Tempted by Desire

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘Oh, but he isn’t!’ burst out Suzanne, still aware of the approaching Celeste. David Brewster looked at her enquiringly. ‘The Conte isn’t a friend of mine,’ she explained hastily. ‘Personal or otherwise.’ Really! What on earth had the Conte been saying to these people to give them that impression?

  ‘But the Conte expressed most definitely—’

  ‘Suzanne,’ purred Celeste, threading her arm through Suzanne’s in a friendly gesture that she knew was totally false. ‘Are you bothering Mr Brewster, darling?’

  ‘Certainly not, Mrs Hammond. I was merely asking—’

  ‘Mr Brewster was asking if we were enjoying our stay,’ cut in Suzanne hurriedly. ‘I was just telling him we were having a wonderful time.’

  The manager looked puzzled. ‘Oh, but I—’

  ‘Aren’t we, Celeste?’ Suzanne smiled sweetly at the two of them.

  ‘But of course,’ Celeste said smoothly, suspecting none of Suzanne’s desperation, or if she did, putting it down to a completely different reason. She hadn’t missed young Carlo slinking off as soon as she entered the hotel. ‘You must be very proud of your staff.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Hammond,’ David Brewster said gravely before nodding to the two of them, his gaze lingering longer on Suzanne, as if he were trying to fathom her deliberate lie. Her face remained bland. ‘I’m pleased you’re happy here. Now if you will excuse me?’

  ‘Certainly,’ Celeste gave her most charming smile. ‘What a lovely man,’ she said as soon as he had moved out of earshot. ‘A shame he has no money.’

  ‘Oh, really, Celeste!’ Suzanne said in disgust. ‘Can’t you think of anything else?’

  ‘What else is there?’

  ‘I can think of plenty, but none of it would interest you.’

  ‘Probably not,’ Celeste returned in a bored voice. ‘Let’s go out on to the terrace and have a cool drink.’

  As it was what Suzanne wanted to do she raised no objection. ‘Have you had a nice day?’ she asked once they were both sipping their cool lime drinks, almost dreading the answer. Was it wicked to wish Celeste had changed her mind about Vidal?

  Luckily it hadn’t been Carlo who had brought their drinks, but one of the other numerous foreign staff employed at the hotel. Suzanne didn’t want any further trouble in that direction, not at the moment. Carlo was definitely a handsome boy, but compared to Vidal that was just what he seemed to her—young and immature.

  ‘Don’t try to divert the conversation, Suzanne,’ Celeste snapped. ‘I saw you with that boy. And in reception too!’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Don’t act the innocent with me, young lady! I told you not to see that boy again and so to spite me you meet him quite openly in reception where you can be seen by everyone. You’re acting like someone out of the gutter,’ she added nastily.

  ‘And so are you, talking to me like that,’ hit back Suzanne. ‘You have no reason, no reason at all, to suppose that Carlo is any more to me than one of the hotel staff.’

  ‘Well, that had better be all he is from now on. I’ve made contact with Vidal Martino, so you’ll have to be on your best behaviour in future.’

  ‘What do you mean, made contact? Didn’t you already know the man? I thought you said you were meeting him today.’

  ‘So I was. But by my own design.’ Celeste looked very pleased with herself.

  ‘You mean you just introduced yourself to him?’ Suzanne began to realise that she had perhaps misjudged Vidal slightly. She had naturally assumed when she spoke to Vidal last night that he had known of his date with Celeste today, but now it seemed she was wrong. He was as innocent in this affair as she was herself.

  Celeste looked offended. ‘Nothing so crude, Suzanne. We met—accidentally.’

  ‘And the accident was engineered by you,’ she said dryly. ‘So where did you go? I saw you leaving with him this morning—or at least,’ she amended quickly, ‘I suppose it was him.’

  ‘Tall, dark and handsome?’

  ‘Very,’ Suzanne agreed, breathing a sigh of relief that Celeste hadn’t realised she knew Vidal herself.

  ‘Then it was Vidal. He’s so charming, Suzanne, and Very courteous.’

  ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘He took me out to lunch. To a very exclusive restaurant,’ she gave a husky laugh. ‘It would have to be exclusive, that’s the way he lives.’

  ‘So you really like him?’ She felt her heart sink.

  ‘Mmm, absolutely fascinating. And so good-looking!’

  Suzanne did her best to smile brightly. ‘So you think you’ll manage to win him?’

  ‘Vidal? Oh, I’m sure I could if I wanted to,’ she chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. ‘No, he isn’t going to be the problem. I could tell he liked me straight away.’

  Suzanne could believe it, with Celeste looking the way she did at the moment. What man could resist her? ‘So what’s your problem?’

  ‘The Conte Cesare Martino.’

  ‘The Conte?’ she squeaked. ‘What—who is the Conte Cesare Martino?’

  Celeste looked at her painted fingernails. ‘He is the man, Suzanne. And he isn’t as easy to get to as his brother.’

  ‘But I—I thought—I don’t understand. I thought Vidal…’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Celeste shook her auburn head. ‘Much as I would prefer that it was Vidal with the money and title I’m afraid it’s his much more austere brother who has it all.’

  ‘But what about Vidal?’

  ‘Charming, but completely unsuitable. No, it’s the Conte Cesare Martino that I intend having as my husband.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SUZANNE ate her dinner with much more relish than she had the evening before. Celeste wasn’t interested in Vidal! It seemed too wonderful to be true. Since Celeste had told her this afternoon that it was the Conte she was interested in and not Vidal, she had felt a lightening of her heart. At least Celeste wasn’t going to get him.

  ‘Dinner was superb this evening,’ she smiled happily.

  ‘I noticed you enjoyed it,’ Celeste said dryly. ‘I hope you aren’t prematurely celebrating getting rid of me. I told you, the Conte won’t be so easy to impress as Vidal—or so easy to meet.’

  Suzanne could have told her that she had found no difficulty in meeting him—three times to date. She just hoped she never met him again. ‘But why bother with Vidal Martino at all?’ she asked curiously. Celeste had been hot and tired this afternoon and not at all eager to answer questions, but that didn’t stop her feeling curious. She had yet to work out where Vidal fitted into Celeste’s elaborate plans.

  Celeste shrugged, sipping her liqueur coffee before answering. ‘I’m hoping he’ll give me an introduction to his brother.’

  Not so elaborate after all. ‘But why not go straight to the Conte yourself?’

  ‘Too obvious, darling. No, I thought a nice respectable introduction from the younger brother might be more in keeping with what I hope will be my future position in the Martino household. After all, it shouldn’t be too difficult to impress an old man. But no, Vidal doesn’t seem that enamoured of his brother, so I’ll have to think of something else.’

  ‘You think the Conte is an old man?’ Suzanne looked at her stepmother strangely. Surely she had some idea what the man looked like. The Conte certainly wasn’t old, only six years older than Celeste herself.

  ‘I suppose he has to be.’

  ‘Don’t you know?’

  ‘The Conte isn’t an easy man to find things out about. All I know or care about is that he’s rich and unmarried.’

  ‘How did you find that out?’

  ‘I was at a party about six months ago and Vidal Martino honoured us all with his presence. We didn’t meet at all, but I asked a friend about him. That’s when I heard about his brother. He seemed ideal.’

  Just hearing about him he must have done, but the Conte certainly wasn’t a man to be easily fooled, especially when he already knew of Celeste�
��s interest in him. Celeste was in for a shock concerning the Conte, in more ways than one!

  ‘So you decided to stay at the Conte’s hotel in the hope of meeting him.’ Celeste’s method was now obvious to her; unfortunately it was to the Conte too, although he mistakenly thought it was she and not Celeste who was chasing him. If the determined glint in Celeste’s sparkling blue eyes was anything to go by he would soon know differently.

  ‘Not just in the hope of meeting him. I knew he would be here now, my information took me that far, I just didn’t expect him to absent himself for a week. How did you know this hotel belonged to the Conte?’ Celeste asked sharply, suspicion evident in her look.

  Suzanne realised her mistake too late. ‘I—er—I suppose someone must have mentioned it.’

  ‘Really?’ queried Celeste, deceptively sweet. ‘And who might that have been? Carlo perhaps? If you’ve been discussing me with that—–’ She broke off, her attention fixed on something behind Suzanne’s head and totally out of Suzanne’s vision. ‘Just look at that! What a fantastic-looking man! I thought Vidal was handsome, but he pales into insignificance compared with this good-looking devil. Take a look, Suzanne. Isn’t he magnificent?’

  Suzanne was almost afraid to turn around, already suspecting who the newcomer was. It could only be one man. She was right, the Conte Martino! David Brewster himself was seeing him to his table, pulling out a chair politely for the Conte’s companion—a tall brunette, her hair swept back in a sophisticated bun at her nape, and dressed elegantly in a flowing blue silk gown. The woman looked about the Conte’s age, and exactly what a contessa should look like. She had the feeling that this beautiful woman had the same idea.

  She looked away quickly before the Conte saw her interest. ‘If you like that sort of man I suppose he is attractive in an arrogant sort of way,’ she couldn’t resist adding this bit. ‘But I think the woman with him thinks so too.’

  ‘Oh, her,’ Celeste dismissed her with a scornful look. ‘She doesn’t have an ounce of passion in her body. Pure ice.’ She continued to watch the other couple. ‘Now he is a different proposition. There’s fire in his veins, I can see that just by looking at him. I bet he’s a fantastic lover.’

  ‘Celeste!’ Suzanne didn’t like to talk about the Conte like this. She wondered what Celeste would say when she knew who he was. It might be quite amusing to see her reaction. But not when she was about! ‘You shouldn’t talk about people like that.’

  ‘Don’t be such a prude,’ Celeste sipped her drink. ‘I bet he isn’t a faithful husband.’

  ‘He isn’t married to her!’ she said vehemently. She had done it again! Why didn’t she learn to hold her tongue?

  ‘What makes you think that?’ Celeste looked at the couple with renewed interest. ‘You could be right,’ she murmured thoughtfully. ‘If she had been made love to by him she probably wouldn’t look quite such an icicle. She’s probably his fiancée or something.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Suzanne didn’t want to get into a discussion about the Conte. ‘Are you almost ready to leave? We could go into the lounge and have a drink.’

  ‘Not yet. I want to look at him some more. Do you think he’s staying here? The manager seemed to treat him like he was someone special. Perhaps he’s a relative of the Conte,’ her interest quickened.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Suzanne agreed noncommittally.

  ‘Do take an interest, Suzanne! Do you think he could be a relative?’

  ‘How would I know, Celeste. You’re the one who is supposed to know so much about this family. I hadn’t even heard of them until yesterday.’ In some ways she wished she still hadn’t.

  Celeste wasn’t really listening, her attention fixed on the man across the dining-room. ‘He’s looked over this way a couple of times,’ she said excitedly.

  Suzanne went rigid in her chair. ‘He—he has?’

  ‘Mmm,’ Celeste was smiling brightly. ‘I think he’s interested.’

  ‘Oh, stop it, Celeste! The poor man’s probably wondering why on earth you keep staring at him.’

  ‘With his looks he should be used to it. Such a curious combination, that dark complexion and blond hair. I suppose he must be foreign, he has that look about him, but his colouring is so unusual. He’s looking again, Suzanne!’ Her eyes glowed.

  ‘Let’s go, Celeste. We finished dinner ages ago. We can’t sit here for ever.’

  ‘He’s excused himself and he’s coming over,’ squeaked Celeste. ‘Can you believe it!’

  Suzanne could believe it. The Conte was too polite to actually ignore her once they had been formally introduced. She just wished he hadn’t come over now, Celeste would be furious when she found out that she already knew both the Martino men, especially the Conte.

  The Conte stood next to their table, dressed formally in a white dinner jacket and black trousers, he looked just as Celeste had described him—magnificent. He bowed politely to them both. ‘Miss Hammond—signora,’ he said coolly. ‘I do not believe I have had the pleasure of meeting your friend, Suzanne.’

  Her eyes flew open wide at his casual use of her first name. ‘I—er—Celeste is my stepmother, signore.’ Now had come the moment of truth, and Suzanne was loath to introduce the two. At least Celeste was too clever to show her anger in front of the Conte. But later—–!

  The Conte’s eyes darkened slightly. ‘Excuse my mistake, Mrs Hammond, you do not look old enough to be anyone’s stepmother.’

  Celeste smiled smugly. ‘Thank you.’

  Again the Conte looked at Suzanne, and she read mockery there. ‘Are you not going to introduce us, Suzanne,?’

  She gritted her teeth. Damn the man! He was enjoying this. He must know that she wouldn’t have told Celeste of her earlier meetings with him. He was deliberately taunting her. ‘My stepmother Celeste Hammond. Celeste, this is—–’ she hesitated, but was spurred on by those mocking grey eyes. ‘This is the Conte Cesare Martino,’ she said firmly.

  Geleste controlled her feelings with difficulty, although her blue eyes narrowed with shock and she looked probingly at Suzanne. ‘Conte Martino?’ she questioned softly, too softly for Suzanne’s liking.

  ‘That’s right,’ she said more coolly than she felt. ‘The brother of Vidal.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ the Conte nodded. ‘I believe you both know my brother.’

  ‘Do we?’ Celeste asked.

  The Conte nodded. ‘So I believe. Vidal told me that he had met both of you here at the hotel. Are you enjoying your stay in London?’ he queried politely.

  Celeste seemed to have recovered her composure now and was fully in control of herself again. ‘We’re having a lovely time, thank you. Won’t you join us for coffee?’

  Regretfully he shook his head. ‘Impossible, I’m afraid. I have already neglected my dinner guest long enough. I am pleased to have met you, Mrs Hammond.’

  ‘Please, call me Celeste,’ she smiled at him coyly.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said gravely. ‘I hope you will also do me the honour of calling me Cesare. Now I must return to my own table. I trust I may call on you tomorrow?’

  Celeste visibly preened. ‘I would love that.’

  ‘Very well,’ he bowed stiffly. ‘Good evening, Suzanne.’

  Suzanne mumbled her farewell to him, dreading the next few minutes alone with the very angry Celeste. She wished, and not for the first time, that she had never agreed to come here. Except of course she had met Vidal. She had never met anyone like him before, but then she hadn’t met anyone like the Conte before either. Two such good-looking men in one family—incredible!

  ‘You sly little cat!’ Celeste hissed through gritted teeth. ‘Which one were you in the garden with yesterday evening?’ she demanded fiercely. ‘No wonder you didn’t want to talk about it. So, which one was it?’

  ‘Vidal, of course.’

  ‘I don’t see why you say of course—the Conte seemed to be quite friendly towards you. He called you Suzanne.’

  ‘That was the first time,’ she expla
ined. ‘I hardly know the man, and what I do know I dislike.’

  ‘You know Vidal better, I suppose?’ Celeste sneered, her eyes sparkling with dislike.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Suzanne admitted.

  ‘How sneaky can you get! I suppose you forced yourself on him and made an absolute idiot of yourself out there in the garden. I saw the two of you kissing. And you only met him yesterday!’

  ‘You don’t understand, Celeste. I only—–’

  ‘I know what you only! You behaved cheaply, nothing more than an easy pick-up.’

  ‘Stop it, Celeste! I didn’t do any such thing. I liked him and—–’

  ‘And I’m sure he liked you! You must have seemed so gullible, so easy to impress. And Vidal is certainly impressive. How he must have enjoyed playing with you. You silly little fool!’

  ‘Will you leave me alone! Why do you have to be so cruel and say such horrible things to me?’

  ‘Because you’re jeopardising all my plans. You deliberately kept quiet about meeting Cesare and Vidal.’

  ‘But you got your introduction, didn’t you!’

  ‘Maybe I did, but I certainly didn’t want it through you. The Conte probably considers me to be as cheap as he does you. How can he think anything else when you act in such a fashion with his younger brother?’

  Suzanne stood up, tears standing out like huge raindrops in her sea-green eyes. ‘You’re horrible, Celeste! I’m going.’

  ‘You do that. Run away and hide—I’m too furious to talk to you rationally anyway.’

  Suzanne rushed blindly out of the room, conscious of grey eyes following her progress. She ignored any of the anxious looks in her direction, seeking refuge once again in the delicately perfumed garden. The Conte had deliberately caused that scene, and she hated him for it. Celeste’s attitude was only to be expected in the circumstances; she would probably have felt the same way herself.

  ‘Suzanne!’

  That cool voice halted her flight across the garden, but she couldn’t turn, too much aware of her tear-wet cheeks to face the Conte. He must have followed her, and she couldn’t imagine what his dinner guest must have thought about such an action, or Celeste either for that matter. She must have noticed the Conte following her from the room, her eyes hadn’t left him since he had entered the room.