The Colorado Countess

by Stephanie Howard

  What a fool you are, she was thinking crossly to herself. OK, he’s gorgeous, but for heaven’s sake pull yourself together. Try to remember he’s only gorgeous on the outside!

  ‘What will you have?’

  He was standing over her. Her heart flickered again, dangerously, as she caught the cool, clean scent of him.

  She forced herself to glance up, steeling herself as she did so. ‘Just mineral water, please.’ And she sighed inwardly with relief. She was back in control again. Her heart was beating normally.

  ‘Just mineral water? You wouldn’t rather have something a little stronger?’ He was crossing to a table where an array of bottles and glasses were laid out, his movements, she observed, as smooth and lithe as a cat’s.

  She pushed that thought away. ‘No, just mineral water, thank you. I’m not a great consumer of alcohol.’

  ‘Neither am I.’ He smiled at her. ‘I like to keep a clear head. But it’s been a hard day. I think I deserve a glass of champagne.’

  ‘A hard day’. Carrie made no comment but she grimaced inwardly. It wasn’t too difficult to imagine what his ‘hard day’ had consisted of. A couple of meetings in the morning with various palace flunkies in order to dish out his orders for the day, then a nice long lunch at some private club or other and the afternoon spent lazing around with friends.

  She regarded him sceptically. To tell the truth, she was surprised to see him pouring their drinks himself. She’d assumed he’d leave such menial tasks to the servants.

  But then there were no servants around. Not a single one. A thought struck her. Maybe he didn’t want servants around right now. Perhaps he had sent them away because he wanted to be alone with her. Flavia, after all, had disappeared pretty sharpish, discreetly closing the door as she went.

  As Leone turned suddenly to glance at her, Carrie felt a dart in her chest, remembering again what he’d told her that day about how she might express her gratitude. Was that what this private little drink was leading up to? For it looked as though there was going to be just the two of them, after all.

  He was coming towards her, holding out a crystal glass. ‘Your mineral water,’ he said, reaching out to hand it to her, his fingers brushing lightly against hers as he did so.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Carrie resisted the urge to snatch her hand away. She had no desire to spill her drink and make a fool of herself. Besides, she had nothing to worry about. He hadn’t delivered the goods yet, and even when he did all he would get for his pains would be a sincere verbal thank-you and a bottle of brandy. If he had seduction on his mind, he was about to be sorely disappointed.

  Rather relishing this prospect, she took a sip of her drink and glanced admiringly round the room.

  ‘This is a beautiful room. In fact, the whole palace is beautiful. At least, the bits I’ve seen this evening.’

  A bit of polite conversation was probably called for, she decided, before they got down to discussing business. Besides, it was true. The palace was quite stunning.

  Leone followed her gaze. ‘Yes, it is rather beautiful. The whole place was redecorated just over two years ago. It was a major project of my mother’s. She completed it just before she died.’

  There was a note in his voice that made Carrie turn and look at him. It had been carefully controlled, but it had definitely been there. A note of sadness, a note of grief. It had caught her unawares.

  Carrie knew that his mother had died very suddenly just over a year after the death of his father, the old Duke. That was a terrible double tragedy for any son to bear but, perhaps foolishly, she had assumed that the playboy count would be unaffected. And that was clearly not the case. So he was human after all.

  But the moment was soon gone. Even as she turned to look at him he was seating himself in one of the armchairs opposite her and smiling as he took a mouthful of his champagne. ‘So,’ he was saying, ‘do you reckon she did a good job?’

  Carrie ignored the smile in his voice. He was probably laughing at her again, finding it amusing that she should set herself up as a judge of such things. But she didn’t care. She was entitled to her opinion.

  ‘I think she did a wonderful job,’ she answered. ‘Like I said, the palace is beautiful.’

  ‘I could arrange to show you round some time, let you see the rest of it. That is, if you’re interested in seeing old houses.’

  Old houses! Carrie laughed inwardly. Well, that was one way of describing it—though she could see that it probably was just a house to him. The house he had been brought up in. The house he lived in even now.

  ‘I’d love that,’ she said. And as she said it she eyed him. I wonder how he’ll expect me to express my gratitude for that favour?

  And it was then that she remembered she had something to give him.

  She reached for her bag. ‘I’ve brought that money I owe you. The other day you went away without it.’

  Leone smiled. ‘Yes, so I did, and I’d forgotten all about it. But you evidently hadn’t. How extraordinarily fastidious of you.’

  Before she could stop herself Carrie smiled back at him. That was the phrase she’d once used of him. Still smiling, she paraphrased the reply he had given her.

  ‘I happen to be an extremely fastidious girl.’

  But instantly she wished she hadn’t said it. Even to her own ears it had sounded decidedly flirtatious, and surely that was the last thing she was trying to be?

  And she felt her insides curl as one dark eyebrow lifted. ‘So we have something in common? Well, that’s a start, I’d say.’

  Then he just sat there watching her, the dark blue eyes unblinking, seeming to draw her like a magnet across the room. Carrie felt a sudden panic and dropped her own gaze quickly. She would drown in those seductive blue eyes if she wasn’t careful.

  She fumbled with her bag and hurriedly changed the subject. ‘Let me give you that money now.’ And she began to scrabble for her wallet.

  Though even as she scrabbled she was doubting the wisdom of this move. What she wanted was to widen the gap between them, not narrow it! And here she was proposing to get out of her chair, walk across the room and press a wad of money into his hand!

  She had a sudden vision of what might happen if she did. She saw him reach out and catch hold of her and pull her into his arms. She felt his arms swoop tightly round her. She felt his lips crushing hers.

  At this vision she held her breath, aware that her heart was pumping. She couldn’t possibly risk that. She’d have to be crazy. So, she just sat there, paralysed, squirming inwardly, feeling the blue eyes on her, sensing he was waiting, every muscle in her body aching with tension.

  And then, at that very moment, the door of the room burst open.

  ‘Sorry I’m late. I got caught up in traffic. Boy, I need a drink. Be an angel, Leone.’

  A young woman with light brown hair that fell in a sharp bob to her shoulders was suddenly standing, bright-eyed and breathless, between them. And as Carrie blinked at her, delighted at this timely interruption, she recognised instantly who her saviour was.

  It was Lady Caterina, Leone’s sister, the youngest of the three Montecrespi siblings, and she was far more lovely than her photographs. Blue-eyed and willowy, her skin creamy and flawless, she exuded the same restless energy as her brother, but there was a totally feminine warmth about her as well. As she looked into her face, Carrie liked her instantly.

  Caterina was coming over to introduce herself. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ she was saying. ‘I was supposed to be here to greet you, but you know how it is. . . I’ve just been running late all day.’

  Carrie rose to shake her hand and smiled in response. ‘I know exactly what you mean. I often have days like that myself.’

  And the remark was sincere, for she knew from what she’d read that Caterina, unlike her playboy brother, was a hard-working young woman, involved in a whole string of charities, to which she dedicated a huge chunk of her time. She couldn’t be more different from Leone.
They were chalk and cheese.

  Caterina was seating herself in a nearby armchair. ‘I hear you’re an American,’ she was saying. ‘I love America. It’s one of my favourite countries. And I adore the people. They’re so open and generous.’

  Two things were suddenly striking Carrie as she turned with a smile to accept all this praise on behalf of her fellow countrymen. One was what Caterina had said just a moment ago—that she’d been supposed to be here at the palace to greet her—which meant, after all, that it had not been Leone’s plan to get Carrie on her own in order to seduce her. That, it would seem, had all been in her head!

  And the other thing that was striking her was the way Leone had responded to his sister’s request to be an angel and fix her a drink. The angel bit was possibly pushing it, but he hadn’t hesitated to oblige. And now he was coming across to deliver her drink to her, totally naturally, as though he did it all the time. And maybe he did, Carrie conceded grudgingly. Maybe he wasn’t a total waster, after all.

  ‘Here you are. One extremely dry Martini.’ He handed it over, then he turned to address Carrie. ‘Would you like me to top up your mineral water?’

  Carrie had been carefully avoiding looking him in the face, for something else had struck her, something she found deeply worrying. But she had to look at him now, though she kept the eye contact brief. ‘No, thanks. I’m fine,’ she said, answering his question.

  But, in spite of her care to glance away quickly, one look in his eyes had started her heart clattering—for she’d been thinking of that scandalous fantasy of a few moments ago. The fantasy in which, when she’d crossed to hand him the money, he’d grabbed her, hauled her into his arms and devastated her with a kiss. Since he’d been expecting his sister to arrive at any moment, it was unlikely that anything could have been further from his mind. The only mind that shameless fantasy had been in was her own!

  Carrie felt herself squirm. Where were these disgraceful thoughts coming from? She must pull herself together and stop reacting to him like this.

  Caterina was saying now, addressing her brother, ‘Is Damiano dropping in? Is he back from that meeting yet?’

  ‘He said he’d drop by.’ Leone reseated himself in his armchair. ‘But I don’t know if he’s back yet. These meetings can go on a bit.’

  ‘You mean he’s coming here?’

  Carrie glanced up expectantly. It looked as though she was going to meet the Duke, after all. My word! she was thinking. This is quite a scoop. First a count then a lady and now a royal duke!

  ‘I thought it would be an idea for you to meet him.’

  As he said it, Leone glanced across at her and winked. And there was something about that wink, something so decidedly conspiratorial that Carrie swallowed back the questions that had been rising to her lips.

  Has he actually given the OK? Is he coming just to discuss the details? Or is he still making up his mind about it?

  But she kept these queries to herself, at least for the moment. For she sensed that with that wink Leone had been warning her to keep their business between themselves and not discuss it in front of Caterina. That struck her as a little odd, but presumably he had his reasons.

  And it was quite clear that Caterina knew nothing of their business as she turned now to face Carrie and proceeded to explain, ‘The three of us often meet down here for an evening drink. We all have our separate apartments, of course, but we try to keep in touch.’ Then she glanced across at Leone. ‘Do you think Sofia will be joining us? It’s ages since she showed her face.’

  Leone shrugged. ‘Maybe she’s not feeling so good. She is pregnant, after all.’

  Carrie felt her ears prick up with interest. The Sofia they were speaking about was the Duke’s beautiful young wife, who was currently pregnant with the couple’s first baby. It had been in all the newspapers just a couple of months ago.

  ‘I don’t think it’s got anything to do with her being pregnant. If you ask me,’ Caterina chipped in again, ‘there’s something wrong with that girl. I worry about her. She just doesn’t look happy.’

  Carrie tried to look as though she wasn’t listening. These people were public figures whose lives were regularly splashed across the newspapers, but this was private family stuff they were discussing and she felt a little uncomfortable about listening in.

  Brother and sister evidently thought the same—that it was an inappropriate subject for discussion—for it was instantly dropped and they moved on to other things, with Caterina advising Carrie on all the things she should go and see during her stay in San Rinaldo. And it was all thoroughly entertaining. Carrie enjoyed herself immensely.

  And it seemed that Caterina had too. ‘I hope we meet again,’ she told Carrie as she finally took her leave of them about half an hour later.

  Even with Caterina gone, Carrie continued to feel quite relaxed. Her previous tension had completely vanished. And to her astonishment she had actually found Leone good company—humorous and amusing and not arrogant at all. The role of good-natured older brother definitely rather suited him. Why, she had almost stopped thinking of him as a rampant seducer!

  ‘Let me make a quick phone call.’ He rose to his feet now and crossed to the phone on a small table in the far corner. ‘I want to find out what’s happened to Damiano.’

  Carrie watched him as he conducted a brief conversation in Italian, wishing she had a better mastery of the spoken language. With the aid of a large dictionary she could decipher the written language, but her ears hadn’t quite adapted to speech yet. She could pick out a few words here and there, but not enough to know what he was really saying.

  Still, it was a pleasure just to listen. It was a beautiful language anyway, but, quite frankly, the way Leone spoke it sent shivers down her back.

  Oh, dear! She bit her lip at that. She was supposed to have stopped that sort of thinking! It was far too dangerous. She was supposed to be taking control of herself!

  Leone had finished his conversation and was coming towards her. ‘I think we ought to go and eat now,’ he was saying. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling pretty hungry.’

  Carrie had been wondering about food, for she was feeling peckish too. But there were a couple of questions she needed answers to first before she could consider accepting his invitation. Without moving from her seat, she proceeded to ask them.

  ‘So, what’s happening about your brother? Did you manage to get in touch with him?’ And, finally, the most vital question of all. ‘Where exactly were you proposing that we eat?’

  She had no desire to be whisked off somewhere without knowing where she was going!

  Leone smiled at her caution and answered her first two questions first.

  ‘I spoke to my brother’s secretary and apparently he’s still in this meeting. So I’ve left a message asking if he’ll see us as soon as he gets back.’

  Then he smiled, his eyes dancing. ‘As to where I propose that we eat. . .’ He reached out before she could stop him and drew her from her chair. ‘You and I are going to have dinner in my private apartments.’

  As she blinked, he took her arm and slipped it through his. ‘Just the two of us, all alone. Isn’t that going to be nice?’

  In the event, they weren’t alone. At least, not all of the time. Silvestro was there, discreetly waiting at table.

  Carrie was glad of the man’s presence, for her earlier feeling of ease had totally evaporated in the meantime. Dining alone with Leone, she suspected, wasn’t going to be nice at all!

  Needless to say, at the first opportunity she had reclaimed her arm—but not before the most excruciating attack of hot and cold tingles had gone rushing through her at that unexpected physical contact.

  ‘If you don’t mind,’ she’d told him curtly, ‘I can walk without your help.’

  Then she’d stood awkwardly with him in the lift—Leone’s apartments were on the fourth floor—her eyes on the door, studiously ignoring his amused smile, then hurtled out of it in relief wh
en the doors had finally opened. Then she had walked behind him as he led the way to his apartments, reflecting that the oriental habit of the woman walking six paces behind her man was actually a pretty sensible one, after all. It allowed the woman to keep a sharp eye on every move the man made.

  She had continued to keep a sharp eye on him as they stepped into his drawing room, a beautiful room decorated in amber and dark green, then through a wide pillared archway into a small dining room where a table stood waiting by the open balcony windows. It was spread with a fine linen cloth, with a bowl of roses in the centre, and laid for two with sparkling crystal and gleaming silver.

  That was where they were seated now as Silvestro served them coffee at the end of what had been a perfectly delicious dinner.

  Carrie touched her lips with her napkin. The meal had been perfect. But there was still one thing missing. There was no sign of the Duke.

  She glanced across at Leone, who had been the perfect host all evening—anticipating her every wish, passing dishes and pouring wine for her, and always keeping the conversation light and easy, inviting her to tell him about her life and work in New York. Though that hadn’t changed a thing. Her tension had never left her. She had gone through the motions of being as cool and relaxed as he was, but really, inside, she was as tight as a drum.

  She couldn’t help it. There was just something about the intimacy of the situation—in spite of Silvestro’s constant coming and going—that tied her poor nervous innards up in knots.

  Perhaps she was just too aware that Leone’s bedroom was right next door—not that he had told her that it was; she had simply guessed. Which really summed the whole thing up. It was absolutely hopeless. She kept trying, but she was just incapable of controlling her thoughts. Put Leone within a hundred feet of her and she became obsessed with bed and sex!

  At the moment, however, there was something else on her mind, something that was starting to trouble her a little.

  She glanced across at Leone and said, not for the first time, though she was determined to get a straight answer out of him this time, ‘Do you think your brother’s coming? It’s getting a bit late. Shouldn’t you maybe ring his secretary again and check?’