by Margaret Way
'Apparently ! ' said Brooke, and let it hang there.
Louise gave another wail and her mother turned on her irritably. 'It will be better if you go to bed, Louise. You'll look all washed out in the morning.'
'I don't understand you, Mamma!' Louise sobbed disconsolately. 'Surely you're not giving this traitor here your blessing?'
'Hush now, darling.' Lillian went to her elder daughter and put an arm around her. 'It would be better if he had asked you because you're the most beautiful little creature in all the world, but the fact is he has asked Brooke and now it's up to us to act sensibly. You'll understand when you think it out.'
'Never!' Louise protested. 'You're deserting me for Brooke.'
'I have for the moment.' Lillian didn't deny it. 'Look, darling,' she said with loving patience, 'go along to bed. I'll tell you all about it in the morning.'
'There's no point in discussing anything!' Brooke interrupted flatly. 'I most certainly do not want to marry Mr. Corelli and I've told him so. There's no need for you to subside into a jelly, Lou. Marry Patrick. He's your only likely recourse, unless you want to find a job.'
Lillian's blue eyes flashed her annoyance. 'I wouldn't find it in my heart to bless this arrangement unless Mr. Corelli intends to look after your mother and sister?'
'If I permitted him to !' retorted Brooke, feeling outraged. 'There's no doubt about you, Mamma, you're frightfully adaptable.'
'I have to be,' Lillian maintained with hard clarity. 'Did he say he would restore Wintersweet?'
'There's no point in even discussing it,' Brooke said wearily. 'I'm just as shocked as you are. He's a deep one Corelli, and about as subtle as a sledgehammer. By the way, did you know he has a sixteen-year-old daughter?'
'What?' Lillian very nearly bellowed, and even Louise flinched.
'One more item of his affairs you didn't know about.'
'So he's been married before?' Lillian demanded.
'I think he's really very fond of her,' Brooke supplied without really answering.
'Where is the girl?' Lillian demanded. 'I mean, none of us have ever seen her.'
'She lives in Kenya with his married sister. As soon as he sets up house he's bringing her over. I shouldn't think Lou would have been capable of looking after a teenage daughter.'
Louise breathed deeply and tried to say something, but no words came out. With trembling fingers she pulled her flowered blue silk robe around her, then buried her fluttering hands in the wide sleeves. From shocked resentment she had gone to perplexed incredulity, incapable in her tired state of taking it all in.
Lillian, however, was busy probing deeper into the matter. 'Anyway,' she said, 'there's nothing to worry about, a teenage daughter. Probably she's a very shy, protected little thing. There's school and university and probably a finishing course overseas. No, I think we can safely say we can take a young girl in our stride.'
Brooke felt bound to rouse herself. 'I've already given him my answer, Mamma.'
'You'll soon get over that nonsense!' Lillian said crisply, a frown disfiguring her fine pink and white skin.
'Oh, no!' retorted Brooke. 'Even to save the old plantation, I'm not going to tie myself up with Corelli. To put it plainly, he scares me.'
'Naturally he took you by surprise,' Lillian almost cooed soothingly. Her small face lit up and she gave a small chuckle. 'Didn't I always say my girls would save me? Of course we'd want it in writing, a proper arrangement drawn up by a solicitor. I can introduce my little girl to European society. I wager I could even marry her off to an earl. Oh, for goodness' sake, we could take a trip to England, stay at Ashton Hall. It's still in the family.'
'I can see you're not going to listen to reason, Mamma,' Brooke sighed tiredly. 'Would you permit me to go to sleep? I can't keep my eyes open.'
'I'm sorry! ' said Lillian with every appearance of fond mother. 'Louise, come along now. There'll be a higher plateau for you, dear. Don't worry, Mamma will see to it. I've just remembered all the old family connections. We might as well take a trip home at our first opportunity.'
'I don't want to go,' Louise said dully.
'You will, dear, you will!' Lillian clutched her elder daughter to her like a small bird and walked her to the door. Goodnight, Brooke! ' she called, glancing over her shoulder. 'He's really a very fine man, you know. I'm sure he's going to make you very happy.'
'You're raving, Mother!' muttered Brooke, picking I up a pillow and bashing it nearly senseless.
'No, no, I'm proud of you!' Lillian informed her.
'To think we won't be torn up from our beloved home. To know we won't have to sell off any more of our treasures. Now that you're settled I can give my whole mind to finding someone for Louise. An Italian is all very well, but we all know an English gentleman can't be beaten !'
'Would you mind turning out the light?' Brooke asked in desperation.
'Yes, of course. Goodnight, darling,' Lillian called, 'remember we're on your side ! '
She made it sound as if marrying a stranger was a simple operation in logistics. One only had to look at the broad picture, weighing the advantages against the disadvantages, averaging it out until the final picture emerged not. too badly at all; There were far worse things than marrying Paul Corelli, it seemed, especially as he was thinking of being generous to his wife's family.
Brooke pulled the sheet over her head, only her red hair emerging. She would drop from hard work before she consented to marry Paul Corelli.
Far from his pressing his suit, a whole week came and went before Brooke saw Paul Corelli again. It had been rather an upsetting time for her with Lillian hurling insults at her after the pleas for pity and compassion had failed. Any grateful, obedient daughter would do as her mother thought best, and even Louise seemed in agreement with this, giving her mother much sympathetic support. As far as Louise was concerned now, it would be much nicer to marry into the English aristocracy than take on Paul Corelli with his uncertain background.
There was a staff meeting on Monday afternoon after school and when Brooke came out into the quadrangle she was shocked to see an extravagantly glamorous Lamborghini pulled into one of the parking bays.
'Good grief, which moneyed father owns that?' Kay Murray breathed beside her, equally startled.
There was no mistaking the man who slipped out from behind the wheel managing to look as bold and dramatic as his car, and Brooke clutched at Kay's arm almost for protection. 'Stay with me! ' she begged.
'I will, dear. I'm truly impressed! '
The other teachers followed them out, making no better job of not staring than Kay. The car was so rakish and exciting in design the owner might fully expect it. Brooke was still clutching Kay's arm when Paul Corelli closed the space between them.
'Buon giorno!'
'How are you?' Brooke asked inadequately, realising Kay was hanging on an introduction.
'I'm very pleased to meet you,' said Kay.
'Kay, may I present Signor Corelli, a friend of mine.'
The black eyes mocked her hesitation, but Kay was very nearly buckling at the knees, not having previously met a man of Corelli's type. Her reaction was unmistakable and Corelli took it as the normal tribute to male virility, while inside Brooke seethed. Did he have to draw so much attention to himself?
'Your mother told me you would be delayed, cara,' he said, 'so I decided to come for you.'
'Excuse me, aren't you lucky!' said Kay. 'I love your car, Mr. Corelli. I don't think I've ever seen such an exciting machine!' Nor man, was what she plainly didn't say.
'It's all in the breeding.' he said smoothly.
'And however much money you have. That's my little Volksie over there.' Kay pointed out. 'You won't be joining me this afternoon?' she turned to smile knowingly at Brooke. 'We take turns running our cars.' she explained for Paul Corelli's benefit. 'I bring mine Mondays and Fridays, Brooke the rest of the time.'
'A very sensible arrangement.' He gave her his beautiful smile, and Brook
e felt a little nauseated when she saw its effect. Kay, from looking harassed and irritable, had warmed into a pleasant glow.
'I'll see you later then, Brooke. Ciao, Mr. Corelli! ' Kay flashed a bright smile and ungripped Brooke's arm.
'A piu Tardi! ' he rejoined suavely.
'If that means see you later, I'd be delighted I' She wiggled her fingers and walked fast away and when she got to her car she waved.
Corelli waved as well, but Brooke felt as if she had been dropped on her head. 'Were you really speaking to my mother?' she asked moodily.
'Your friend is waving,' he chided her.
'Bye, Kay !' By this time she felt up to it. The Volkswagen rushed down the drive leaving Brooke feeling absolutely deserted unless she appealed to Mr. Macmillan, the science master. He was certainly looking their way. She must have even framed his name, for Paul Corelli looked down at her enquiringly.
'Come dice? I beg your pardon?'
'Why are you here?' she asked flatly.
'Surely I'm welcome! ' He took her arm, steering her gently but implacably towards the powerful Lamborghini.
'Because of you I've had a frightful week,' she said tightly.
'You do look a little pale.' Velvety dark eyes touched her face and her throat and her hair. 'Please can't you tell me?'
'You speak beautiful English, Mr. Corelli,' she said tightly, 'but I'm quite certain you think in Italian.'
'I only want to help you !' he responded with such charming sincerity she could have killed him.
He waited until she got into the passenger seat, then he came round to the other side, slipping behind the wheel and turning to examine her averted profile. 'If you like, we'll start all over again, and I'll court you.'
'It would do you no good !' she said, leaning forward to examine the cockpit controls despite herself. She was accustomed to driving her mother's Mercedes and her own mildly luxurious Triumph, but this was something else again.
He caught at her reverent, exploring fingers and held them. 'You must tell me what it is you want. I'm really a very sympathetic type.'
'Do let's go,' she said. 'The Head loves all things Italian. She'll be over here in a moment.'
'God forbid!' He lunged forward and switched on the ignition and within seconds they were gliding down the drive. 'You like teaching, my dear Brooke?'
'I'm not your dear Brooke, and yes, I must say I do.'
'It's not so interesting, I'm told, when one becomes accustomed to it. Say in ten or twenty years. It is perhaps a little severity in you that makes me speak. The scotty little teacher, no?'
'Thank you! '
'Prego. You're welcome, young lady.'
'Don't you think we might call off all this pretence?' she said.
'You must not say that!' He glanced at her briefly and shot off at the lights. 'Your mother has warned me you're feeling nervous.'
'My mother is without regard for what I consider the necessary moral considerations. I can't marry a man I don't love, and I'm sure you would be the first to agree you don't love me.'
Something about her tone made him smile. 'You sound regretful, bambina. If you feel not loving you is so outrageous you should take good care to make yourself as perfect as possible.'
'Are you ever serious?' She turned her head, seeing the smile on his mouth and the deep cleft of his chin.
'With regard to you, perfectly. I mean to have you and you must have confidence in me.'
'Oh?' she said, and leant her head back against the plush, expensive-smelling upholstery. 'It all seems like a bad dream.'
'Please, do not say that. It is not nice! '
'Have you always been this way?' she asked.
The arrogant dark profile grew haughty. 'My experiences have convinced me a man must reach out for what he wants.'
'Why me?' Brooke cried in honest bewilderment, and the shimmer of tears overlaid her golden-green eyes. It had been a terrible week and she was feeling quite lacerated, unable to cope with this fantastic man. It didn't do to let him see he was frightening her, but she was too tired to help it.
'Suppose I tell you.' His voice sounded very deep and melodious, consonants and vowels gliding in to one another, the r's softly rolling . .. 'Every man has an idea of a woman he could love, the woman he wants to lie with all through the night, to come home to after the day's work is done, the woman he wants to have near him, to bear and rear his children. It won't hurt you to know you come just a little towards my ideal. You're beautiful, foolish, but intelligent. You make jokes, you laugh―I have seen you. Your eyes sparkle with challenge, defiance. I intend to keep you and I'll never hurt you. You must believe that.'
'That would be kind of you,' she cut in, still outraged, 'but I don't need you, Mr. Corelli.'
'You know that's not so.' His voice had lost its caressing quality, tinged now with a hard authority. 'You know you cannot cope on your own. You know you have a deep sense of responsibility to your mother and sister and it would hurt you badly to see your old home pass out of the family.'
'It's no use! ' she sighed. 'Everything you say is true. but I can't be bought. I know you have a reputation for ruthlessness, but you can't beat me down. If and when I marry I'll be sure the man I love loves me. Anything else is degrading! '
'Then if it comforts you I will be pleased to make you love me.'
He said it in a way she couldn't imagine anyone else saying; as though it were a simple matter to accomplish her seduction. Glancing at his profile, she was more than ever reminded of some diabolical Renaissance prince, inherently ruthless and proud, seeing that all things he wanted fell into his hands.
'Please take me home,' .she said, feeling very close to tears.
Unexpectedly he put out a hand and touched her cheek. 'It has been bad for you, no?'
'We all say things we regret. I don't admire my behaviour either. But you must believe me, I can't marry you no matter how many beg and plead.' She closed her eyes for a moment, just remembering the scenes of the past week. 'I don't know you. I don't know anything about you except you're rich…'
'Very rich.' His voice dropped mockingly. 'It is easy once one makes money to build on it. First the construction company, then the land deals and so on. I have very many interests now. I have made my reputation, now it only remains to acquire a family and an admirable old house such as your own. Don't shiver like that, there is nothing abnormal about what I'm saying, and I want you for the right reasons. The very first time I saw you I arrived at my plan.'
He looked at her briefly and it was the most intimate glance she had ever received. She knew the colour whipped into her cheeks, and her clenched hands in her lap were unsteady. 'You sound as though I can alter nothing.'
'A takeover, don't you call it?' He spoke with amused arrogance. 'I know you're very modern-minded, very liberated, but you are still a woman with a woman's age-old feelings. Don't you believe in fate?'
'I know certain people can alter the course of one's life, but I'm not going to let you, Mr. Corelli. If I struggle I can't be hypnotised. Your eyes are alien.' to me, very black and deep. You have the irresistible charm of your race, but I'm proof against it. What a pity your instinct didn't lead you to somebody else. Catherine Benton comes from an old and respected family. Rumour had it you were very interested in her.'
'Really?' His accent was very pronounced. 'I took her out to dinner a few times. Does this mean we had to become engaged?'
As he was talking he was moving over into the left lane to take the next exit and Brooke jerked in her seat. 'We're going the wrong way.'
'So?'
The sensation of unreality was extraordinary. 'This isn't a kidnap, is it?'
'I would like you to see where I live.' His voice suggested that this was perfectly ordinary.
'I know where you live,' she said tautly, ' “The Columns”.'
'I helped design it and my company built it, of course! '
'It's a very luxurious place to live,' she said shortly. 'Why change
?'
'I've already answered that,' he said with cool blandness. 'Do not be perturbed, I've already told your mother I was claiming your company for dinner.'
Before she could help herself, Brooke glanced down at her clothes, a coffee cream linen skirt and an ivory silk blouse. Both were still beautifully fresh but hardly suitable for dinner. 'It's the end of a long day,' she said quellingly. 'I'm not dressed to dine out.'
'Non importa!' he said lightly. 'We'll have a small party of our own on the terrace.'