by Lucy Gillen
‘Yes, of course, darling.’ Aunt Celia glanced at Stefano, as if she expected him to object, or at least to make some comment, which he did, of course.
‘You have to break the bad news to him?’ he asked, and Alison glared at him angrily, her hands clenched.
‘I have to tell him that, thanks to the—the stupidity of an old man’s will, a married woman can’t even
spend her own money as she pleases.’
One black brow flicked upwards and the wide, straight mouth lifted at one corner in a wry smile. ‘You are not yet a married woman, piccola,’ he said softly.
‘And I never will be, the way you’re going on,’ Alison retorted.
He smiled again at that, so that she would have liked nothing better than to throw something at his smugly complacent head. ‘Does your marrying depend upon your getting the money?’ he asked. ‘I did not realise that.’
Getting the gist of his meaning with no trouble at all, she glared at him. ‘No, it does not!’ she told him angrily. ‘How dare you make such a suggestion about Danny? He isn’t a—a fortune-hunter, and you’ve no right to imply that he is.’
‘I did not imply anything at all,’ he denied, but that betraying gleam of laughter showed that he was amused by her hasty defence of Danny, and she clenched her hands tightly.
‘One of these days,’ she threatened, ‘I shall hit you, Stefano, I swear I will!’
There was nothing else, she decided, that it was possible to say after such an obvious exit line, and she stuck out her chin and walked out of the room, uneasily aware of the black-eyed laughter that followed her.
Danny was already waiting for her down on the sea wall, and she smiled to herself when she saw him. Anybody less like the man she had been quarrelling with it would be difficult to find, for Danny still
retained much of his student image. He had changed neither his personal appearance nor his mode of dress to any extent since he came down from the university, over a year ago.
He was taller than Alison’s five feet one, but he did not tower over her, and he was stockily built, with a round, boyish face disguised in part by a soft, curly brown beard. Even at not quite twenty-three his fine brown hair was already thinning near the crown, and he wore a permanently half defiant look, as if he constantly expected criticism.
He had won his way to university on merit alone, and had gained another year with honours, but since leaving he had, somehow, failed to find the right niche for his talents and had tried a number of different jobs with no spectacular success so far.
It was his passion for cars and car engines in particular that made him ambitious to own his own garage, and Alison’s heart sank dismally when she saw him standing there, leaning against a stone bollard, his head bent so that he had not yet seen her coming. It was not going to be easy to break the news to him that she could not, after all, give him the money he needed to go ahead with his plan, and she knew him well enough to know that he would be bitterly disappointed and make no secret of it. Not that she could blame him, of course. She had promised the money and she should have made some tentative enquiries of Stefano first, before committing herself so firmly.
Danny looked up as she came closer, and she saw the way his light blue eyes lit up with pleasure at the sight of her. He wore his customary blue jeans
and a tee-shirt, despite the fact that she had taken the trouble to change before she came out to meet him, but she did not mind that. It was Danny, after all, and she would not have him any other way, so she smiled as she reached out to clasp the hand he offered.
‘Am I late?’ she asked. ‘I hope not.’
Danny shrugged; he never bothered too much about time. ‘You’re here,’ he told her with a smile, ‘that’s all that matters.’ He squeezed her hand and drew her closer to him while he kissed her. It was a brief and rather perfunctory kiss, but Danny was not an emotional man, and she knew he must be anxious to know about the money for the garage. After all, so much depended on it for both of them.
She felt a certain chilling sense of panic when she though of telling him, but she tried not to let it show. Danny put an arm round her and she put up a hand to hold the one that rested on her shoulder, knowing her fingers were dry and nervous and wondering if he noticed, as they walked along the sea wall in the dwindling daylight.
‘I’m—I’m afraid I have a disappointment for us,’ she ventured at last, and felt the way he stiffened suddenly, and the way the muscles contracted in the arm across her shoulders.
‘Oh?’
‘I spoke to Stefano about—about the money for the garage.’
He did not look directly at her, but she saw the darkening look on his brow as he guessed the answer she had received. ‘And he turned you down.’
Alison nodded. ‘I’m afraid so.°
For a moment he said nothing and she thought, she hoped, that perhaps he was going to take his disappointment quietly; but Danny was not one to be deprived of something he really wanted, not without making a great deal of noise about it. ‘Damn him ! ‘ he said vehemently at last, his free hand making a fist and striking at the empty air. ‘What right has that—that blasted foreigner got to tell you how to spend your own money? What right has he got to be so damned high-handed? Tell me that.’
‘I wish I could,’ Alison said ruefully, knowing how he must be feeling. ‘I was furious with him.’ ‘Does he know we’re getting married?’
Again she nodded. ‘Yes, I told him. I told him what we wanted the money for.’
‘It’s just not right,’ Danny declared, anger and frustration making his normally quiet voice loud and harsh. ‘Surely when you marry, you should have control of your own fortune, not have to go cap in hand to some damned Italian for every penny.’
‘Married or not,’ she told him, ‘he controls the trust—for good, as far as I can gather.’
‘What does your aunt say about it?’
Alison pulled a rueful face when she remembered Aunt Celia’s position in the matter. ‘I’m afraid she seems to agree with Stefano,’ she told him. ‘I’m afraid Aunt Celia is a conquest.’
‘A conquest?’ He looked puzzled, and Alison laughed uneasily, wondering if she had done the right thing in mentioning that. It would surely not improve Danny’s opinion to know that even she had to admit that Stefano Illari was undoubtedly attractive, despite her dislike of him.
‘He’s a very attractive man, Danny,’ she told him, ‘and Aunt Celia’s not past noticing it.’
‘You think he’s attractive, too?’
She hesitated over her answer, then nodded. ‘I can see that he’d be attractive to most women,’ she told him, as matter-of-factly as she knew how. ‘He’s tall, dark, and not without charm when he puts his mind to it.’
‘Oh, I see.’ His lip curled, and Alison could imagine all the derogatory images she had conjured up in his mind. ‘The continental fascination, eh?’
‘Aunt Celia seems to think so.’
He was silent again for some time, and she wondered what was causing that faraway, slightly speculative look in his eyes. They walked along the sea wall for some distance, then turned down a side street where the street lamps were already coming on in the growing dusk.
°s he a..’ He shrugged expressively. ‘Does
he like the women?’
Alison looked at him curiously. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘He goes out quite a lot, and—well, I should guess he probably does. Why?’
Quite surprisingly he chuckled, and she looked up at him, frowning. ‘I think I might have an idea for getting us our money for the garage,’ he told her. ‘It might just work, if you’re prepared to try it.’
She nodded, wondering what on earth he was talking about. ‘I’m prepared to try almost anything,’ she said. ‘Within reason, of course.’
‘Even be nice to him?’
Alison stared at him blankly for a moment. ‘Be
nice to him?’ she echoed. ‘I—I don’t understand, Danny.’
‘But, Danny—’ She looked at him, shaking her head. ‘I—I don’t think I could
He pulled her close and hugged her for a moment, as if to reassure her, his voice muffled by her hair when he spoke again. ‘Alison love, you know I hate the idea of you being within a mile of him, but it’s one way to get what we want, and at the moment it’s the only thing I can think of.’
‘I’m not sure he’d—he’d want me to be nice to him,’ she said doubtfully. Not—not the way you mean, anyway. He looks upon me as a little girl rather than a grown woman, you know. After all, he is quite a bit older than we are, and he probably likes something tall, blonde, and sophisticated.’
‘I wasn’t proposing that you should seduce him,’ Danny told her bluntly. ‘Just—change your tactics a bit, that’s all. You quarrel with him now, don’t you? Well, try being more amenable for a change. Do as he wants, let him think it’s all going his way and then work your charm on him. He’s only human, darling, even if he is a bit older and more worldly wise, and you’re a very beautiful girl. Isn’t
it worth a try?’
‘I—I suppose so.’
He lifted her chin and looked down at her with a persuasive smile, his lips brushing her forehead and her mouth. ‘Isn’t it worth it for our very own place, my darling Alison?’ he asked softly, and she put her arms around him suddenly and hugged him tight.
‘Yes, yes, of course it is.’
‘Of course it is! ‘ He tightened his arms around her, one hand pulling back her head so that he could reach her mouth. ‘Of course it is ! ‘ he whispered against her lips, but while he was kissing her, Alison’s mind was spinning chaotically with the completely irrelevant question of what it would be like to be kissed by Stefano Illari.
CHAPTER TWO
IT was going to be more difficult than Danny had anticipated, Alison thought. Being amenable and not arguing with Stefano Illari would not come as easily to her as Danny had seemed to think. For one thing, she was never very amenable to anyone who treated her like a not very important member of the household, especially when she was half owner of the house. It was not only annoying of him, but presumptuous.
In fact it seemed to Alison that he was far more inclined to act as if Aunt Celia was the mistress of Creggan Bar, and went out of his way to be charming and considerate to her. Altogether, she thought, Aunt Celia had been rather a disappointment to her and, seeing them together now in the garden, she wondered just who her aunt would side with if it ever came to a real showdown, and loyalties must be declared. It was something Alison would not care to take a chance on at the moment.
They sat together now, her aunt and Stefano, in the shade of a huge elm that had somehow managed to survive nearly a century of gusty winters on the exposed headland, and now provided shelter from the heat of the sun. Lunch was usually a light, alfresco affair when it was bright and sunny as now, and a table had been set out under the elm tree ready to be laid with a meal when Mrs. Dawlish had prepared it.
At the moment Alison sat on the stone step of the french window, hugging her knees and wondering about Stefano and her aunt, as she waited for her lunch. Aunt Celia had always dressed well and taken care of her appearance, but lately it seemed to Alison that she was taking even more care than usual.
She had visited a hairdresser and her dark brown hair was set in a much more flattering style than it had ever been before, while a blue, sleeveless dress revealed arms still smooth and slim for all her forty-two years. She was laughing animatedly at the moment, at something her companion had said, and she looked, Alison freely admitted, a very attractive woman.
Stefano had been riding, as he often did in the mornings, and he was still wearing riding breeches and a dazzlingly white shirt that showed off his dark looks to a definite advantage. It was a setting and a costume that suited him well, and she thought he was fully aware of it as he relaxed elegantly in the wrought iron chair, one leg crossed over the other, smiling at Aunt Celia with smooth self-confidence.
It was unlike him not to have changed for lunch by now, Alison thought, and frowned over the implication of that. It was quite possible, of course, that he was finding her aunt’s company sufficient distraction to forget his rather strict social graces.
After all, there was probably no more than seven or eight years between their ages, and many men are attracted to a slightly older woman. It was not impossible that they might even find one another attractive enough to But there she hastily put
on the stop, for she could not easily assimilate the idea of Stefano Illari as her uncle.
He had, she noticed suddenly, left his seat under the tree and was coming towards the house, his dark, lean features still drawn into a smile, as if he found the world absolutely to his liking. The expression of his smile changed when he saw her sitting there, and he cocked a brow at her.
‘You are hungry for your lunch, Alison?’ he asked and, giving her no time to answer, ‘I will not be long changing.’
She got up from the step to allow him to come through the french window, and he gave her his hands to help her to her feet, holding them still, even when she would have moved away. `I—I think I must have misjudged the time,’ she told him, feeling suddenly shy and uneasy as she all too often did when he spoke to her like that, and especially so now with Aunt Celia’s eyes on them from the garden.
He laughed softly, and kissed the fingers of her left hand, an unexpected and disturbing gesture. ‘You are always ready for your food,’ he teased her. ‘And yet you never grow plump, piccola. You are lucky.’
‘I suppose I am,’ she allowed, and glanced at her aunt, down there in the soft green shade of the elm tree. ‘I’m like my mother’s family, I think. She was very slim and so is Aunt Celia.’
The black eyes spared Aunt Celia a long glance and he smiled. ‘Such a beautiful household,’ he said in his soft, deep voice. ‘No wonder I stay here instead of returning to Italy, huh?’
It was a question Alison was interested in herself, why he did not go back to Italy, and she thought this might be as good an opportunity as any to air her curiosity—albeit cautiously. ‘Are you going to stay in England for good, Stefano?’ she asked, and he looked at her speculatively before answering.
‘You would not mind?’ he asked then, unexpectedly, and Alison blinked for a moment, uncertainly.
‘I—I don’t mind,’ she told him. ‘Why should I?’ He shrugged, an expressive gesture that told her more than his words did. ‘I wondered.’
Alison eased her hands free, and folded them together in front of her, keeping her eyes downcast enough for the heavy lashes to hide her eyes. ‘It’s your house as much as it is mine,’ she said, with uncharacteristic meekness. ‘You can stay as long as you choose, Stefano.’
For a moment he said nothing, then one hand reached out and cupped her chin, lifting her face although she refused to meet his eyes. ‘What are you up to?’ he asked softly, the unfamiliar phrase sounding oddly out of place in his precise English. ‘For the last two or three days,’ he went on, ‘you have been so—so good.’
Alison felt resentment prickling, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it. ‘Good?’ she echoed, and he laughed.
‘A good little girl,’ he explained. ‘Not arguing,
not being obstinate about anything. Very—good.’-
She felt the colour flush into her cheeks and her
hands tightened their clasp on one another as she
fought with a rising anger. It was all very well for
Danny to tell her to be amenable, but he wa
s not being talked to as if he was no more than two years old.
‘I thought most people liked children to be good she retorted, and, after a second’s stunned silence, he laughed.
°That is more like you,’ he told her, and actually sounded as if he approved.
‘You don’t seem to be able to make up your mind,’ she told him tartly. ‘First you object when I stand up for myself, now you sound as if you prefer it when I do.’
He was still smiling, undeterred by the angry frown she wore. ‘You have a lot of spirit,’ he said, almost as if he was discussing a horse, she thought wildly. ‘I do not like to see spirit broken.’
She stuck out her chin, as best she could for his still having a hand under it. °It would take more than you to break my spirit,’ she informed him with far more confidence than she felt, and again he laughed.
‘I would never try to do so,’ he told her softly. ‘It is part of your charm, piccola.’
‘And I wish you wouldn’t call me that—that name,’ she said, taking advantage of her opportunities.
Picala?’ He looked surprised at her objection. ‘I don’t know what it means, but I suspect it’s not very complimentary.’
He shook his head slowly. ‘It is not uncomplimentary,’ he said, and Alison looked at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation, but he merely smiled.
‘What does it mean?’ she asked, and he allowed his gaze to wander slowly over her face before he answered.
‘Just—little one,’ he said softly, and she hastily lowered her eyes again.
She moved her head, trying to rid herself of his touch which she found inexplicably disturbing, but his fingers were hard to evade and he held her chin firmly, smiling down at her. ‘You—you’d better go and change for lunch,’ she told him at last, and put up her own hands to pull at his.
‘I will.’ He held her for a moment longer, then smiled enigmatically and, before she realised his intention, bent his head and brushed his mouth against her forehead. ‘Bella bambina!’ he said softly, and strode off through the sitting room towards the stairs.
