The Count of Castelfino

by Christina Hollis

  Meg yearned for a touch, or a look. It was a long time in coming. She had to watch him working the room in the same way he had charmed everyone at the Chelsea Flower Show. He had a smile and a friendly word for everyone—except Meg. She developed a way of flicking glances around the ballroom while still appearing to keep her full attention on the guest who was talking to her. Meg wasn’t one of life’s minglers, but she could do it when necessary. Gianni was an expert, and tonight he was conducting a masterclass. By the time his circuit of the room brought him back to her, she was burning with anticipation.

  ‘Thank goodness you’re back, Gianni! I’m running out of things to say!’

  ‘Oh, I doubt that.’ He chuckled. ‘You’re a natural at this, Megan. I’ve been watching you. You’ve missed your vocation in life. You would have been a great addition to the English royal family.’

  Blushing furiously, Meg opened her mouth to protest at his joke but Gianni waved her worries aside.

  ‘Don’t disagree with me, Meg. I don’t have time for any of this “English reserve” nonsense. Diffidence never won any sales.’ All the time he was speaking, Gianni was casting an eye around the ballroom. He was the perfect host to his fingertips. Although concentrating on his guests, he noticed something the moment he began guiding Meg onto the dance floor.

  ‘It’s good to know you haven’t been trampling all over my clients’ feet. Not many girls can dance as well as you, Meg.’

  Remembering his earlier words, she accepted the compliment gracefully. ‘Thank you, Gianni. It’s a useful social skill.’

  ‘And you have plenty of those. Thank you for being such a help to me this evening.’ He stopped studying his guests and looked down at her. His smile was too calculating to warm his eyes, but she couldn’t help reacting. Warmth flowed through her limbs like melting chocolate, slow and sweet. All the compliments she had been given about her work in the kitchen garden finally made sense. Gianni appreciated her efforts. His guests liked her work. They couldn’t all be saying nice things simply to be polite. They must mean them. All the compliments on top of two glasses of champagne made it a night for bravery.

  ‘It’s all an act,’ she admitted.

  ‘Mai!’ he laughed. ‘I don’t believe you. For instance, if I were to take you in my arms properly, and sweep you across the floor like this—’

  With one bold movement he drew her into his body and propelled her towards the centre of the room. Other dancers melted away before them. Breathless with amazement, Meg was carried along by his expertise, held as though she were precious porcelain. Her beautiful new gown shimmered like a peacock’s feathers in the glow of a thousand candles. Caught up in the moment, she looked up into his eyes and saw the chandeliers were reflected in the darkness of his eyes, too.

  ‘Gianni…I never thought anything could feel like this…’ she gasped. His smile broadened. Meg knew instinctively she had said the wrong thing. This was Gianni Bellini. His silence had led to her spilling her soul in his office. Now his firm grasp and sure footsteps were dancing her into more danger. Her mind whirled in waltz-time. Only silence could have saved her. Telling him how she felt had only confirmed his already high opinion of himself as a ladykiller. She had played right into his hands. Hating herself for melting so completely against his body, Meg still could not stop. His touch was light but so assured she was powerless to resist. While his left hand clasped hers, the fingers of his right hand spread out in a protective cage across her back. He kept up the pressure, her breasts held secure against the broad expanse of his chest as they made turn after turn around the room. Meg shone in his arms, shown to her best advantage as she followed his lead. When the final strains of Strauss died away, Meg felt her face fall with disappointment. Then the applause began. Looking around with the confusion of a sleepwalker, she realised everyone was clapping—including Gianni.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen: I give you the best qualified, the most nimble and the most beautiful head gardener in the history of horticulture!’ he announced.

  Meg threw her hands up to her face, trying to cover her embarrassment. The crowd cooed its approval, and Gianni reached out to her. Meg looked at him with shining eyes. All he did was pat her shoulder in a parting gesture.

  ‘There—I said you could cope with anything!’ he said with a wink as his adoring crowd absorbed him again.

  ‘Gianni—’ Meg began, but it was hopeless. He had moved on. Guests began reclaiming the dance floor. Soon she was enveloped by a tide of couples. They all smiled and nodded knowingly at her, as though she were a marked woman from that moment on. As the band played on Meg forced herself to walk steadily away from the dance floor, head held high. Gianni might have taken her to paradise, but she could not afford to have her head in the clouds. No good ever came of mixing work with pleasure. As a student her studies had faltered when she had allowed Gavin to distract her. She was not going to make the same mistake again. She couldn’t afford to—in any sense of the word. This was the best job anyone in her position could wish for. And it has the best employer too, she thought wistfully, before she could think of a more politically correct reason. I can’t afford to mess up this one chance of making a success in a job that really matters to me.

  The rest of Meg’s evening passed in an agony of suspense. Simmering with the promise Gianni had shown her, she was petrified the guests might notice something. She felt feverish. Catching sight of a reflection in one of the huge antique mirrors set around the summer dining hall, it was a few seconds before she recognised herself. She was used to seeing a dowdy little country mouse peering back at her. Tonight she saw quite a different creature. Her new dress and high heels made her look tall and sleek, but they were only window dressing. Meg had blossomed to complement their designer chic. Her eyes were large and luminous, her cheeks flushed and her hair coiled around her shoulders with a life of its own.

  Gianni looked as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Cool and composed, he was totally absorbed by his guests. None of them was in any hurry to leave such a brilliant gathering, and he showed no signs of evicting them. Brought to fever pitch and now abandoned, Meg grew increasingly restless. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. If he was so busy with his guests, he obviously wasn’t that bothered about her. In a flurry of indignation she set off towards the door. She had taken no more than three determined steps when Gianni appeared from nowhere and put a hand on her arm.

  ‘And where do you think you’re going, mio tesoro?’

  His dark brows were raised. No answer was needed. The touch of his fingers on her sleeve was light, but inescapable. ‘None of my staff leaves before I dismiss them personally. Your time has not yet come, Megan. You are going to show me around your famous greenhouses, remember?’

  She hesitated, not knowing what to think. How could he talk about work when he must know how her mind, body and soul ached for his touch?

  ‘If you insist,’ she said, but any attempt at dignity was completely foiled by what Gianni did next. His fingers closed on her. Then he slid his hand down her arm until he could grip her hand. He held it for half a heartbeat. In those blissful seconds she was touched by unmistakeable promise, and then released. This was going to be no ordinary meeting between employer and employee.

  Gianni took his time in saying goodnight to his guests. He knew he could afford to. Megan Imsey was so hot for him. He wanted to savour the sweet anticipation of her supple little body for as long as possible. As the crowds thinned he began dismissing his staff. Finally, when the night shift moved in to clear away the remains of the dinner, Gianni strolled over to one of the refreshment tables. There he poured two espressos. Meg had been shadowing him closer by the minute. Turning, he held one cup of coffee out to her. The look on her face told him all he wanted to know. Sleeping with her was simply a matter of time. It was entirely up to him when, where and how. That feeling of power was unbeatable. His body hardened with delight, and he smiled. Megan was a smart girl. He had absolutely no doubt
she would agree to his terms. He foresaw no trouble at all. Hadn’t she told him on her first day that she was only interested in getting paid? That direct approach deserved respect, of a sort. Gianni knew exactly where he stood with women like that. His mother had been a good teacher in that way.

  Meg would be all over him from the moment he made his move. Women always were, but the divine Miss Imsey represented something a little different. He watched her concentrating on her tiny cup of coffee. If he hadn’t been so practised in the art of seduction he would have thought she was shy. Instead, he identified only the sly upward glances of an experienced seductress, and sighed. Women never gave him a moment’s peace. The only respite he’d ever had in the presence of a beautiful woman was Meg’s excitement when she talked about those blasted greenhouses. She was as bad as his father had been in that respect. Gianni felt many emotions when thinking about his late father, but pity was the only one he could put into words. He had spent too much time trying to avoid his father’s fate to feel anything more. He played the field, determined never to risk falling in love with a woman. Love had driven the old count to live the life of a virtual recluse for nearly thirty years. No way was Gianni going to allow himself to be bewitched like that.

  He reached out and pulled an alpine strawberry from one of the floral decorations lined along the refreshment table. A tiny bud hung against the rosy cheek of the ripe fruit. Its stem was as fine as embroidery thread. Scrutinising it with the air of an expert, he saw a perfect flower in miniature, severed from its parent too early. It would never get the chance to flourish and fulfil its promise now. He held it out to Meg.

  She shook her head. ‘There weren’t many ripe fruits available—you have it.’

  ‘No. I’ve had my fill of perfection. This strawberry may taste as good as it looks, but that isn’t always the way,’ he said at last, thinking back over his life. ‘It’s yours.’

  He raised the berry to Meg’s lips. Obediently, she bit into it. The effect was magical. It was softly, sweetly, fragrant, and everything a strawberry should be. She sighed.

  ‘I can’t believe anything could be better than that.’

  Gianni felt seduction warming his smile. Unwilling to betray everything that was going through his mind, he soon put a stop to it.

  ‘Oh, no? But I have a second treat in store for you, cara. Don’t say you’ve forgotten?’

  Everything about his voice told her he was no longer talking about fruit. In a visible agony of anticipation, Meg waited. Gianni began to stroll away, throwing her a few words over his shoulder.

  ‘Come on, Eve. Let’s go and find your Garden of Eden.’

  The gardens around the Villa Castelfino were a magical place at night. Lanterns fuelled with perfumed wax had been hung from every tree. In their soft light the flowers Meg tended so carefully took on an ethereal quality. Airy canopies of verbena and tobacco plants shimmered in the gloom. As Gianni led her into the new greenhouse complex their shadows danced in the light cast by thousands of fairy lights threaded through the plants. Without realising what she was doing, Meg pressed a button to override the ventilation system and put on some more air.

  ‘I didn’t bring you out here to work,’ Gianni said severely. ‘My father’s plans showed fully automatic systems throughout this entire crystal palace.’

  ‘In my opinion there’s no substitute for the human touch.’

  She spoke without thinking, and instantly wondered if he would pick up on her words. When he said nothing, she began talking quickly to fill the silence. ‘What do you think of your father’s memorial? You need the proper greenhouse lighting to appreciate the plants. I’ll switch it on, and turn these coloured ones off—’

  ‘No—stop. The effect is perfect for what I have to say, Megan.’

  She was already walking on into the first bay of the greenhouse. Gianni followed her. She stopped. He came to a halt only when he was close enough for his breath to ruffle the crown of her head.

  ‘I have a proposition to put to you,’ he added softly.

  Meg whirled around. He smiled down at her in a way that answered all the questions she would never be able to ask.

  ‘What sort of proposition?’ Meg said when she could manage to speak.

  ‘The very best sort.’ Tearing his gaze from her, he cast a critical look around the high, airy structure of the greenhouse. Meg’s design was so perfect it looked like a tropical glade. Branches hung with orchids and bromeliads rose from a soft mossy bed studded with tiny bright flowers in every shade of amber, ruby and rose opal. The sound of water trickling over a rock face into a shallow pool completed the lush effect. Locked in behind the safety of the kitchen garden walls, Meg and Gianni were alone in her idea of paradise.

  ‘Are you as hot as I am?’ He passed one hand over his brow, his breath escaping in a hiss. Meg couldn’t bear to think of dark patches ruining the effect of her new designer dress. Slipping off her jacket, she laid it over the nearest branch.

  ‘Before the banquet you tried to tell me you were nervous, but now you’re stripping off!’ he teased her gently. ‘Don’t say my delicate little English Rose is turning into a man eater!’

  ‘Lovely as this is, it’s still my place of work,’ she said with uncomfortable, shy embarrassment. ‘I feel overdressed.’

  ‘So do I. May I take off my jacket, too?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Once he had removed it, he released the knot of his tie and let it fall loose.

  ‘I can’t apologise enough for the way Signora Ricci treated you tonight, Megan. It was unforgivable, even though she has good reason to be bitter. She wants me,’ he explained without a flicker of embarrassment.

  Every woman must want you, Meg thought, especially me…

  ‘I could see that by the way she spent all evening eyeing you up,’ she told him. ‘I could also see she didn’t think much of me.’

  ‘That’s why I want to make it up to you, Megan. You’re already my ideal employee, hard-working, discreet, and with perfect manners. You put on such a spectacular display tonight, both with your flowers and with the way you coped under pressure. I’d like to offer you an enhanced position, shall we say?’ His words were serious, but his beautiful eyes were laughing. ‘The fact is, I’d like you to take on a much more hands-on role in my household, carissima…’

  His final word was a caress as intimate as his touch. He laid his hands lightly on her silk-clad shoulders. When she didn’t move, he allowed the tip of one finger to stray beneath the material of her sleeveless dress.

  ‘I’m still not quite sure what you’re saying…’ she ventured, and then tried to make a nervous joke out of the situation. ‘I mean, it’s not as though you’re about to pull out an engagement ring, is it? ‘As she looked up at him her gaze was steady, totally unlike the unruly thunder of her heart.

  ‘Of course not—but you’re on the right track. You must know what I’m about to propose?’ Gianni looked at her closely. Beneath the dozens of tiny coloured lights his eyes were as bright as polished jet, but they dimmed as he realised she had no idea what he was talking about. ‘So…you’re telling me you have no idea what’s on offer?’ he said slowly.

  Meg shook her head. Watching him, it became obvious that his natural good manners were fighting a losing battle with something wild and untameable. He looked up and down the shadowy greenhouse. As he did so he rolled his lower lip over his bottom teeth, holding back some remark. Meg watched him suffer until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

  ‘What is it, Gianni?’ she asked softly.

  ‘I want you to be perfectly clear what I have in mind for you, Megan. It isn’t marriage. That is an entirely different contract. And don’t even think about love. I’m incapable of that.’

  Meg’s heart began to race so fast she could hear it. She ought to run—hide, do anything but stay with a man who was about to tempt her beyond all endurance. Whatever Gianni said now, she was lost. One way or another, she was about to surrender her wh
ole future to him. She looked up at him in spellbound fascination, not knowing whether to smile or escape while she still could.

  He carried on in a low, level voice. ‘In my world, marriage is a dry legal process: it’s entirely about inheritance and money. It’s nothing to do with the way a man needs a woman. It deals only in cold, hard common sense. When I marry, Megan, it will be for the sake of dynasty and ambition. I shall marry an Italian woman who can bring even more wealth and status into the Bellini fold. A man like me finds his pleasures outside that old institution.’ His voice dwindled to a whisper. Meg leaned forward, trying to catch his words. Gianni moved in to meet her. His right hand now strayed up to stroke her cheek with a touch as light as thistledown. ‘On the other hand, when it comes to choosing a mistress I can afford to look much further afield. And I’ve chosen you, Megan.’

  She had to be dreaming. Gianni’s hand idled up to her hair, and then down again, revelling in its silken smoothness. Afraid he might stop if she moved, she stood as still as a statue. Only when he continued his downward exploration, reaching her waist and drawing her in towards his body, did she dare to think it might really be happening. Moulding into the warm, solid power of him felt like the most natural thing in the world.

  ‘You showed me when you first arrived that you’re a woman who can stand up for herself,’ he went on, ‘and I respect that. But if you’re going to try and resist me, Megan, I should warn you that no woman has ever succeeded.’

  Meg gazed up at him, unblinking. She could believe it. She waited, and then realised he was waiting, too. It was an invitation for her to try and defy his words. She couldn’t do it. For long, agonising seconds she floated in the dark depths of Gianni’s gaze. They both knew that once the tiny distance between them was breached, there could be no going back.