The Italian Count s Defiant Bride

by Catherine George

  Alicia slid from the arm of the chair to the seat, feeling much the same way.

  ‘I can’t believe you never said a word, Gareth Davies,’ said Meg hotly. ‘You knew how unhappy Lally was at the time.’

  ‘Of course I did. But I thought Francesco was the one who’d made her unhappy!’ He shot a look at Alicia. ‘Now the subject’s finally come up, he didn’t—well—hurt you, did he, cariad?’

  ‘Knock me about, you mean?’

  ‘Hell, no, I never thought that. I meant—’

  She put up a hand. ‘I assure you that Francesco never laid a finger on me.’

  ‘So why the devil did you run away?’ demanded Gareth.

  ‘That’s nothing to do with you,’ protested Megan.

  ‘It is if she thinks I’m somehow to blame!’ he retorted.

  ‘Of course you’re not to blame,’ said Alicia impatiently. ‘I just had to know if Francesco was telling me the truth last night. And Bron wasn’t in when I rang her this morning, so you were the only one available that I could ask.’

  ‘Mum and Dad knew about this all along?’ demanded Meg, and rounded on her husband. ‘Did you know, Rhys?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t,’ he said indignantly. ‘I wouldn’t have kept it from you.’

  ‘I had no choice,’ snapped Gareth. ‘Dad is Bron’s solicitor, remember, so he not only had to keep quiet himself, he made Mum and me swear to keep the secret too.’ He gave Alicia an uneasy look. ‘I honestly thought it was for the best.’

  ‘Because you didn’t want Alicia to marry Francesco in the first place. Or anyone else, for that matter,’ said Megan tartly.

  Gareth glared at his sister, then turned to Alicia as he got to his full, considerable height. ‘Look, I did what Bron asked because I thought it was what you wanted. End of story. Thanks for lunch, Megan. So long, all; I’m off.’

  When Alicia got back to her flat a message was waiting from her mother, asking her to ring back.

  ‘Sorry I missed you earlier, darling. George took me out for a meal. You had lunch with Megan as planned?’

  Alicia rang to give her mother a brief description of the party, confirmed that her dress had been a success, then braced herself. ‘Mother, I met someone at the match yesterday.’

  Silence for a moment. ‘If I’m Mother, for once, this is obviously not good news.’

  ‘It was Francesco. He was there to support his home team.’

  Bron inhaled deeply. ‘I suppose it was bound to happen some day. What did he want?’

  ‘I’m not sure. But he certainly surprised me with one bit of information. Apparently he took his mother to Blake Street to look for me soon after I left him.’

  More silence. ‘Yes, darling, he did,’ said Bron at last, clearing her throat. ‘And now you’ve found out you’re furious because I kept quiet about it.’

  ‘Absolutely right. Honestly, Mother,’ said Alicia hotly. ‘Did it never occur to you that it would have helped me enormously to know that both Francesco and the contessa had cared enough to fly to Cardiff to look for me?’

  ‘No, not for a minute. You said you wanted nothing more to do with him,’ Bron reminded her.

  ‘Even so, you had no right to keep his visit a secret.’

  ‘I did what I thought was right. To protect you. You flatly refused to say why you ran away so I took it for granted Francesco had, well, abused you in some way.’

  ‘No, Mother, he most certainly had not.’ Or, if he had, only with words.

  ‘Tell me, darling,’ said Bron after a pause. ‘What exactly would you have done if you’d known Francesco came to look for you?’

  Alicia thought it over. ‘Probably nothing. It was the fact that his mother came too that made the difference.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it meant that she felt some regret about the way she’d treated me.’

  ‘It gave me tremendous personal satisfaction to refuse her,’ said Bron, with such relish that Alicia’s eyes widened.

  ‘So it wasn’t just to protect me, then—it was also to get back at her.’

  ‘I’m only human.’

  ‘So am I! Which is why it would have meant so much to me to know about the visit.’

  ‘It’s the only secret I kept, darling. I’ve reported every one of Francesco’s calls since. And, in case you’re wondering, there haven’t been any for quite a while.’

  ‘I know. Apparently his pride kicked in at some point and said “enough”.’

  ‘I’m surprised that for a man like Francesco that didn’t happen sooner. Look, darling, if I did the wrong thing I’m sorry. Come to lunch next Sunday. Or, better still, come before then so I can grovel in person.’

  ‘No grovelling required. As you said, you did what you thought was the right thing. I’ll see you on Sunday.’

  Alicia switched off the phone and sat by the balcony doors to look out over her bit of Cardiff Bay. A picture of the contessa, faultlessly dressed and ramrod straight in the seldom-used drawing room at Blake Street, was suddenly vivid. How tense it must have been, with the Davies trio supporting Bron against Francesco and his mother. And how immensely difficult the contessa must have found it to beg for news of the runaway bride. While Bron, by the sound of it, had taken infinite pleasure in sending Francesco and the contessa packing with no news at all.

  Alicia got up at last, feeling more like taking a nap than getting ready for the encounter with Francesco. She took a long shower instead, and afterwards pulled her hair up in a cruelly tight knot and put on black jeans, a sweater, and high-heeled boots, her lipstick the only touch of colour. At last she set a tray with glasses and a bottle of wine in a cooler bucket, and sat by the window with a book to wait until the doorbell rang.

  ‘Francesco,’ said a voice over the intercom just before eight. Alicia buzzed him in, then stood in her open doorway to wait for him. Francesco was also in sweater and jeans, which, like his leather jacket and gleaming hand-made shoes, were black like hers. And he looked so darkly handsome a hot streak of startling—and utterly mortifying—response shot through her at the sight of him.

  ‘Buona sera,’ he said quietly.

  Alicia irritably reined in the libido she was normally unaware she even possessed. ‘Hi. Come in. Would you like wine, or coffee?’

  ‘Grazie; a glass of wine would be most welcome.’ He took the opener she handed him and dealt efficiently with the bottle.

  ‘Thank you.’ Alicia gave a glass of wine to Francesco, then made for the chair with her own. ‘Do sit down.’

  He sat on the sofa, and raised his glass in toast. ‘Salute.’

  Alicia drank a little, then set her glass down. ‘I spoke to my mother today. She confirmed that you took the contessa to Blake Street.’

  He smiled sardonically. ‘Ah. So now you believe me?’

  ‘Oh, I believed you right away, Francesco. I merely rang Bron to ask why she never told me about it.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘I am most interested to hear what she said.’

  Alicia looked at him squarely. ‘She thought I bolted because you’d abused me in some way.’

  His eyes blazed with instant outrage. ‘Cosa? She thought I hurt you?’

  ‘You did hurt me, Francesco.’

  ‘Daverro, but I did not touch you! Gran Dio!’ He slammed the wine glass down on the table beside him, smouldering at her. ‘She believed I forced myself on you?’

  She shook her head impatiently. ‘If she did I certainly never told her that. I didn’t know until today that anyone had even considered the possibility.’

  ‘Anyone?’ He pounced. ‘Who else thought this?’

  ‘Gareth Davies. He was at Megan’s today. Like Bron, he believed it was something you did that sent me running for home. Which is true, but it was nothing physical.’

  He picked up the glass and drained it, his lids half-veiling his eyes. ‘And did you make this clear to your mother—and to Megan’s brother?’

  ‘Of course I did.’

&nbs
p; ‘Eccelente.’ He was silent for a moment, then shrugged. ‘So. Since I am now cleared of one crime, at least, it is time for the serious talk, Alicia.’

  ‘Talk away. You want a divorce, I assume.’

  Francesco shot her a veiled, unsettling look. ‘Do you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So that you can marry again?’

  She shook her head. ‘As I told you before, marriage holds no appeal for me.’

  ‘You are content to live your life alone?’

  Alicia finished her wine and raised limpid eyes to his. ‘What makes you think I do that?’

  Francesco’s smile set her teeth on edge. ‘No man shares such a small flat, Alicia.’

  ‘True. But the bedroom is quite big enough for two. When the occasion arises,’ she added deliberately.

  He stared at her in taut silence, then got up to refill their glasses. ‘I have never seen you in black before. You look very stern, very cold tonight, Alicia.’

  ‘These are my working clothes.’

  Francesco’s mouth twisted. ‘You mean you did not dress to please me.’

  ‘I always dress to please myself!’

  ‘The dress you wore last night pleased every man who saw it.’

  Alicia shrugged impatiently. ‘Look, Francesco, just get on with it and tell me what you want.’

  ‘Va bene.’ He leaned back on the sofa. ‘I came to Cardiff this weekend to support the rugby, it is true, but I also made the vow that this time I would not leave until I found out where you live. So before I left Montedaluca I rang your mother in Blake Street.’

  ‘You had no luck, then.’

  ‘Ah, but I did. Megan answered the telephone.’

  Alicia stared at him narrowly. ‘You spoke to Meg?’

  ‘Yes, but I asked her to keep silent. And before you ask,’ he said, holding up a hand, ‘she did not give me your address, or your telephone number. I told her it was vital that I see you, and after much persuading she told me you would be at the Millennium Stadium for the match. Nothing more, so do not be angry with her.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not angry with her,’ said Alicia bitterly.

  ‘Only with me! So. Now you know how I found you.’

  ‘But I still don’t know why you want to see me. I haven’t been hiding, Francesco. Once you were here in Cardiff you could have found my address just by looking in the telephone directory.’

  He shrugged. ‘This did not occur to me.’

  Alicia eyed him challengingly. ‘So what exactly do you want?’

  His eyes locked with hers. ‘I want you—I need you—to come back to Montedaluca.’

  ‘What?’ She stared back in utter horror. ‘No way!’

  ‘It is legally required that you do,’ he assured her.

  ‘You mean I actually have to go back there to sign something before you can get a divorce?’

  ‘It is vitally necessary for you to return, yes.’ He looked at her intently. ‘For years I have carried in my mind the look in your eyes that night.’

  ‘Our wedding night,’ she said bitterly.

  ‘Davverro. So before I asked for a divorce I desired very much to know how you were, what you had done with your life. As I have tried so many, many times to discover from Signora Cross,’ he added, equally bitter.

  Alicia eyed him ruefully. ‘You never did call my mother Bron.’

  ‘She did not give me permission to do so.’

  ‘Which is odd, because when she first met you she liked you very much.’

  ‘This is true?’ said Francesco, surprised. ‘I thought she did not wish you to marry me.’

  ‘Only because you were in such a hurry. Other than taking me to live in another country, you were the ideal husband in her eyes, because you could provide something she’d always wanted for me.’

  ‘Love?’

  She shook her head. ‘The security she’d lacked herself. But it all went horribly wrong. And because I refused to say why I ran from you she drew the wrong conclusions.’

  ‘After such conclusions,’ he said darkly, ‘I am amazed she allowed me into the house.’

  ‘She had no choice. You took your mother along.’

  His mouth tightened. ‘Even so, Megan’s brother would have liked to use his fists on me.’

  ‘He told me today that he was a bit sorry for you because you looked so desperate.’

  Francesco gave a mirthless laugh. ‘E possibile. But he also wanted to hit me.’

  They sat in tense silence for a moment, then Alicia sighed. ‘So, now you have met up with me again, and can see that I have a perfectly good life, you can go back to Montedaluca and get on with yours. So start your divorce proceedings, Francesco. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a free man.’

  ‘Mille grazie,’ he said with sarcasm. ‘However, it is necessary for you to interrupt this perfect life of yours for a little time to return to Montedaluca. In her will, my mother left you a token of her repentance, and you must take possession of this in person, Alicia, to satisfy the terms of the will.’

  She shook her head vehemently. ‘Whatever it is, I don’t want it. The last gift she gave me was a poisoned chalice. No way do I want another.’

  ‘Cosa? I don’t understand. What is this poisoned chalice?’ demanded Francesco, mystified.

  ‘I was speaking metaphorically.’

  ‘Tell me what you mean!’

  ‘Before we left on our honeymoon the contessa sent me a prettily packaged gift, via Cinzia, her maid, with instructions on how to use the contents. I was so pleased.’ Alicia’s mouth twisted. ‘What a naïve little fool I was!’

  ‘Tell me about this present,’ he commanded.

  ‘No, Francesco, there’s no point. Your mother is no longer alive, and the past is over and done with.’ She got up and went to the window. ‘And I flatly refuse to go back to Montedaluca.’

  He moved so close behind her she could see the chiselled planes of his face reflected in the window. ‘There is a problem. Until you receive this legacy, my mother’s will is frozen.’

  She spun round with a taunting smile. ‘Oh, I see. You need the money.’

  Francesco said something violent that her Italian lessons had never covered. ‘No,’ he said through his teeth. ‘I, personally, do not. But the other legatees can receive nothing until you take what is yours.’

  Alicia’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘I don’t believe you!’

  He lifted a shoulder in the gesture she remembered so well. ‘As you wish.’

  ‘Is Cinzia one of these legatees?’

  ‘Of course not,’ he said, surprised. ‘My mother dismissed her the day after the wedding. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Just curiosity. So who, exactly, am I keeping from their bequests?’

  ‘My great-aunt, for one.’

  ‘Zia Luisa is still alive?’ Alicia’s eyes warmed. ‘She was one of the few people at the castello who was kind to me. Where is she now?’

  ‘At home in the castello—where else?’

  Alicia suddenly felt very tired. ‘Is all this really true, Francesco?’

  ‘That you must come back to Montedaluca? Yes, Alicia.’ His eyes softened. ‘Is it so terrible a thing to do?’

  ‘The place has unhappy memories for me,’ she reminded him. ‘And my welcome will be even colder than last time. I left you the day after the wedding, remember.’

  His mouth twisted. ‘You think I have forgotten this?’

  ‘No. And that’s exactly what I mean. No one else will have forgotten, either. They must all hate me.’

  ‘No one hates you, Alicia. Besides, it is different now. I pensioned off the oldest servants after my mother died. A man on his own has no need of a large staff.’

  ‘Surely you still have Giacomo?’

  ‘Of course,’ Francesco agreed dryly. ‘He thinks I cannot survive alone. And he is probably right. He has run the castello for so long, I cannot imagine life there without him. Bianca Giusti also lives there permanently now she is a wid
ow. She is companion to Zia Luisa. Pina still rules the kitchen, and Antonio the gardens. There is also a young girl, Teresa, who helps Pina or Giacomo as required. They all wait for their bequests,’ he added significantly.

  Alicia looked at him in silence for so long that Francesco became restive.

  ‘So. You will come?’ he demanded.

  She sighed. ‘It seems I have no choice. But there are conditions,’ she added quickly. ‘First, I can’t get away until after the home rugby games.’

  ‘Va bene,’ he agreed quickly, a swiftly veiled flash of triumph in his eyes.

  ‘Also, warn your lawyer that whatever legal papers are necessary must be ready and waiting for me to sign as soon as I arrive.’ Her chin lifted. ‘I refuse to stay longer than a day or two, Francesco. Also, if it’s legally necessary to release the other bequests, I will accept whatever the contessa has left me. But I won’t keep it.’

  ‘You must do with it as you wish,’ he said coldly, and got up. ‘Allora, tell me what date is convenient for you to travel and I shall arrange a flight for you.’

  ‘No need. I’ll do that myself.’

  ‘Since you have so graciously consented to come,’ he said with irony, ‘I will not put you to the expense of a plane ticket.’ He arched an eyebrow. ‘I assume it must be in the name of Miss Alicia Cross, not La Contessa da Luca?’

  ‘You assume right! That was your mother’s title.’

  ‘It is also yours.’ He bent and took her hand to pull her to her feet. ‘Whether it pleases you or not, you are still married to me, Alicia.’

  ‘It takes more than a few lines on paper and a church full of lilies to make a woman feel married,’ she retorted.

  Francesco’s eyes flared dangerously. ‘I know other ways to achieve this.’ He pulled her close. ‘Shall I demonstrate, sposa mia?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ she snapped, and wrenched away before he could feel her response to his lean, graceful body.

  ‘Che peccato!’ He turned away to shrug into his jacket. ‘I will also not put you to the expense of a phone call to Montedaluca; therefore, I will contact you to learn when it is convenient for you to travel. What time is best for me to ring?’