Bedded For the Italian's Pleasure

by Anne Mather

  So she was pleasantly surprised when she saw who her visitor was, even though Josie looked rather harassed. ‘Oh, Miss Lawrence,’ she said, apparently forgetting that Juliet had asked her to use her first name, ‘I was beginning to think you and Mr Cary must have gone out.’

  ‘Oh—no. I was just in the bathroom.’ Juliet felt guilty now for keeping the old woman waiting. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Well—just a hiccough.’

  Josie was decidedly flustered, and although Juliet suspected she wouldn’t take her up on it she invited the housekeeper into the room and offered her a seat. In fact, the woman seemed grateful for her consideration, perching on a chair by the door and twisting her hands together in her lap.

  ‘It’s just—well, Lady Elinor won’t be joining you for dinner this evening,’ she said. ‘She’s not at all well. I’ve had to call Dr Charteris.’

  Juliet was genuinely concerned. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Josie pulled a face. ‘She hates being incapacitated. And she wouldn’t thank you for visiting her right now, I can tell you. She’s not going to be pleased with me when she hears I’ve called the doctor as it is.’

  ‘But, if she’s not well—’

  ‘I know.’ Josie grimaced. ‘But that’s the way she is.’ She paused. ‘Anyway, I was wondering whether you and Mr Cary would mind having a cold meal this evening? What with the doctor coming and all—’

  ‘Of course.’ Juliet couldn’t let her go on. ‘Don’t worry about us, Mrs Morgan. A sandwich would do.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think Mr Cary would agree—’

  ‘I’ll make sure that Mr Cary agrees,’ Juliet assured her firmly, ignoring the fact that only minutes before she’d been feeling apprehensive of seeing him again. ‘Perhaps I could help you?’

  Josie looked at her, wide-eyed. ‘I don’t think Lady Elinor would approve of that.’

  ‘Lady Elinor doesn’t need to know, does she?’ Juliet smiled encouragingly. ‘Actually, I’d enjoy it.’

  Josie got to her feet again. ‘I don’t know what to say, Miss Lawrence.’

  ‘You can start by calling me Juliet,’ Juliet told her firmly. ‘Now—when is the doctor due?’

  About three-quarters of an hour later, Juliet was in the kitchen grating cheese when Cary put his head round the door.

  ‘Oh, there you are!’ he exclaimed, not noticing what she was doing for a moment. ‘You must be the most elusive woman I’ve ever met. You’re always disappearing somewh—What the hell are you doing?’

  Juliet put down the grater. ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’

  ‘It looks as if you’re doing Josie’s job,’ he retorted coldly. ‘Where is she? Wasting time, as usual?’

  ‘I don’t think Josie has any time to waste,’ said Juliet tersely. ‘Have you any idea how much work is entailed in running a place like this? No, I thought not.’

  Cary scowled. ‘I still don’t understand what you’re doing here. Do you want the old girl to think I’m marrying a scrubber?’

  Juliet caught her breath. ‘No one’s likely to think that but you, Cary. And what’s wrong with being a scrubber anyway? It’s a job of work, isn’t it, and in my situation beggars can’t be choosers.’

  ‘Oh, come off it. You wouldn’t dream of cleaning people’s houses for a living. And, besides, it’s only an expression. What I really meant was, I don’t think Grandmama would approve of her guest preparing her own dinner.’

  ‘Your grandmother isn’t well,’ said Juliet shortly. ‘Didn’t Josie tell you? She’s had to call the doctor.’

  ‘Charteris.’ Cary said the man’s name almost consideringly. Then, ‘No sweat! But no. No one told me anything.’

  Juliet frowned, suddenly noticing that Cary was still wearing the grey trousers and tweed jacket he’d been wearing that afternoon. ‘What have you been doing?’

  ‘Oh…’ Cary looked a little furtive now. ‘This and that.’ And then, as if he had something of importance to tell her, he let the door close behind him and came across to the table where she was working. ‘Actually,’ he went on in a low voice, ‘I’ve been checking the books.’

  ‘The books?’ Juliet looked confused.

  ‘The estate books,’ whispered Cary, his excitement barely controlled. ‘God, you’ll never believe what I found!’

  Distaste showed on Juliet’s face, but she couldn’t help the obvious question, ‘Did your grandmother ask you to look at them?’

  ‘The old girl?’ Cary scoffed. ‘Not likely.’

  ‘So she doesn’t know what you’ve been doing?’

  ‘No.’ Cary was impatient. ‘But never mind that now, I saw this letter—’

  ‘I don’t think you should be reading your grandmother’s correspondence,’ said Juliet severely. ‘Her letters are private.’

  ‘Oh, for pity’s sake.’ Cary snorted. ‘She lets that bastard, Marchese, keep her accounts.’

  ‘Don’t call him that.’

  ‘Oh, hello, are you a fan of his, too?’

  ‘No.’ But Juliet knew she’d gone red. ‘I just don’t think you should call him that.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ Cary was scornful. ‘Anyway, forget about him. The old girl’s had an offer for Tregellin. Can you believe that? I doubt if even that—Marchese knows about it. Some property developer from Bristol wants to buy the house, the farms, everything. He wants to build an estate of luxury homes on the site, with a golf course, clubhouse, the whole works. The offer’s probably worth millions!’

  Juliet stared at him in dismay. ‘You’re not serious!’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘I can’t believe that Lady Elinor would consider selling out to a developer.’

  ‘Well, of course she wouldn’t!’ exclaimed Cary irritably. ‘That’s why I’ve never heard about it. The offer was made months ago. My guess is, she rejected it outright.’

  ‘Thank goodness.’

  Juliet’s response was heartfelt. She might have only been here a couple of days, but she already cared about the place. The house might need renovating and she was sure it fairly devoured the cash for its upkeep, but its position was incomparable. She shuddered at the thought of a string of wealthy investors buying second homes on the land where the house and grounds used to be, polluting the air with their gas-guzzling cars and frightening the birds away.

  ‘What do you mean, thank goodness?’ Cary was impatient. ‘It’s the chance of a lifetime. I wouldn’t turn it down. I’d grab it with both hands.’

  ‘Which is probably why you haven’t heard about it.’ Juliet was scathing. ‘And you haven’t even asked how your grandmother is. She could be dying for all you know.’

  ‘No such luck,’ muttered Cary, barely audibly, but Juliet heard him and her lip curled in contempt. ‘Anyway, what are you doing?’ he demanded, changing the subject. ‘Playing house-maid?’

  ‘I’m helping Josie,’ retorted Juliet, returning to her grating. ‘With your grandmother being unwell, she asked if we’d mind having a cold meal tonight, but I thought I might improve on that. What do you think?’

  ‘You’re making the meal?’ Cary was aghast. ‘You’re not a cook!’

  ‘No.’ Juliet conceded the fact. ‘But I found some kidneys in the fridge and I’m planning on sautéing them with some bacon. I thought we might have baked potatoes, too, topped with grated cheese. Does that sound good to you?’

  Cary grimaced. ‘Kidneys! I don’t eat offal!’

  You would if your grandmother offered it, thought Juliet irritably, but she held her tongue. ‘So—you’ll have sandwiches, right?’

  ‘Sandwiches!’ Cary gave her a scornful look. ‘You have got to be joking.’ He paused. ‘How about going out?’

  ‘Going out?’

  ‘Yeah. We could go into Bodmin, meet up with some friends of mine, find a club, get something to eat there. They might even have a casino. What about it?’

  ‘What about your grandmother?’

  ‘Oh, please
.’ Cary groaned. ‘She won’t want to see me.’ Then he frowned. ‘Where’s your ring?’

  ‘In my pocket.’ She was wearing navy linen trousers this evening with a warm pink angora sweater, whose V neckline was lower than she could have wished. She shook her head. ‘Don’t you ever think about anything else but money?’

  ‘Give me a break.’ Cary turned towards the door. ‘So that’s a no, is it? You’re not coming?’

  ‘Correct.’

  Juliet refused to look at him, and with a grunt of resignation he left the kitchen. She half hoped he might change his mind and go and see his grandmother, but a few minutes later she heard the sound of a car being started and then the distant roar of the engine as he drove away.

  Dammit!

  She didn’t usually swear, but Cary’s selfishness really got to her. She wanted to put down the grater and abandon any attempt at making a meal.

  But a few minutes later, when Josie came into the room, the smell of cooking food had her wrinkling her nose with pleasure. ‘Oh, Miss—Juliet—you didn’t have to do this.’

  ‘Why not?’ Juliet smiled at her. ‘I imagine Lady Elinor can eat something, can’t she? Kidneys are supposed to be good for the digestion, I believe.’

  Josie came to squeeze her arm. ‘You’re a kind girl,’ she said fiercely. ‘Who’d have thought Mr Cary would find himself a nice girl like you?’

  ‘Who’d have thought it?’ agreed Juliet drily, but she kept her real feelings to herself.

  With Josie’s approval, Juliet ate her supper in the conservatory. She did consider taking her tray upstairs, but now that Cary had gone out she felt more at ease and the conservatory was still warm after being bathed in sunshine for most of the day.

  She was pushing a slightly burned kidney round her plate when she became aware that she had company. The conservatory was lit by patio lights, only a couple of which were actually illuminated, and she got quite a start when she saw a tall dark figure standing in the doorway to the morning room.

  ‘Hi,’ said her visitor, making no attempt to come further into the room. ‘Josie said I’d find you here.’

  Juliet took a steadying breath. ‘Were you looking for me?’

  ‘I came to see the old lady,’ Rafe corrected her drily. ‘Josie rang and told me she’d called the doctor.’

  ‘Ah.’ Juliet nodded. Despite her reservations about him, she was fairly sure that Rafe thought more of his grandmother than Cary ever had. ‘So—how is she tonight?’

  ‘Frustrated.’ Rafe propped a shoulder against the frame of the door. ‘She dislikes having Charteris telling her to look after herself.’

  ‘But she should.’ Juliet didn’t know whether to get to her feet or stay where she was. ‘And if there’s anything I can do to help…’

  Rafe inclined his head. He was wearing black pleated trousers this evening and a white silk shirt. The cuffs of his shirt were rolled back to his elbows, and her eyes were drawn to the contrast between the fabric and the dark tan of his skin. She wondered if he’d been planning on going out when Josie phoned. Whether he’d had a date with some young woman he was interested in.

  ‘In the normal way, she doesn’t have a problem,’ Rafe said at last, aware that his own motive for coming to find Juliet was hardly commendable. When the old lady had told him what had happened, that their visitor had made a meal for them all, he’d felt a compelling desire to thank her. But now, standing here, looking at the attractive picture she made in the lamplight, he wondered if gratitude had really been at the top of his list.

  ‘You mean you think our being here might be too much for her?’ Juliet had interpreted his words to mean that she and Cary were the real reason Lady Elinor had had to take to her bed.

  ‘No.’ Rafe shook his head. ‘She had a bad dose of flu in February. Charteris warned her to take things easy for a while, but you must have realised by now that the old lady doesn’t play by anyone’s rules but her own.’

  Juliet frowned. ‘Are you worried about her?’

  ‘No more than usual.’ Rafe’s tone was dry. ‘By the way, she asked me to tell you, the kidneys were delicious.’

  Juliet’s cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink. ‘She didn’t really say that.’

  ‘She did.’ Rafe hesitated a moment and then left the door and walked slowly across the tiled floor. He knew he was tempting the devil by being here, but Josie had also told him that Cary had gone out and he enjoyed baiting his fiancée. She was such an easy target. ‘So where’s the boy wonder this evening?’ he asked casually, pausing beside her chair. ‘Checking out the local talent?’

  ‘No!’ Juliet had hoped they could have a conversation without resorting to sarcasm. ‘He’s gone into Bodmin to meet some friends, I believe. If it’s any business of yours.’

  Rafe dropped down into the chair opposite her, and she immediately felt as if the room was too small. Or perhaps it was just that he was too close, the cooling atmosphere in the conservatory making her overly aware of his heat.

  ‘So why didn’t you go with him?’ he asked, spreading his thighs and allowing his hands to hang loosely between his knees. ‘Or didn’t he ask you?’

  ‘He asked me!’ Juliet was defensive, even though she was telling the truth. ‘I didn’t want to go out.’

  Rafe’s dark brows formed a V, but he didn’t argue with her. Instead he contented himself with just looking at her, apparently waiting for her to say something else. He had the unnerving ability to create tension between them when she had no earthly reason to be apprehensive of him. Heavens, she’d hoped this morning that he was beginning to accept her, but now she sensed another attitude entirely.

  And, thinking of the morning, she finally thought of something she could say. ‘I—er—I enjoyed my walk,’ she said, trying to control the breathy element in her voice. ‘This morning, I mean. And—and you were right about it being wet. Without Mrs Morgan’s boots, my feet would have been soaked to the skin.’

  Rafe’s eyes narrowed on her suddenly animated face. He knew she was nervous of him. He’d sensed that from the first time he’d met her, but he couldn’t decide whether it was a sexual awareness or something else. One thing was certain—she didn’t act like any divorced woman he’d ever known. She seemed far too innocent in his opinion, although again he could be wrong. It might all be an act gauged to arouse his sympathy. Despite his reservations, he was tempted to find out.

  ‘How long have you and Cary been engaged?’ he asked, without warning, and Juliet looked momentarily like a rabbit caught in the headlights of his car.

  ‘Um—a few weeks,’ she said vaguely. Then, as if inspired, ‘We’ve known one another since we were children.’

  ‘Yeah, I know that.’ Rafe smoothed one lean brown hand over his knee. ‘The old lady told me.’

  ‘Lady Elinor tells you a lot.’

  The words were out before she could prevent them and Rafe gave her a wry smile before saying, ‘Does that bother you?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Juliet swallowed. ‘Obviously, you’re very close to her.’

  Rafe shook his head. ‘I doubt if the old lady is close to anyone. Except Josie, maybe.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘You don’t think she’s close to Cary, do you?’

  ‘He’s her grandson.’ Juliet was defensive again.

  ‘He’s also a selfish creep. Even you must know that.’

  Juliet’s lips parted and she got jerkily to her feet. ‘You have no right to say things like that to me!’

  ‘No?’ To her dismay, Rafe stood also, and although she was a tall girl, she still had to tilt her head to look up at him. ‘You’re not going to tell me that with your experience you can’t recognise his faults? I thought they must be part of his charm.’

  Juliet gasped. ‘That’s insulting!’

  Rafe knew he had gone too far, but he couldn’t seem to control this totally negative desire to provoke her. ‘How have I insulted you? By assuming that, as you’ve been married be
fore you must have some experience of men? Or by doubting Cary’s charm?’

  ‘You know what you said,’ she retorted, stung into retaliation. ‘Is that what you tell Lady Elinor? That—that Cary’s a selfish—what you said?’

  ‘A creep! I said he was a creep, and he is,’ said Rafe harshly, but he was aware she’d scraped a nerve. ‘And if you think I need to tell the old lady that, then you don’t know her at all.’

  ‘I don’t.’ But Juliet knew her words had been as unforgivable as his. However, she couldn’t back down now. ‘I don’t know her or you,’ she added tersely. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to take my tray back to the kitchen.’

  ‘And if I won’t? Excuse you, I mean?’ Rafe stepped in front of the table where she’d left the remains of her meal. ‘We haven’t finished our conversation.’

  ‘I have,’ said Juliet, aware that the anger she’d summoned so bravely was rapidly draining away. She held up her head, though she avoided those dark, disturbing eyes. ‘Why are you doing this, Mr Marchese? You don’t even like me.’

  Rafe almost gasped. ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘You didn’t have to.’ Juliet decided to abandon her plan to return the tray, but she didn’t feel she could just storm out of the room. ‘If I’ve offended you, Mr Marchese, I’m sorry. For some reason, we seem to rub one another up the wrong way.’

  Rafe wanted to groan with frustration. Her choice of words was so formal, so prim. God, he was the one who ought to retract his words. She was hopelessly inexperienced for her age. What kind of a man had she married? What kind of a marriage had it been?

  Later on, he told himself he hadn’t intended to touch her. He’d wanted to provoke her, yeah; to get her to shed that prissy way of talking to him and behave like any other woman of his acquaintance. But she was still Cary’s fiancée, for pity’s sake, and he had some sense of honour beneath the tough exterior he showed to the world. Besides, he’d never seduced another man’s woman, and he’d had no intention of doing so now.

  Yet he stopped her when she would have turned away from him, imprisoned her beside him with one slightly cruel hand about her wrist. And then, when she’d stared up at him with shocked, indignant eyes, he’d cupped her nape with his free hand and brought her mouth to his.