treat you with all seriousness and respect in future.’

  ‘Well, OK...’ she murmured as she walked towards the door. She still wasn’t entirely sure that he’d got the mes­sage. But she, for her part, was going to make absolutely certain that such an incident never happened again.

  Having by now got the measure of that difficult, impatient and demanding man, Lorenzo Foscari, Antonia fully ex­pected to have her work cut out keeping him amused and entertained, during what he might well regard as a boring day in the country.

  However, he and her brother Tom had seemed to hit it off straight away, getting on like a house on fire. Their friendly relations were helped, of course, by the fact that her brother had an extensive knowledge of Italian medieval history. A fact which Lorenzo, quite naturally, found par­ticularly interesting.

  She sent them off for a long walk around the village, while she prepared the Sunday lunch, and both men even­tually returned with a hearty appetite.

  Tom, whose tastebuds appeared to have been totally de­stroyed—probably from eating too many of Flavia’s meals!—munched his way through lunch without comment. But she found herself feeling ridiculously pleased when Lorenzo praised the joint of roast beef, which she’d had the forethought to take out of the deep-freeze yesterday evening.

  Luckily it was full summer. So, although Flavia’s larder was, as usual, completely empty, Antonia had found plenty of new potatoes and fresh vegetables in the old walled kitchen garden. She’d also picked some strawberries and the first fresh raspberries for their dessert.

  Antonia had once asked Flavia why she didn’t employ a full-time cook and housekeeper. But Flavia hadn’t seen the necessity of having someone permanently on the staff sim­ply to make sure that their visitors had a decent meal.

  ‘As you know, I couldn’t care less what I eat,’ she’d laughed. ‘And as for Tom—well, your brother always has a large lunch in college, every day. Besides,’ she’d added with a shrug, ‘I’m far too busy to worry about such a boring subject as food!’

  In fact, having barely contained her impatience during lunch, and hardly giving the poor man any time to enjoy his cup of coffee afterwards, Flavia dragged Lorenzo off to her studio in the converted stables adjoining the house.

  Popping her head around the door of the large, airy room some time later, Antonia found him deep in conversation with her sister-in-law. They appeared to be discussing var­ious aspects of the paintings and drawings which were nor­mally placed in tidy racks in a corner of the studio.

  Surprised to discover Flavia showing her canvases to anyone—something she very rarely did, even to members of her own family—Antonia explained that she’d just popped in to see if their visitor would care to go riding.

  ‘It’s such a lovely afternoon that I couldn’t resist phoning Mike.’ Turning to Lorenzo, she explained that a local farmer, who spent most of the winter fox-hunting, usually allowed her to borrow his horses when she felt like some fresh air and exercise.

  ‘I’m not too keen on chasing after a poor fox, of course. But I do love a good gallop over the fields!’ she grinned. ‘However, if you two are still busy, then I’m quite happy to go off on my own.’

  ‘No ...no, I think he’s probably had quite enough of me for one day,’ Flavia said, smiling and thanking him for his patience, before handing Lorenzo a charcoal drawing from one of her portfolios. ‘I think that’s probably the best like­ness. But I’d love to paint you in oils some time.’

  ‘I should be honoured,’ he assured the older woman, be­fore gazing down with interest at the drawing in his hand. ‘Yes, I agree. It is a very good likeness. I shall definitely treasure it,’ he added with a smile, before strolling across the floor towards Antonia.

  ‘You’re quite right,’ he told her. ‘It’s perfect weather for riding about the countryside. However, while I’m quite ca­pable of handling a horse with one hand...’ he glanced down with obvious irritation at his right wrist; although he had discarded the bandage, it was still not as strong as he’d hoped ‘...I’m not exactly wearing the right clothes.’

  ‘We’re hardly talking about the Horse of the Year show,’ she pointed out with a grin. ‘So those jeans of Tom’s which you’re wearing will be fine.’

  ‘In that case, I’d be pleased to accompany you,’ he agreed, insisting that she wait until he’d placed the drawing safely away in his room before joining her in the Porsche for the short drive to her friend’s farm.

  Lorenzo had been quite right, she realised some time later. Not only was he obviously well used to riding and quite at his ease astride the large, somewhat frisky horse, but, after noticing the way those strong, powerful thighs of his were gripping the animal, she had no problem under­standing why he’d felt able to control his horse, despite only being able to hold the reins in one hand.

  Ambling slowly along a bridle path, which ran between two fields of brilliant yellow rape seed, Antonia couldn’t resist asking him how he’d got on with Flavia.

  She had, of course, been dying to catch a glimpse of the drawing which her sister-in-law had presented to him. But Lorenzo, for some reason, had clearly decided not to show it to her, before putting it safely away in his room. Still, it would be an easy matter for her to take a look at it when he wasn’t around.

  Faintly ashamed of contemplating behaving in such a sneaky fashion, she hastily assured Lorenzo that he didn’t have to be polite.

  ‘I mean, whether or not she’s any good as an artist, Flavia is terrifically successful. She’s got an enormous number of clients, all queuing up to have huge portraits done of themselves.’

  ‘I must admit to being slightly dubious about the whole project,’ Lorenzo confessed. ‘However, although I’m no expert, I would say that your sister-in-law was a very gifted artist. And, leaving aside her expertise in portraiture, I thought one or two of the abstract paintings, with which she’s recently been experimenting, were quite outstandingly good.’

  ‘I’m so glad that you liked her work,’ Antonia told him with a broad, happy smile. ‘Of course I think she’s mar­vellous. But I’m hardly an expert. Nor is Tom, for that matter. He always just says, “That’s a wonderful picture, darling. Absolutely terrific!” to everything she shows him. Maybe that’s the secret of a happily married life?’ Antonia added with a grin.

  They rode on in a companionable silenc
e for some mo­ments, before Lorenzo said slowly, ‘I think you’re very lucky in your family.’ When she raised an enquiring eye­brow, brow, he added, ‘Take your brother, Tom, for instance. I can assure you, it’s been a great pleasure to talk to such a clever, erudite and caring man.’

  ‘Caring?’

  ‘Well, he’s certainly very concerned about you, Antonia.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ she muttered, not entirely happy with the way this conversation seemed to be going.

  ‘But yes. As far as I can see, Tom admires you enor­mously. Though it has to be said that he really doesn’t understand and is rather bewildered as to why you should choose to have such a dangerous job.’

  She gave a sharp, quick shrug of her shoulders. ‘So, what else is new?’ she muttered. ‘He and Flavia are always going on about wanting me to get a “proper” job. They simply can’t understand that I enjoy doing what I do,’ she added with a slight flash of irritation.

  ‘I think you’re wrong about Flavia,’ he said firmly. ‘She did not appear at all disturbed about your choice of pro­fession.’

  ‘Well, that makes a change!’

  ‘No...’ he drawled slowly, throwing her a glance of glinting amusement through his thick, dark eyelashes. ‘No, Flavia seems convinced that what you need is a husband.’

  Antonia burst out laughing. ‘Nonsense! You’re just mak­ing that up.’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I am, in fact, telling you the truth. Because she definitely thinks that it’s about time that you settled down,’ he added as they reached the end of the narrow bridle path, leading on to a lush green meadow.

  ‘What rubbish!’ Antonia gave a snort of disbelieving laughter, leaning down over her horse’s neck to undo the five bar gate.

  Despite being quite certain that Flavia had said nothing of the sort, and that Lorenzo was just teasing her, Antonia was nevertheless grateful that the hair falling down about her face was able to shield her slightly flushed cheeks from his view. Although why she should find the conversation about her personal life quite so disturbing she really had no idea.