Tempted by Desire

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘Suzanne!’ He swung her round. ‘Why are you crying?’ he bent his head to see her better.

  She wrenched away from him, her green eyes flashing warningly. ‘I haven’t given you permission to call me Suzanne,’ she snapped.

  The Conte straightened, his expression becoming remote. ‘No, you have not. Will you tell me why you are crying?’

  ‘But I’m not,’ she wiped away the tell-tale tears. ‘Not now anyway.’

  ‘But you were,’ he persisted, folding his arms across his chest determinedly as he watched her. ‘Was your stepmother very angry?’

  ‘What did you expect her to be? You knew very well what you were doing when you forced me to introduce the two of you.’

  ‘And what did I do?’

  ‘You made Celeste very angry.’

  ‘And that made you cry? A spoilt little rich girl like you?’

  ‘A—a what?’ Suzanne was astounded.

  ‘Why the surprise? You cannot be so poor when you can afford to stay here in luxury. Like all rich women you probably consider a man with a title the ultimate goal.’

  Suzanne shook her head. ‘You’re wrong about me, Signor Conte. I’m not rich.’

  ‘No?’ he raised a mocking eyebrow. ‘Then you want money too. My, my, you are ambitious!’

  ‘And you, Conte, are rude and overbearing. You really think that I want you, don’t you? Why should I think someone as plain as I could possibly interest someone of your standing? I have no illusions about my looks. I wouldn’t aspire to be a Contessa.’

  He gave a half smile: ‘I was not necessarily talking about marriage. You would not need to be my wife to obtain money from me, and the position of my mistress would entitle you to a certain amount of—prestige, shall we say.’

  ‘Who with, signore? Other kept women who consider themselves privileged to share a rich man’s bed?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ he nodded arrogantly.

  ‘Do I take it you are offering me that position in your life?’ she asked defiantly.

  ‘And your answer if I were?’

  ‘I haven’t been asked yet.’ She looked at him between lowered lashes, her sparkling green eyes shielded from him. How dared he talk to her like this! His mistress indeed! Even Celeste would baulk at such a proposition, and she really wanted him. Suzanne wasn’t even interested in him, as she had said; she knew her limitations. Vidal was too high class for her, let alone his snooty brother.

  The Conte took a step towards her, standing only inches away from her shaking body, the steady rise and fall of his powerful chest on a level with her startled eyes. ‘You are a very beautiful young girl, Suzanne. What red-blooded man would not wish to visualise your naked body lying beside him, relaxed with pleasure in the aftermath of love?’ His eyes had darkened almost black. ‘I ask again, what would your answer be?’

  Suzanne faced him with all her pent-up anger. ‘My answer would be no. No, no, no! I’m not interested in being your mistress, or any other man’s for that matter.’

  ‘So you do aim for marriage.’

  ‘No, I do not! Would it surprise you to know that you don’t interest me in the slightest?’

  ‘Would you like me to prove otherwise?’ he asked, dangerously soft.

  Suzanne began to back away from the determination on that hard mouth, realising that below that surface calm the Conte was very angry. ‘Don’t come near me,’ she warned.

  Two strong hands shot out and pulled her relentlessly towards him and her struggles were to no avail. For long seconds grey eyes battled with green, until at last hers faltered and looked away. But only to pass on to that firm well-shaped mouth, a mouth that seemed to be slowly coming closer and closer, until it almost touched her own. Warm breath fanned her parted lips, almost a caress in itself, and Suzanne felt mesmerised by his physical closeness.

  ‘Tell me you do not welcome my touch, Suzanne. Tell me!’

  ‘I—I—I can’t!’ she admitted brokenly.

  Instantly she was set free and the Conte stood quite a distance away from her. She looked at him with bewildered eyes. ‘Do not look so hurt, Suzanne,’ he taunted. ‘Just an experiment that paid off. I am sure my brother demanded and received much more of a response yesterday evening. But you are not immune to me, Suzanne—or to any other man who has any experience of women. You can be aroused to passion so easily!’ he added with disgust.

  She could be aroused to anger more easily! ‘That wasn’t passion signore, that was just sheer fright. I have never been accosted in a hotel garden by a Venetian Conte before. Quite an experience,’ she said coldly. ‘But I wouldn’t recommend it on a daily basis. Why don’t you go back to your mistress, Signor Conte,. and try to explain to her what you’ve been doing out here in the garden with me for the last ten minutes.’

  ‘I do not need to explain anything to Elena. She does not expect it and I would not offer it.’

  ‘Then no wonder you’re looking for a new mistress—complacency must be so boring.’

  ‘Elena is not my mistress,’ the Conte told her stiffly. ‘She is my cousin.’

  ‘How nice for you.’

  ‘You are insolent!’

  ‘Well, I like that! After some of the things you’ve just accused me of you have the nerve to call me insolent. Of all the nerve! I didn’t come here to be insulted by you or anyone else. I—–’

  ‘Miss Hammond! Miss Suzanne Hammond!’ The sound of the porter calling her name stopped her in mid-sentence. The man was in the lounge paging her and she entered the room quickly before he passed on to the next room. ‘Miss Hammond?’ He looked at her enquiringly.

  Suzanne nodded. ‘That’s right. You have a message for me?’ Oh, please let it be from Vidal and not Celeste.

  ‘Mr Martino is on the telephone, Miss Hammond. He insisted on us paging you. Will you speak to him?’

  ‘Certainly. I—–’

  ‘Miss Hammond will be with you in a moment, tell my brother to wait,’ the Conte cut in curtly, dismissing the man with a brief nod of his head. ‘So you meant what you said this morning,’ he said distantly.

  ‘About seeing Vidal?’ she asked carelessly. ‘Of course I meant it.’

  ‘Then I will wish you goodnight.’

  Suzanne hesitated only momentarily before hurrying to the telephone in reception. The Conte, after giving her a last disgusted look, had turned to re-enter the dining room. She smiled at the receptionist as she indicated which telephone to use. ‘Vidal?’ she said breathlessly.

  ‘Yes,’ came the husky reply. ‘You were surely not expecting it to be my brother?’

  Hardly! ‘No,’ she said steadily.

  ‘Good. I told you I would call. Did you not think I would?’

  ‘I—I wasn’t sure.’

  ‘Because I saw your dear stepmama today? Celeste can be quite unshakable, and it was perfectly obvious that Cesare was her real interest. Were you jealous, cara?’

  ‘Certainly not!’ she denied indignantly. ‘And I didn’t mean because of Celeste. It’s none of my business if you choose to take her out for the day.’

  ‘Then why …? Ah, do not tell me. Cesare has been busy. My dear brother has told you of my betrothal.’

  ‘He did just happen to mention it, yes.’

  ‘I am sure he did. But I am not yet betrothed and have no intention of becoming so. Cesare has been presumptuous. When did you see him?’

  When did she see him! It would be easier to say when she didn’t. ‘He was not at work today and we happened to meet at the hotel. He thought it best that I should know.’

  ‘He had no right! I am a grown man, I will not be treated in this way. Did he say anything else that I should know about?’

  ‘No,’ she lied.

  ‘I will speak to him. When can I see you, Suzanne?’

  ‘Are you sure you should, Vidal? Cesare said—–’

  ‘Cesare! Forget him, cara. Since when have you been on such intimate terms that you call him Cesare?’ he asked suspiciously.

&n
bsp; ‘Since he introduced himself to Celeste and insisted we both call him that.’

  ‘I see. So Celeste got her wish after all. And what did Cesare think of your beautiful stepmama? Was he suitably impressed?’

  ‘I have no idea. Your brother gives little away by facial expression.’

  ‘I know that,’ he laughed. ‘So, may I call on you tomorrow?’

  ‘If you want to. But I think I should warn you that your brother is calling on Celeste tomorrow too.’

  ‘All the better. We can all meet together.’

  ‘Vidal! Do you think that’s wise? Your brother is antagonistic enough towards me already.’

  ‘Suzanne, do not worry so much,’ his voice lowered caressingly. ‘I am looking forward to seeing you. Are you not anxious to see me also?’

  ‘You know I am, but—–’

  ‘No buts, Suzanne. Leave Cesare to me.’

  * * *

  Suzanne wished she could be as confident as Vidal about his brother. She had waited nervously about the hotel all morning, evading Celeste where possible. Lunch had been an almost silent affair, with neither of them speaking unless it was absolutely necessary. Suzanne knew Celeste blamed her for not telling her about the Conte. Her surprise at his age and attractiveness could all have been alleviated if Suzanne had just mentioned him. But to do that she would have had to tell of her meeting with Vidal, and she had wanted to keep that quiet for as long as possible, a secret to cherish to herself and not be spoilt by Celeste’s barbs. And by doing that she had annoyed Celeste even more. It seemed she couldn’t win, whatever she did.

  ‘Not arrived yet, then,’ Celeste said sharply as she entered the lounge, sitting herself down opposite Suzanne and crossing one silky-smooth leg over the other. She smoothed down her golden brown sun-dress fitting snugly over her small breasts and narrow waist, the narrow shoulder-straps revealing the even tan she had acquired during the last week. To Suzanne she looked self-confident and very self-assured, in fact everything she herself was not.

  ‘No.’ She would not be drawn by Celeste’s bitchiness.

  Celeste yawned tiredly. ‘Perhaps they won’t come. I must say I was surprised at Vidal deciding to arrive with Cesare. They don’t exactly appear to be the best of friends.’

  A smile tugged at Suzanne’s mouth and she couldn’t contain her amusement. ‘You noticed that?’

  To her surprise Celeste smiled too. ‘It was impossible not to. Vidal behaves like a little boy where Cesare is concerned. He was quite unbearable about him yesterday.’ She looked down at her wristwatch. ‘It’s almost three o’clock.’

  ‘Mmm. But the Conte did say he would see you today, and he seems to be a man of his word. They will probably both come from the office.’

  ‘He’s wonderful, isn’t he, Suzanne,’ her blue eyes sparkled. ‘Quite an impressive figure. I felt sure he would be an old man with a middle-aged paunch. It was a very pleasant surprise when I actually saw him.’

  ‘So you do like him?’

  ‘Who wouldn’t? Rather arrogant, but underneath that he’s just a man like any other. Well, perhaps not any man,’ she amended. ‘With looks like his I can’t understand why he isn’t already married, or engaged at least.’

  ‘His fiancée died.’

  ‘Did she?’ Celeste said slowly. ‘I wonder if he loved her.’

  Suzanne had wondered the same thing. Surely he must have done to have remained single to this age.

  Vidal had said his brother was five years his senior, which made him thirty-seven, quite old in his country not to be married with a family.

  ‘Here they come, Suzanne,’ Celeste whispered. ‘Aren’t they two of the handsomest men you’ve ever seen?’

  They certainly were. Both tall and dressed in lightweight suits they were the epitome of wealth and power. Vidal’s cream suit complemented his dark looks perfectly and the grey of Cesare’s suit matched those frosty grey eyes of his. Those grey eyes now slid insolently over her before passing on to the now standing Celeste.

  ‘We have not kept you waiting?’ he asked gravely.

  Celeste gave a bright smile. ‘No,’ she denied huskily. ‘Suzanne and I were just relaxing. Nice to see you again, Vidal,’ she greeted him casually, turning once again to the Conte. ‘And of course you, Cesare.’

  After the first initial greeting to her stepmother Vidal had come straight to Suzanne’s side, bending his long length down to her much shorter level. ‘Do not look so apprehensive, cara,’ he said deeply, ‘or I will think you are not pleased to see me.’

  ‘But I am, Vidal, you know I am.’ Her eyes were huge and glowing.

  ‘Then do I not merit a kiss?’

  Suzanne’s eyes flew apprehensively to his brother, only to encounter those mocking grey eyes. Damn the man, spying on her in this way! She glared at him defiantly, reaching up to put her arms about Vidal’s neck before firmly placing her lips softly on his. For a moment he was stunned and then he returned the pressure.

  She instantly regretted her impulsive gesture, and moved hurriedly out of his arms to meet the cold contempt of the Conte’s eyes. She blushed and turned away quickly. ‘What—what are we going to do today?’ she asked tremulously, determined not to look at the Conte again even though his eyes compelled her to.

  Vidal’s hand cupped her chin and he brought her head up to meet his gaze, his brown eyes like velvet. ‘I enjoyed that,’ he said gently, aware of her embarrassment. ‘And what would you like to do?’

  ‘Vidal!’ his brother interrupted him, stilling the caressing movement of his hand. ‘Have you forgotten this is a public place!’

  Brown eyes snapped with anger and Vidal’s hold on her tightened. ‘Mind your own business, Cesare. Suzanne was merely greeting me.’

  ‘So I noticed,’ Cesare said bluntly.

  ‘You are too correct, Cesare,’ his brother taunted.

  Suzanne looked from one to the other of them, perfectly well aware that she had caused this latest argument between them. If only the Conte hadn’t mocked her!

  Celeste laughed, breaking the tension that was fast developing. ‘Don’t be cross, Cesare. Maybe Suzanne was a little over-enthusiastic in her greeting, but you must put that down to youth.’

  A look of irritation crossed the Conte’s face before it was quickly masked. ‘You are right, Suzanne is very young. And my brother preys on babes who are too naïve to know any better.’

  ‘Why, you—–’

  ‘Please!’ Celeste looked at the two men with humour. ‘You surely didn’t come to see us just to argue, you could have done that quite satisfactorily on your own.’

  The Conte gave a reluctant smile, and Suzanne was surprised to see how much younger it made him look. ‘You are right. Is she not, Vidal?’

  His brother gave a sheepish grin. ‘I am sorry. Am I forgiven?’ he asked Suzanne.

  ‘Of course. I—–’

  ‘You would perhaps like to see some of London today?’ the Conte interrupted her. ‘You expressed a desire to see some of the town, Suzanne. You too, Celeste?’

  ‘Well, I—–Yes, I suppose so,’ Celeste agreed hesitantly. ‘We haven’t really had the chance to go sightseeing up to now. Suzanne had to take things easy, she hasn’t been well, you know.’

  The Conte looked at her sharply. ‘You have been ill?’

  She glared at the smug-looking Celeste. ‘Not really. I’ve—–’

  ‘She had a bad bout of ‘flu,’ Celeste cut in. ‘You can see how delicate she is.’

  ‘Indeed,’ he agreed. ‘Then perhaps we could go alone, Celeste? I would not like to overtire your stepdaughter.’

  Suzanne felt about ten years old! Celeste looked annoyed too. ‘Call her Suzanne, please. Anything else sounds ridiculous.’

  ‘And we are perfectly capable of making our own plans, Cesare. If Suzanne wishes to sightsee then I will take her—alone,’ Vidal put in haughtily.

  ‘That would not be correct, Vidal, and you know it. Suzanne is an unattached young girl and yo
u would not be chaperoned,’ the Conte said distantly.

  ‘In England we don’t need chaperones,’ Celeste put in sharply, not at all pleased with the way things were going. She certainly didn’t want Suzanne and Vidal along on her outing with Cesare.

  ‘But we are not English, Celeste. I am thinking of Suzanne’s reputation when I say it would not be correct for her to be seen alone with Vidal.’

  ‘And what of my reputation?’ She gave him a look from under lowered lashes.

  The Conte shrugged. ‘That is different. You have been married, whereas Suzanne is a very young girl without the protection of a male relative.’

  ‘I see.’ Celeste’s lips pursed in anger. This wasn’t what she had wanted to hear at all. ‘Very well, Cesare, we will all go together.’

  Suzanne and Vidal were given no further choice in the matter and followed the other couple out of the hotel. It was agreed that it would be quicker to walk to the centre of town than attempt to get there by car.

  Somehow Suzanne found herself walking beside Cesare, a soft murmur of conversation coming from Celeste and Vidal as they chatted together. She was very conscious of the man at her side, although she gave a good impression of being deeply engrossed with the buildings they were passing.

  The Conte looked down at her. ‘Will you not talk to me?’

  She looked at him open-mouthed. To talk to the Conte was the last thing she wanted to do! She looked at the other two, but they were deeply in conversation about some mutual acquaintance they had just discovered. ‘What would you like me to talk about, Signor Conte?’ she asked politely.

  The Conte gave a throaty chuckle and Suzanne thought what a difference his humour made to him. In fact, he was altogether more casual today, wearing a black silk shirt below the grey suit, its buttons undone far down his chest, exposing a gold medallion nestled among thick dark hairs. Another unusual fact about this man, dark eyebrows and the hair on his chest, and yet his hair was that startling blond.

  ‘You sound so formal, Suzanne,’ he rebuked her. ‘Cesare is not so difficult to say.’