Bedded For the Italian's Pleasure

by Anne Mather

  Rafe found himself smiling. ‘Who indeed?’ he remarked drily, and she gave him a flirtatious look.

  ‘You don’t think I’m silly?’

  ‘No. Why would I? You’re paying me very well and I need the work.’

  ‘Now, I happen to know that’s not true.’ Olivia pressed her lips together thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Poppy—that’s Poppy Gibson,’ she added, mentioning the name of the wife of the local member of parliament, ‘she told me she’d been at your reception last week and you’d been offered quite a few commissions. I just wish Bobby and I had been able to come. But he wasn’t feeling so good—he has blood pressure, you know—and I couldn’t leave him on his own, could I?’

  ‘Definitely not.’

  ‘And you think my hair looks all right?’ She touched the straightened strands that dipped provocatively to the exposed curve of her breast. ‘Connie—that’s Conrad Samuels at Batik in Bodmin—thinks I suit this colour. But I’m not sure. I’m a natural blonde, you know?’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ Rafe was sarcastic. He’d known her long enough to be aware that her hair was naturally brown. Like Juliet’s, he thought, though without the shine he’d noticed just that morning. He scowled. God, he had to get that woman out of his head.

  ‘There’s no need to look like that.’ Olivia had taken his scowl for a response to what she’d been saying. ‘Anyway, Bobby thinks I’m a natural blonde and that’s what matters.’

  ‘Does he?’ Rafe’s mouth quirked up at the corners. ‘Now, that surprises me.’

  ‘You devil!’ Olivia jumped up from the chair and punched his arm. ‘I bet you can’t remember what I look like. It was dark that night and you were—well—’

  ‘Drunk,’ supplied Rafe drily, pushing her back onto the seat. ‘Now, sit still, will you? We’re wasting your time and mine.’

  ‘But it was good, wasn’t it?’ Olivia was determined to continue their conversation. ‘I remember waking up the next morning and thinking I was in love.’

  ‘In lust more like,’ countered Rafe, not wanting to have this conversation. His association with Liv had been short and not especially sweet. He remembered waking up with a hangover. Much like the one he’d got this morning, he thought, but with a legitimate cause.

  ‘But we were good together,’ she persisted. And when he didn’t answer, she shook her head in annoyance. ‘Rafe, are you listening to me?’

  He’d just lined up his camera when she shifted and ruined the shot. ‘I’m listening,’ he said through his teeth. ‘But I’m trying to work here. If you’d wanted to chat, you should have asked me out for a drink.’

  Olivia’s jaw jutted. ‘I’m sorry if I’m being a nuisance,’ she said huffily, and Rafe only just managed to suppress his groan.

  ‘You’re not a nuisance,’ he assured her. ‘Take no notice of me. I had too many glasses of wine last night.’

  ‘Wine?’ Olivia arched neatly plucked brows. ‘Since when do you drink wine, Rafe?’

  ‘Since I discovered it’s a cheaper analgesic than Scotch,’ he informed her flatly. Then, after studying her through the lens of his camera for a moment. ‘Are you sure about this? You really think your husband will approve?’

  ‘Me being painted in the nude?’ Olivia looked smug. ‘Oh, yes. Bobby’s nuts about my body.’

  ‘OK.’ Rafe knew better than to argue, but he hoped she was right. ‘So—you want the whole shebang? Belly button, boobs and butt?’

  Olivia grimaced at him. ‘You have such a charming way of putting it.’ She folded her hands in her lap, tugging at the hem of her skirt, pretending that she didn’t want him to notice her legs. And they were very attractive legs, Rafe had to admit. He hoped he could do them justice.

  ‘Fine.’

  He adjusted the camera again, taking several shots from different angles. This was useful to learn the structure of her face, the shape of her head, the curve of her neck. He was aware of her watching him, following his movements with her eyes, a look of anticipation on her face. And wondered, not for the first time, if accepting this commission had been entirely wise.

  ‘OK,’ he said after a few minutes, stowing the camera on a side-table and tugging a velvet couch into the middle of the floor. ‘Come and make yourself comfortable on this. I want to make a few sketches, just to get an idea of how it’s going to look.’

  Olivia got immediately to her feet. ‘Shall I take all my clothes off?’ she asked eagerly, her fingers going to the buttons of her skirt.

  ‘No!’ Rafe’s response was emphatic and Olivia gave him a resentful look. ‘That is,’ he hastened on in an effort to redeem himself, ‘it’s not necessary today. These are just preliminary sketches. I’ll fill in the details later. It’s amazing how much can be done without the subject’s participation.’

  Olivia pouted. ‘Won’t I have to take my clothes off at all?’

  ‘Not initially, no.’ Rafe sighed. ‘You should be grateful. This is a draughty old place at the best of times.’

  ‘I suppose.’ But Olivia still looked disappointed and Rafe realised she’d wanted to strip for him. Oh, God, he thought, surely the old lady wasn’t going to be proved right. When Lady Elinor had poured scorn on the credentials of the new Lady Holderness, perhaps he should have listened…

  * * *

  Juliet spent a pleasant couple of hours trudging along the river bank. Upstream, she’d discovered that it wasn’t a particularly wide river. Indeed, in places the trees growing on the opposite bank hung so far across the water that they almost touched those on this side. The ground, as Rafe had warned her, was thick with mulch, the accumulation of last autumn’s windfall and months of heavy rain.

  The air near the estuary was salty, but further upstream it was overlaid with the smell of rotting vegetation. Yet, spring was definitely stirring. She wished she knew more about the wild flowers that grew in such profusion along the stream.

  When she got back to the house, she discovered that Cary and his grandmother were having morning coffee in the conservatory. Juliet, who’d changed out of Josie’s boots in the mudroom, would have preferred to hurry upstairs and tidy herself before meeting her hostess again. But Cary had evidently been looking out for her and he came to the door of the morning room as she was hastening across the hall.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ he asked at once, just as he’d done the evening before. ‘If you’d planned on going out, you might have told me.’

  ‘I didn’t exactly plan it,’ said Juliet, not wanting to get into how she had come to go out in the first place. She ran a hand over her tumbled hair. ‘I just went for a walk, that’s all. And, as you can tell, the wind was fairly strong.’

  ‘Even so, you should have told me,’ Cary insisted in a hushed voice. ‘I’d have appreciated the chance to get a breath of fresh air after the atmosphere in this mausoleum.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Well, never mind. You’re here now. Come on in. We’re having coffee in the conservatory.’

  ‘Oh, well—I was just going to tidy up,’ she protested, but Cary didn’t seem to care about her feelings. Or her appearance, for that matter.

  ‘Later,’ he said, taking hold of her elbow and guiding her into the morning room. ‘Here, take off your coat. We don’t want the old girl thinking you were about to make a break for it.’

  ‘As if!’

  Juliet gave him an impatient look, but Cary was intent on his objective. ‘Here she is, Grandmama!’ he exclaimed triumphantly, leading her into the conservatory. ‘I thought she was still in bed, but apparently she’s been for a walk.’

  Before Juliet could speak, however, Hitchins came hurtling across the floor. He’d apparently been sleeping in his basket, as usual, but Cary’s loud voice had disturbed him. As before, he made straight for Cary’s trouser leg, and she could see his frustration at not being able to do anything about it.

  ‘Hey…’ With a smile of greeting for Lady Elinor, Juliet bent and detached the Pekinese from his quarry. Evidently he h
ad no quarrel with her, because when she lifted him into her arms he immediately licked her chin. ‘Now, you won’t get around me that way,’ she said, even though she was touched by the little dog’s affection. ‘That was naughty. We don’t go around biting people, do we? It’s not polite.’

  The old lady had been watching this exchange with some interest. ‘He likes you, Miss Lawrence,’ she said. ‘He’s usually a good judge of character, I find.’

  Which Cary evidently didn’t find easy to deal with. The smug smile he’d been wearing while Juliet was holding the dog now gave way to a petulant scowl. But he didn’t say anything, she noticed. He just shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and pretended he hadn’t understood what the old lady was saying.

  Deciding it was up to her to answer, Juliet scratched the dog beneath his chin. ‘I used to have a golden retriever,’ she said. ‘When I was much younger. And, please—my name is Juliet. I’d be happy if you’d use it.’

  ‘Juliet.’ Lady Elinor nodded and pointed to the wickerwork armchair adjacent to her own with her cane. ‘Come and sit down, Juliet. And I think you can put Hitchins down, too. If Cary will just stop waffling about, the dog will simply ignore him.’

  ‘I’m not waffling about, Grandmama.’ Cary’s tone was defensive, if anything. He paused. ‘Shall I go and ask Josie for another cup for Juliet? Then you and she can have a nice chat.’

  Juliet, who’d just sat down, raised horrified eyes to his face. But there was nothing she could say that wouldn’t sound rude, and he knew it.

  ‘Yes, go and make yourself useful, Cary,’ his grandmother agreed, which once again caused him some irritation, Juliet could see. ‘And bring a fresh pot of coffee when you come back. It will save Josie’s legs.’

  ‘I’m not a servant, Grandmama.’

  For once he seemed prepared to stick up for himself, but Lady Elinor soon put him straight. ‘Nor is Josie,’ she retorted, waving her cane like a magic wand. ‘Off you go. And don’t be too long.’

  To Juliet’s amazement, Cary didn’t argue. He merely inclined his head before walking meekly to the door. It astonished her that he’d let the old lady walk all over him. Was he prepared to take any amount of humiliation just to ensure his inheritance? It seemed so.

  ‘And did you enjoy your walk?’ asked Lady Elinor as soon as Cary was out of earshot, and Juliet nodded.

  ‘Very much.’

  ‘Where did you go? Along the river bank? Didn’t Josie warn you it’s very wet at this time of year?’

  ‘Um—Mr Marchese did, actually.’

  ‘Rafe?’ The old lady frowned. ‘Rafe was here?’

  Juliet felt the colour entering her cheeks. ‘Yes. I think he brought some—things—for Mrs Morgan. I was up early and I happened to be in the kitchen when he arrived.’

  ‘Ah.’ Lady Elinor looked thoughtful. ‘So—what is your opinion of Rafe?’

  ‘Oh…’ Juliet was nonplussed. She didn’t even want to think about Cary’s cousin. ‘He—er—he seems very nice. Does he live near here?’

  Lady Elinor gave a short laugh. ‘My dear, there is nothing remotely nice about my eldest grandson. Aggravating, provocative, fascinating, even. But not nice. That is such a namby-pamby word.’

  Juliet pressed her lips together. ‘He’s—not much like Cary, is he?’

  ‘No. Thank God!’ The old lady reached for her cup of coffee and took a drink before continuing, ‘So—I gather Rafe didn’t tell you where he lives.’

  ‘No.’ Juliet shook her head. And then, wanting to explain herself, ‘We didn’t talk for long.’

  ‘Well, he lives in Polgellin Bay. Above his studio, actually. Though he works at a school in Bodmin, as I believe I told you before.’

  Juliet nodded. Then, in an effort to keep the conversation moving, ‘Do you have any of his paintings, Lady Elinor?’

  There was silence for a short while and Juliet was beginning to wonder if she’d said the wrong thing, when the old lady answered her. ‘Rafe doesn’t believe I’m interested in his work,’ she said, somewhat obliquely. ‘But I’d be interested to hear your opinion, Juliet.’

  Like that was going to happen, thought Juliet wryly. Even if Rafe’s studio were open to the public, that was the last place Cary would take her.

  ‘Have you and Cary set a date for the wedding?’

  The question was so unexpected after what they’d been discussing, Juliet was briefly at a loss for words. Then, ‘Oh, no. We—er—we’ve just got engaged. We’re not thinking of getting married for some time.’

  ‘I thought not.’

  The old lady’s words were disturbing and, realising Cary wouldn’t thank her if she created doubts in his grandmother’s mind, Juliet hurried on. ‘Maybe—maybe we’ll think about it later in the year.’

  ‘You’re not wearing a ring.’ Lady Elinor was far too shrewd not to have noticed.

  ‘No.’ Juliet had no answer for that either, and she wished Cary were here to share the grief.

  ‘I imagine my grandson is fairly short of funds, as usual,’ the old lady continued. ‘Remind me to look in my jewellery box, Juliet. I may have just the ring for you to wear.’

  Oh, God!

  Juliet couldn’t meet her eyes. This was so much worse than anything she could have anticipated. Imagining herself wearing a ring that Lady Elinor might once have worn when she was a young woman was mortifying. She’d never felt so despicable in her life.

  It was hardly a relief to hear Cary coming back. The damage had been done, and there was no way her ‘fiancé’ was going to turn the old lady down. Indeed, as soon as they got back to London he’d probably take the ring and have it valued. If it was worth more than a few pounds, she doubted Lady Elinor would see it again.

  Naturally, his grandmother told him of her suggestion. ‘As I’m giving a small dinner party tomorrow evening to celebrate your engagement, I can hardly have Juliet turning up without an engagement ring, can I?’

  ‘You’re a brick, Grandmama!’ exclaimed Cary at once, giving her an enthusiastic hug that almost caused Hitchins to renew hostilities. ‘What would we do without you?’

  CHAPTER SIX

  JULIET was getting ready for dinner when Josie tapped at her door.

  At first she was tempted to ignore it, to pretend she hadn’t heard the knock. She was uneasily aware that it could be Cary. And while he knew that her being here was simply as a favour to him—OK, he was paying her to pretend to be his fiancée, but that was all—no one else did. And she didn’t altogether trust him not to try and take advantage of it. Particularly after what had happened that afternoon.

  Juliet had hoped that Lady Elinor might forget about her offer to give her a ring. But, immediately after lunch, she’d asked Josie to bring her jewellery box and she’d spent the next half-hour poring over its contents.

  Juliet had been aware that Cary had been dying to see what was in the velvet-lidded box his grandmother guarded so fiercely. But the old lady had made sure he was sitting at the opposite end of the table while she examined its contents. A man shouldn’t be too curious, she’d told him. He’d see the rings she’d chosen for Juliet to choose from in the fullness of time.

  Juliet herself hadn’t wanted to have any part of it, but in that she’d had no choice. Even without Cary’s arm lying possessively about her shoulders, Lady Elinor had expected her to be involved, and that was that.

  The rings the old lady had eventually laid out on the crisp linen tablecloth sparkled in the sunlight. They were obviously very old, but remarkably contemporary in design. There was a diamond solitaire, an emerald dress ring, surrounded by rose-cut diamonds, and a single ruby, set in a circle of what Juliet suspected were semi-precious gems.

  Juliet heard Cary’s greedy intake of breath when he saw the rings. She was almost able to guess what he was thinking, could hear the calculator in his brain working out their exact value to him.

  ‘Which do you find appealing, Juliet?’ Lady Elinor asked, inviting her to sit beside her. ‘As
you can see, they’re all practically antique. The diamond belonged to my grandmother, the emerald was a gift to my mother from the Brazilian cultural attaché, while the ruby was given to me when I was presented at court.’

  Juliet shook her head. ‘They’re all very beautiful.’

  ‘Yes, they are.’ Cary spoke in her ear, apparently unable to resist joining them and picking up the diamond solitaire. She’d seen him pretending to admire the ring, when in actual fact he’d been assessing its potential. ‘This is awfully kind of you, Grandmama. I know both Juliet and I are very grateful, aren’t we, darling?’

  Juliet’s smile was forced as she looked up at him. ‘Very,’ she agreed through clenched teeth. Then she whisked the diamond out of his hand and set it back on the cloth. ‘I don’t know which to choose.’

  ‘Oh, I think the solitaire is the most appropriate,’ Cary declared tightly. ‘It looks the most like an engagement ring to me.’

  It would, Juliet thought scornfully, knowing exactly how his mind was working. ‘Actually,’ she said, picking up the ruby, ‘I think this is the one I like best.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I’m sure you’d agree that, as Juliet is going to wear the ring, she should be the one to make the decision,’ his grandmother had interposed smoothly. ‘I must say, I like the ruby myself. It’s a Burmese stone and it’s flawless.’

  And small, Juliet had reflected gratefully before going for her shower. She would not be a party to Cary’s taking his grandmother for every penny he could get.

  Now, hearing someone at the door, she wondered if he’d decided to challenge her on it. She knew he hadn’t been pleased when they’d left the dining room but, pleading tiredness, she’d been able to avoid a confrontation. Almost two days over, she thought, wrapping her silk robe tightly about her. She just had to get over tomorrow and then they’d be heading home.

  But there was still tonight and, pulling open the door, she prepared herself to face his wrath. After all, he’d had all afternoon to feed his resentment, and something told her Cary wasn’t the type of man to forget a grievance.