Count Valieri's Prisoner

by Sara Craven

  And saw his tall figure taking solid, reassuring shape among the clustering shadows as he approached.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ he enquired as he came up to her. ‘Another snake, perhaps?’

  ‘No.’ She felt foolish. Angry too that she’d betrayed her vulnerability yet again. ‘I didn’t know where you were.’

  ‘I took a walk,’ he said, adding drily, ‘As I am not a saint, I decided to remove myself from temptation.’

  She knew she was blushing again, and was glad of the darkness.

  She hunched a defensive shoulder. ‘I—I thought the wolf might have returned. And you didn’t take the gun.’

  ‘Because there is no need,’ he said calmly. ‘You are quite safe.’ He put a hand gently on her shoulder, turning her back into the room. The warmth of his touch seemed to penetrate every bone in her body. ‘Now, if you sit, I will attend to your blisters.’

  She sat, hands folded in her lap, waiting while he carried the bath outside to empty it, before returning to the backpack and taking out a roll of bandage and a small tube.

  ‘This is a gel,’ he told her. ‘It acts as an artificial skin.’

  ‘Will it hurt?’ My God, she thought. She sounded about five years old.

  ‘A little,’ he said. ‘But it will help.’ He added drily, ‘I hope you heal quickly, mia bella. When I promised to return you undamaged, I had not bargained for how reckless you might be.’

  Return you...

  She said quickly, ‘Is there news from London? Am I going home?’

  ‘They have made no reply of any kind.’ He was deft with the gel, but it stung all the same, giving her an excuse for the sudden tears welling up in her eyes.

  She said huskily, ‘And if they never answer, what will happen then?’

  ‘You need not consider that,’ he said. ‘They will respond eventually, I promise.’ He put the cap back on the tube. ‘You will have to be patient, Maddalena.’ He paused. ‘And take no more stupid risks,’ he added as he began to strap up her ankle swiftly and efficiently.

  ‘Oh, that’s so easy for you to say.’ She wiped away an errant tear with an angry fist.

  There was a silence, then he said quietly, ‘You will feel better, mia cara, when you have had some food.’

  She rose. ‘Then please take me back to the house. I’d prefer to eat in my cell—alone.’

  ‘You will be very hungry by tomorrow,’ he said. ‘We will eat now.’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ she repeated, her voice rising. ‘Tomorrow? You don’t mean that. You can’t imagine I’d spend the night here.’ She didn’t add, ‘With you.’ She didn’t have to.

  She saw his face harden. ‘Purtroppo, I fear that neither of us has any choice in the matter.’

  ‘But Camillo brought you by car. You said so.’

  ‘And I sent him back.’

  ‘No.’ Maddie’s stomach was churning. ‘No, I don’t believe it. Why would you do that?’

  ‘Because the road here, like the village, has been abandoned, and is dangerous. I would not ask Camillo to take such a risk in fading light.

  ‘So he will come for us in the jeep tomorrow.’

  He added bleakly, ‘And you, Maddalena, must live with the consequences of your own foolishness.’

  She sank back on to the chair. ‘What’s so foolish about wanting to be free?’ she asked bitterly. ‘To be back with the man I love?’

  His voice was equally harsh. ‘Nothing. But for the moment, there is only soup, bread and sausage. You may eat or go hungry as you wish.’

  She sat, arms folded defensively round her body, watching his preparations. He added more wood to the fire, refilled the cauldron, coaxed the rusty stove to light, poured soup from a jar into a metal pan produced from his pack and set it to heat.

  While it was doing so, he unrolled what she now saw was a sleeping bag attached to his pack, and took it into the other room. Maddie noticed uneasily that he was unzipping it completely and arranging it across the bare mattress as a coverlet. Turning it into a double bed.

  She stiffened, feeling her heartbeat quicken. Oh God, no, not that...

  Then she smelt the wonderful aroma coming from the stove, and her mouth began to water, rendering other considerations secondary, even if only on a temporary basis.

  He shared the soup, thick with chicken, herbs and vegetables, between two tin basins, and brought it to the table with wooden spoons that had clearly been hand-carved, and a platter of bread and sausage cut into chunks with his hunting knife.

  In spite of her apprehensions, Maddie ate every scrap put in front of her, and even managed a constricted ‘Grazie, signore,’ when she had finished.

  ‘Prego,’ he returned laconically. ‘And earlier you called me by my given name.’

  So, he had noticed after all, she thought, vexed with herself.

  She said shortly, ‘A slip of the tongue. I was—nervous.’

  ‘Che peccato,’ he said lightly. ‘My hopes are dashed once again.’

  She kept her voice cool. ‘Given the situation, you can’t be hoping for very much.’

  ‘No? But every man is allowed, surely, to dream.’

  Instinct warned her that Andrea Valieri’s dreams should remain strictly a no-go area.

  She shrugged. ‘Yes, if he has time to waste.’

  ‘Yet don’t you dream, mia bella, of the day, the hour, the minute when you will become a bride? And do you consider that a waste?’

  Did she still dream, she wondered, startled, or had it all become swallowed up by swathes of fabric, floral decorations and place cards? Subsumed by the ongoing battle with Esme over every detail?

  She couldn’t be sure any more. Only certain that she wanted this conversation to stop.

  Back at the House of the Wolf, she would have made some excuse and gone to her room. Here she did not have that luxury, and she was acutely conscious the only thing waiting for her was that mattress and its makeshift quilt. Which might well be waiting for him too.

  She pulled herself firmly together. ‘But my dream is coming true, signore. That makes a difference.’ She paused. ‘How is Jolanda’s hand? Did it need stitches?’

  ‘How good of you to ask,’ he said mockingly, letting her know that the abrupt change of direction had been duly noted. ‘It has already been attended to at the nearest clinic.’ He added softly, ‘A little drama, of which you took full advantage, mia cara.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I can still be concerned. And I hope Luisa won’t get into trouble for forgetting to lock me in.’

  ‘She has been reprimanded.’ He added grimly, ‘And Domenica too will have something to say when she returns.’

  ‘No surprise there,’ Maddie said crisply. ‘Does she really have to be so obnoxious?’

  ‘She has another side. She is, per esempio, devoted to my mother.’

  That startled her. ‘Your mother’s still alive?’

  His smile, tender, affectionate, lit his entire face. Suddenly he was someone she had never seen before but wanted very badly to know, she realised, as her heart turned over.

  He said, ‘Very much so, I assure you.’

  Oh,’ she said. ‘I—I just assumed...’

  ‘Of course,’ he said ironically ‘Because to ask about my family, and use my given name would be to treat me as a human being, and it is easier to think of me as a monster.’

  She looked down at the table. ‘Hardly that. In spite of everything, you’ve been—kind tonight.’

  ‘You are important to my strategy, mia cara.’ His response was brusque again. ‘Percio, I cannot afford to let you go. Matters have gone too far for that.’

  Too far, she thought, hazily as the candle flame seemed to swim in front of her eyes. But no further. She realised she was going to yawn, and tried to stifle it behind her hand, but, of course, he noticed.

  ‘You have had a trying day, Maddalena. It is time you went to bed.’ His voice was expressionless. ‘I regret the other facilities are only a hut outside the back door, but
I have a torch.’

  She said too quickly, ‘I’ll be fine right here.’

  The dark brows lifted. ‘Tired almost to death, mia bella, yet still fighting me? Tuttavia, I must insist. The mattress can easily accommodate us both, and I prefer to keep you beside me. I am sure you understand why.’

  She said, stumbling a little, ‘If I promise not to run away again, will you sleep out here?’

  ‘No,’ he said, adding with faint grimness, ‘because, thanks to you, I too have had a wearing day, so you are in no position to make terms.’

  Maddie got to her feet. ‘But you said—you told me that you wouldn’t do this. You promised.’ She drew a swift sharp breath. ‘I should have known I couldn’t trust you—you bastard.’

  ‘I said I would not take you against your will,’ he corrected her. ‘And I am in no mood to test your resolve tonight. I desire sleep, not pleasure.’

  Her voice shook. ‘You are—vile.’

  ‘And you, mia carissima, are a painful and persistent thorn in my flesh,’ he said harshly. ‘Which I pray to God I shall soon be rid of.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ she shot back at him.

  For a moment they glared at each other across the table, then suddenly and unexpectedly he burst out laughing.

  ‘Now we have said our prayers, Maddalena, we can indeed go to bed.’

  He paused. ‘Can you walk, or shall I carry you?’

  The question hung in the air between them for what seemed an eternity. Her mind was suddenly empty of everything but memories—the strength of his arms—the scent of his skin. His smile...

  So much that was best forgotten. That should never have existed in the first place. That she should have fought from the start with every atom of strength she possessed before it took her unawares. Turned her world—her certainties to chaos.

  She said huskily, ‘I—I can manage.’

  ‘Then do so.’ His tone was briskly impersonal. He went to his pack and retrieved the torch which he handed to her. ‘I will clear up here and wash before I join you.’

  She nodded wordlessly and made her way carefully into the other room. Thanks to the strapping, her ankle was not aching nearly as much, she thought as she braved the few feet of darkness beyond the narrow back door.

  As he’d said, it was just a hut, and primitive was a compliment. Also she was unnerved by the rustlings and scratchings she heard all around her, which the wavering torchlight did not dispel.

  She was almost glad to be back inside the house. The mattress was old and smelt of straw, but it was marginally better than the floor. She put the torch down beside her and lay for a moment, looking up at the stars which were plainly visible through the holes in the roof, trying to control her inner trembling. Waiting.

  The candles in the outer room were extinguished, signalling his approach, and she turned hurriedly on to her side, seeking the furthest edge of the mattress, and digging her fingers into its sagging contours to avoid rolling off.

  Her eyes were closed so tightly that coloured lights danced behind her lids, but she was fiercely aware of him just the same. Every sense telling her that he had come round to her side of the mattress. That he was standing above her, looking down at her. Oh God, bending towards her...

  His voice was soft, its tone sardonic. ‘I will take charge of the torch, mia bella. It occurs to me it is a heavy one and I have no wish to wake with a fractured skull. So now you may stop pretending and sleep well.’ He paused. ‘E sogni d’oro.’

  He moved away, and she felt the mattress dip under his weight. In spite of his assurances, she was rigid with tension, waiting for him to reach for her. But his only movement was to turn on his own side away from her, and a short while later, his deep, regular breathing told her that he at least had fallen asleep.

  Slowly, gradually, she relaxed her grip on the mattress. She pillowed her head on her arm, breathing him again, as his shirt sleeve brushed her face, absorbing the male scent of him with a sudden, passionate hunger, which she could no longer dismiss or even deny.

  The shame of it was corrosive. She’d known him only a matter of days, during which he’d been her jailer—her enemy. Anger and fear should have kept her safe. So why had nothing protected her from this strange turmoil of confused emotion?

  I told myself I just wanted my freedom, she thought, her throat tightening. To get back to England, whatever the cost.

  But it was never that simple. Because what I’ve really been doing is running away from myself. And from him.

  And now there is nowhere left to go.

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT WASN’T EASY, as Maddie soon discovered, to lie wide awake next to a sleeping man, whom you were desperate not to disturb.

  Especially when it was the first time she’d ever shared a bed for the entire night, she thought, wondering what would happen if her imitation of a statue was interrupted by an attack of cramp. Or sneezing. Or if she simply fell asleep and turned over...

  Don’t even think about it, she adjured herself grimly. Concentrate instead on the stars you can see through that hole in the roof.

  But although her body was still, her mind remained restless.

  Wasn’t there some psychological syndrome, she wondered desperately, that caused victims to become physically attracted to their kidnappers?

  Surely just knowing that would help her to fight this dangerous obsession. To overcome this bewildering, illogical need to move closer to the warmth of him, and the false security his arms seemed to offer.

  Because she couldn’t jeopardise her future—her marriage and all her dreams of happiness for what could only be a brief and sordid fling with a—a serial womaniser. A man, after all, who had spent the last two days and nights with another girl in some love nest in Viareggio.

  A man who had surely done enough damage already to the Sylvesters, without enticing her—a promised wife—into this ultimate and disgraceful betrayal.

  Think of Jeremy, she urged herself feverishly. Focus on him, and only on him. Think of being reunited with him, when all this will seem like a bad dream. Imagine being in his arms and belonging to him again.

  At which point she paused, because, if she was honest, her sense of belonging had occasionally faltered in the past months.

  And she found herself remembering unhappily how hurtful it had always seemed when Jeremy had dressed and left immediately after lovemaking, which had also been rushed and quite often less than satisfying—for her at least.

  ‘You make me feel like a tart,’ she told him one night while he was hurrying into his clothes. She tried to make it sound as if she was teasing rather than complaining, but he’d glanced at her defensively.

  ‘Don’t, darling. You know how things are.’

  ‘Well, yes.’ Nigel Sylvester’s shadow seemed to hang over them even in their most intimate moments. She controlled a shiver, again, trying to sound jokey. ‘But surely your father isn’t having you watched.’

  ‘Of course not, but he expects me to be first into the office each morning. So I need to leave from home.’ He came over to the bed and kissed her. ‘We’ll soon be married, Maddie. We just have to be patient, that’s all.’

  And I have been, she thought now as she had then. In all sorts of ways. But for how much longer?

  She looked back at the stars, trying, as a last resort, to count them, but always somehow getting the total wrong, and having to begin again. Until, eventually, she closed her eyes against their dazzle, and her mind to the numbers whirling in her head, and let sleep claim her at last.

  The next time she opened her eyes, she saw above her a patch of sun-brightened blue sky signalling morning.

  For a brief moment, she struggled to figure out where she was or what had woken her, and then, destructive as a tidal wave, memory came rushing back, and slowly and carefully, she turned her head.

  Andrea Valieri was lying less than a foot away from her, propped up on one elbow, his mouth curving in a faint smile as he watched her. The sleep
ing bag had slipped down from his body, revealing that, apart from a pair of silk shorts, he was all bronzed skin. His hair was tousled, and he needed a shave, but neither of those circumstances detracted one iota from his sheer physical appeal.

  ‘Buongiorno.’ His voice reached her softly. ‘E come stai?’

  Dry-mouthed, Maddie stared at him, trying to make her voice work, and at the same time wondering what in the world she could possibly say...

  He tutted reprovingly. ‘Have you not learned how to respond when the man in your bed wishes you “good morning”? Then permit me to show you.’

  He moved then, reaching out to scoop her closer as he bent and let his mouth brush hers.

  It was the lightest of touches, but all the same Maddie was aware of it in every inch of her skin, every nerve-ending. But most of all in every pulse of the soft inner trembling building inside her.

  A trembling which could so easily become an ache—which she could not afford.

  Only to feel her resolve slipping away as Andrea kissed her again, his mouth moving on hers, still gently but with a growing insistence as the seconds lengthened into minutes.

  Maddie felt the flicker of his tongue probing her lips, searching for the inner sweetness they protected. At the same time his fingertips were stroking back the damp, dishevelled hair from her forehead, then tracing the contours of her face down to the curve of her throat where they lingered.

  Her breath caught in mingled apprehension and excitement as his lips followed the same path softly kissing her eyes, her cheeks, the tremulous corners of her mouth, before feathering his lips over the pulse in her throat, making it leap in anticipation.

  When, at last, he raised his head, Maddie’s face was burning, forcing her to stifle a gasp as she registered the sudden tumult in her blood.

  Now was the moment—if ever—to push him away. To hang on to some atavistic notion of survival and test his given word that he would not force her.

  She was not a virgin but, at the same time she felt so inexplicably nervous and insecure that this might indeed have been her first time with a man.

  Her body seemed to belong to a stranger, its reactions, responses to his mouth and hands, alien and bewildering, as if she was balanced on some brink as enticing as it was dangerous.