THE whole villa seemed hushed, its only sound his footsteps as he strode swiftly with her along the shadowed corridor to his bedroom.
Alessio kicked the door shut behind him, then crossed the vast room, putting Laura down on the canopied bed. For a long moment he looked down at her, then he bent and quite deliberately took the neckline of her dress in both hands, tearing the thin cotton apart like paper.
She gasped, her eyes dilating in sudden uncertainty, and saw his swift, crooked smile.
He said softly, ‘Do not be frightened, carissima. I have wanted for so long to do that, but now I will be gentle, I promise.’
He released her from the tangle of fabric, tossing it to the floor behind him, before stripping off his own clothing with unhurried purpose. Then, at last, he lay down beside her, framing her face in his hands as he kissed the lingering doubt from her wide startled eyes, then moved down to her mouth, his lips moving almost languorously on hers until he felt the tension leave her, and her slender body relax trustingly into his arms.
He let the kiss deepen, opening her mouth so that his tongue could seek the moist heat of hers, while his fingertips stroked her face and throat, and the vulnerable angles of her slender shoulders, his touch light and almost undemanding. Almost—but not quite.
He felt the growing tumult of her breathing as he began gently to caress her small, eager breasts.
Her rosy nipples were already hard with desire when he freed them from their lace cups, and bent to adore them with his lips and tongue. She gave a tiny whimper, her head moving restlessly from side to side, colour flaring along her cheekbones.
Her shaking hands went to his body, seeking his hardness, driven by the harsh flowering of her own need, but Alessio stopped her, clasping her fingers, and raising them swiftly to his lips.
‘Not yet, my sweet one,’ he whispered. ‘It is too soon for us to enjoy each other as lovers should. This time, mia cara, these first moments must be for you alone.’
His hands traced a slow golden path down her body, brushing away her last covering as if it had been a cobweb. And where his hands touched, his lips followed, warm and beguiling. Luring her on.
Telling her—promising her that, this time, there would be no turning back. That the passionate covenant of his nakedness against hers would be fulfilled.
Laura’s breathing rasped fiercely in her throat as her aroused senses responded with renewed delight to his caresses, to the physical fact of his nearness, and the warmth of his bare skin brushing hers.
His mouth returned to her breasts, suckling them tenderly as his hand slid between her thighs. She gasped a little in mingled excitement and apprehension, remembering that first time, but discovered at once there was to be nothing painful or threatening in this delicate exploration of her most intimate self.
She found herself sinking into a state of almost languid relaxation, aware of nothing but his fingertips moving on her softly and rhythmically at first, then increasing the pressure into a pattern of deliciously intense sensations. His thumb was stroking her tiny silken mound, coaxing it to heated tumescence, while, at the same time, the long, skilful fingers eased their way slowly into her moist inner heat, forcing the breath from her lungs in a sigh of totally voluptuous pleasure.
His lips moved back to hers, kissing her unhurriedly, his tongue stroking hers, thrusting softly into her mouth, mirroring the frankly sensual play of his hands.
Her earlier languor had fled. There were small flames dancing now behind her tightly closed eyelids. She could not hear, or make a sound, her whole being concentrated on this relentless, exquisite build of pleasure that he was creating for her.
Her body was writhing against his touch, begging mutely for some surcease from this incredible, unbearable spiral of delight that had become almost an agony.
She heard a voice she barely recognised as hers crying out hoarsely as he brought her at last to the peak of consummation, and held her there for an endless moment, before releasing her, and allowing the first uncontrollable spasms of rapture to shudder fiercely through her body, devastating her innocence for ever as she confronted, for the first time, her own sexuality, and his power to arouse it.
And as the first harsh glory of her climax softened into quiet ripples of satiation, there were tears on her face.
Alessio kissed the salt drops away, holding her close, soothing her, murmuring endearments in his own language.
At last she murmured huskily, ‘You should have warned me.’
‘Warned you of what, carissima?’
‘How you were going to make me feel.’
She felt him quiver with laughter. ‘You do not think, mia bella, that might have sounded both conceited and presumptuous?’
She buried her own smile in his shoulder. ‘Well—maybe—a little.’ She hesitated. ‘But I don’t expect you’ve had many failures,’ she added with a touch of wistfulness.
There was a silence, then he said gently, ‘Shall we agree, mi amore, to allow the past to remain where it belongs?’ He paused, altering his position slightly but significantly, making her gasp soundlessly. ‘The immediate future should concern us more.’ He slid his hands under her, lifting her slightly towards him. ‘Or I think so—don’t you?’
His dark eyes were questioning, his faint smile almost quizzical as he looked down at her, and she felt the hardness of him between her thighs, pressing at the entrance to her newly receptive body.
Laura was suddenly aware of a pang of physical desire so strong—so incredible—that she nearly cried out. Suddenly, she knew that she could not allow herself time to think—to become afraid. To doubt her own capacity to absorb all that male size and strength, and return the pleasure he’d gifted to her only moments before.
Instead, she found herself reaching for him, forgetting her instinctive shyness as she caressed the powerfully rigid shaft with fingers that shook a little, making him groan softly, pleadingly. And then, with a total certainty she barely understood, guiding him into her. Surging almost wildly against the initial restraint of his first thrust to welcome him deeply—endlessly. To defy once and for always any discomfort that might still linger for her in this complete union of their bodies.
But this time there was no pain, only the heated, silken glide of him possessing her—filling her completely over and over again.
Making her realise, with shock, as she clung to his sweat-dampened shoulders, her slim hips echoing his own driving rhythm, that her body had not yet finished with its delight.
That his urgency had captured her too, lifting her, all unaware, to some other unguessed-at plane with heart-stopping speed, showing her that the pinnacle of rapture was there, waiting for her if only—if only she could reach…
Then the last remnants of reality splintered, leaving nothing but the primitive agony of pure sensation. And as she moaned aloud in the final extremity she heard Alessio’s voice, hoarse and shaken, saying her name as his sated body crumpled against hers in sheer exhaustion.
The warm scented water was like balm on her sensitised skin, at the same time soothing the frank, unexpected ache of her muscles. Laura lay in Alessio’s arms in the deep sunken bath, her head pillowed dreamily on his shoulder as his lips caressed the damp silk of her hair.
There was no point, she thought, in trying to rationalise what had just happened between them. It defied reason or coherent thought. It just—was.
And now nothing would ever be the same again. Or, at least, not for her.
For him, she thought with sudden unhappiness, it was probably just routine. Another eager girl to be taught the art of sexual fulfilment by a man who was undoubtedly ardent and generous—but also diabolically experienced.
He said, ‘Where have you gone?’
She glanced up at him, startled. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she parried.
‘A moment ago you were here with me, and happy. But no longer. So what happened?’
‘I’m fine.’ She sent him a deliberately provocative look under her lashes. ‘Perhaps you’re better at reading bodies than minds, signore.’
But his glance was thoughtful rather than amused. ‘And perhaps you do not always tell the whole truth, signorina.’
She turned, pressing her lips passionately against the smooth skin of his shoulder. ‘Alessio, I am happy. I swear it. I—I never dreamed I could feel like this. Maybe I’m a little—overwhelmed.’
‘And maybe you also need food.’ He was smiling now as he reached forward to drain the water. ‘I think we must forget dinner, mia bella, but maybe I can coax Emilia to provide us with a little supper, hmm?’
‘Oh, God.’ Laura groaned as he helped her out of the bath. ‘What is she going to think?’
He grinned. ‘That we have the rest of the night to enjoy, carissima, and need all our strength. She will feed us well.’
And so she did, although, to Laura’s relief, Emilia allowed Alessio, who had gone on his quest wearing only a pair of jeans, to bring the basket of food from the kitchen himself.
Laura, having ruefully examined the ruin of her dress, had put on his discarded shirt. Now she pirouetted self-consciously for his inspection.
‘What do you think?’
The dark eyes glinted. ‘I think perhaps supper can wait.’
She laughed, and skipped out of range. ‘But I’m starving, signore. You wouldn’t want me to faint.’
He slanted a wicked grin at her. ‘Well, not through hunger, certainly.’
The basket contained cold chicken, cheese, red wine and warm olive bread, which they ate and drank outside in the courtyard, while the goddess Diana stared over their heads with her cold, remote smile.
Laura said, ‘I don’t think she approves of us.’
‘According to the old stories, she approved of very little,’ Alessio said lazily as he refilled her glass. ‘My grandfather originally commissioned the statue, but I think he was disappointed in the result, and I know my parents were planning to have it replaced at some point.’
‘Yet they didn’t?’
He was silent for a moment. ‘They did not have time,’ he said eventually, his voice expressionless. ‘My mother was killed on the autostrada when I was sixteen. A lorry driver fell asleep at the wheel, and his vehicle crashed through the barrier. And my father never recovered from her death. Within the year, he had suffered a fatal heart attack, which his doctors always believed was triggered by his grief.’
‘Oh, God.’ Laura sat up, staring at him, shocked. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything…’
He touched her cheek gently. ‘Carissima, I have not been sixteen for a very long time. And I was looked after with infinite kindness by my godfather, the Marchese D’Agnaccio, and his wonderful wife, Arianna, so I was not left to mourn as a lonely orphan.’
Oh, but I think you were, she told him silently. However well you were looked after. And I think, too, that this explains some of the contradictions I sense in you. The way you seem to retreat to some remote fastness where no one can reach you. The emotional equivalent, perhaps, of this house.
He said, ‘You have left me again.’
She bent her head. ‘I was thinking of my own father. He died of a heart attack too. He’d liquidised all his assets, remortgaged the house to start up an engineering business with an old friend. He came back from a business trip with a full order book to find the place empty, and his partner gone, taking all the money with him. He must have been planning it for ages, because he’d covered his tracks completely. We were going to lose everything, and Dad collapsed on his way to the creditors’ meeting.’
Alessio drew her into his arms, and sat with her, his lips resting gently against her hair.
After a while, he said, ‘Would you like to sleep a little, mia cara?’
She found her eyes suddenly blurred. ‘Yes,’ she whispered shakily. ‘Yes, Alessio, please. That would be good.’
He took her hand and led her back to the shadowed bedroom. Gently he unbuttoned the shirt, and slipped it from her shoulders, then put her into the bed and drew the sheet over her.
As he came to lie beside her Laura turned into his arms, and heard his voice murmuring to her softly, soothingly, in his own language until drowsiness prevailed, and she drifted away into oblivion.
It was very dark—some time in the small hours—when she awoke to his mouth moving gently, persuasively on hers, calling her senses back to life, and her body to renewed desire.
She yielded, sighing in sensuous acceptance as she fitted herself to him, waiting—eager once more to be overwhelmed—to be carried away on the force of his passion.
But he was, she soon discovered, in no hurry to enter her. No hurry at all.
Instead, she found herself shivering—burning in response as his fingertips stroked and tantalised every warm inch of her, awakening needs that, yesterday, she had not known existed.
His lips caressed her breasts, tugging gently on the hardening nipples until she moaned faintly, then kissed their way down her body, until he reached the joining of her thighs to demand a different kind of surrender.
She was beyond protest, unable to resist him as his mouth claimed her, and she experienced the intimate sorcery of his tongue working its dark magic upon her.
The breath sobbed in her throat as her body writhed helplessly beneath him, torn between shame and exaltation.
He was smiling against her skin, saying that she must speak—must tell him what she liked—what she wanted him to do to her. And was it this? And this? And—most of all—this? And as she was swept away into the maelstrom of anguished pleasure he had unleashed for her she heard her own drowning voice whispering an endless, ‘Yes.’
It was almost dawn before they’d finally fallen asleep in each other’s arms, and the next time Laura opened her eyes it was full morning, and sunlight was pouring through the slats of the shutters. For a moment, she lay still, savouring her memories, then she turned her head to look at the sleeping man beside her. Only the bed was empty.
She sat up bewilderedly in time to see Alessio emerge from the bathroom, pushing a white shirt into the waistband of his jeans.
She said, ‘You’re dressed,’ and was ashamed of the open disappointment in her voice.
He was laughing as he knelt on the bed beside her, and kissed her mouth. ‘I have to wear clothes sometimes, carissima. People expect it. Besides, I must go out. It seems that Fredo has recovered consciousness, and is asking for me.’
She stretched delicately, watching the sudden flare in the dark eyes as the sheet slipped down from her body. ‘Shall I come with you?’
He glanced swiftly, regretfully at his watch. ‘Next time, carissima. Now I really must go.’ His hand tangled in her hair, drawing her head back for another kiss, longer, slower, deeper than the last, and she slid her arm round his neck, holding him to her.
‘Stay here, and get some rest,’ he told her softly, detaching himself with open reluctance. ‘Because you will need it when I return.’ He paused. ‘I shall tell the servants you are not to be disturbed.’
Laura groaned. ‘I don’t think I shall ever be able to face them again.’
He grinned at her. ‘Ah, but you will, Madonna. Now go back to sleep and dream about me, and I will return very soon.’ At the door he turned. ‘And then we must talk.’ He blew her another kiss, and was gone.
She lay quietly for a while. She had never thought much about her body, except as something to be fed and clothed. Had found the physical facts of passion and consummation faintly ludicrous, and the prospect of actually finding herself in bed with a man—submitting to him—as both awkward and embarrassing.
And she’d never imagined herself as anyone’s sex object either. She’d always supposed she was too thin, and her breasts were too small, to make her the focus of a man’s desire.
And yet in one terrifying, rapturous night all her ideas had been overturned, and her principles swept aside.
She belonged body and soul to Alessio Ramontella. And every nerve ending she possessed, each muscle, and inch of skin, was providing her with a potent reminder of his total mastery. And of how much he had, indeed, desired her.
She realised she was blushing and pushed the sheet away, swinging her legs to the floor. Too late for blushes now—or even to remember her own careful taboos about casual sex. Although those hours of lovemaking could hardly be described as casual.
And, she thought, she didn’t regret a thing. How could she?
She quickly straightened the bed, plumping the crumpled pillows and smoothing the covers flat, then wandered into the bathroom to take a long, luxurious shower. As she soaped herself she recalled other hands touching her, sometimes tantalising, sometimes almost reverent, and felt her heartbeat quicken uncontrollably.
I want him here, she thought, pressing a clenched fist against the tiled wall. I want him now.
As she emerged from the shower and reached for a towel she glimpsed herself in one of the many mirrors and paused, all her earlier doubts about her lack of glamour confirmed.
She turned away, sighing. She still had nothing to wear, and frankly she didn’t fancy traversing the house to collect a change of clothing from her room, so she borrowed Alessio’s black silk robe instead, rolling up the sleeves and tying the sash in a secure double bow round her slender waist.
The faint fragrance of the cologne he used still lingered in the fabric, she discovered with ridiculous pleasure as she stretched out on top of the bed to wait. She could almost pretend that he was here with her, his arms around her.
And the fantasy became even more real if she closed her eyes. She hadn’t meant to doze, but the room was warm, the bed soft, and the shower had relaxed her, so the temptation was irresistible.
As she pillowed her cheek on her hand she remembered how Alessio had kissed her awake only a few hours before, and exactly what it had led to. And she wriggled further into the mattress, smiling a little as her eyelids drooped.
It was the sound of the dog barking excitedly that woke her.
Laura propped herself up on an elbow, and stared around her, momentarily disorientated. Caio, she thought, trying to clear her head. Caio in the courtyard outside her room, wanting her to come out and join him. Except he wasn’t here—he was at Lake Trasimeno with the Signora. And—this wasn’t her room either. It belonged to Alessio.
Just, she thought slowly, just as she did herself.
And, with that nosedive into reality, she suddenly became aware of something else. The sound of women’s voices arguing, not far away. One of them was Emilia’s. But the other…
Oh, God, Laura thought, transfixed with horror. It’s the Signora. She’s back. I have to get out of here.
But she was too late. The door was flung wide, and the Signora came stalking into the room, brushing away the volubly protesting Emilia as if she were a troublesome insect.
‘So.’ She stared at Laura, still huddled on the bed, and her smile was gloating. ‘Just as I expected.’ She turned. ‘Paolo, my poor son, I grieve for you, but you must come and see this slut you brought here. This puttana you thought to honour with our name, and who has become yet another of your cousin’s whores.’
Paolo followed her into the room, his expression sullen and inimical. The look he sent Laura was enough to freeze the blood. ‘Fool,’ it said plainly.
‘Sì, Mammina,’ he said curtly. ‘You were right about her and I was wrong. She has totally betrayed me, and now I cannot bear the sight of her.’ He spat the words. ‘So, get rid of her. Make her go.’
I’m still asleep, thought Laura. And this is a nightmare. A bad one. He couldn’t still intend to keep up this ludicrous pretence, surely?
The situation was fast slipping out of control, and somehow she had to drag it back to reality. It was hard to be dignified when wearing nothing but a man’s robe, several sizes too large, but she had to try, she thought, scrambling off the bed and facing them both, her head held high.
She said coldly and clearly, ‘Paolo, I do not appreciate having my privacy invaded, or being insulted like this. So, please stop this nonsense, and tell your mother the truth.’
‘And what truth is that, pray?’ the Signora enquired.
Laura sent Paolo an equally fulminating glance. ‘That your son and I are not involved with each other—and never have been.’
‘And nor will we ever be,’ he flung back at her. ‘You faithless bitch. Do you think I would want my cousin’s leavings?’
Laura felt as if she’d been punched in the midriff. She said, ‘But that’s insane—and you know it.’
‘I know only that I want you thrown out of this house.’ He turned to his mother. ‘Arrange it, Mammina. I wish never to see her again.’
He stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him. Leaving Laura and the Signora looking at each other.
The older woman sent her a grim smile. ‘You hear my son. Pack your things, and go. As the matter is urgent, my car will take you to the airport at Rome.’
Laura swallowed. ‘This is not your house, signora. You do not give orders here. And I am going nowhere until Alessio returns.’
‘You are over-familiar, signorina.’ The Signora’s tone was ice. ‘Or do you imagine some sordid romp gives you the right—a nobody from nowhere—to refer to the Count Ramontella by his given name?’
She paused derisively. ‘You mentioned the truth just now. So, hear it. I arranged this little comedy, and I am now ending it. Because I have achieved what I set out to do. I have separated you from my son. With the assistance, of course, of my dear nephew.’
There was a silence, then Laura said slowly, ‘What—what are you talking about?’
‘I am talking about you—and your host.’ She snorted. ‘You think my nephew would have laid a finger on you of his own free will? No, and no. I simply made it necessary for him to—oblige me. And he has done so.’
Laura was very still. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
The Signora laughed. ‘But of course not. You did not know—how could you?—that my nephew has been conducting a disreputable affair with a married woman—the worthless wife, unfortunately, of an old friend’s son.’ She sighed. ‘So sad—and potentially so scandalous. But I agreed not to make this shameful episode public if Alessio would, in his turn, use his powers of seduction to win you away from my son.
‘At first, he was reluctant. You are not the type to whom he would naturally be drawn, and very much his social inferior. But he decided that his mistress’s dubious honour must be protected at all costs.’ She picked up Laura’s torn dress from the floor, and studied it. ‘And it seems that, in the end, he—warmed to his task.’
Her malicious smile raked like rusty nails over Laura’s quivering senses. ‘He promised me he would send you home with a beautiful memory, signorina. I gather that his ability to do so is almost legendary, so I hope he has kept his word.’
‘You mean I was—set up?’ Even to her own ears, Laura’s voice sounded husky—uncertain. ‘You’re lying.’
‘Ask him,’ said the Signora. ‘If you are still here when he returns.’ She gave a delicate yawn. ‘I advise you go quickly and spare him the obvious recriminations. They will do no good. Alessio is, and will always be, a law unto himself.
‘Besides,’ she added, shrugging, ‘it is clear he wishes to avoid a confrontation. As you see, when he learned I was returning, he immediately contrived to be absent. He may feel it is wiser to stay away until you have finally departed.’
‘He—knew?’ The words stuck in her throat.
‘But of course. I telephoned earlier.’ The older woman sounded mildly surprised. ‘I needed him to make sure you would be found in his bed. That was our agreement.’
She nodded. ‘Alessio has fulfilled his part of the bargain, and can now resume his liaison with that pretty idiot Vittoria Montecorvo in perfect safety, as long as he is discreet.’ She smiled again. ‘As you have found, signorina, he prefers fools. And variety.’
She added more brusquely, ‘Your services are no longer required, signorina. You have amused my nephew for a short time, but anything else is only in your imagination.’
Did I imagine it? Laura asked herself numbly. Did I imagine the murmurs and laughter? The peace and sense of belonging? Was it really—just sex all along?
The Signora turned and opened the door. ‘So, please go quietly without embarrassing scenes.’
Laura said quietly, ‘Do you really think I’d want to stay?’ She brushed past the older woman, and walked quickly away down the passage towards her room, stumbling a little on the hem of the robe.
In the courtyard, the goddess Diana still smiled with that chill serenity. But then, thought Laura as the first slash of pain cut into her, she was accustomed to having love torn to pieces in front of her. So this was the place where she truly belonged.
She ran the rest of the way, just making it into the bathroom before she was violently sick, retching into the toilet bowl until the muscles of her empty stomach were screaming at her, and the world was revolving dizzily round her aching head.
Eventually, she managed to drag herself back to her feet, to rinse her mouth and wash her face somehow. The light golden tan she’d acquired had turned sallow, she thought, wincing at her reflection, and her eyes looked like hollow pits.
While beating like a drum in her tired brain were the words, ‘I have to get out of here. I have to go. Before he comes back. I have to go.’
Alessio parked the Jeep in front of the villa and sprang out, humming to himself. He had assured himself that Fredo was going to make a full recovery, then made his excuses and left, intent on returning as fast as possible to his warm, beautiful girl.
He had felt totally relaxed and serene on the homeward journey, but his mind was clear and sharp as crystal, visualising the whole shape of his future life laid out in front of him like a golden map.
He strode into the house and went straight to his room, but it was empty. He shrugged off his faint disappointment that Laura was not there, waiting for him, and went in search of her.
As he walked through the hallway Caio advanced out of the salotto barking aggressively, halting Alessio in his stride. His brows snapped together as he realised with sharp dismay the implications of the dog’s presence, and, as if on cue, his aunt appeared in the doorway of the drawing room.
‘Caro,’ she purred. ‘I did not expect you back so soon.’
‘And I did not expect you at all, Zia Lucrezia.’ His tone was guarded. ‘The road has only just opened again.’
‘So Guillermo informed me when I telephoned. He seemed to feel I should not take the risk, but my driver is a good, safe man.’
She paused. ‘You will be pleased to hear that our little conspiracy was entirely successful. Paolo was cured of his foolish infatuation as soon as he saw the English girl sprawling half naked on your bed.’ She added brightly, ‘And soon, she will be on her way to the airport and out of our lives for ever. Bravo, nephew. You have done well.’
Alessio had a curious sensation that it was suddenly impossible to breathe.
He said hoarsely, ‘What have you done? What have you said to my Laura?’
She shrugged a shoulder. ‘I simply—enlightened her as to the real reason for her presence here—and for being honoured with your attentions. Did I do wrong?’ She smiled maliciously, adding, ‘She seemed to accept the situation quite well. No weeping or hysteria. I was—surprised.’
He said on a groan, ‘Santa madonna,’ and began to run.
Laura had taken out the clothes to wear to the airport, and put them on the bed. She went back into the bedroom to fetch her toothbrush and wash-bag, and when she emerged Alessio was standing there.
She recoiled instantly, with a little incoherent cry, and saw him flinch.
He said with shaken urgency, ‘Laura, carissima. You must let me talk to you. Explain.’
‘There’s really no need, signore.’ There was a terrible brightness in her voice. ‘Your aunt has already told me everything.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Not everything.’
‘Then at least all I needed to know,’ she flashed. ‘Which is—I got screwed. Several times and in several different senses of the word.’
His head went back. He said icily, ‘How dare you describe what happened between us in those terms?’
‘Too vulgar for you, my lord?’ She dropped a curtsy. ‘I do apologise. Blame my social inferiority.’
He drew a deep breath. ‘We shall get nowhere like this.’
‘I shall get somewhere,’ she said. ‘Rome airport, to be precise. After which I shall never have to see anyone from your lying, treacherous family again. And that includes you—you utter bastard.’
There was a tingling silence, then Alessio said quietly, ‘I do not blame you for being angry with me.’
‘Thanks for the gracious admission,’ she said. ‘And now perhaps you’ll go. I have to finish up here, and your aunt’s driver is waiting.’
He said curtly, ‘My aunt will need her driver herself. She and Paolo are leaving.’
She lifted her chin. ‘Your aunt didn’t mention it.’
‘She does not yet know. If you wish to go to the airport, I will drive you.’
‘No.’ She almost shouted the word. ‘No, you won’t, damn you. Can’t you understand? I wouldn’t go five yards with you. In fact, I don’t want to breathe the same air.’
He looked at her wearily. ‘Dio, Laura. You cannot believe what you are saying.’
‘Oh, but I do,’ she said. ‘And I also believe your aunt. Or are you going to deny that you had me brought here so that you could seduce me?’
He bent his head, wretchedly. ‘Mia cara, it may have begun like that, but—’
‘But that’s how it ended as well,’ she cut across him. ‘If memory serves. Now, will you please get out of this room?’
‘Not until we have talked. Until I can get you to understand…’
‘But I do. It’s all perfectly clear. You have a mistress who is married. Your aunt threatened to make the affair public. You took me to bed to keep her quiet.’ Her glance dropped scorn. ‘You really didn’t have to go to those lengths, signore. If you thought I was dating your loathsome cousin, then you only had to ask me to stop.’
‘Laura—listen to me. I—I wanted you.’
‘Please don’t expect me to be flattered. What was I—your practice round? Keeping you in shape for your married lady?’
‘Your memory does not serve you very well,’ he said. ‘You know it was not like that.’
‘My most recent recollection,’ she said, ‘is being found by that unholy pair in your bedroom, and having to listen to their insults. Because you set me up. Your aunt telephoned you and said she was on her way.’
‘I received no such call,’ he said. ‘And if I had, then you would have left with me.’ He paused. ‘If you still insist on going to Rome, then Guillermo will take you. But stay with me, bella mia, I beg you. Let me try and make amends.’
‘There is nothing you can say, or do.’ Her throat ached uncontrollably. ‘You tricked me, and I shall always hate you for it. I just want to leave—and never see you again.’
There was another dreadful silence, then he said, slowly and carefully, ‘Unfortunately, it may not be that simple for either of us. Last night, I failed to protect you as I should have done, a piece of criminal stupidity for which I must ask your forgiveness. However, it is a fact that you could be carrying my child.’
‘Well, don’t worry too much, signore.’ Her voice bit. ‘If I am, I’ll take appropriate action to deal with it—and it won’t cost you a red cent. So you can return to your mistress without a backward glance.’
‘Vittoria is not my mistress.’ His voice rose in exasperation. ‘She never was. It was wrong, and I admit that, but it was only a one-night stand—nothing more.’
‘And so was I,’ she hit back at him. ‘They seem to be your speciality, signore.’ She saw his head jerk back as if she had struck him, and took a steadying breath. ‘Now, if you have nothing more to say—no more lame and meaningless excuses—then, perhaps, you’ll finally get out of this room, and leave me alone.’
She could feel his anger like a force field, and braced herself for the explosion, but it did not come.
Instead, he looked her over. ‘There is one thing.’ His tone was almost conversational. ‘My robe. I would like it back, if you please.’
‘Of course. I’ll leave it—’
He held out a hand. ‘Now.’
There was a silence. At last she said quietly, ‘Please—don’t do this.’
His brows lifted. ‘What is your objection, signorina?’ His tone mocked her. ‘I am asking for nothing but the return of my property. Or do you wish me to take it from you?’
Her lips silently formed the word ‘no’. She undid the double bow, fumbling a little, then took off the robe, which she rolled into a ball and threw at him. It landed at his feet. She stood her ground, making no attempt to cover herself with her hands. Trying to tell herself that it did not matter. That he already knew everything there was to know about her.
And at the same time, desperately conscious that it mattered terribly. Because the lover who’d adored her the previous night was gone for ever, and in his place was a stranger who had no right to look at her.
But Alessio was not even glancing at her naked body. His impenetrable dark gaze was fixed on her eyes—on the anger and fierce contempt in their stormy depths.
He said softly, ‘You know, do you not, that I would only have to touch you?’
Yes, she knew, and the shame of it was like an open wound in her flesh. Somehow, she had to retrieve the situation. Somehow…
She said in savage mimicry of his intonation, ‘And you know, do you not, that I would rather die?’ She paused. ‘So will you please get out of my life? Now.’
‘Naturalmente. And I will give Guillermo his instructions.’ He gave a curt inclination of the head. ‘Addio, signorina. I wish you—happiness.’
Then he was gone, closing the door behind him, leaving the discarded robe still lying on the floor.
Laura reached down, and picked up the mass of crumpled silk, carrying it to her face and holding it there. Breathing the scent of his skin for the last time.
‘It’s over,’ she whispered. ‘Over. He’s gone. And I shall never see him again.’