His Reluctant Bride

by Sara Craven

  And at the same time, desperately conscious that it mattered terribly. Because the lover who’d adored her the previous night was gone for ever, and in his place was a stranger who had no right to look at her.

  But Alessio was not even glancing at her naked body. His impenetrable dark gaze was fixed on her eyes—on the anger and fierce contempt in their stormy depths.

  He said softly, ‘You know, do you not, that I would only have to touch you?’

  Yes, she knew, and the shame of it was like an open wound in her flesh. Somehow, she had to retrieve the situation. Somehow…

  She said in savage mimicry of his intonation, ‘And you know, do you not, that I would rather die?’ She paused. ‘So will you please get out of my life? Now.’

  ‘Naturalmente. And I will give Guillermo his instructions.’ He gave a curt inclination of the head. ‘Addio, signorina. I wish you—happiness.’

  Then he was gone, closing the door behind him, leaving the discarded robe still lying on the floor.

  Laura reached down, and picked up the mass of crumpled silk, carrying it to her face and holding it there. Breathing the scent of his skin for the last time.

  ‘It’s over,’ she whispered. ‘Over. He’s gone. And I shall never see him again.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ALESSIO was in his study with the door shut, but he still heard the car drive away taking Laura to the airport, and he sat for a long moment, his head buried in his hands, fighting for self-command.

  He had been blazing with anger as he’d walked out of her room earlier, furious at her refusal to listen to reason, and outraged at the way she had spoken to him. Dismissed him so summarily.

  Never, he’d raged inwardly, had he been treated like that before by any woman. But, then, honesty compelled him to ask, when had he ever behaved as badly before to any woman?

  And the acknowledgement that he’d deserved every contemptuous word she’d hurled at him did nothing to soothe his temper.

  But now his anger was beginning to cool, leaving in its place a bleak and echoing emptiness. He was stunned by his own wretchedness. And by his total failure to win her round, or reach her in any way that mattered.

  And now she was gone from him, he thought starkly. How could he have allowed it to happen?

  More importantly, how could he have stopped her?

  Well, there was no way. She had made that more than clear, her words lashing him like a whip. And at least he had not suffered the ultimate humiliation of falling on his knees, as he’d been desperately tempted to do, and begging her to stay. Or committed the folly of telling her he loved her—something he had never said to anyone before—and having that rejected too.

  He pushed his chair back impatiently, and rose. There was no point in brooding, he told himself. He could not change what had just happened. She’d left—hating him. But he could and would deal with the fallout, as he’d sworn he would.

  On his way to the salotto, he was waylaid by an unhappy Emilia. ‘I am so sorry, Excellenza, but we tried to keep the signora, your aunt, away from your room—and the little one—but we could not stop her. Is this why the Signorina Laura has gone away?’

  He said gently, ‘The blame is mine alone, Emilia. And the signorina had her own reasons for wishing to return to England.’

  ‘But she will come back?’

  He found he was bracing himself. Avoiding her concerned glance. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I do not think so.’

  He found his aunt ensconced on a sofa, glancing through a fashion magazine and drinking coffee.

  ‘Alessio, caro.’ She barely glanced up. ‘Now that our unwanted guest has departed, I thought I might invite Beatrice Manzone and her father here for a short stay.’ She smiled smugly. ‘She and Paolo seemed to enjoy each other’s company at Trasimeno so much. Maybe, even without your intervention, he might have come round to my way of thinking. Yet it was probably better to be safe.’

  ‘I am sure you would think so.’ His voice was harsh. ‘However, I must decline to entertain any more guests of yours, Zia Lucrezia. Nor do I wish you or your son to spend another night under my roof.’

  There was a silence, then she said, ‘If this is a joke, Alessio, it is a poor one.’

  His gaze was unswerving. ‘Believe me, I have never been more serious. I do not wish to have anything more to do with you. Ever.’

  ‘But Paolo and I are your closest living relatives.’ There was a shake in her voice. Uncertainty in the look she sent him. ‘Your father was my brother.’

  He said icily, ‘As I am ashamed to acknowledge. And for most of his life, you and he were strangers—at his wish.’ He shook his head. ‘I should have ordered you to leave my apartment as soon as you mentioned Vittoria,’ he added grimly.

  ‘Yet you did not,’ she reminded him swiftly. ‘You agreed to my terms, and you carried them out to the letter, because you did not wish your liaison with her to become known.’

  ‘No,’ he said, after a pause. ‘I did not. But, on reflection, I think I agreed for Fabrizio’s sake, rather than hers. He is a fool, but he is a fool in love, and I cannot blame him for that.’ His mouth tightened, then he went on levelly, ‘Nor does he deserve public humiliation because his wife does not return his affection.’ He shrugged. ‘One day he may discover the truth about her, but it will not be through me.’

  He gave her a cool, hard glance. ‘Guillermo is driving Signorina Mason to Rome, so your own driver is free to take you wherever you wish to go. I would be glad if you would leave as soon as possible.’

  The controlled, controlling veneer was beginning to crumble. She said, ‘I cannot believe you mean this. You are hardly a saint, Alessio, to trouble yourself over the bedding of one stupid English girl.’

  ‘That is enough.’ His voice rang harshly through the big room. ‘Believe that the matter is closed, and my decision is final.’ He made her a swift formal bow. ‘Addio, Zia Lucrezia.’

  She called after him, panic in her tone, but he took no notice.

  He was in the library, forcing himself to look through his emails in an attempt at normality, when the door opened and Paolo came in.

  He said uneasily, ‘Mammina says you have ordered us from the villa. There must be some misunderstanding.’

  ‘No.’ Alessio rose and walked round the desk, leaning back against it, arms folded across his chest. ‘This is simply a day for departures—for finally severing damaging connections.’ He looked icily at Paolo. ‘As you yourself have done, cousin.’

  ‘You mean the little Laura?’ Paolo shrugged. ‘But consider—if I had pretended to forgive her for sleeping with you, Mammina would never have believed it. So what else could I do but get rid of her?’

  Alessio considered him, his mouth set. ‘You do not seem distraught at her loss,’ he commented.

  ‘On the contrary, it is damned inconvenient,’ Paolo said sourly. ‘Until your intervention, I had Mammina nicely fooled. Another few days, and she would have admitted defeat over the Manzone girl.’

  ‘How little you know.’ Alessio’s eyes were coolly watchful. ‘And how was Signorina Mason involved in this—foolery?’

  Paolo shrugged. ‘There’s no point in keeping it secret, any longer. The truth is, I picked her up in London. Mammina was right about that. Offered her a free holiday, plus cash, if she pretended to be in love with me.’

  He gave a lascivious grin. ‘I must say she threw herself into the role. Under all that English cool, she was a hot little number—as you must have found out last night.

  ‘But I’m surprised she didn’t tell you herself—during pillow talk,’ he went on. ‘But perhaps you didn’t give her time, eh? I’ve been there myself, cousin, and I’m sure you had much better things for that pretty mouth to do…’

  There was a blur of movement, and the odd sensation that he’d collided head-on with a stone pillar.

  He found he was lying on the floor, his jaw aching, with Alessio standing over him, flexing his right hand.

  He sa
id softly, dangerously, ‘That is a filthy lie, and we both know it. You never touched Laura Mason, and you will never speak of her in those terms again.’ He paused. ‘When you return to London, it will be to clear your desk. You no longer work for the Arleschi Bank. Now get out.’

  He strode from the room, leaving Paolo to scramble to his feet, unaided and cursing violently.

  ‘You will be sorry for this, cousin,’ he whispered silently, gingerly feeling his jaw as Alessio’s tall figure disappeared. ‘And so will your little bedmate. Oh, yes, I know how to make her very sorry.’

  Laura sat down at her desk and switched on her computer. It was almost a relief to find herself back at work, she thought, sighing. At least it would mean she would have something else to think about—during daylight hours, anyway. At night, it was not so easy to control her thoughts or dreams.

  The long drive to the airport had been conducted pretty much in silence, although she’d been aware of Guillermo sending anxious glances in her direction.

  Once they’d arrived, he had asked her quietly if she was sure—quite sure—she wished to do this, and she had said yes—yes, she was. And he had taken her to the desk, and arranged to have her ticket transferred to the next available flight in four hours’ time. The transaction had taken place in Italian, and she was sure she heard him mention the Count Ramontella’s name, but it had seemed wiser not to ask or protest. She was getting out of there, wasn’t she? And more easily than she could have hoped?

  The actual means had no longer seemed important.

  ‘You have no message for me to take to His Excellency?’ His voice was sad as he bade her goodbye.

  ‘No,’ she said, past the agonising tightness in her throat. ‘No, thank you. Everything necessary has been said.’

  On the plane, she pretended to sleep while the events of the past twenty-four hours rolled like a film loop through her weary mind, tormenting her over and over again. Telling her how gullible she’d been. The worst kind of fool.

  The time since her return had not been easy for her either. Gaynor had naturally wanted to know why she’d come back earlier than expected, and didn’t seem wholly convinced by Laura saying evasively that things hadn’t worked out exactly as expected.

  Her friend was also astute enough to read the signs of deep trouble behind Laura’s attempt at a brave face.

  ‘Please don’t tell me you ended up falling for this Paolo after all?’ she asked, dismayed.

  ‘God, no.’ Laura’s voice was vehement with disgust. She’d encountered him briefly just as she’d been leaving the villa, and he’d called her an ugly name and told her she wouldn’t get a cent of the money he’d promised. And for a second she’d stared at him, almost dazedly, wondering what he was talking about. Because it had all been such a long time ago, their arrangement, and now everything had changed, so that nothing—nothing mattered any more, least of all money…

  ‘Well, that’s a relief.’ Gaynor gave her a shrewd glance. ‘But, all the same, I’m sure there was someone. And when you want to talk, I’ll listen.’

  But Laura knew she would never want to discuss Alessio. The pain of his betrayal—of the knowledge that she’d been cynically seduced for the worst of all possible reasons—was too raw and too deep. She simply had to endure, somehow, and wait for time and distance to do their work.

  However, at least she knew she wasn’t pregnant. She’d had incontrovertible proof of that only two days after her return, and, for a long, bewildered moment, she’d not known whether to be glad or sorry. Just as there’d been times when she’d found herself wondering if he would—come after her…

  But that was just a stupid lapse into unforgivable sentimentality, she told herself strongly. And never to be repeated. She wasn’t having his baby, and he hadn’t followed her to England. So, she’d been fortunate to be spared even more regret—more heartbreak. Nothing else.

  And now she had to concentrate on things that really mattered, like her work. Because this was a big day for her. Her trial period at Harman Grace was complete, and she was about to receive her final appraisal and, hopefully, a permanent job offer, which would give her tottering confidence a much-needed boost.

  So, she went into Carl’s office for her interview with her shoulders back, and a smile nailed on.

  But she’d no sooner sat down than he said, ‘Laura, I’m afraid I have some bad news.’

  She looked at him, startled. ‘My appraisal?’

  ‘No, that was good, as always. But, things are a bit tight economically just now, and we’re having to make cuts, so there’s only one job on offer instead of two as we planned.’ His face radiated discomfort. ‘And it’s been decided to offer it to Bevan instead.’

  ‘Bevan?’ Her voice was incredulous. ‘But you can’t. He’s struggled from day one. We’ve all had to pick up the pieces from his mistakes. Everyone knows that. My God, you know it.’

  He did not meet her gaze. ‘Nevertheless, it’s the decision that’s been reached—and I’m personally very sorry to lose you.’

  Laura looked down at her hands, clenched together in her lap. She said half to herself, ‘This cannot be happening to me. It can’t.’

  There was a silence, then Carl leaned forward, speaking quietly. ‘I should not be telling you this, and it’s strictly non-attributable. But the decision came from the top. One of our big new clients has put in some kind of complaint about you. Alleged you were incompetent, and impossible to work with, and that they’d take their business elsewhere unless you were fired. Times are hard, Laura, and the directors decided they couldn’t take the risk.’

  Laura gasped. ‘They didn’t even ask me for an explanation? It could be some terrible mistake.’

  Carl shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not.’ His glance was compassionate. ‘Some way, and only God knows how, you’ve managed to make an enemy of the head of the Arleschi Bank, honey. Alessio Ramontella himself. I’ve actually seen his personal letter to the board. And that’s about as bad as it gets. No further explanations necessary.’ He paused, saying sharply, ‘Laura—are you OK? You look like a ghost.’

  She felt like one too, only she knew she couldn’t be dead, because she was too hurt, and too angry. It wasn’t enough for Alessio to destroy her emotionally, she thought. He’d deliberately set out to ruin her career as well. She supposed it had to be revenge for their last encounter. After all, his anger had been almost tangible. He must have acted at once, to punish her for the things she’d said.

  She thought, ‘But that’s impossible. He doesn’t even know I work here,’ and only realised she’d spoken aloud when Carl stared at her in disbelief.

  ‘You mean there’s something behind all this. You really know this guy?’

  She lifted her chin. ‘No,’ she said quietly and clearly. ‘I don’t know him, and I never have done. Thankfully, he’s a total stranger to me, and that’s how he’ll remain.’ She rose. ‘Now, I’ll go and clear my desk.’

  Alessio glanced at his watch, wondering how soon he could make a discreet exit from the reception. Attendance had been unavoidable, but now his duty was done and he wanted to leave. Not least because the Montecorvos were there, and he had been aware all evening of Vittoria’s eyes following him hungrily round the enormous room.

  If I’d known, he thought, wild horses wouldn’t have dragged me here.

  Since his return to Rome, Vittoria’s letters and phone calls had returned in full force, although he’d responded to none of them. But she was clearly not giving up without a struggle, he realised, caught between annoyance and resignation.

  He was on his way to the door when a slender crimson-tipped hand descended on his arm, and he was assailed by a waft of perfume, expensive and unmistakable.

  He halted, groaning silently. ‘Vittoria,’ he offered insincerely. ‘What a pleasure.’

  She pouted, standing close to him, offering him a spectacularly indiscreet view of her cleavage. ‘How can you say that, caro mio, when you know you have been avoidin
g me? Is it because of your aunt?’ She lowered her voice, shuddering. ‘She made my visit to Trasimeno a nightmare, the old witch, dropping hints like poison. But now she is no longer in the city. She has moved to her house in Tuscany, and Fabrizio’s mother says she has no plans to return. So, we are safe.’

  He began, ‘Vittoria—’ but she interrupted.

  ‘Caro, I have good news. A friend of mine has an apartment not far from the Via Veneto, only she has been sent to Paris on business.

  ‘And I have the key. We can meet there, without danger, whenever we wish.’

  She smiled up at him, showing him the tip of her tongue between her lips. ‘And you do wish it, don’t you, carissimo? Because you are not seeing anyone else. I know that. Since you came back from Umbria over a month ago, you have been living like a recluse. Everyone says so.’

  ‘Then, I am obliged to everyone for their concern,’ he said icily. ‘Unlike most of them, I have work to do.’

  ‘But you cannot work all the time, mi amore.’ Her low voice was insinuating. ‘Your body needs exercise as well as your mind. And you cannot have forgotten how good we were together, Alessio mio. I shall never forget, and your Vittoria needs you—so badly.’

  He met her gleaming, greedy gaze, and, with a sudden jolt of renewed pain, found himself remembering other eyes. Grey eyes that had smiled up at him in trust, then turned smoky with desire, before shining with astonished rapture as her body had yielded up its last sweet secrets. And all for him alone.

  All that warmth and joy—and the small wicked giggle that had entranced him—and which it almost broke his heart to remember.

  Laura, he thought with yearning, and sudden passion. Ah, Dio, my Laura—my beloved.

  And suddenly Alessio knew what he had to do, just as surely as he’d done when he’d driven back to the villa on that last morning, only to find his plans—his entire future—wrecked by the disaster that had been waiting for him.

  He took the hand that was still clutching his sleeve, and kissed it briefly and formally.