by Lucy Gordon
‘Yes—yes—’
‘Just a few moments more...’ His mouth brushed hers again.
Down below, Marisa got into her car. At the last moment she glanced up at them, made a sneering face, then started the car and drove away.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘SHE’S GONE,’ VITTORIO WHISPERED.
He could almost hear his own voice shaking. The last few minutes had affected him intensely, making him yearn to go further. But he struggled for control, fearful of driving Jackie away.
Reluctantly he released her. ‘You did it. Marisa saw enough to get the message. Perhaps I should be grateful to you for taking command.’
‘I didn’t take command—’
‘Didn’t you?’
She thought she could guess his meaning. When she had reached up to draw his head down closer to hers, he’d known that her desire was as strong as his, and there was no way she could deny it. He had probably read the message in her eyes.
‘You found the right way for both of us,’ he said. ‘You could say I followed your lead.’
‘It was necessary for the performance,’ she reminded him. ‘Anything’s worth doing for an effective performance.’
‘Well said! A woman with efficient instincts.’
‘And efficiency is everything,’ she said lightly.
She met his gaze, both of them knowing that the real message was something quite different.
‘Sometimes efficiency really is everything,’ he said softly. ‘But then—things change.’
‘Well, they’ve changed for Marisa. I can’t think why she’s worried about me. I’m no beauty. And don’t bother to give me a polite answer or I’ll thump you.’
‘Right. You’re no beauty. I heartily agree,’ he said, trying to sound casual. He met her eyes. ‘But you do have something else that’s more than looks. You’ve got wit, and an intelligence that I find most appealing. In fact, since the day we met you’ve caught me out and tripped me up more than anyone’s ever done before.’
‘Then I’m surprised you brought me here.’
‘Yes, I wonder what I was thinking of. I guess I don’t mind being caught at a disadvantage—every now and then.’
‘I’ll remember that. I could have fun tripping you up.’
‘I bet you will. There are women who conquer a man by their beauty, and those who conquer him by keeping him nervous, even scared.’
‘And there’s no doubt which one I am!’ She laughed. ‘But maybe I don’t want to conquer you.’
‘You won’t make the effort? Then I’d feel insulted. Besides, you do it without meaning to.’
‘You don’t know that. I might have a fiendish plan going on.’
‘I live in hope. But for the moment I’ll say goodnight. We have a busy day tomorrow. You should beware. When we get to Rome I’m going to work you to death.’
‘That’s what I hoped. Anything else would be dull.’
‘And let’s not be dull, whatever we do.’
‘No. Not that you could ever be dull here,’ she murmured, glancing around at his bedroom. Like the rest of the house, it was lavishly decorated in a medieval style.
‘This was my father’s room,’ he said.
‘And now it’s yours because you’re the Count? Do you think you can be grandiose enough?’
‘I’ll try to be. I’ve never thought of myself as grandiose, but I suppose everything is going to be different now.’
‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘That’s true. You won your battle tonight. Marisa saw us, which is exactly what you wanted. From now on you’ll be a free man.’
‘A free man?’ He looked into her eyes. ‘I wonder just what that means?’
She met his gaze, suddenly confused. ‘You’ll find out gradually. I’m here to help you.’ A sudden impulse made her say. ‘It’s getting late and I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed now. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight. And, Jackie—thank you for everything.’
She smiled and fled. It had suddenly become vital to escape him quickly and take refuge in her room.
Once there, she paced the floor, trying to understand the conflicting thoughts and feelings that struggled for supremacy inside her head.
It was madness to be upset, she told herself. Vittorio was a man of good looks and charm. Any woman would be thrilled to be taken into his arms. And for a brief moment she had known that delicious excitement. To feel his lips caressing hers, sense the tremors in his body—those pleasures had consumed her. He had wanted her, and the blissful knowledge had driven her to a response that had been almost beyond her control.
But then, like a warning blast, a voice in her mind had warned her to take care. To guard her feelings. He’d embraced her in order to deceive Marisa, then released her when Marisa had no longer been able to see them.
He was only pretending, she thought. He’d pretend for just long enough to get what he wanted and then she’d have outlived her usefulness to him. Just as if she fell in love with him he’d find it useful. And that was all he wanted of her—to be useful. Useful in the department store, useful about the money problem, useful about Marisa.
She’d do well to remember that falling for Vittorio would be extremely hazardous to her health. Mind you, he’d be as a big a fool to fall for her!
* * *
With Jackie gone Vittorio stood without moving for some moments, trying to cope with conflicting feelings. This had been his father’s bedroom, and it still contained many memories.
Here they had spent their last few moments together, and Franco had revealed the secret that had set Vittorio on a new path. Putting right his father’s wrongs had seemed like the right thing to do—and a simple thing.
But before that there had been other talks. Some of them about Vittorio’s mother. He knew that both his parents had been unfaithful in their brief marriage. Adele, his mother, had married for the title—something which Franco, deeply in love, had not suspected until it was too late.
Looking at the surroundings where his father had made his last confession, he found that another scene came back to him. Then, too, Franco had lain there, dizzy with suffering, driving himself to tell the painful truth to his son, who had knelt beside the bed.
‘I lost track of all the men she had...’ He’d sighed.
Filled with fear, Vittorio had asked quickly, ‘Do you mean that I’m not your son?’
‘No, you’re mine. When you were born I had a DNA test done to check, and the result was all I had hoped. But the fact that such a test was needed—’ He had given a deep groan before adding wretchedly, ‘And the other child...’
‘What other child?’
‘Do you remember how we lost your mother when you were twelve? She died giving birth. The baby also died. It wasn’t mine. We hadn’t made love for a long time, so I knew. She had never loved me as I loved her. I would have forgiven her, because I so much wanted her to stay with me, but then she was gone.’
‘But how could you have kept her with you, knowing what you knew?’ Vittorio had asked desperately.
‘Yes, it’s madness, isn’t it? But love is a kind of madness. When you love a woman so much that you’ll forgive her anything as long as she doesn’t leave you, it’s as though you cease to be yourself. I should have divorced her years before. I’d have been safer without her there to torment me. But I couldn’t do it. I told myself I stayed with her for your sake, because you needed a mother. But the truth was I couldn’t bear to let her go. So we stayed together...she kept living her riotous life. And then she died.’
Vittorio hadn’t been able to reply. He’d dropped his head down into the bed, close to his father’s, feeling only despair.
Franco had touched him. ‘I pray that your life may be filled with more hope,’ he’d said. ‘Don’
t give your love to a woman who deceives you. Be cautious, my son. Don’t trust too easily. Keep your love to yourself as long as you can.’
The advice had touched Vittorio’s heart. Only recently he’d quarrelled with a young woman who’d briefly inspired his trust and affection before turning to another man. Everything in him had accepted that his father had been right, and that he must be cautious.
But then he’d met Jackie—frank, honest, different from any other women he’d met. Or so he’d thought until his growing attraction to her had begun to alarm him. Holding her in his arms, he’d felt a surge of feeling that was not merely desire, but also tenderness. And the awareness of her trembling in his arms, the fervour with which she’d kissed him, had left him feeling stunned.
She’d called it efficiency, claiming to have done no more than follow his lead. But the memory of her response lingered...delightful, alarming, warning him that the road ahead led into mystery.
It was unbearable not to know the answer. He went out into the corridor, looking to see if there was a light under her door. But there was none. Had she really gone to sleep? Or was she lying in the darkness, facing a confusion as great as his own?
He stood outside her door, listening to the silence inside, trying to decide whether to call her or knock. But after hesitating a long time he backed away, sensing that this was not the right moment.
* * *
Next morning Jackie awoke early and took a shower. Standing under the water, she wondered what she would see in Vittorio’s eyes this morning. She’d felt sure he would call on her the previous night, but nothing had happened.
She’d heard a faint sound, as though his footsteps had approached her room, but then there had been only silence. Unable to bear the tension, she’d leapt out of bed and pulled open her door. But the corridor outside had been dark and empty, with no sign of him. She had gone back to bed and lain there fretting until she’d managed to fall asleep.
This morning her thoughts were still troubled—even more so because her attraction towards Vittorio made her feel that she was failing her father again.
Somehow, somewhere, there must be a way to do the right thing. If only she could find it.
She dressed and went downstairs into the hall. Through an open door she could see Vittorio sitting at a desk.
He glanced up and waved to her. ‘We’ll be going in to breakfast in a moment,’ he said. ‘And then we can—’
The sound of the phone interrupted him, making him curse slightly and then answer it. Jackie went to stand by the window, gazing out at the grass and trees, entranced by their beauty. Clearly it was a magnificent estate, and she was curious to see more of it.
Glancing around, she saw that he had his back to her, absorbed in the call. Yielding to temptation, she slipped out of the door into the garden. For a few moments it was delightful to run across the lawn to where she could see a seat under one of the trees. She sat down on it and leaned back, closing her eyes and breathing in the cool air.
When at last she opened her eyes she found herself gazing at the building that reared up so magnificently, beautiful and luxurious. But the sight caused sorrow to fall over her heart, as it had done so often since she’d arrived here. This had been the home of the man who had cheated her beloved father, reducing him to poverty and despair.
In her mind’s eye she saw her father again, his head sunk in misery when his wife had left him.
He had nothing, she thought. And the man who lives here has everything.
She could feel tears pouring down her cheeks and ducked her head, seizing a handkerchief to wipe them away. But there were more tears, followed by sobs. She sat there shaking, trying vainly to control her grief.
‘Jackie—Jackie?’
The voice from overhead made her look up to see Vittorio standing there. At once he sat down beside her, reaching out to her.
‘Come here,’ he said.
‘No!’ She pulled sharply away. ‘Go away. Leave me alone.’
‘But I—’
‘I said leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you.’
She jumped up, fleeing away from him until she plunged into the trees. When she felt safely out of sight she leaned against a tree trunk and abandoned the effort to control her tears.
Suddenly she felt a pair of strong arms go around her, pulling her against him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t mean to crowd you, but stay with me a while. Let me help you.’
She couldn’t answer. The feel of his chest was warm and comforting, giving her a pleasure she hadn’t thought to know. She trembled and felt him draw her even closer.
‘Cry,’ he said. ‘You need to. Don’t fight it.’
It felt incredible that she was letting this man, of all men, comfort her. But the feel of his arms about her was unlike anything that had ever happened to her before.
‘Let’s go inside,’ he said. ‘We’ll have breakfast and then go into the city. We’ve got a lot to do.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said wryly. ‘I’m going to give you all that expert opinion—if I can think of anything. I really felt very awkward when you were telling your aunt how good I am.’
‘You played your part beautifully.’
‘But I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be expert about.’
‘That’s why we’re going into town. By the time we’ve finished you’ll be able to give me your orders.’
She rubbed her hands. ‘Roll on the day!’
‘Well, I’ve been meaning to tell you—’ He stopped, realising that he no longer had her attention. She was looking about her at the medieval beauty of her surroundings as though something had suddenly struck her, ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.
‘Nothing. It’s this place,’ she said. ‘I just have to keep looking at it. It’s wonderful how history seems to live here all around us, as though your ancestors were still alive.’
‘I know the feeling. I’ve felt them with me all my life, and if I want to meet them I go to the gallery, where their portraits hang. Would you like to see it?’
‘I’d love to.’
He led her into a great room at the back of the house. Portraits hung all along the walls, of people dressed in clothes that spoke of past centuries.
‘And all these are your ancestors?’ Jackie mused in wonder.
‘Not all. Have a look at this one.’
He drew her to a full-length picture showing a young woman in a horse-drawn chariot. With one hand she controlled the horses, in the other she held a sword. On her head she wore a military helmet.
‘That’s Bellona,’ Vittorio told her. ‘The Roman goddess of war.’
‘You have a female deity of war? Surely—?’
‘Surely it should be a man?’ he said, grinning. ‘In any other society it probably would be. But in Rome we like strong, powerful women.’
‘Unless they happen to disagree with you?’ she teased, her eyes challenging him.
‘Ah, well, let’s not go into that.’
‘Very wise,’ she said with mock solemnity. ‘Just think of all the awkward things I could remind you of.’
‘And how you’d enjoy doing it.’
Tania had slipped into the room behind them and was listening to them with pleasure.
‘You’ll have a chance to meet Bellona,’ she said. ‘We celebrate her festival every year. You’ll probably enjoy that.’
‘Yes, you two have a lot in common...’ Vittorio observed.
‘Vittorio!’ Tania protested. ‘I hope you’re not being rude to our guest.’
‘Don’t worry, Aunt. Jackie’s not offended. And here’s someone else you should meet,’ Vittorio said, turning her towards a picture of a man in a suit of armour. ‘He was the very first Count Martelli. And the two men i
n the next picture are his sons. The elder one died and the younger one inherited the title.’
Along the walls they went, with Vittorio describing his ancestors one by one, introducing them as though they still lived with him.
One portrait especially seized Jackie’s attention. It showed a man in the luscious garb of the seventeenth century, with long curling hair falling over his shoulders. But it was his face that claimed her attention. It was Vittorio’s face that had come down the centuries.
‘He was my great-great-great-great-grandfather,’ Vittorio said.
‘Yes, I can see. It’s incredible. You’re really one of them. Hey—what’s that?’
Her attention had been seized by another picture, a few feet along. It showed two men dressed in the attire of ancient Rome. One of them also had a face similar to Vittorio’s.
‘He must be another ancestor of yours,’ she said. ‘Who’s the man with him?’
‘Julius Caesar—the Roman Emperor.’
‘One of your family was a friend of Julius Caesar? They even had their portraits painted together?’
‘Not at all. There’s a common belief that one of my ancestors was part of Caesar’s court, but that picture was painted hundreds of years later. It’s just a fantasy. There are several fantasies like that in this gallery. Over here is Napoleon. When he was Emperor of France he annexed Rome, but when he was defeated we regained our freedom.’
The picture had been carefully designed to show Napoleon regarding his companion with admiration and respect. The companion’s face also bore a notable resemblance to Vittorio’s.
‘It’s marvellous, isn’t it?’ said Tania.
‘That face—it’s him!’ Jackie exclaimed in wonder.
‘Yes, you can’t get away from me even a few hundred years later.’ Vittorio laughed.
‘Have you shown Jackie the picture of Lady Nanetta?’ Tania asked.
‘Not yet, but I’m looking forward to doing it.’ He guided her across the room. ‘Nanetta is a family legend,’ he explained. ‘She was a magnificent woman, but also an alarming one.’
He paused before a full-length picture of a tall, slender woman.
