The Forced Marriage (12 page)

And she’d buried her shamed, unhappy face in the pillow and thought that perhaps he was right.

Until Marco had looked at her—touched her hand—kissed her. Made her burn for him. Established his possession of her long before the physical joining of their bodies. Transformed her surrender into glory.

When Chris had come back from his holiday in the Bahamas, she’d expected him to exert increasing pressure on her to go to bed with him, and had steeled herself to agree, telling herself it could never be that bad again. But their time apart seemed to have engendered a more philosophical attitude in him, and he’d made no more attempts to force the issue.

Perhaps he’d thought that patience would eventually bring him his reward. Or maybe he’d simply been waiting for her to tell him that the medical treatment she hadn’t even sought had been successful.

She had been telling herself that once they were married and settled they would have all the time in the world to work out their sexual relationship. That compatibility was not necessarily instant.

That Chris would make a good husband—the best—and sex was not the whole of a marriage.

Every excuse under the sun.

And I—almost—made myself believe them, she thought. I could have gone through with it. Only Hes wasn’t fooled for a minute. And, of course, Marco, who looked into my eyes and saw that I was completely unawakened.

Well, no one would think that now, she told herself with a wry smile at the mirror as she walked to the door, on her way downstairs to her first solitary dinner.

As she’d feared, time hung heavy on her hands without him.

He telephoned, of course. Hurried calls during the day between meetings that were not going well. And longer, more personal conversations late into the evening, which sent her to bed burning and restless.

He does it deliberately, she thought, twining her arms round his pillow and pulling it close. He would have to be punished on his return, and she knew exactly how. And she drifted off to sleep at last, smiling like a cat.

He’d been gone for three days when he finally called to say he would be home the following evening.

At last,
her heart sang, but aloud she said sedately, ‘Has the problem with the tests been sorted?’

He sighed. ‘Alas, no. There is a serious flaw in the product, as I have suspected for some time, and we may have to start again from the beginning. I am authorising a new research programme, with a new director,’ he added with a touch of grimness. ‘Dr Farese believed he could take advantage of my absence and push the new drug through by cutting down the testing process. He knows differently now.’

Flora was silent for a moment. Then she said with slight constraint, ‘Has all this happened because you’ve been spending too much time with me?’

‘A little, perhaps.’ His tone was rueful. ‘But I do not regret one moment of it, Flora
mia
. However, it means that I must devote more time to Altimazza from now on.’

Her hand tightened round the receiver. ‘Yes—yes, of course.’

‘But enough of that.’ He paused. ‘Have you missed me?’

She knew that now, of all times, she ought to play it cool—make some flip, teasing remark. Instead she heard herself say yearningly, ‘Oh, so much.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m going to tell Marta to have everything you most like for dinner—pasta with truffles, and that veal thing. Unless you’d prefer the chicken…?’

He was laughing. ‘Choose what you will,
bellissima mia
. I am hungry only for you.’

She said with sudden shyness, ‘And I for you, Marco.’

‘Then imagine that I am with you,
cara
.’ His voice sank huskily, intimately. ‘That I am holding you naked—touching you as you like to be touched. You remember, hmm?’

‘Marco!’ She felt the fierce charge of desire deep within her. The swift scalding heat between her thighs. Her voice pleaded with him unsteadily. ‘You’re not being fair.’

‘No,’ he conceded softly. ‘Perhaps not. But when I come back, my sweet one, there will be complete honesty between us—whatever the cost.’

She could hear the note of sadness in his voice and flinched from it, knowing what it must mean. He was warning her that their brief, rapturous idyll was drawing to an end.

She took a deep breath. She said quietly, ‘I—I can’t wait to see you.’

‘It will not be long now,’ he told her. ‘But I must go. They are waiting for me.’

She returned his murmured,
‘Arriverderci,’
and put down the telephone, standing for a moment, staring into space, realising she was going to need every scrap of emotional courage she possessed to get her through the next few days.

She heard a brief sound, and turned to see Ninetta standing in the doorway, watching her. She gasped. ‘Oh—you startled me.’

‘Scusi, signorina.’

The apology was meek enough, but Flora was certain that she’d detected a smirk in the dark eyes before they were deferentially lowered.

She said coolly, ‘Did you want something, Ninetta?’

‘I came to see if you needed me,
signorina
.’ The girl came further into the room. ‘You look pale. Have you had bad news?’

‘On the contrary.’ Flora met the sly glance head-on, her chin lifted. ‘The
signore
is coming back tomorrow. I am going to arrange a special dinner for him and I have to decide what to wear.’

Which wouldn’t be easy, she acknowledged with an inward sigh. Travelling light had its disadvantages, and Marco had already seen everything she’d brought with her.

‘Maybe it is an occasion for a new dress,
signorina
. Rocello has some good shops.’

It was about the first helpful remark Ninetta had ever made, and Flora sent her a surprised glance.

‘Yes,’ she agreed slowly. ‘Perhaps it is.’

She might as well go out in style, she thought, with all flags flying. And she could use the time, as well, to buy some going-home presents—although apart from Hester and Melanie she couldn’t think of many people who would welcome one from her.

She paused. ‘Is there a morning bus into the town?’

For a moment Ninetta looked genuinely shocked. ‘A car and driver will be provided for you,
signorina
. I shall arrange it at once. The
signore
would wish it,’ she added, pre-empting any further objections that Flora might have.

I only wish, Flora thought when she was alone again, that I liked her better.

‘I understand that you wish to go into town,’ Alfredo said as he served her breakfast next morning. ‘If you had consulted me,
signorina
, I would have escorted you myself. As it is, young Roberto will be driving you.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be fine.’ Flora placated him, aware that his normally smooth feathers were ruffled. ‘You must have far better things to do than wait while I shop.’

‘Nothing I could not have postponed.’ He was frowning slightly. ‘The
signore
placed you in my charge, after all.’

‘Well, Roberto will be a perfectly adequate stand-in.’ She smiled at him. ‘And I’ll only be gone an hour or so.’ She paused. ‘Have I come across Roberto before?’

‘I think not,
signorina
. He usually works in the grounds, but he drives the cars on occasion. He is the brother of Ninetta, who waits on you.’

Then I only hope he’s more civil, Flora thought as she finished her meal.

Roberto seemed to be a rather stolid young man, with a limited command of English, so the journey into town was completed mostly in silence. However, the views from the winding coast road were sufficiently spectacular to compensate for any lack of conversation.

Rocello was not a large town, but its central square, overlooked by a fine Gothic church, was an imposing one.

Flora arranged to meet the taciturn Roberto by the church in two hours, which would give her time to make her purchases and, hopefully, do a little sightseeing too.

Ninetta had been right about the shops, she soon discovered. There were some delectable boutiques hidden away among the winding side streets, and she soon found a dress she liked—one of her favourite slip styles, with narrow straps and a fluid drift of a skirt, in white, with a stylised flower in crystal beads on the bodice.

A few doors away she came upon a local silversmith, and bought a pair of pretty earrings for Mel, and an elegant chain with twisted links for Hes.

In a small gallery near the square there was a small framed painting of the
castello
, and, after some heart-searching, she decided to buy it. In the days ahead it might help convince her that this had not been all a fantastic dream, she thought wryly.

It was going to be a very hot day, and Flora was quite glad to seek shelter in the shadowy interior of the church, which was famous for its frescoes painted, it was said, by a pupil of Giotto.

But, even so, she still had some time to while away before her appointment with Roberto. She stationed herself under the striped awning of one of the pavement cafés opposite the church, so that she could spot him as soon as he arrived.

She ordered a
cappuccino
and sat nibbling some of the little almond biscuits that came with it, idly watching the tourists, who were milling around with their cameras.

‘Signorina Graham. I thought there could not be two women with that glorious shade of hair.’

Flora looked up in surprise to find Tonio Baressi smiling down at her.

‘Oh,’ she said slowly. ‘Good morning.’

He drew out the chair opposite with a flourish. ‘May I join you?’

‘You seem to have done so already,
signore
.’ Flora stole a surreptitious glance at her watch, hoping that Roberto might be early.

If Tonio noticed the tart note in her voice he gave no sign, merely signalling imperiously to the waiter.

‘So Marco has gone to Milan and left you to your own devices,’ he said, when his espresso arrived. He clicked his tongue. ‘But how unchivalrous.’

‘He has work to do,’ Flora said shortly. My first time in Rocello, she thought, and I have to run into him.

He laughed. ‘Whereas you are strictly for his leisure moments, eh? He is very fortunate to have found a woman so understanding of his—other obligations.’

Flora made a business of collecting together her packages. ‘You must excuse me,’ she said brightly. ‘I’d like to have a look inside the church before my driver comes.’

‘But surely I saw you coming out of the church a short while ago? You must find those frescoes particularly fascinating.’ He was still smiling, but his eyes had narrowed. ‘Or did Marco warn you to shun my company?’

‘Of course not. How ridiculous.’ She bit her lip in vexation, and a certain unease. How long had he been watching her, she wondered, and why?

‘I am relieved to hear it. Please—have another
cappuccino
. I insist.’

She thanked him with a forced smile and sat back, trying to look relaxed, while scanning the passing crowd for Roberto.

‘I hope you have enjoyed your stay at San Silvestro,’ Tonio went on after a pause. ‘It is unfortunate that all good things must end, no?’

She gave him a composed look. ‘Actually, I still have some holiday left.’

‘Yes, but it is hardly the same for you now that Marco has remembered his responsibilities to Altimazza. He can hardly be expected to commute to Milan on a daily basis. And the
castello
can be a lonely place.’

Her smile was taut. ‘Please don’t concern yourself about me, Signor Baressi. It really isn’t necessary.’

‘Call me Tonio, I beg. I assure you that I only wish to be your friend.’

‘Thank you.’ She reached for her bag and extracted enough money to pay for her own coffee. ‘That’s kind of you, but now I must be going.’

He said, almost idly, ‘If you are expecting Roberto, he has gone back to San Silvestro. I told him I would bring you back to the
castello
myself.’

Flora’s lips parted in a gasp of sheer outrage. ‘Then you had no right to do any such thing,’ she exclaimed heatedly. ‘And I prefer to make my own way back. I’ll find a taxi…’

His grin was unrepentant. ‘You fear I shall make advances to you?’ He shook his head. ‘I shall not. I offer friendship only. Something you may welcome before long,’ he added softly. ‘So let us have no more nonsense about taxis. It will be my pleasure to drive you.’

Flora lifted her chin. She said crisply, ‘In that case I’d like to leave straight away. Roberto is going to find himself in real trouble with Alfredo for deserting me like this. He could even be sacked.’

He shrugged. ‘He will easily find another job.’

Tonio also drove a sports car, but a considerably flashier example than the one Marco had used in London. He also considered himself a far better driver than he actually was, and Flora found herself cringing more than once.

When the coast road was suddenly abandoned, and they turned inland, she stiffened. ‘This isn’t the way to San Silvestro.’

‘A small detour.’ He was totally at ease. ‘To the other side of the headland. My aunt, the Contessa Baressi, has expressed a wish to meet you. I know you would not wish to disappoint her.’

She said curtly, ‘I would have preferred to be consulted in advance. And if Marco wishes me to know his godmother, then he’s quite capable of arranging it.’

‘Marco,’ he said, ‘is in Milan.’

‘Yes, but he’ll be back this evening. I can mention her invitation then…’

‘My aunt wishes to see you now,’ he said softly. ‘And her requests are invariably granted. Even by Marco.’ He paused. ‘The two families have always been very close. And he and the Contessa have a very special relationship.’

‘All the more reason,’ she said, ‘for him to be there.’

‘Unfortunately, the Contessa intends to return to Rome very shortly. She was anxious to make time for you before her departure.’