The Count's Blackmail Bargain (16 page)

‘Nothing too difficult. I wish you to swear that when you are back in London you will go swimming at least once a week. You lack only confidence.’

‘I suppose I could manage that,’ she said slowly. ‘There are some swimming baths quite near where I live.’

‘Then there is no problem.’ He added casually, ‘Get Paolo to go with you.’

‘Maybe,’ she said, her mouth curving in such unexpected mischief that his heart missed a beat. ‘If his health improves.’

He grinned back, shrugging. ‘You can always hope, carissima.’

It had worked to some extent, he thought. She was no longer clinging to her glass as if it were a lifeline. But that strange intangible barrier that she’d built between them was still there.

Her reticence frankly bewildered him. He had once been forced to listen to Paolo’s drunken boasting about his London conquests, and restraint had never featured as one of the qualities his cousin most favoured in a woman.

So what was he doing with this girl? His Laura, with her level smoky gaze and proud mouth? On her side, he supposed she might have been beguiled initially by Paolo’s surface charm, but that must have been seriously eroded by the spoilt-child act of the past week.

And there was another factor that had been gnawing at him too.

When he’d gone to post her cards that morning in Besavoro, he’d quickly noted down the names and addresses of the recipients, deciding they might prove useful for future reference. So who was the man Carl that she’d written to at Harman Grace, and what was their connection?

Could this whole trip with Paolo be simply a ploy to make her real lover jealous—provoke him into commitment, maybe? Was this what she was hiding behind that veil of cool containment?

No, he thought. I don’t believe that—not in my heart. There’s something else. And I have the whole night to find out what it is.

To bring down the barrier and possess her utterly.

But first, he thought, he would have to get her to relax—to respond to him—to enjoy being teased a little. Perhaps tease him in return…

After all, he told himself with sudden cynicism, she would not be the first girl in the world to be coaxed into bed with laughter.

For one strange moment, he wished it were all over, and that she were joyously and passionately his, sitting beside him in the Jeep as they set off to some destination where his aunt’s malice could not follow. Somewhere they could relax in the enjoyment of some mutual pleasure, he thought restlessly.

He longed, he realised, to fall asleep each night with her in his arms, and wake next to her each morning.

He wanted her as unequivocally and completely as he needed food and clothing. And he was going to wipe from his mind every vestige of the sordid bargain he’d been originally forced into by his aunt. From the moment he’d seen Laura, it had counted for nothing anyway.

But it could have been very different, he reminded himself grimly, so his amazing fortune was hardly deserved. And for a moment the thought made him disturbed and uneasy. And, he realised, almost fearful.

Pulling himself together, he picked up the nearest branch of candles and walked over to her, holding out his hand. ‘Let us go into dinner,’ he invited quietly.

Laura had made up her mind to plead a headache and go to her room directly after she’d eaten. But it was clearly ridiculous to express a wish for peace and quiet while the storm was still raging overhead, and might prompt Alessio to draw his own conclusions about her sudden need for seclusion. And that could be dangerous.

It was a strange meal. Conversation was necessarily sporadic. The flicker of the candles sent shadows dancing in the corners of the room, until they were eclipsed by the lightning flashes that illumined everything with a weird bluish glow. It seemed to Laura as if each crash of thunder was rolling without pause into the next, and it was difficult to concentrate on Emilia’s delicious food when she was constantly jumping out of her skin. It was much easier, in fact, to drink the red wine that Alessio was pouring into her glass, and which made her feel marginally less nervous.

One particular thunderclap, however, seemed to go on for ever, with a long, rumbling roar that made the whole house shake.

Laura put down her spoon. ‘Is—is that what an earthquake feels like?’ she asked uneasily.

‘Almost.’ Alessio was frowning, but his gaze softened as he studied her small, pale face. ‘My poor Laura,’ he said. ‘You came here expecting long, hot days and moonlit romantic nights, and instead—the storm of the century. But this house has withstood many storms, if that is any consolation. And it will survive this one too.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, of course.’ She bit her lip. ‘But—I—I’m quite glad you decided not to stay in Perugia, signore.’

‘Why, mia bella,’ he said mockingly. ‘What a confession. And I am also—pleased.’

She hesitated. ‘Do you think it’s this bad at Lake Trasimeno? They will be able to get back tomorrow? Paolo and I have all our travel arrangements to work out.’

He shrugged. ‘As to that, I think we must—wait and see.’

‘Maybe you could phone—and find out.’ She tried not to sound as if she was pleading.

‘Why, yes,’ he said. ‘If the telephone was still working. Guillermo tells me it went off not long after my aunt’s call.’

‘Oh, God.’ She stared at him, unable to hide her shock and dismay.

‘But you must have a cell phone, surely.’

‘I have more than one, but there is no signal here. I regard that as one of the many pleasures of this house,’ Alessio said, pouring more wine.

Lightning filled the room, and he smiled at her, his face a stranger’s in the eerie light. ‘So, for the time being, we are quite cut off, mia cara.’ He paused. ‘And there is nothing we can do about it,’ he added softly.

CHAPTER NINE

THE fierce riot of the storm seemed suddenly to fade to some strange distance, leaving behind a silence that was almost tangible, and twice as scary.

Laura swallowed. ‘Cut off?’ she echoed. ‘But we can’t be.’

He shrugged again, almost laconically. ‘It happens.’

‘But how long are we going to be—stuck here like this?’ she demanded defensively.

‘Until the storm passes, and we can reassess the situation.’

She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Don’t you even care?’

‘Why? There is nothing I can do, mia cara.’ He smiled at her. ‘So, I shall let you be agitated for both of us.’

Well, she could manage that—no problem, Laura thought grimly.

She picked up her glass, and drank again, aware that her hand was shaking, and hoping—praying—that he wouldn’t notice in the uncertain light. She said huskily, ‘There’s the Jeep. We could—

drive somewhere—some place with lights and a phone.’

‘In this weather, on that road?’ he queried softly. ‘You are suddenly very brave, mia bella. Far braver than myself, I must tell you. So, do you wish me to give you the keys, because I am going nowhere.’ He paused. ‘You can drive?’

‘I’ve passed my test,’ she said guardedly.

His smile widened. ‘Then the decision is yours. But you may feel it is safer to remain here.’

There was a silence, then Laura reluctantly nodded.

‘Bene,’ he approved lazily. ‘And now I will make a deal with you, Laura mia. In the morning, when this weather has cleared, I will drive you anywhere you wish to go, but only if—tonight…’ He paused again, deliberately allowing the silence to lengthen between them.

Laura’s mouth felt suddenly dry. She said, ‘What—what about tonight, signore? What are you asking?’

He said quietly, ‘That you will again play the piano for me.’

‘Play the piano?’ Laura was genuinely taken aback. ‘You’re not serious.’

‘I am most serious. You played the first night you were in my house. Why not the last? After all, you are going back to your own country. I may never have the opportunity to listen to you play again.’

Laura looked down at the table. ‘I’d have thought that was a positive advantage.’

He clicked his tongue in reproof. ‘And that is false modesty, mia cara. I have heard you practising each day. And once I found Emilia weeping in the hall, because your playing brought back memories of my mother for her also.’

‘Oh, no.’ Laura glanced up in dismay. ‘Lord, I’m so sorry.’

‘No need,’ he said. ‘They were happy tears. She loved my mother very much.’ He rose. ‘So, Laura mia, you will indulge me?’

Reluctantly, she followed him to the salotto, waiting while he carefully positioned more candelabra on top of the piano.

‘There,’ he said at last. ‘Will that do?’

‘Well, yes, I suppose…’ She sat down at the keyboard, giving him a questioning look. ‘What do you want me to play?’

‘Something calming, I think.’ Alessio sent a wry glance upwards as thunder rumbled ominously once more. ‘That piece you have been practising, perhaps.’

“‘Clair de Lune’’?’ She bit her lip. ‘I’d almost forgotten it, and it’s still not really up to performance standard.’

‘But very beautiful,’ he returned. He sat down in the corner of a sofa, stretching long legs in front of him. ‘So—if you please?’

Swallowing nervously, she let her fingers touch the keys, searching out the first dreamy chords, only too conscious of the silent man, listening, and watching.

But, somehow, as she played her confidence grew with her concentration, and she found herself moving through the

passionate middle section with barely a falter into the gentle, almost yearning clarity of the final passage. And silence.

Alessio rose and walked across to the piano, joining her on the long padded stool. He said softly, ‘Grazie,’ and took her hand, raising it to his lips. He turned it gently, pressing his mouth to the leaping pulse in her wrist, then kissed the palm of her hand slowly and sensuously.

Her voice was suddenly a thread. ‘Please—don’t do that?’

He raised his head, the dark eyes smiling into hers. He said, ‘I am not allowed to pay homage to your artistry—even when it has conquered the storm?’

The lightning was barely visible now, she realised, and the thunder only a distant growl.

‘It—it does seem to have moved away.’ She tried to retrieve her hand, and failed. ‘Perhaps the electricity will come on again soon.’

‘You don’t like the candlelight?’

Laura hesitated. ‘Oh, yes, but I wouldn’t want to read by it, and I was really hoping to finish my book before tomorrow,’ she added over-brightly, aware that his fingers were caressing hers, sending little tremors shivering down her spine. It seemed as if she could feel every thread in her dress touching her bare skin.

‘Then we will have to think of some other form of entertainment that may be easier on the eyes.’ Alessio paused. ‘Do you play cards?’

She shrugged. ‘The usual family games.’

‘And poker?’

‘I know the value of the various hands,’ she said. ‘But that’s about all.’

‘I could teach you.’

She stared at him. ‘But don’t you need more people?’ she asked.

‘Also it’s a gambling game, and I—I haven’t any money to lose.’

‘It is possible to play for other things besides money, carissima.

And one learns to make use of whatever is available. Sometimes that can be far more enjoyable than playing for mere cash.’ He reached out, his fingers deftly detaching one of the small silver spheres on a chain that hung from her ear. He put it down on an ivory piano key, where it flashed in the candle flame. ‘You see?

Already you have something to stake.’

Strip poker, Laura thought numbly. Dear God, he’s suggesting we should play strip poker…

She wrenched her hand away from his. ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice bitterly cold. ‘And, no doubt, I’d have a great deal to lose, too.

That’s the problem with all your lessons, signore. They come at much too high a cost.’

He smiled at her, unruffled. ‘How can you price the value of a new experience, bella mia?’

‘Oh, you have an answer for everything—or you think you do.’

She turned fiercely to face him. ‘Why do you do this?’ she demanded with sudden huskiness. ‘Why do you—torment me like this?’

‘Do I torment you, mia cara?’ he countered harshly. One hand swept aside the silky fall of her hair to cup the nape of her neck, his thumb caressing the hollow beneath her ear, sending a sweet shiver along her nerve endings. ‘Then why do you continue to deny what you know we both want?’

She could feel the heat rising in her body, the sudden, terrifying scald of yearning between her thighs, and was bitterly ashamed of her own weakness.

‘I can’t speak for you, signore,’ she said, her voice shaking, ‘but I just want to get out of here. Out of this house—this country—and back to where I belong. And nothing else.’

She paused, her chin lifting defiantly. ‘And now that the storm’s over, the telephone could be working again.’

He withdrew his hand with a faint sigh, letting one smooth russet strand of her hair slide lingeringly through his fingers. ‘I think you are over-optimistic, Laura mia,’ he told her drily.

‘But could you find out for me—please? I really need to know the times of tomorrow’s flights.’

He was her host, she thought with a kind of desperation. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—refuse her request, however stupid he might think it. She’d asked him to check something. Innate courtesy would take him from the room to do so.

And that would be her chance, she told herself feverishly. Because she needed to get away from him on a far more personal level—

and tonight. The door to her room had a lock and key, she knew, and the window shutters had that bolt mechanism she’d used once before. She couldn’t risk going through the house, of course, because he might intercept her, but she could cut across the gardens, and be safely locked in her room before he even realised she was missing.

Because she could not trust herself to be alone with him any longer. It was as simple and final as that. The necessity to go into his arms and feel his mouth on hers was an agony she had never experienced before. A consuming anguish she had not dreamed could exist.

And she dared not risk him touching her again. Not when the merest brush of his fingers could turn her to flame.