At the Italian's Command

by Cathy Williams

  ‘Oh, absolutely,’ Sophie said with a straight face. ‘You wouldn’t want to go mad and start thinking that there’s a life out there that doesn’t involve running an empire.’

  Rafe laughed softly, not taking his eyes off her, and she felt a tingle run up and down her spine. This, she thought nervously, was seductive, not some hot drink and a good book.

  ‘You have a good sense of humour. Anyone ever told you that? Dry. Not very obvious.’

  Sophie ignored the warning bells that started ringing in her head. He wasn’t flirting, she told herself, he was chatting. It was only the combination of being in Cornwall, with the sound of the sea breeze whipping against the windows, and the timbre of his voice, that made it sound like flirting.

  And probably her own hypersensitivity as well, just her newly attuned antennae picking up wavelengths that weren’t there, making her jumpy, filling her with hot, shameful excitement.

  ‘My sense of humour is perfectly ordinary,’ she heard herself say, in a very prissy voice. ‘Maybe you just don’t have much experience going out with women who have a sense of humour at all.’

  ‘Tut-tut. Very catty. Was that a dig at Angela, by any chance?’

  Sophie went red. ‘It was a general observation. I don’t know Angela, so how would I be able to have a dig at her? I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice woman.’

  ‘Just not very funny.’

  Sophie looked at the fire and didn’t answer.

  ‘Come on, Sophie. You can speak your mind. After all, I’m not the one dissecting you so that I can produce a human interest story.’

  ‘I’m not dissecting you!’ Her eyes flashed at him to see that his were spiced with laughter and she smiled reluctantly back at him. ‘You’re doing it again,’ she said ruefully. ‘Distracting me.’

  ‘Now, there’s an admission.’

  ‘I meant that I came in here to have a talk to you about…’ She felt hot under the collar. Worse, she wondered how she was going to raise the subject of their respective mothers and those little looks without losing the plot somewhere along the way. When he was looking at her like that. There was no overhead light on, just the dull gleam from two table lamps, but it was still enough for her to make out the disconcerting, intimate expression on his face. Did he even know the effect he was having on her?

  ‘But now that you mention Angela,’ she said, in an effort to remind him of his girlfriend and bring the conversation back down to earth, ‘how is she?’

  ‘I have no idea. I’m afraid I had to terminate that relationship. Yesterday, as a matter of fact.’

  Sophie looked at him in surprise.

  ‘There’s no need to look so shocked,’ Rafe said irritably. ‘We were never heading for a walk down the aisle.’

  ‘Yes, but she seemed so keen on you. Poor woman.’

  ‘Why poor woman? I doubt she’ll have much trouble finding my replacement.’ The unspoken criticism on her face had brought the atmosphere between them to a grinding halt. And she called him a distraction! ‘I was doing her a favour,’ he expanded, wondering why he was bothering to justify perfectly reasonable behaviour. ‘The longer she stayed in the relationship, the more she might have started nurturing ideas of permanency.’

  ‘I’m bowled over by your logic,’ Sophie told him.

  Nothing amusing in that particular dry statement, Rafe thought with exasperation. What century was she living in? ‘And to be blunt, I would have driven her crazy within weeks. I doubt there’s a woman on the face of the earth who would find my work schedule acceptable.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ Sophie agreed, which actually just made him more exasperated. He opened his mouth to continue the debate and then had second thoughts. Where would it lead?

  ‘You were saying that you came in here to talk to me. What about? I gather it wasn’t simply general chit-chat.’

  ‘Actually, it was about…well, Mum and Claudia.’

  Rafe looked at Sophie, astonished. ‘What about them?’

  ‘Well, how did they seem to you?’

  ‘Much the same as usual.’ Rafe frowned. ‘The usual gossip about who was seen where and why and who’s suffering from what new ailment, and the headache of the spring bazaar, which Mother, bizarrely, has volunteered to have on the grounds of the house and is now regretting…nothing spectacular there. Why?’

  ‘I just wondered.’

  ‘No, you didn’t just wonder.’ He took in the embarrassed confusion on her face and was suddenly intrigued. Sophie Frey, he had discovered, did not aimlessly make statements. With any other woman, a provocative remark always, but always, was destined to lead to generating a response in him, capturing his interest, continuing the game of chase that sophisticated adults seemed to enjoy playing. That he had always enjoyed playing.

  ‘All right,’ Sophie said on a sigh. ‘I don’t know how to explain it, but I think you ought to have a word to your mother about us…I mean, just put her on the right track…’

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Rafe said, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs, thoroughly intrigued now.

  ‘Oh, don’t be so dense, Rafe. You must have noticed those little looks they kept giving one another all evening, glancing at us and then glancing at each other as though…as though…’

  ‘Ah.’ He sat back with a slow smile. ‘Now that you mention it, I did notice something a little conniving about their attitude. In fact, come to think of it, there were a few questions about how we were getting along and how wonderful it was that we were both coming to Cornwall to visit…’ Gentleman as he was, Rafe decided to allow Sophie the chance to carry on with this particular line of thought.

  ‘And what did you tell them?’

  ‘Oh, that we were getting along famously.’

  ‘Which isn’t true!’ Sophie cried. ‘You hate the fact that I’m cluttering up your day, you resent it when I ask questions, and did you happen to mention that now you’ve decided that you’re lumbered with an emotional liability who obviously can’t take care of herself in case she’s pounced on by some unscrupulous man on the lookout for an easy lay?’

  ‘Don’t call yourself that!’ he said sharply. ‘That kind of language doesn’t suit you!’

  ‘You should have been blunt with them. You know what they’re like! Now they’re thinking that…that there’s something between us. I can read it on their faces!’ The words were out and it all sounded ridiculous. She looked down at her hands and smoothed them over her thighs, calming herself. Even if he wanted to roar with laughter, at least now he was warned that, whatever her mother and Claudia were hinting at, it had nothing to do with her.

  ‘It’s crazy,’ she said steadily. ‘My mother knows that you are the last kind of man I would ever be interested in, just as your mother must know that you’re attracted to…well…to women like Angela…’

  ‘Perhaps she aspires to a different sort of woman for me…’ Rafe murmured softly.

  Sophie licked her dry lips. His face was all angles and shadows and so, so compelling. She stood up, desperate to escape feelings running rampant inside her. ‘That’s as maybe,’ she said, summoning up the skills of an award-winning actress to sound matter-of-fact and brisk, ‘but you’ll just have to disabuse her on that count.’

  ‘Why?’

  The single word dropped like a stone into still water, sending ripples outwards. Sophie’s eyes widened and she watched, mesmerised, as he stood up and strolled the few paces over to where she was sitting, pushing back into the chair. He leant over, propping himself up on the arms of the chair, caging her in.

  ‘B-because…’ she stuttered.

  ‘Because none of it is true? Because I’m not attracted to you in the slightest? Because you don’t feel a thing for me?’ He allowed his devastating questions to have their effect.

  ‘Of course!’

  ‘So sure about that?’ He trailed his finger along her cheek and the sudden catapulting rush of sensation nearly knocked him off his fe
et. ‘Because I’m not…’

  Sophie froze. There was a weird, dreamlike quality about what was happening that made her think that if she exhaled or blinked it would disappear in a puff of smoke. She would wake up from a restless dream and everything would have slotted back into normality. She exhaled, blinked and he was still there, and his finger was still sending red hot tingles through her.

  ‘Don’t be absurd!’ she stammered, turning her head away, and he rested his finger on her chin and inexorably guided her face until she was once more looking at him.

  ‘I’m not being absurd, Sophie. I’m being realistic. Why hide from it? Tell me that you’re not in the slightest attracted to me and I’ll walk away right now and you can pretend that none of this has ever happened.’ Except, of course, he wouldn’t. He knew that. This was just one of those firsts he had been contemplating and he wanted her. He wanted the challenge of her. His desire was so powerful that he could feel it like hot lava, burning through his veins. It was irresistible.

  Sophie opened her mouth to speak and nothing came out. In that silent fraction of a second, she knew that he was going to kiss her and, with a small sigh of helpless, wanton, treacherous surrender, she closed her eyes and gave herself up to the touch of his lips against hers, gentle at first and then hungrily insistent, exploring her mouth, tongue against tongue.

  She groaned and then reached up to wind her hands around his neck, arching up so that she could savour the exquisite taste of his mouth. Her heart was beating like a drum inside her and her body was reacting in ways she had never experienced before. Her breasts physically ached and she knew that she was damp between her legs, soft and moist and ready.

  If his hands untwined themselves from her hair and ventured anywhere else, she just knew that she would explode and, Lord, she didn’t want it to stop. Only she did. When Claudia’s voice reached them, getting closer.

  With a silent curse, Rafe stood up, his aroused hardness still pulsating.

  He moved swiftly towards the door, forestalling his mother, and Sophie, horrified, began straightening herself. Her hands were trembling and her nipples were hard and pushing against her tee shirt.

  ‘What on earth are you two children doing in here?’ she heard Claudia asking interestedly, and Sophie immediately sprang out of the chair and headed towards the door.

  ‘Working!’ She walked around Rafe and folded her arms. If her grin smile got any wider, her face would crack.

  ‘Working? At this hour?’

  ‘Well, actually…’ Rafe began and Sophie interrupted him swiftly.

  ‘I thought it might be a good idea to let Rafe have a look at what I’ve done so far. The assignment, you know? He’s hardly ever in one place at the office! And, really, I haven’t got much longer to tie things up, so I need to find out whether there are any bits of it that he wants editing out.’

  ‘Of course, darling.’ Claudia’s face dropped ever so slightly. ‘Well, I didn’t mean to disturb you, but—’

  ‘You’re not disturbing us at all!’ Sophie interrupted brightly. ‘In fact, I was just on my way out.’

  ‘I wanted to know about tomorrow, what plans you two may have.’ Claudia got back into her usual stride. ‘Which I hope doesn’t include more work! You’re here to have a well-deserved rest!’ This to her son. ‘The four of us are thinking about getting an early start and heading into the town, probably stay there for a spot of lunch, weather permitting. Now, would you two like to join us?’

  This time it was Rafe’s turn to answer and his reply was so swift and smooth that it barely gave Sophie time for her brain to get into gear. She just heard him turning down the offer, telling his mother that they would do their own thing and that, no, he could solemnly promise that work would not intrude. At all.

  Which appeared to satisfy Claudia. It didn’t satisfy Sophie. She turned to him furiously as soon as his mother had disappeared back to the kitchen, where it seemed the night birds were contemplating their beds.

  ‘Why did you say that?’

  ‘My mother interrupted us. I hate being interrupted. I hate having unfinished business.’

  ‘I am not unfinished business!’

  ‘Maybe not. In which case we can always join them for their little spree, although I’ll bet you the last thing any of them wants is the two of us trekking along behind them.’ He paused. ‘Anyway, I really would be interested in reading what you’ve written so far. After all, the condemned man has to have a chance to put across his point of view…’

  ‘Nothing would go to print unless you’d given it the okay,’ Sophie said. ‘I haven’t brought the proper copy with me, just my file with notes in it.’ She struggled to find the right words to bring the conversation back to his disturbing remark about unfinished business, and Rafe, reading her mind, decided to help her out.

  ‘And to set your mind at rest, I’ll be the perfect gentleman.’ He took in her unruly hair, her suspicious face, and dropped his eyes. She was waiting to attack him, but she was on uncertain ground. He certainly hadn’t taken advantage of her. She had been as enthusiastic about kissing him as he had been about kissing her. It had been a mutual abandonment every inch of the way. And it had left him wanting more, much, much more, but steaming in like a horny rhino would have her running as fast as her legs could take her and he didn’t want her running, not unless it was in his direction.

  ‘Or we could take up my mother’s invitation to trawl through the town in a cosy six-some,’ he offered with a shrug. ‘Tea at ten, conversations about the spring fête…’ He gave her an innocent, perfectly dry smile.

  ‘I’ll show you my notes and run through them with you, and then, if you don’t mind, I’d quite like to make my own way into town. There are one or two things I wouldn’t mind getting.’

  ‘Fair deal. I have work to do here anyway. I could use the peace before everyone gets back from their day trip.’

  Sophie was barely aware of what to expect the following morning. She had spent the night restlessly pouring over what had happened. He had kissed her and she had melted. It was as simple as that. She wasn’t a fool. She knew that he was vastly experienced when it came to the opposite sex, that the way he had made her feel had required next to no effort from him. She also knew that none of it should have happened, but what was the use in trying to shut the stable door after the horse had bolted? She could beat herself up over it or she could endure the weekend as best she could, knowing that she just had to write up her assignment and then she would be out of his office and out of his life for ever.

  There was also no point in dwelling obsessively on what he had said—that he was attracted to her. It didn’t mean anything. He must have said those words a million times to a thousand different women. Her job wasn’t to analyse his motivations; her job was to protect herself because she knew how dangerous he could be for her, how easy it would be to let him in through that tiny crack that he had already managed to spot.

  The first step in protecting herself was to make sure she dressed as sexlessly as possible.

  Jeans, faded, sensible brogues for the aimless walk she had ahead of her when their work chat was over, thick, ribbed polo-necked jumper in an eminently sensible colour, brown, hair tied back into two plaits, because no one could ever convince her that a man who made it his duty to escort some of the most beautiful women in the country would look twice at a girl wearing plaits. Never mind all that talk about being attracted to her.

  Sophie looked at herself in the mirror and snorted derisively. With cold daylight streaming through the windows, it was much easier to get the whole thing into perspective. In the dead of night, it had been another matter. Then, yes, she had heard his dark, velvety voice whispering, turning her on, had felt her body grow hot with yearning, had even touched herself, hoping to quench the fire inside her…

  She shuddered and stood up, briskly tidying up the room and straightening the bed. Then she fetched her file from her overnight bag and headed downstairs. At a little after
nine, she was unsurprised to find that the women had all departed for the day and even more unsurprised to find Rafe up, alert and halfway through a pot of coffee, with the newspapers in front of him and his mobile phone on the kitchen table.

  He turned to her as soon as she walked into the kitchen and Sophie’s heart skipped a beat. He was in some grey trousers and a black jumper and he had dragged one of the kitchen chairs into a strategic position as a foot rest. The workaholic at leisure, she told herself, closing her mind to his suffocating sex appeal. Financial Times and cell phone within easy reach.

  And, true to his word, he was being the perfect gentleman as he offered her breakfast, which she refused, and coffee, which she accepted. The night before might never have happened. She had expected some reference to it, in that cryptic way he had, but nothing. Sophie didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed, then decided that she was definitely relieved.

  ‘What time did they all leave?’ Sophie asked politely, sipping the coffee and watching him over the rim of her cup.

  ‘Only about ten minutes ago. I offered to drive them in, but they seemed to prefer the excitement of going in Edith Bailey’s ageing car. Something about being free to do their own thing.’ He could continue in this vein till the cows came home, and would do if necessary. Talking about nothing, circling each other while the tension built between them. This was certainly a game he had never played before. He realised, with mild surprise, that serious chasing of any woman had never really featured in his life. He chased, but they both knew the game from the start and where it would lead. With this woman…he thought she would punch him on the jaw if he tried to speed things up a little.

  They chatted about nothing in particular for the duration of the coffee, then he moved into second gear and asked to see her file.