CHAPTER SEVEN

‘FIRST of all, I think we ought to remove this.’

In the bedroom, Damiano had set her down on the bed and with deft fingers had begun to undo the fastening of her pink dress.

Sofia watched him, looking into his eyes, her heart racing inside her. This hadn’t been meant to happen. This was not what she had intended. Her plan had been to reject him the moment he laid a hand on her, and there was still time to reject him, even now. But that would be madness. In her heart she knew it. This was what she had really wanted all along.

As he peeled the dress away and dropped it onto a chair, she was wearing only briefs and lacy holdup stockings. He ran his hands over her thighs. ‘Very sexy,’ he murmured, and bent to kiss the gap between briefs and stocking-top, making her catch her breath and a clench of helpless longing seize her.

She reached down with both hands to softly caress his hair, holding his head between her palms as though it was infinitely precious. Then she bent down to kiss him. ‘Oh, Damiano,’ she said.

He looked up at her then, eyes black and smouldering, and for a moment they seemed to look all the way down into her soul. ‘I’m going to-make love to you,’ he told her. ‘Not just give you a baby.’ He laid his hands on her naked breasts and lay down on the bed beside her. ‘Tonight, I promise you, is going to be very, very special.’

That was a promise he kept. In fact, it was a promise he exceeded. For the night that followed was far more than just special. It was one of those nights that, if you have the good fortune to experience one, you are unlikely to forget for the rest of your life.

The first time they made love it was hungry and urgent, the slaking of a mutual thirst that could not wait a moment longer. They came together like a crashing storm, desperately, almost violently, the power of their passion overwhelming them. The love they made was breathless and fierce.

And when it was over Sofia lay exhausted in his arms, shock waves going through her, her cheeks damp with tears, a blissful smile on her lips. And suddenly her love for him, which she had been so prudently controlling, was swelling inside her, unstoppable and vast.

My beloved Damiano! her heart cried within her. And it felt wonderful not to hold back her love any more.

Later in the night he reached for her again and she turned sleepily to embrace him, her body already smouldering with desire. And they made love again, this time more sweetly, more sensuously.

It was like that first night of their marriage all over again, Sofia reflected. Only something was different; some essential element had altered, and that alteration lent a new edge of satisfaction to her soul. What the change actually was, as they lay there joined together, eluded her, though at that moment it was sufficient just to feel it, to enjoy it. But later, before she fell asleep, she realised what it was.

It was her. Something had changed in her. Something dramatic, yet very simple. Like the flicking of a switch that turned shadows into brightness, darkness into light, not seeing into seeing. For now, unlike then, she felt his equal. He was no longer an object to be worshipped and revered. Instead, he was simply the man she loved.

As these thoughts ran through her head, Damiano shifted in his sleep and slipped his arm around her waist. Sofia snuggled against him. Had he noticed this change in her? Was he aware that his child bride had finally come of age?

She suspected that he probably had. Damiano noticed everything. So perhaps now, at last, things would start to change between them. Perhaps, finally, they could have the marriage she had always dreamed of.

It was a very big perhaps. Sofia was aware of that. But as she drifted off to sleep her heart was suddenly flooded with that most life-giving of all emotions. Hope.

 

A lack of certainty about his beliefs was not something Damiano had ever suffered from. On the contrary, it was one of the defining marks of his character that he invariably knew where he stood in any situation and was always totally certain of how that situation should be handled. For he knew himself well and he was a shrewd judge of others and over the years his instincts had rarely let him down.

But they were letting him down now. Totally failing to function. His brain felt blanketed in strange confusion, his emotions caught up in a dark, obscuring fog. And that was the reason why he had slipped out of bed and gone to fetch himself a glass of water and sat frowning now in naked splendour in an armchair by the window as he tried to pull his muddled thoughts and emotions together.

For he too was aware that something had happened, that Sofia was no longer what he had once believed she was and that their relationship had subtly, but crucially, altered. Though it must be said to his credit that it hadn’t even occurred to him to think that she’d suddenly become his equal, for he had never thought of their relationship in terms of equality or the lack of it. What he was thinking was that she’d matured, suddenly become a force to be reckoned with. And this realisation both excited and deeply disturbed him.

Damiano watched the sleeping .form breathing softly beneath the covers. She was so beautiful, so desirable, with so much warmth in her heart. There were times, like tonight, when she simply overwhelmed his senses and filled him with feelings of almost breathless tenderness. Yet their relationship had for so long been unhappy and unsatisfying and he had come to believe it would never improve. But now... His dark brows drew together in a frown. Unexpectedly, tonight, he had found himself wondering if he might be wrong.

And this was his dilemma: ought he just to ignore these unsettling changes in her and allow things to carry on as before, or should. he encourage them in the hope of making something of his marriage, after all?

The latter course tempted him, but if he were to move in that direction he knew that it would involve making certain changes in his personal life. And for what? For something he was not even really sure of. Something that perhaps he had only imagined or was only a temporary flash in the pan.

Suddenly, Sofia stirred. He saw her reach out a searching hand for him. Then she half sat up sleepily. ‘Where have you gone?’ he heard her murmur.

‘I’ve gone nowhere.’ Damiano stood up and walked back to the bed. Then he slipped back beside her beneath the covers. ‘I’ve gone nowhere at all. I’m right here beside you.’

But even as he embraced her, pressing his lips against her shoulder, he wondered if what he was saying was really true.

Most of their engagements on their final day in London were to be joint ones. A visit to Windsor Castle, lunch at Kensington Palace, and finally in the evening they were to host a sumptuous dinner for the British monarch and her husband at the San Rinaldo embassy.

When he awoke, just before seven, Damiano was rather looking forward to the day. He glanced at the still sleeping Sofia beside him, her lovely face so serene and innocent-looking, her red-gold hair spread like spun silk across the pillow. The more time the two of them spent together the better, he decided. That way he could continue to assess the situation and finally come to a conclusion about what to do.

For last night he had failed to resolve his dilemma. He would simply play it by ear, he had decided. See what developed and take it from there. And soon enough, he was confident, his instincts would start functioning again and tell him what route he ought to take.

Angela came in and drew back the heavy brocade curtains and Damiano signalled to her to bring them breakfast in about a quarter of an hour. That would give him time, he was thinking, to have a quick shower and a shave, and in the meantime Sofia could sleep a little longer. But, as Angela left the room and he was about to slip from the bed, with a soft sigh Sofia rolled over and woke up.

The grey-blue eyes blinked open. ‘Good morning,’ she said.

‘Good morning.’

He bent and kissed the warm, sleepy face, and as he did so she smiled and slipped her arms round his neck, dislodging the sheet, exposing her naked breasts. Damiano glanced down at them. Her breasts were beautiful. Full and firm, with pert pink nipples. He felt a hardening of desire and wished he hadn’t ordered breakfast.

‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Like a log,’ he told her as he bent to kiss each rosy nipple in turn, loving the way they instantly lengthened against his lips. He glanced up at her, strumming one erect nipple with his tongue. ‘How about you? Did you sleep like a log too?’

‘How can I remember how I slept if you do that?’ Sofia laughed, arching her back, holding him against her. ‘I can’t even remember my name when you do that.’

Damiano raised his head to hers and kissed her on the lips, catching her breasts in his palm now, rubbing the hard peaks with his thumbs.

‘I’d love nothing better than to make you forget a great deal more... But I’m afraid I’ve got bad news,’ he told her. ‘In about ten minutes or so Angela will be here with our breakfasts.’

Sofia gave a disappointed moan. ‘Can’t we lock the door or something? Can’t we just ask her to leave it outside?’

‘I wish we could...’

She smelt and tasted delicious. As he held her and kissed her, the thought of tearing himself away from her was suddenly too wretched even to contemplate. He pulled away the sheet, exposing her warm nakedness, and felt a sharp thrust of desire as she sighed and moved towards him, entwining her long, slender legs around his waist. And in that moment he knew there was absolutely no fighting it. And, besides, it was amazing what you could do in ten minutes.

 

‘I have a suggestion to make,’ said Damiano, buttering another croissant.

It was about half an hour later and they were sitting together at the breakfast table, Sofia wearing an ankle-length peach silk robe and a smile of deepest satisfaction, Damiano, it must be said, looking pretty satisfied too, in a burgundy silk dressing gown, his hair wet from the shower.

‘Oh, and what might that. be, this suggestion of yours?’ Sofia looked at him, feeling flushed and relaxed and happy. This was a little like a dream, but not a sleeping dream, a wide-eyed waking one. It felt perfectly wonderful to be with him like this.

Damiano took a mouthful of his croissant. ‘Well,’ he put to her, ‘as you know, after London I have to go to Geneva for a week. And I was thinking that maybe you could join me?’

Sofia felt a sharp squeeze of pleasure. This was totally unexpected. ‘I like it,’ she beamed. ‘That sounds like an excellent idea!’

‘Good.’ He smiled back at her. ‘You can join me towards the end of the week. The first few days I’m going to be rather busy and it would be a waste of time for you to be there then. But the last couple of days I expect to be pretty free and I thought it would be a good idea if we could have a bit of a holiday together.’

‘Lovely!’ Sofia was almost blushing with pleasure. Things really were taking on a whole new complexion! Maybe she hadn’t been so mad to hope after all!

‘And I’ll be able to fit it in with no trouble,’ she told him. ‘I’m pretty sure I don’t have anything on that can’t easily be postponed.’

‘Perfect. Then we’ll fix it.’ Damiano drank some coffee. ‘You can go back home for a few days then fly out and join me. That way you can spend a few days with Alessandro. I’m sure the poor little chap must be missing you.’

Sofia pulled a contrite face. ‘And I’m missing him—even though I speak to him on the phone every day.’

‘I miss him too.’ The dark eyes were gentle. ‘In fact, I thought of suggesting you bring him with you to Switzerland. But we can have a family holiday later, in the summer. Right now—’ He reached across and took hold of her hand. ‘Right now, I think it’s important that we spend some time alone together. Just the two of us. Wouldn’t you agree?’

Sofia nodded, trying to control the frantic galloping of her heart. And as he reached across and kissed her softly on the lips her heart was soaring out of her chest, glowing with a fiery, bright new optimism.

Time alone together. A family holiday. A husband who wanted her, who was acting all warm and tender. Once, these had been mere dreams. And not even dreams. Just crazy fantasies. Yet now, like bright jewels, they were being spread out before her and it seemed that all she had to do was reach out and take them.

She held her breath for a moment, almost afraid of the joy that filled her. And with every ounce of her being she prayed, Please make this last.

 

That last day in London was a wonderfully happy one. Windsor Castle was beautiful, the Kensington Palace lunch a delight, and their thank-you dinner at the embassy in the evening turned out to be an enormous triumph. Afterwards, as from her bedroom window she gazed out over the ancient city, Sofia knew that London would always be dear to her. It had restored to her her husband. She would always be grateful for that.

As they made love that night, Sofia clung to Damiano. ‘I’m so happy,’ she told him. ‘I’ve never been so happy.’

Damiano kissed her. ‘I’m happy too. And I’m sure there’s a lot more happiness in store for us.’ And he hugged her and held her close for a moment. ‘I’m learning that you really are an exceptionally special girl.’

Sofia knew she was going to miss him during their few days’ separation, and she felt regret too that their closeness was about to be interrupted. For it was still so new, it still needed building on, and the only way to do that was for them to be together. But those few days would soon pass, and in the meantime she’d be with Alessandro, whom she really had missed quite dreadfully at times. And then, wonder of wonders, she’d have Damiano all to herself for a few days!

She thrilled at the thought. That really would be a dream come true!

So she was feeling composed and confident when they flew out of Heathrow next morning on the flight that was to take her back to San Rinaldo via Geneva, where Damiano and his entourage would disembark. And as she kissed him goodbye she felt a little sad, but essentially happy. And she smiled as he told her, ‘I’ll see you very soon. And in the meantime I’ll phone to sort out exactly when you’ll be arriving.’

‘Have a nice time. Don’t work too hard.’ Her heart was warm with love as she looked at him. Then she added, kissing him, ‘I’m going to miss you:

‘Me too.’ He kissed her back. ‘Give my love to Alessandro.’ Then he was heading off down the aisle and hurrying down the steps to the tarmac.

Really, Sofia had had no intention of reading a newspaper on the short hop back to San Rinaldo. The only thing she’d planned on doing was just sitting there happily reminiscing about their. three wonderful days in London. But one of the catering staff had brought aboard a newspaper at Geneva, then left it on the table near where Sofia was sitting, and, as these things happen, it suddenly caught Sofia’s eye and she reached across and picked it up.

. It was that morning’s edition of a local newspaper. Idly, Sofia was about to start flicking through it. But she paused with a frown as something on the front page caught her eye, and it was at that moment, just as the plane started to climb up into the sky again, that she felt as though the heavens had come crashing down on her head.

For there on the front page was a photograph of Lady Fiona, taken on her arrival at Geneva airport last night, plus a couple of lines explaining that the glamorous San Rinaldan was planning to spend a few days in the city with ‘friends’.

Friends. Sofia stared blindly at the printed words for a moment, feeling rage and pain rise up inside her in an uncontrollable hot, physical shaft. And as her fingers turned to dust the newspaper fell to the floor.

So this was why Damiano hadn’t wanted her to join him for the first few days of his Geneva visit. As he had said, he would be too busy. Though not too busy with work. What he would be too busy with was his favourite leisure-time activity. Fiona.

Sofia breathed deeply, struggling to control herself. So this was how it was going to be? Instead of being cast aside totally, as she had been for the past five months, she was now to be fitted in around the time he spent with Lady Fiona. In reality, he was still no more hers than he had ever been. He was simply offering her a slightly more generous slice of his time.

Well, maybe that was his plan, but it simply wasn’t on. Her brain whirring, she sat, white-faced, for the rest of the flight, staring unseeingly out of the window. He had deceived her. He had made a fool of her with his feigned tenderness and warmth. It had meant nothing. He had simply been amusing himself.

And his lovemaking? Well, that had had one scope only. To impregnate her and create a brother or sister for Alessandro. It was unspeakable and she would not be treated in this cold, cynical fashion. It was humiliating. It was insulting. And it hurt her more than she could bear.

I’ve been a fool, she told herself. I simply believed what I wanted to believe. And to think I was even mad enough to hope that something special was happening. Why, that’s funny. The joke of the decade!

But somehow she couldn’t quite manage to summon up a laugh as a tear brimmed over her lashes and splashed onto her cheek.

‘It’s His Grace the Duke, Your Grace. He wishes to speak to you.’

It was the following evening and Sofia was in her private sitting room, having just been upstairs to bid Alessandro goodnight. When the phone had rung she’d hesitated a moment before answering it, guessing that it would probably be Damiano. For over the past hour or so her private number had rung several times and she had just let it ring, dreading having to speak to him. Though she had known that, eventually, he would simply try to reach her through the palace number, which quite clearly was exactly what he had now done.

As she continued to hesitate, the voice on the palace exchange spoke again. ‘Shall I put him through, Your Grace?’ the voice wanted to know.

Sofia was tempted to say no. To instruct the voice to tell him she wasn’t available. But that would achieve nothing, for he would only keep on ringing, and anyway it would be a cowardly move on her part.

She straightened her shoulders and gripped the phone a little more tightly. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Put him through.’

‘Sofia, how are you? I’ve been trying to get you for an hour. I thought I was going to have to give up. I’ve got a dinner in twenty minutes.’

At the sound of his voice Sofia felt her heart crack inside her. Her throat filled with choking tears. Suddenly she could not speak.

‘Sofia? Are you still there? Say something, my love.’

‘My love’. That was too cruel. Who did he think he was speaking to? Fiona?

Sofia took a deep breath and pulled herself together. ‘Yes, I’m still here.’ Her tone was pleasingly cool. ‘I’m here,’ she said again. ‘What did you want?’

There was a surprised pause at the other end. ‘What do I want?’ he repeated. For her tone hadn’t been so much cool as downright icy. There was another thoughtful pause, then he demanded, ‘Are you all right?’

Sofia wanted to say no, to pour out her anger and her misery. But she stopped herself. What did he care that her heart was in pieces? Not one jot, and if she accused him he would simply bring a pack of lies to his defence.

So she said, still in that icy tone, ‘I’m perfectly fine, thanks. I’m just curious, that’s all, about why you’re calling.’

‘Surely you know why I’m calling?’ And now a touch of ice had crept into Damiano’s tone too. ‘I’m calling about the arrangements for you coming over to Geneva. I’ve fixed for you to—’

But Sofia didn’t allow him to finish. ‘Don’t bother fixing anything. I won’t be coming,’ she told him.

‘Won’t be coming? Would you mind explaining why?’

‘Surely I don’t really need to?’ Sofia’s mouth had gone quite dry and she could barely hear what she was saying for the roaring in her head. ‘If you think about it for a couple of seconds, I’m sure you can work it out for yourself.’

There was a short pause during which Sofia sensed he was about to say something. But then he seemed to change his mind and sighed impatiently instead. ‘I see.’ His tone was hard. ‘In that case,’ he continued, ‘since you refuse to explain your reasons for changing your mind, I see no point in pursuing this conversation.’

And, before she could say a thing, there was a click and the line went dead.

For a long moment after he laid the phone down, . Damiano stood and stared at it. She was right—he could guess what had brought about her change of mind, what had caused all her previous warmth towards him to ice over. For he had seen the paper too, the one with the picture of Fiona—had cursed when he had seen it and prayed that Sofia had not.

Angrily, he turned away now. Of course, he could have played along with her, offered her excuses and explanations, and, just for a moment, he’d been tempted to do so. But what was the point? They’d been through all that a hundred times. And she would never understand or accept what he told her. There was just no point in insisting any more.

He glanced at his watch as there was a tap on the door and a voice called out, ‘Your car’s ready, Your Grace.’ He really didn’t have time to dwell on these problems now. He’d only end up making himself late for dinner.

‘I’m coming!’ he called back. ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’

He crossed to the dressing table where his jacket hung from the back of a chair, slipped it on and checked his tie in the mirror. He frowned at his reflection. There’s no point in dwelling on our problems anyway, he told himself. For when it boils down to it there’s not really a great deal to dwell on. I believed that she’d changed, grown up, but clearly she hasn’t. I thought we could work something out, but that was a foolish mistake on my part. There just isn’t anything there to build on.

Impatiently, he turned away. It was a pity, but there it was. Unfortunately, one couldn’t always have what one wanted. But that was life, as they say. He headed on firm strides for the door. And he certainly didn’t intend to let it spoil his evening.

Sofia’s reaction to this sad development was considerably less sanguine. All hope was gone now. That night she cried herself to sleep.

As well as wretched, however, she was also deeply furious. For he had duped her. He had strung her along like an idiot. She’d been so happy in London, poor fool that she was. She’d even told him so, no doubt much to his cynical amusement. And she hated him for that. He was a cruel, heartless pig. And she would never forgive him as long as she lived.

Damiano’s week in Geneva passed too quickly, for Sofia would have preferred it if he’d stayed away for ever. She didn’t care what he was up to. She didn’t give a damn about Fiona. She just didn’t want to be obliged to look into his hateful face again.

But suddenly he was back. She arrived at her office one morning to be given a message from him by her secretary—a message that had come via Damiano’s secretary, for they were back to the old impersonal mode of communication again.

‘His Grace wishes to remind you about the reception this evening.’ Nina cleared her throat and added a little awkwardly, ‘I checked in your diary, Your Grace, and I see it’s been crossed out.’

Too right it had! And so had all the other joint appointments that had. been arranged as part of Project Fake Reconciliation! There was no way Sofia intended continuing that sham now, not after the cruel personal sham he’d inflicted on her! She had hoped he’d have the decency to assume that without being told, but she might have known that that was to overestimate the degree of decency he was capable of.

She frowned at Nina now. ‘Did you tell his specretary it had been cancelled?’ When the girl shook her head, she instructed, ‘Well, phone back and tell her now. Tell her there’s no way I’ll be attending that reception with the Duke.’

Nina did as she was told while Sofia sat at her desk and watched her.

‘What did she say?’ Sofia asked when Nina laid the phone down again.

‘She simply said she would pass on the message.’

Sofia smiled to herself. ‘Good.’ That ought to be the end of that.

Not so. Five minutes later the phone rang again and Sofia felt the smile inside her wilt. It just had to be Damiano’s secretary and from the grim look on Nina’s face it wasn’t hard to deduce that the news was far from good.

As Nina put the phone down at last, she enquired anxiously, ‘Well?’

‘That was the Duke’s secretary. She said she passed on your message, but that she very much regrets that His Grace is insisting that you must attend this evening’s reception with him.’ Then, as Sofia was about to demand that she phone back yet again, she added, lowering her eyes, clearly embarrassed, ‘Apparently, he said to remind you that you won’t see Alessandro if you don’t.’

Sofia felt herself blanch and her blood turn to ice. ‘He said that?’ A wave of fearful nausea swept through her. She hadn’t forgotten that threat exactly, but she had assumed that his sense of guilt at the way he had treated her would rule out any chance of his renewing it. But that had been foolish indeed. Guilt was not an emotion Damiano suffered from. In his own eyes he was justified in everything he did. He was the Duke. The all-powerful. No one else mattered, and especially not her.

Nina was looking at her, her eyes concerned. ‘Do you want me to call back?’

Sofia shook her head. ‘No, thanks.’ She glanced away. ‘Let’s just leave it like that for the moment.’

But only for the moment, she was thinking as she said it. For a rash and desperate plan was taking shape in her head.

Sofia managed to get through the rest of the morning with at least an outward semblance of normality. To all appearances she seemed perfectly calm and untroubled, but in fact her brain was switched into overdrive. She had decided what she must do now, even though it scared her half to death. But if her plan was to work she must prepare the ground with great care.

Fortunately, she had no outside appointments that day, just a couple of brief meetings in her office in the morning and a pile of papers and letters to get through in the afternoon. That made it easier, she realised gratefully, hoping this meant that fate was on her side. At least she wouldn’t have to go cancelling things and making people suspicious.

Towards lunchtime she sent Nina off on a little errand, just to get her out of the office for half an hour. Then, steeling her nerves, she picked up the phone and punched in the number of Damiano’s office.

His secretary answered. ‘I’d like to speak to the Duke,’ Sofia told her. ‘This is the Duchess speaking.’

To her relief, for it was what she’d been praying to hear, the girl told her, ‘The Duke’s gone out, I’m afraid. Would you like to leave a message, Your Grace?’

‘Oh, dear.’ Sofia feigned regret. ‘I was hoping to see him this afternoon. Do you think that might be possible? Are there any gaps you could fit me into?’

The girl answered at once. ‘Not today, ma’am; I’m sorry. The Duke will be out on engagements all afternoon. I don’t expect him back before early evening. Perhaps I could fix something for you tomorrow, if that would be convenient?’

‘No, never mind. I’ll see him at the reception this evening. Thanks anyway.’ And Sofia laid the phone down with a smile.

Perfect, she was thinking. For an appointment to see him was actually the very last thing she’d been wanting. What she’d been after was information about his movements. And what she’d learned was precisely what she’d been hoping. He was to be out all day, so it was safe for her to go ahead with her plan.

What Sofia usually did at lunchtime, if she didn’t have a special lunch planned or if she wasn’t so busy that she simply grabbed a snack at her desk, was have a tray sent up to her private sitting room. She arranged for that now, then called Alice, Alessandro’s nanny, and told her, ‘I’d like Alessandro to join me for lunch today. Bring him along to my rooms about one o’clock.’

It was a request that she knew would raise no surprised eyebrows, for frequently, when she had the time, she would have lunch with her little son. As she put the phone down, she dared to congratulate herself. Everything was falling neatly into place.

Alice arrived with the little boy, dressed for outdoors, for they had been outside in the garden playing, just as one of the staff arrived with their lunch—spaghetti—Alessandro’s favourite—and a delicious-looking chocolate pudding.

‘When shall I come back and collect him?’ Alice wanted to know, and Sofia felt a dart of sudden panic touch her heart.

But she hid it and told the girl, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll bring him back. And we may be a little later than usual. I’ve got an extra bit of free time today.’

And she congratulated herself again. She was handling this beautifully, laying the ground to ensure that her plan worked without a hitch.

All the same, she could feel herself growing more and more nervous as the time approached to make her move and she barely ate more than a couple of forkfuls of spaghetti and didn’t even bother to try and force down the chocolate pudding, though she was pleased to see that Alessandro seemed quite oblivious of her mounting tension and gobbled down his own lunch with his usual gusto.

Usually when they had lunch together she would play with him for a while afterwards before he went off to have his siesta. And that was what she did now, taking a pile of games from the toy cupboard. It was better that he stay awake. There’d be plenty of time for him to sleep later.

For in about an hour, while the rest of the palace was sleeping—it was common practice to take a short siesta after lunch—she would gather up her son and make her escape. And long before Damiano got to hear of her disappearance she would be safe in her parents’ castle, just an hour’s drive from Rino. A tense excitement filled her. She would teach Damiano a lesson. He couldn’t bully her and he would never separate her from Alessandro!

Just after two-thirty she dressed him in his anorak and shoes again—what a stroke of luck that he’d had his outdoor clothes with him!—then she pulled on a pair of ankle boots and a plaid wool jacket and gathered the child up into her arms.

‘OK, let’s go,’ she told him, her heart in her mouth. ‘Let’s go and pay Grandma and Grandpa a visit.’

A moment later they were heading along the corridor and down the stairs, Sofia hurrying as though the hounds of hell were after her—which was precisely the way she was feeling!

Her car was parked in a courtyard at the back of the palace and as she stepped outside her heart was beating like a tom-tom. She was nearly there. Only a few more steps to go and then she would be on her way and nothing would be able to stop her.

The courtyard was deserted. Sofia reached in her bag for her keys, found them, and pulled the rear passenger door open. ‘Let’s just strap you in the back now,’ she told Alessandro, stooping to place him carefully in the child seat. But it was at that precise moment that a voice behind her spoke.

‘Give the child to me,’ it said. ‘Alessandro’s going nowhere.’ And before she could do a thing her son was being snatched from her grasp.

A cloud of blackness seemed to descend on her. Stiffly, Sofia turned to face him. ‘Damiano!’ she breathed in horror, her cheeks parchment-pale.

What she saw as she looked at him was a mask of barely controlled fury. The black eyes blazed at her as though he might tear her to pieces. ‘Where were you planning to take him?’ he demanded.

‘To my parents’.’ Her lips were bloodless. She could scarcely force the words out. Then something cracked inside her. ’Damn you! How did you know? And what right have you to stop me taking my son to visit his grandparents?’

Damiano’s eyes slashed through her. ‘I have every right,’ he told her coldly, ‘to stop my son from being abducted. For that’s what you were doing. Don’t try to tell me otherwise.’ Then he glanced at Alessandro, his expression instantly softening. ‘Don’t worry,’ he told him, ‘we’ll visit Grandma and Grandpa some other time.’

Sofia watched, her soul in shreds, though she was pleased at least to see that Alessandro was smiling happily, totally unaware of the drama surrounding him. God, how I hate that man, she thought. And at that moment she truly did.

He did nothing to alter this sentiment as he glanced back at her. ‘I would advise you to get into your car and drive to your parents’ as you were planning. Even if you stay here you won’t be seeing your son for a while and I really think it would be wise for you to stay safely out of my reach.’ As he looked at her, his eyes were a glittering black warning.

Sofia wanted to protest, but the hate in his eyes silenced her. Scarcely knowing what she was doing, she slammed the passenger door shut and climbed in behind the wheel, feeling sick to her soul. And as she struck the key in the ignition with stiff, cold fingers she turned, fighting back the tears, to wave Alessandro goodbye.

But she was too late. Damiano had already carried him inside.