by Sara Craven
Maddie gasped, shading her eyes as she stared upwards through the tangle of leaves and saw the gleaming silver body passing almost directly overhead. The increase in volume from its engine told her all too well that it was coming in to land, and she knew, heart sinking, who was almost certainly on board.
Oh, trust Andrea Valieri not to have done the conventional thing and travelled by car, she raged inwardly. And why had it never occurred to her that Casa Lupo might have a helipad?
He couldn’t possibly see her, in fact he would assume she was still safely his prisoner, but she suddenly felt as exposed as if she’d been tied naked across a rock in the sunlight.
And it wouldn’t be long now before he discovered the truth, she thought, a knot of panic tightening in her stomach. And then, like a wolf, he would begin to hunt her down.
Not immediately, of course, she told herself, trying to be optimistic. He might well think that she was hiding somewhere in the house, until someone discovered her robe and nightgown and forced him to refocus.
All the same, the path no longer seemed a blessing, but quite the reverse. She tried to calculate how long it would be before he came to look for her, and how far she could get in that time and find some kind of shelter, but her head was whirling like the blades on the helicopter, and nothing made any sense.
‘Maddalena.’ Another trick of the imagination seemed to bring her name to her on the breeze, and she shivered uncontrollably.
She thought, ‘I can’t let him find me. I can’t...’ And knew it was not simply the fear of being locked up again that was driving her on with such desperation.
Determinedly, she dismissed her aching leg muscles and sore feet and quickened her pace. Inevitably, the track began to climb more steeply, and along with the forest floor debris, she also had loose stones to contend with.
She wasn’t in condition for this, she told herself, panting as she paused to wipe the sweat from her eyes. And before too long she’d be getting dehydrated, and seeing things.
If that wasn’t happening already, because the branch of a tree hanging down across her path seemed in some weird way to be moving, and turning upwards as if it was climbing itself.
‘I’m going mad,’ she said aloud, then stopped with a stifled cry as she realised what she was watching was a large snake, recoiling itself on to the tree limb above it.
A snake. For a moment, Maddie stood motionless, rigid with revulsion, then she flung herself sideways into a bush. For a brief moment, she was held there by twigs and thorns, until, with the sound of snapping wood, the bush gave way and she found herself rolling helplessly downhill in a welter of earth, leaves and stones.
She just had time to think, ‘This is where it ends,’ only to find her rush halted as she collided breathlessly with a fallen tree trunk. Gasping and choking for breath, she remained where she was, wondering how many bones she’d broken in those few crazy, terrifying seconds.
And when she did sit up, slowly and gingerly, her first act was to look cautiously round her in case the snake had followed.
‘I didn’t know Italy had such things,’ she wailed inwardly.
She moved her arms and legs with care, but they seemed to be working reasonably well, so she hauled herself to her feet, using the fallen tree as a lever, and stood for a moment, wincing. She was scratched, grazed and would be bruised tomorrow, and she’d certainly twisted her ankle, but she’d managed to escape serious injury.
But she was damaged in other ways too. Two buttons were now missing from the top of her overall, now covered in earth and leaf stains, while the left-hand side of its skirt had been ripped open from mid-thigh downwards, taking it, she realised wretchedly, to the edge of indecency.
She sat down limply on the trunk and, fighting back her tears, waited until the worst of the shock had worn off and she’d at least stopped shaking. Knowing that she had to set off again and soon.
It was chillier now, reminding her that sunset could not be far off. And there was no way she wanted to be still in this forest at dusk.
Glancing around, she selected a suitable branch, using it as a walking stick to propel her back to the top of the slope. It might also be useful as a weapon, she decided, thankful that the snake was nowhere to be seen.
But there was no point in pretending she could pick up the old pace again. She felt a protesting twinge in her ankle at the very idea, so she was reduced to limping sedately, cursing her luck with every awkward step as she resumed the long and tricky ascent.
The forest was quieter now. Even the birds were oddly silent.
I probably frightened them away with the noise I made crashing down that hillside, Maddie thought, grimacing. Not to mention screaming at the snake.
At the crest of the slope, the track forked sharply, leading downwards in both cases.
Maddie paused, leaning on her improvised cane as she considered her options. The right hand path was marginally better kept, whereas the one on the left gave the impression it had been abandoned long ago. She had no coin to spin, so again she obeyed her instinct and ignored the more obvious choice.
She had been walking for about half an hour when the tangled greenery suddenly thinned out, and, her heart lifting, she saw below her in the sunset a cluster of stonework and slate roofs.
Houses, she thought, wanting to whoop with joy. People. I picked the right way after all.
She made her way carefully down the steep gradient, emerging into a village street lined with houses.
It was very quiet. No smoke came from the chimneys. No neighbours stood gossiping at their doorways. And as Maddie got closer she realised that most of the houses lacked doors and windows, and the slate roofs were sagging and in holes.
Whoever the inhabitants had been, they were long gone.
Except for one. A dog who came trotting out of an alley and stood in the middle of the street looking at her.
So where do you belong? Maddie wondered as she halted too. Because you’re obviously not starving. So—take me to your master.
And then she looked again, and the beginning of her smile faded as she realised exactly what she was seeing. As she recognised the size of the animal. Its colour and weight. And, most tellingly, the shape of its muzzle.
Remembering as she did so, the picture over the fireplace back at the house and its savage subject, here and now confronting her in the flesh.
Oh God, she whispered silently. Oh God help me.
She took a cautious, shaky step backwards, then another while the wolf watched her, unmoving, the yellow eyes intent.
A voice in her head was telling her to be steady—be calm. That she had a stick to defend herself and the last thing she should do was turn and run.
On which, she dropped the stick, turned blindly and ran, cannoning into the hard, strong body standing right behind her. Feeling muscular arms go round her, grasping her firmly. Inexorably.
‘So Maddalena,’ said Andrea Valieri with soft satisfaction. ‘We are together again at last. What a delight.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
SHE COULD NOT even feel surprise. Just a trembling sense of the inevitable.
As he held her, she was aware of the scent of his warm clean skin, mingled with the musky fragrance of the cologne he used.
She felt something unfold inside her like the opening of a flower and began to struggle all the more, beating at his chest with clenched fists. But it was like trying to push over that damned mountain and his grip on her did not relax for an instant.
‘Let go of me.’ She gasped the words frantically. ‘Oh God, can’t you see? Are you blind or just crazy? There’s a wolf...’
‘There was,’ he said. ‘It has gone now.’ He turned her to look back down an empty street. ‘See?’
She saw. Realised also that she had escaped one predator only to fall back into the power of another, and that she had been living in a fool’s paradise during these past few hours to think she could really get free of him. That he would not find her.
<
br /> The Count held her at arm’s length, surveying her frowningly. ‘Santa Madonna, what have you done to yourself?’
She could well ask him the same, she thought, dressed as she’d never seen him before in cord pants and long boots, and wearing what appeared to be a canvas jacket with an array of pockets over a dark shirt.
She lifted her chin defiantly. ‘I had an accident. There was a snake hanging from a tree right in front of me, and I was terrified so I ran, and fell down a slope.’
He said tersely, ‘My sympathies are entirely with the snake. Have you injured yourself?’
‘Just my ankle.’ Trying to run had been stupid and the joint was throbbing badly now.
He said something under his breath, then reached for her, swinging her up into his arms and carrying her towards one of the crumbling houses.
She began to struggle again. ‘Put me down.’
‘Basta! Be still.’ It was an order not a request, and she subsided unwillingly against the strength of him.
As they neared the house, she saw that, unlike its neighbours, it had a door, even if it was no longer attached, but merely propped against an outside wall.
And as he carried her inside, she discovered it was furnished in a rudimentary manner with a table, two chairs, a sink served by a single tap, a fireplace and a decrepit stove. Also that, at the rear, an archway half-covered by a ragged curtain led to another room, equipped even more basically with a mattress on the floor.
She also noticed a large, serviceable backpack leaning against the wall, and next to it, a long case that quite clearly contained a gun.
He placed her on a chair and went down on one knee. ‘Let me see your ankle.’
She jerked her foot backwards, stifling an instinctive cry of pain. ‘Don’t touch me.’
He gave her a long icy look. ‘Attempting to escape was the act of a fool. Why compound your stupidity by refusing help that you clearly need?’
Oh, don’t let him guess the reason. Please—please don’t let him guess...
For a moment, she was silent, then she nodded as if defeated, and sat back, hurriedly dragging her torn skirt together over her bare thigh as he removed her shoes. He examined the blisters on her toes and heels, his mouth compressed into a hard line.
When he touched her ankle, his fingers were firm but gentle.
‘There is no fracture,’ he diagnosed eventually.
‘I could have told you that,’ she muttered, aware that her skin was tingling at his touch. Despising herself...
‘Just a slight sprain,’ he went on as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘It needs ice, but Giacomo has no freezer, so we must use what is available.’
‘I didn’t know you had medical training,’ she said. ‘In addition to all your other talents.’
‘I don’t,’ he returned brusquely. ‘Instead I have common sense. Permit me to recommend it.’
He looked her over again, frowning as she shivered suddenly, then stood up and went over to the fireplace, taking a box of matches from one of his jacket pockets and lighting the small pile of kindling in the hearth. Once it had caught, he added more wood from a sagging cardboard box, picked up a pot like a witch’s cauldron and filled it at the sink before hanging it from a hook over the flames.
Then he went into the adjoining room, returning with a tin hip bath which he set in front of the fire.
Maddie drew a sharp breath. ‘You have to be joking.’ Her voice wobbled.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Some of those scratches need attention, and must be cleaned first. But do not distress yourself,’ he added with a faint curl of the lip. ‘I shall not insist on witnessing the process.’
He opened a rickety cupboard under the sink, and produced some stubs of candles in chipped pottery holders, making her realise how quickly the light was fading
‘Does this Giacomo actually live here?’ she asked as he set the candles on the table, and lit them. ‘He must find it lonely.’
He shrugged. ‘He is a shepherd. He is accustomed to his own company, and he finds this place useful when he has sheep or goats to move.’
‘And he doesn’t mind visitors?’
‘In this region, we help each other.’ He looked at her with the first glimmer of a smile. ‘It was Giacomo who told me he had seen you today and where he believed you were heading. Later Aldo, who was out looking for wild boar with his son, confirmed what he had said, and I came to find you.’
Maddie gasped. ‘You mean I was being watched? All the time?’
‘You think a blonde with hair like sunlight would not attract attention?’ he countered, adding drily, ‘The description is theirs, not mine. Besides, they were concerned for you. This is no country for someone without proper clothing or footwear.’
She bit her lip. ‘Or anything to drink.’ The admission cost her. ‘I’m so thirsty.’
‘Dio mio.’ He cast a despairing glance at what was left of the roof before going to his backpack and producing a bottle of still water and a tin cup. ‘Drink it slowly,’ he cautioned as he filled the cup and gave it to her.
She sipped. ‘But how did they let you know they’d seen me?’ She added with constraint. ‘After all, you were away.’ In Viareggio. With your mistress. Something that shouldn’t matter because I’m in love with Jeremy—engaged to him—soon to be married. And I can’t let myself forget that even for a second.
And gulped some more water.
‘I returned just as it was realised you were missing,’ he said. ‘And Giacomo and Aldo contacted me by radio.’
‘Radio?’ she repeated. ‘Up here?’
‘Sì.’ He nodded. ‘Hunting parties use them all the time to communicate with each other. The latest have a range of over ten kilometres.’
‘How efficient of them,’ Maddie said bitterly.
‘It is for the best,’ he said, shrugging again. ‘You would not have wished to spend the night alone up here, even in surroundings as comfortable as this,’ he added drily. ‘What would you have done, per esempio, if you had found you were sharing your accommodation with a scorpion?’
She put the cup down. ‘Is there one?’ Her voice was hollow.
‘No,’ he said. ‘But they often come in at night.’
‘Scorpions,’ she said unsteadily. ‘Wolves. Snakes. It’s a jungle out there.’
‘It was probably a rat-snake if it was hanging from a tree.’ He sounded infuriatingly casual. ‘They are not particularly venomous, and prefer to crush their prey.’
‘Wow,’ she said. ‘How fascinating. I only wish it had explained that to me before I ended up at the bottom of a hill.’
She paused. ‘And how did you manage to get here before I did? You certainly didn’t pass me on the way.’ Otherwise, somehow, I would have known, she thought and controlled another shiver.
‘There is another road,’ he told her. ‘Camillo left me there at the crossroads, and I walked across country to wait for you.’
‘You mean the car’s not far away?’ She closed her eyes. ‘Thank heaven for that.’
‘You are so anxious to return to your jail?’ He was pouring water again, this time into the bath using a jug from the sink cupboard, before adding the contents of the cauldron.
‘On the contrary.’ Her denial was instant, her tone defiant. ‘But at least it’s better than this.’
‘I am glad Giacomo cannot hear you insult his hospitality.’ He indicated the tub. ‘Your bath awaits, signorina. I regret there is no soap or any towel. You will have to dry yourself on what you are wearing.’
She flushed. ‘But that’s impossible. It—it’s all I have.’ As he knew perfectly well.
He took off his coat, hanging it on the back of the other chair, then began to unbutton the charcoal grey shirt he wore beneath it.
She said hoarsely, ‘What are you doing?’
‘Calm yourself. I am not planning to join you in the bath.’ He stripped off the shirt and tossed it to her. ‘Wear this when you have washed.’
His sk
in was bronze, the sculpting of bone and muscle strong yet, at the same time, intrinsically elegant. His chest was shadowed with hair which arrowed down into the waistband of his pants.
Unlike Jeremy, whose skin was smooth and paler in spite of assiduous tanning. And whose shoulders were less broad. Less powerful...
She looked away hastily, dry-mouthed.
‘I—I couldn’t possibly...’
‘Don’t be foolish.’ The amber eyes swept her. Lingered ironically. ‘You will certainly find it more modest than what you are wearing now.’
Her face burned as she watched him walk to his backpack, produce a thin wool sweater with a roll-neck and pull it over his head.
Finally, he took out a small jar and placed it on the table. ‘Antiseptic cream,’ he said, and disappeared into the street.
Swallowing, Maddie shed the overall, and stepped into the bath. It was one of the strangest she’d ever taken, but, whatever her misgivings, it felt warm and infinitely soothing as she sat, knees to chin, carefully washing away the smears of earth, before standing up and letting the water pour in small, blissful rivulets from her cupped hands down her aching body.
She kept a careful eye on the doorway, but there was not so much as a shadow to disturb her.
When she had finished, she turned the overall inside out and patted herself dry with the cleanest part. She applied the cream to the worst of her grazes, then, slowly and reluctantly, she picked up his shirt and put it on.
The scent of him lingered quietly in its folds, as potent as when he’d held her in his arms, making her fingers clumsy as she struggled with the buttons, fastening them from throat to hem.
He was right, she conceded unwillingly when she’d finished. Its covering was more than adequate—longer in fact than some of the dresses she’d worn recently in England. The sleeves hung over her hands, and she rolled them back to her elbows.
Then, taking a deep breath, she called, ‘I’ve finished.’
But the immediate response she’d expected did not come. The doorway was filled only with the gathering darkness. Wincing, she ran to the door, peering out.
Calling, ‘Andrea,’ her voice high and urgent.
