The Sin of Cynara (13 page)

  'Will he?' Carol looked about herat the serenity of the sunlit gardens, rising up into the blue-green cloisters of the eucalyptus trees. She saw the beauty and yet she felt strangely bleak ... did she want to be treated to a paternal kindness from the man who was going to be her husband? Was she never to know what it felt like to be loved?

  'Anyway,' she forced a smile, 'you will wish us luck, won't you, Flavia? We're going to need it, aren't we?'

  'I wish with all my heart that Papà could be a happy man,' the girl said softly. 'But it will always be hard for him to believe that a pretty woman could look at him and not be put off by his scars, and you are such a woman, Carol.'

  'You think me so weak-kneed - oh, that isn't kind !' Carol exclaimed. 'I'm not that sort of person at all—'

  'No, I mean that you are pretty and any man would like to take you to theatres and restaurants wearing nice clothes, but Papà stays here on the island where the people are used to him and don't hurt him by staring at his face and whispering about him. It will not be easy for you, being his wife, especially as you don't love him. Love can make all the difference, for then we see people with our hearts instead of our eyes.'

  'That's true, and you, Flavia, are too wise and serious for your age.' Carol caught hold of the girl's hand and pulled her to her feet. 'Come with me and let us hunt about in the palazzo attics for some lighter furniture for Teri's bedroom. What he has at the moment is dark and a trifle grim and last night he was afraid to sleep alone. I daren't make a softie of him, not now he's going to be the son of the signor baróne.'

  They entered the house and Flavia sought out the housekeeper and said they would be requiring footmen to help with the furniture, then they made their way to the attics, arriving breathlessly at the very top of the house, to spend the next couple of hours sorting out the accumulation of furniture discarded by the various padrinas but never quite disposed of, for much of it was quite valuable, reminding Carol of what Rudolph had said about the 'loot' of his ancestors. They discovered an almost complete suite of Florentine bedroom furniture, much more graceful than the one which for Teri harboured goblins. It was installed by the good-natured footmen, and right away the room took on a lighter aspect. The great heavy drapes were taken down and replaced by nets with embroidered hems, and toys from the playroom were brought in, along with the Neptune chair and the clown.

  'There!' Carol stood back to admire their handiwork. 'Isn't that much nicer for a child? Now when he looks about him he'll see those flowered murals instead of fearsome carvings. I wonder who the clown belonged to? It has quite a winsome face, don't you think?'

  Carol picked up the clown» and then gave a sharp exclamation as something drove its point into her hand. She dropped the clown, which fell in a lop-sided cluster of limbs to the floor, and she stood there staring at the great drop of blood which something inside the toy had drawn from her hand.

  'Don't touch it,' she warned Flavia. 'Someone has stuck a needle in it, or a long pin. It could have hurt Teri-'

  Carol stood there sucking the palm of her hand, and into her eyes came an enraged look. Bedelia, she thought. Her idea of a sick joke.

  'You had better put some iodine on your hand,' said Flavia, staring down at the clown, sprawled there on the carpet with a foolish look on its face. 'Who would do such a thing? Oh, surely it couldn't be deliberate -perhaps the clown needed mending and the needle or pin was forgotten and left in him by accident.'

  'Perhaps.' The sting was going out of Carol's hand, but the suspicion remained in her mind. Gingerly she picked up the clown and carried him over to the window and carefully studied the back and front of him in the sunlight. Something glinted close against the padded body, the tip of a darning needle driven through the padding to emerge at the side of the toy, where a child would clutch it.

  'Bitch!' Carol muttered to herself. Then she marched out on to the gallery where one of the footmen was brushing the knees of his trousers. She asked him to fetch her a pair of pliers, and she stood there at the wrought-iron balustrade looking down on the piano nobile of the lower gallery. A woman was there putting flowers into a vase, white blossoms with dark leaves that she caressed with her pale slim hands.

  Flavia came to the balustrade, and after a moment she murmured in Carol's ear: 'Il fiore della morte -the flower of lovers whom death sets apart.'

  'She hates me,' Carol said quietly. 'She's out to harm Teri.'

  'Wash your hand in some iodine,' Flavia urged, but Carol waited until the footman came with the pliers and after she had drawn out the needle, which was over two inches long, she went down the stairs to Bed-elia and held it out to her.

  'You see this,' she said clearly, so that her voice carried around the hall, 'it's nasty and long and it hurts, and the next time you play one of your spiteful tricks on Teri I shall take this and jab it in you, up to the hilt, and I'm not making a threat but a promise.'

  Bedelia gave her a haughty look. 'You're out of your mind, I should think. I never use sewing needles, for there are maids here to do that sort of thing, but I suppose where you come from you do all the menial tasks yourself. Really, I wouldn't know one end of a darning needle from the other.'

  'Who said it was a darning needle?' Carol asked. 'It could be an embroidery needle, but you know all right that it has a big eye so wool can be threaded through it.

  You're a jealous cat, but if you want to try your claws, then try them on me and not on a defenceless child. I can fight back and I will, signora.'

  'I don't doubt it,' Bedelia sneered. 'I expect you have all the backstreet habits of your class - brawling, making threats, and selling yourself to a man no other woman would want !'

  'That does it !' A quiver of sheer fury ran through Carol and taking hold of the flowers which Bedelia had just arranged she flung them in the woman's face, the soaking wet stems spattering the dark silk dress and falling around her in a mess of broken petals.

  'What a delightful scene !' Curt as a whip the male voice cut across Bedelia's wailing. 'A man might think himself on the fish quay at Naples - be quiet, the pair of you ! I have heard enough to know that you're equally at fault, two lovesick females fighting over a man who can make love to neither of you any more. Fase it, both of you, and for heaven's sake behave with a little more dignity in my house.'

  Carol stood there staring a moment at Rudolph, his face a dark mask of disgust and anger. Then she spun around and went running up the stairs, pursued by Teri, who didn't really understand and thought it all a bit of a lark.

  'It was ever so funny,' he told Flavia, his dark eyes dancing with glee, 'but Tio Rudi got awfully angry and his eyes looked just like flames. He can be very fierce, can't he?'

  'Yes, he can, caro.' Flavia gave Carol a concerned look. 'Are you all right—'

  'She's trying to drive us away.' Carol felt as if she were shivering inwardly. 'He knows she's the one in the wrong, but did you hear what he said? It's so unfair, and for two pins I'd leave this place today and to the devil with marrying his excellency the baróne. Believe me, life was never a bed of roses, but it was never this thorny !'

  For the remainder of the day Carol was in a restless, nervy mood, half torn between taking Teri away with her, and staying out of sheer obstinate refusal to be driven away by a woman's hatred and a man's total coldness of heart where she was concerned.

  He had no feeling for her, and yet she had said that she would marry him. It was a kind of madness, only to be escaped if she packed their bags and hurried Teri away from the place.

  He had his supper and she put him to bed in his own room, which he accepted now that the gothic furniture had been replaced, and the heavy-framed pictures taken down from the walls. She read him a story from The Golden Wooden Shoes, and very soon he was fast asleep. She studied him, indecisive about the future, and went into her own room to dress for dinner. The baróne would be good to the boy, she didn't doubt that for one moment, but she was just a disagreeable adjunct to the procedure of acquiring Teri for his son, and Carol could see no happiness for herself in becoming the wife of Rudolph Falcone.

  None !

  She bathed and dressed in a long dinner skirt of dark-honey velvet, with a champagne-coloured satin top, finished off by a gothic cross set with amethyst stones. Her hair was looped and folded at the nape of her neck, an intricate blonde knot against the pale slim-ness of her neck. She decided that she looked too pale and pensive and applied a dash of ruby colouring to her lips.

  The mirror gave back her reflection and she saw an elegance and a composure that were only the outward semblance of a woman whose inner feelings were uncertain and stormy.

  The palazzo felt very quiet as she made her way downstairs, pausing on her way to look at the faces in the paintings hanging on the walls; the eyes were smouldering, the features dramatic, and there seemed to be a glimpse of devil or tyrant, or wild Lothario riding off with another man's woman across the saddlebow of a fast horse.

  Lost in her reflections, one hand gripping the long skirt of her dress, Carol found herself entering the salotto grànde, where she gave a start upon finding Rudolph over by the long windows, framed by the scarlet folds of the floor-length window drapes. He wore a faultlessly tailored dinner-suit and white silk shirt, his shoulders taut and strong against the combination of fine materials.

  'Good evening,' he said. 'What a change to meet a punctual woman! Will you take a glass of sherry, or perhaps you prefer a cocktail?'

  'A - a sherry would be fine, signore.'

  She watched him as he walked with supple silence across the carpets to the finely carved sideboard, on which stood a silver tray and a group of Venetian decanters of beautiful crystal glassware. Being alone with him after that earlier scene made her feel awkward, and she tried to find some ease of manner by looking around the fine old room, with its richly decorative ceiling and its Venetian chandeliers, a mass of cascading crystals on golden chains.

  Silently he came across to her with the two fluted glasses of topaz wine, and she accepted hers with a husky murmur of thanks.

  'To your health,' he said, and drank a little of his wine. Above the rim of his glass his eyes were upon her face, and there were tiny mocking lights in them, as if he too was remembering their last encounter in all its fishwife details.

  'I -I can't marry you, signore.' The words burst from her lips, for they had been stored up in her throat all that afternoon, giving her an oddly choked-up feeling. 'It's out of the question and we both know it. Teri and I will stay here, if you want that, but I can't face being your wife.'

  'That is too bad, but it doesn't change anything, and in your heart you know it. You have lived and worked for that boy and you won't take from him what I can give out of sheer pique because I wouldn't take your part against Bedelia. Look at me, Carol. Admit it !'

  'You're so very sure of yourself, aren't you?' She gave him a resentful look. 'You have money, power, the will to please yourself, and you hold out a bone that I'd love to throw back at you. Oh, do you think I'd put up with any of you if it wasn't for Teri?'

  'Do you think I'd ask you to marry me it it weren't for him?' The baróne's voice was smooth and cold as steel. 'There will be no more indecision on your part, for I've already been in touch with my lawyers about drawing-up settlement papers with regard to Terence. And I have also been looking at some of the family jewellery in order to find a suitable ring for my fidanzata.'

  As he spoke he set aside his wine glass and came deliberately to where Carol stood. He took firm hold of her left hand and as if mesmerized she watched him slide on to her third finger a hoop of blood-red gems that caught the light of the chandeliers and burned with the kind of lustre that only came from genuine stones.

  'How cold your hand is,' he said, and studied the ring against her skin. 'But the rubies look warm and they match your lips.'

  Her heart thundered as his eyes found her mouth. His lips took on a quirk of irony. 'I'm not going to kiss you, if that's what you're afraid of, madam.'

  'I - I'm not afraid,' she denied. 'But you seem to imagine that your face protects you from such a human thing as a kiss.'

  'So you think me inhuman?' His eyes glittered down at her. 'Have you the courage to prove that I am?'

  'Are you throwing out a challenge, signore!' She defied his eyes, but secretly felt as if the ground was quaking under her feet. 'Yes, madam, that is exactly what I am doing.' They were immediately under the chandeliers and the sparkling light was infinitely cruel upon his face, lean, high-boned, yet still distinctive despite the vicious acid burns. Carol felt each separate beat of her heart, and then impulse mastered her, and throwing an arm about his neck she reached up and pressed her lips against his disfigurement. She felt him go tense, and then too late she made a movement away from him. His arms closed around her like a vice and she was pulled almost brutally close to him and a startled cry opened her lips as he took them.

  For five years Carol had lived like a nun, and now suddenly she felt the hard, smoky warmth of a man's mouth on hers. She felt her body crushed close to masculine muscles and impulses, and her every nerve was aware that it was hopeless to struggle. Her hand felt the smoothness of his nape and the peak of black hair cresting her fingertips. She felt the incredible hunger of his mouth, deep, deeper, until she was swept by a high wave of sheer feeling ... feeling so warm and sensuous that she closed her eyes in order to savour what was happening to her.

  Her eyes were still closed when he pushed her harshly away from him, and when her lashes blinked open he was standing there, looking at her as if he hated her.

  'You see,' he said. 'In order to endure me, a woman has to do it with her eyes shut, not open, so she can block out my face. Do you think I enjoy it, knowing that the woman in my arms is fighting not to push me away from her? Keep your kisses, madam ! Keep your pity!'