Captive in His Castle (5 page)

But the prospect of being questioned by the police and having to try to convince them that she knew nothing about Angelo’s missing money filled her with dread. Drago clearly thought she had conned his cousin out of his inheritance fund, and because of her criminal record the police were likely to share his suspicions. The only person who could clear her name was Angelo, but until he regained consciousness she once again stood accused of something she had not done.

The image of Drago’s haughty expression flashed into her mind. How
dared
he imprison her in his house? Her spurt of temper steadied her nerves, and after checking that the sheets she had stripped from the bed and knotted together were tied securely to the balcony she climbed over the balustrade and began to inch down the makeshift rope. Thankfully it took her weight.

It was lucky she was so agile and had a head for heights. In her job she was used to climbing up and down scaffolding, but when she looked down and saw how far away the ground was she felt sick with terror. Deciding not to glance down again, she continued her cautious journey, buoyed by the thought that Drago Cassari was in for one hell of a surprise in the morning.

‘Leaving us so soon, Miss Harper?’ a familiar voice enquired smoothly.

Giving a startled cry, Jess lost her grip and fell. She closed her eyes, waiting to feel the impact of her body hitting the stone path, but instead two hands roughly grabbed hold of her and her fall was cushioned by Drago’s broad chest.

‘Santa
Madonna!
You crazy fool,’ he growled as
he set her on her feet, fury blazing in his eyes as she swayed unsteadily.

Jess was so shocked she could not speak, but Drago had no problem voicing his feelings.

‘You could have been killed.’ He glanced up at the balcony above them and shuddered. ‘I can only assume you
do
know more than you’ve admitted about Angelo’s missing money as you were prepared to risk your life trying to get away from me.’

‘I refuse to be held against my will by an
amateur sleuth
who has made a totally unfounded accusation against me,’ Jess snapped.

Now that she was safely on the ground she could see how dangerous her escape attempt had been, and she felt sick when she imagined how badly injured she might have been if she had fallen. But it was Drago’s fault that she had been forced to take such a risk. Her temper sizzled.

‘I came to Italy because I wanted to try to help Angelo, but if you think I’m going to stick around and take your accusations and insults you’d better think again,’ she said hotly. ‘Instead of hounding me you should be asking yourself why your cousin seemed so worried and unhappy while he was in London. I could tell that something was troubling him, but he didn’t confide in me—or in you, apparently. So much for your assertion that you think of him as your brother—it seems to me that you didn’t think about him enough, because if you had you would have known that something was wrong.’

Drago’s face darkened. ‘You know nothing about my relationship with my cousin,’ he growled.

He was infuriated by her criticism, but part of his anger was fuelled by guilt that there was some truth in what Jess said. He had been so busy running Cassa di
Cassari, and he had assumed that Angelo was doing well at college in London. It had been a relief to relinquish some of the responsibility he felt for his family, and although his aunt had been upset that Angelo hardly ever phoned home Drago had felt glad that his cousin was becoming independent. He’d had no idea that the young man had been unhappy—but he only had Jess’s word on his cousin’s state of mind, he thought grimly. And he didn’t have any faith in the word of a woman who had been convicted of fraud.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he demanded when she jerked away from him and swung her rucksack onto her back.

‘Home.’ Shaking back her glorious Titian hair, she flashed him a glittering glance from her green eyes. ‘I’ve decided to forgo the pleasure of your hospitality,’ she said with heavy irony. ‘Just point me in the direction of the nearest airport and I’ll be on my way.’

‘The hell you will. You said you would stay until Angelo regained consciousness,’ Drago reminded her.

‘That was before I realised what an arrogant bully you are.’

Jess’s voice rose, drawing the attention of a group of people who were walking across a nearby bridge over the canal. They were Americans, Drago realised when he overheard one of them speak in a distinctive accent. Many of the thousands of tourists who visited Venice each year preferred to come in the spring, to avoid the heat and the crowds who packed St Mark’s Square in the summer months.

He saw Jess glance at the people, and caught the flash of relief on her face as she realised they spoke English. It was easy to read her mind. She had proved when she had climbed down from the balcony that she was surprisingly
resourceful and determined. There was only one way Drago could think of to stop her from creating a scene, and before she had time to comprehend his intention he pulled her into his arms and lowered his head, muffling her startled cry with his lips.

As he had expected she instantly stiffened, and he winced when her clenched fist made sharp contact with his ribs. He should have known from her vibrant hair and flashing green eyes that she was a hellcat, he thought ruefully. But the feel of her lithe body squirming against his as she struggled to escape from his grasp heated his blood and fired up his pride. He wasn’t used to women resisting him. Most women he met were a little too keen for him to take them to bed—which perhaps explained his recent restlessness as he searched for an elusive something that he did not even understand. It was a long time since he had felt the thrill of the chase or had to persuade a woman to kiss him back, but Jess had clamped her lips together in a tight line and the challenge of drawing a response from her was too strong to resist.

She had accused Drago of being a bully, but she had not expected him to prove it by kissing her against her will, Jess thought bitterly. She was furious that he had chosen to use his superior size and strength to control her. He was holding her so tightly that she could not move and was unable to jab her fist into him again. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and the feel of his warm body through his silk shirt, together with the slight friction created as she struggled to pull herself free, was making her nipples feel hot and hard.

Dear heaven, what was happening to her? When had her determination to get away from him changed to desire? One minute she had been resisting him with all
her strength, but now a curious lassitude was stealing through her and her body was sinking into him, her soft curves melting against the hardness of his thighs.

Her mouth felt bruised from his savage assault, but the nature of the kiss was changing. His lips were no longer demanding her submission but gently coaxing a response from her that she found impossible to deny. His warm breath filled her mouth as she parted her lips, and she tasted him when he dipped his tongue into her moist interior. His gentleness was unexpected and utterly beguiling. Sexual desire was something she had been sure she would never experience again, but as Drago cupped her bottom and pulled her so close that her pelvis was in direct contact with the hard ridge of his arousal straining beneath his jeans liquid heat coursed through her veins. With a soft moan Jess slid her hands to his shoulders and kissed him with the fiery passion that had lain dormant inside her for so long.

‘You see, honey, I told you they were just having a lovers’ tiff.’

The voice of one of the American tourists broke the silence. His companions’ laughter faded with the sound of their footsteps as they continued on their way. But the comment hurtled Jess back to reality and with a low cry she tore her mouth from Drago’s. To her relief he let her go, and she had a feeling that he was as shocked as she was by the chemistry that had exploded between them. He raked a hand through his dark hair, sweeping it back from his brow, and the moonlight slanting across his face struck the sharp lines of his cheekbones and revealed his tense expression.

‘That shouldn’t have happened,’ he said harshly.

Inexplicably, Jess felt hurt by his words. Of
course
the kiss had been a mistake, a moment of madness, but
by pointing it out he made her feel cheap, and the self-disgust she had heard in his voice was a shameful reminder of his low opinion of her.

She wished she could think of something sarcastic to say, but she had never been clever with words. Drago was staring at her as if he couldn’t believe he had kissed her, and the disdainful curl of his lip was the final humiliation. She had to leave—now, before she felt any worse. She was furious with herself for responding to his kiss with such shameful enthusiasm.

The path running beside the canal did not continue past the end of the
palazzo
, and the American tourists had now had to retrace their steps back across the bridge. That meant the bridge was her only route of escape. But as she headed towards it Drago stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

‘Come back to the house,’ he ordered.

‘You must be kidding.’ Frantic to get away from him, she ran out along the jetty to where his boat was moored, realising as she did so how stupid the action was. She didn’t know how to start the boat. As she glanced over her shoulder and saw him following she knew she was trapped. ‘Leave me alone.’ She held out a hand to ward him off.

‘
Dio
, I’m not going to hurt you.’ Drago’s voice grew sharp. ‘Jess—be careful!’

But his words were too late. In the dark, she hadn’t realised how close she was to the end of the jetty, and with a cry she slipped and plunged into the inky depths of the canal.

J
ESS WAS SUFFOCATING
. Water filled her mouth and nose as she sank deeper. The water was so cold that her limbs, her brain, felt numb. An instinct for survival kicked in and she began to scrabble desperately against the blackness engulfing her. Her backpack was weighing her down. In panic she tore her arms free from the straps.

And then miraculously something jerked her back to the surface and she was able to drag oxygen into her lungs.

‘I can’t swim!’
she gasped, terrified that she would sink back down again.

‘It’s all right. I’ve got you.
Santa Madre!
Stop flapping like a stranded fish and let me pull you out.’

Strong hands hauled her up and dumped her onto the jetty. Choking up the foul-tasting water she had swallowed, Jess collapsed in a heap, shudders running through her as her terror gradually receded. Pushing her tangled wet hair out of her eyes she glared at Drago. ‘Of course I was damned well flapping—I thought I was going to drown.’

‘You can thank me for saving you later,’ he said drily. He frowned when her teeth began to chatter. The water in the canal was cold, but he assessed that the shivers racking her body were more likely due to shock. Without
another word he bent and lifted her into his arms, taking no notice of her protests.

‘What about my rucksack? It’s still in the canal.’

‘And there it will stay—unless you want to dive back in and retrieve it.’

‘I told you. I can’t swim.’ Jess stared at Drago’s implacable face with a rising sense of frustration. ‘My passport is in that bag.’

‘Then it’s lucky you won’t need it for a while,’ he drawled. ‘Not until Angelo has regained consciousness and the matter of his missing money has been resolved.’

A new feeling of panic swept through Jess at the prospect of being Drago’s prisoner. ‘You can’t force me to stay,’ she muttered, struggling to speak when she was shivering so hard she felt as though her bones would snap.

‘I don’t see how you can leave without your passport,’ was his laconic reply—which ignited Jess’s temper so that she renewed her efforts to force him to put her down. Drago simply tightened his hold on her and growled, ‘Keep still. You’ve already got me wet enough.
Dio
, you’re as slippery as an eel.’

Charming. That was twice in the space of a few minutes that he’d likened her to a fish! Jess knew she should continue to struggle, but she felt so tired and cold, and being carried in Drago’s strong arms was dangerously seductive. Besides, where could she go now that her rucksack, containing her clothes, money and passport, was at the bottom of the canal? In a game of chess Drago would have her at checkmate, she acknowledged wearily.

He strode into the house and carried her up two flights of stairs as if she weighed nothing. Shouldering a door, he walked into a room that Jess guessed was
the master suite. The elegant sitting room was decorated in shades of cream and gold and furnished with burgundy velvet sofas, and exquisite patterned rugs on the floor. But Jess only had a glimpse of the room as Drago continued on through a set of double doors into the bedroom.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to an enormous four-poster bed with gold damask drapes. The room, in particular the bed, was designed for seduction, she thought, as she took in the exotic décor of burgundy silk wallpaper. The satin bedspread was in the same rich shade.

With a renewed sense of panic she tried again to struggle out of his arms. ‘Why have you brought me here? I’d like to go back to my room.’

‘Not a hope. I’m not going to hang around under your balcony waiting to catch you when you take another leap out of the window.’

‘I didn’t leap out. It was a carefully planned escape, which I wouldn’t have needed to attempt if you hadn’t locked me in,’ Jess snapped, stung by his scathing tone. ‘And I wouldn’t have fallen if you hadn’t startled me. What are you doing?’ she demanded when he carried her into the
en suite
bathroom and set her down in the shower cubicle. She gasped when he activated the shower and she was hit by a deluge of warm water. Her jeans and tee shirt were already wet from where she had fallen into the canal, but within seconds of standing beneath the spray her clothes were plastered to her body.

‘Do you need any help getting undressed?’

‘No!’
She glared at Drago, incensed by his mocking smile. Following his gaze, she glanced down and was horrified to see that her thin shirt had become almost transparent and the hard points of her nipples were
plainly visible through the sodden material. ‘Go to hell,’ she muttered, hating him—but hating her body more, for its traitorous response to his virile sex appeal.

Unexpectedly, the stricken look in Jess’s eyes caused Drago a pang of remorse. Beneath her defiance she looked young and scared, and the realisation that she might be frightened of him made him uncomfortable.
Dio
, the idea of frightening a woman was abhorrent to him. He had behaved like a brute tonight, he acknowledged heavily. His concern for his cousin and the fact that he’d had barely any sleep in seventy-two hours had clouded his judgement. Although he suspected that Jess knew more about Angelo’s missing inheritance fund than she was letting on, nothing had been proved—and he could not forget how convincing she had sounded when she had protested her innocence.

‘Remain under the shower until you’ve warmed up,’ he said roughly. ‘I’ll find something for you to wear to sleep in.’

Ten minutes later, when Jess cautiously peered around the shower screen, she was relieved to find she was alone. A pile of towels had been left for her, and a man’s white shirt that she guessed belonged to Drago. He had been right about the shower warming her up—she had a feeling he was right about most things, she thought ruefully. But at least she had stopped shivering and her hair no longer smelled of canal water.

The shirt was so big on her that it reached halfway down her thighs. After blasting her hair with the dryer hanging on the wall, she acknowledged that she could not remain in the bathroom for ever.

The first thing she noticed when she opened the door was that Drago had changed out of his damp clothes
into a navy blue silk robe that revealed an expanse of broad, tanned chest overlaid with whorls of dark hair.

‘Feeling better?’ he queried when Jess edged into the bedroom.

She nodded, her heart jolting against her ribs as he walked over to her and handed her a glass.

‘Drink this—a shot of brandy will warm your insides.’

‘No, thanks. I never touch spirits.’ She jerked back from him, blanching as she smelled the alcohol.

‘I’m not trying to poison you,’ he said drily.

‘I’m sorry.’ She flushed as she realised how rude she must seem. ‘I loathe alcohol. Even the smell of it reminds me…’

‘Reminds you of what?’ Drago prompted, puzzled by her strange reaction.

‘Nothing.’ Jess bit her lip when she realised Drago was waiting for her to answer. ‘My dad used to drink…a lot,’ she muttered. ‘He was an alcoholic. He drank rum, mainly, although he wasn’t fussy. He’d drink anything. Our house used to stink of alcohol.’

Drago hesitated, struggling for the first time in his life to know what to say. Jess’s voice had been expressionless, but he sensed that she kept a tight hold on her emotions. ‘You said your father
used
to drink?’ he said after a moment. ‘Does that mean he is no longer an alcoholic?’

‘He’s dead. He died when I was eleven.’

‘That must have been hard for you—to lose your father when you were so young.’

She shrugged. ‘To be honest he wasn’t a great dad. I don’t remember him ever being sober, and he used to spend all his money on drink so there was never much to eat at home.’ Once again her tone was matter-of-fact,
but her eyes had darkened to a deep jade colour and held a faintly haunted expression.

‘What about your mother? She didn’t drink too, did she?’

‘I don’t think so. She died when I was a baby and I have no memory of her.’

Drago frowned. Why was he interested? he asked himself. He shouldn’t give a damn about Jess’s background. But he could not dismiss the image of her as an undernourished, uncared-for child. ‘Who brought you up after your father died?’

‘I went into a children’s home, which wasn’t so bad. At least I had dinner every day.’ Her wry smile turned into a yawn. ‘Sorry, but I’m shattered. It’s been an eventful day,’ she said pointedly.

‘Then get into bed.’ He pulled back the covers and gave her a querying look when she did not move.

Jess stared at the gold silk sheets and her heart began to pound. Surely Drago was not expecting her to sleep with him? The idea was outrageous, and yet…An image flashed into her mind of lying in that bed and feeling the sensual silk against her naked flesh. Like a film playing inside her head, she pictured Drago lying next to her, his tanned torso so dark in contrast to her paleness, his wiry chest hairs feeling faintly abrasive against her breasts as he lowered himself onto her.

Dear heaven. She drew an audible breath. Where had her shocking thoughts come from? She darted a glance at him and her heart missed a beat when she saw the predatory hunger in his eyes. The realisation that she had not imagined the sexual chemistry between them was frankly terrifying.

‘No way am I going to sleep with you,’ she said jerkily.
‘Was that why you wanted me to drink brandy—to make me more amenable?’

‘Amenable!’ Drago gave a harsh laugh. ‘I swear you don’t know the meaning of the word.’

He did not know what angered him most—her accusation that he had planned to seduce her or the fear he glimpsed in her eyes.
Dio
, she made him feel like a monster, when in fact he’d had the patience of a saint tonight.

‘For your information, I have never had to get a woman drunk to persuade her to sleep with me.’

His gaze narrowed on her flushed face. She looked a whole lot better than she had when he had pulled her from the canal: no longer a drowned rat but a red-haired sexpot with her soft lips slightly parted and the swift rise and fall of her breasts betraying her agitation. But it was not fear that made the pulse at the base of her neck beat erratically—he knew women too well, and he recognised the subtle signals her body was sending him.

‘I would not need to ply you with alcohol to get you into bed, would I,
cara?’
he taunted softly. ‘From your response when I kissed you earlier I got the impression that I could take you any time I liked.’ Ignoring her fierce denial, he continued ruthlessly, ‘But someone with a conviction for fraud is not my ideal mistress. I have no intention of sharing a bed with you. The only reason I suggested you should sleep here is because you stripped the sheets from
your
bed to use in your juvenile escape attempt, and I’m not going to disturb the housemaid and ask her to prepare another bed for you. I’ll sleep in my dressing room for what’s left of tonight.’

As he strode past Jess on his way to his dressing room her dumbstruck expression awarded Drago some satisfaction. She was the craziest, most irritating woman he had ever met, he assured himself. But when he stretched
out on the sofa bed sleep eluded him despite his tiredness, and his body ached with sexual frustration as he remembered how soft her lips had felt beneath his.

The sound of someone calling her name dragged Jess from a deep sleep, and she was vaguely aware of something lightly brushing her face. She blinked blearily as Drago’s hard-boned face filled her vision, and she was instantly awake and acutely aware of him.

God, he was gorgeous, she thought ruefully. His casual clothes of yesterday had been replaced with a dark suit and crisp white shirt that contrasted starkly with his olive-toned skin. He had evidently shaved, for his jaw was smooth and she inhaled the subtle scent of sandalwood cologne.

His sensual mouth was unsmiling, and as her memory of all the previous day’s events returned a sense of dread gripped her. ‘Is there any news about Angelo?’

‘His condition is unchanged,’ he informed her in a clipped tone. ‘When you’ve got up and had something to eat we’ll go to the hospital. I still believe you are the best hope of rousing him.’

With an effort Drago moved away from the bed before he gave in to temptation and joined Jess between the sheets. She reminded him of a sleepy kitten, curled up beneath the covers, her tawny hair spread across the pillows and her cat-like green eyes watching him from beneath long silky lashes.

He had woken earlier, feeling better for a few hours’ uninterrupted sleep, and more in control of himself. He’d hardly been able to believe that he had allowed a skinny redhead with an attitude problem to provoke him into losing his cool. But when he had leaned across the bed, intending to wake Jess, he had been riveted by her
beautiful face. Unable to resist, he had run his finger lightly down her sleep-flushed cheek and discovered that her skin was as velvet-soft as a peach. Her lips had been slightly parted, and he’d felt a fierce longing to cover them with his own.

Cursing silently, he walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains to allow the bright April sunshine to flood the room. ‘From now on you will sleep in the bedroom adjacent to mine. It does not have a balcony, so I’m afraid you won’t be able to try another escape trick,’ he said sardonically. ‘I have also arranged for some clothes to be delivered for you as yours are at the bottom of the canal.’

Jess decided not to point out that she considered it entirely
his
fault she had lost all her belongings. He had not mentioned his threat of the previous night to hand her over to the police and she deemed it better not to antagonise him. Once Angelo had regained consciousness and explained that he had not given her his inheritance money Drago would owe her a grovelling apology, but for now, bearing in mind that she did not have a passport, she realised she had no choice but to remain in Venice with him.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘If you give me the bill for the clothes I will, of course, pay you what I owe.’

She sounded genuine, and she looked so goddamned innocent. Drago’s eyes narrowed. Were his suspicions about her wrong? How could they be when the evidence was stacked against her? Angelo had told Aunt Dorotea he had given Jess his inheritance fund, and the private investigator had confirmed that she had a criminal record for fraud. She might look as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth but he was not fooled by her, he assured himself.