Desire Has No Mercy (9 page)

'Lucie?' Julia could hardly believe her eyes… it seemed incredible to see right now someone from out of the past whom she had last seen when she was fifteen, when Lucie had left Grandma's employ to marry a ship's steward. Julia approached her and caught hold of her hands, as if only touch would make her real.

'My dear Lucie, what are you doing here? In Italy of all places… in this house?'

'Your husband hired me, Miss Julia.' Lucie still had the sprightly voice that matched her hair. 'He found out where I was working in New York and he—'

'But you're married, Lucie!'

'I'm a widow, miss.' Lucie looked sombre for a moment. 'My Bert died when the
Maria Ives
went down. You must have read it in the papers? There was a collision with one of them oil tankers and only a few passengers and crew survived. It happened eighteen months ago.'

'I'm so sorry, Lucie. I had no idea your husband was on that ship.'

'There you are, miss, what is to be will be, as the saying goes. I returned to my old line of work, and then when this offer came from out of the blue—well, I couldn't turn down the chance to take care of you again. My Miss Julia, the nicest lady I ever had in my charge. I must say I was surprised, you being married to Signor Demario. I recall his poor mother, such a nice woman but always on the sad side. It must have been hard on him, being just a boy at the time she worked for your grandma. A real tartar she was! I read in the papers she'd passed away—she was always good to you and Miss Verna, I'll say that for her. Perhaps a bit too fussy and protective, but you were a pretty pair and your parents were dead and I suppose it was understandable.'

Lucie gazed at Julia as the old memories swept over both of them, and then the ginger hair gave that electrical crackle as Lucie shook her head from side to side. 'I wonder what your grandma would say about your marriage, miss? To think of you—and him! Mrs Demario's boy all grown up into such a fine handsome man!'

'He was always good-looking.' A tremor ran through Julia; not even to kind-hearted Lucie could she confide the truth behind her marriage. 'I wonder what made him think of hiring you, Lucie?'

'I reckon he remembered what good friends we were when you were a girl. He seems a very resourceful man, and when he said I'd be looking after you again! Why, it seems only yesterday that I was brushing your long smooth hair in the nursery at your grandma's house. Such hair, and it's still as bright and shining. Cook used to say you owed it to your Dutch ancestors.'

'I expect I do.' Julia smiled slightly, remembering the portrait of Henryk Van Holden which used to fascinate her when she was a child; big, blond, with a pirate's patch over his left eye. He had founded the family fortune, but now all the money was gone and the big old house on Brookside was a tenement.

Julia's smile faded and she gave a sigh. 'Life moves on in mysterious ways, doesn't it, Lucie? Do you believe some things happen because fate means them to?'

'I haven't much doubt of it, miss. Look at the way you and the
signore
have come together again—why, he must've been about eleven years old the last time I saw him. You liked him then, didn't you?'

'Liked—him?' Julia exclaimed. 'What makes you say that? He never used to speak to me, but he often scowled!'

Lucie gave a laugh. 'Boys are sometimes like that when they have an eye on a girl. You were the princess in the castle and he must've made up his mind all that time ago to marry you.'

'No.' Julia shook her head emphatically. 'He never intended to marry me—that's just the way it turned out. I must say you're looking well, Lucie, and your hair still has that lovely crackling sound Verna and I used to love to hear when we got you rattled. You know that Verna's married as well?'

'Yes, you know what a one I am for reading the gossip columns. You've both done well for yourselves, haven't you?' Lucie gazed around the big silvery bedroom. 'Isn't this glamorous? Those long sweeping curtains, that enormous bed, and a carpet you can sink into up to your ankles. I bet Mrs Demario must be proud of the way her boy has got on in the world?'

'She died,' Julia said quietly. 'My husband isn't in business, he runs a gambling casino in Naples. I suppose you could say that he's very successful at that sort of thing.'

Lucie frowned slightly as she studied Julia. 'I wasn't sure what he did for a living. Giovanni speaks English, but he isn't the sort to tell you much, and his wife is all Italian like those pizzas she makes. The daughter is a flighty one, with an eye for the men, so I can't say I have much to do with her. The name they've given her— Maddalena! If you ask me, she'll be living up to it!'

'She works here in the house?' Julia asked.

'If you can call flicking a duster round the rooms her main occupation,' Lucie said tardy. 'She spends half the day hanging around the gardener, who isn't all wrinkled and taciturn like old Jeffers who used to take care of your grandma's garden. This one goes around bare to the waist, with a gold chain around his neck and a tattoo of a pierced heart on his arm. He knows his job, but all the same he looks as if he belongs in a dance hall.'

Julia smiled. 'Something of a Valentino, eh?'

Lucie nodded, her gaze fixed upon Julia's face. 'You've lost that little-girl look I remember, Miss Julia, as if everything had a kind of wonderment. The bones in your face stand out in a lovely way, and you're so grown-up and elegant, but there's something—maybe a bit of grief still for your grandma.'

'Yes,' Julia agreed quickly, 'I do miss her. Verna and I were with her such a long time.'

Lucie nodded. 'It's only to be expected that you miss her, especially now you're a newlywed and would like her advice and approval.'

'Do you honestly think she'd approve?' Suddenly Julia was laughing, but it was the kind of laughter on the edge of tears and she didn't dare to enjoy the self-pity which might lead to her confiding in Lucie. She had to remember that Lucie was employed by Rome and she, as his wife, owed him loyalty even if she didn't love him.

'I'd better get a move on.' She swallowed the painful lump in her throat. 'Rome and I are dining in less than an hour and I guess he'll be annoyed if I spoil the meal by keeping him waiting. Oh, what shall I wear? There isn't time to unpack my case—Lucie, he's gone and crammed that wardrobe with clothes, so will you select a dress for me while I take a shower?'

Ten minutes later she came out of the bathroom, onyx-tiled with a sunken tub, its pedestal basin, toilet and bidet in a water-lily pattern. Lucie had selected
eau-de-nil
undergarments to go with a long velvet dress in deep jade green, the charming simplicity of the style accentuated by a slim jewelled belt, the neckline softly rounded to show off Julia's creamy skin.

Julia touched the velvet dress and hesitated. 'Perhaps something less dressy,' she murmured. 'It isn't as though we're having guests—'

'Mr Rome chose the dress, miss.' Lucie picked it up and held it ready for Julia to step into. 'He came in a few minutes ago and took it off the wardrobe hanger himself. You'll want to please him—won't you?'

Words of denial trembled on Julia's lips, and then with a slight shrug she allowed Lucie to assist her into the dress, which she had to admit fitted her perfectly. The skirt shimmered like the green colour in a peacock's fantail and Julia's fingertips stroked it as Lucie clasped the belt about her waist. How long would it be, Julia wondered, before it really began to show that she was carrying a child? So far there was only a minimal alteration in her contours, adding just a slight fullness to her hips and breast, and when she turned to the mirror she had to admit to herself that the dress was attractive on her… adding a slight voluptuousness Rome would notice at once.

'Oh, you do look a picture, miss!' Lucie exclaimed. 'The
signore
certainly knows what suits you, and they say that's the sign of a really attentive man.'

Julia's heart gave a disturbing throb. She had pleaded for Rome's inattentiveness, but she could see for herself that he would approve of her in the dress of his choice, which seemed to compliment the smooth creaminess of her skin and the ashen shine of her hair.

Lucie went to the dressing-table, for Julia stood in front of a full-length mirror whose long oval frame was a moulding of gilded birds and imps. Through the mirror Julia saw Lucie open a small case and take from it something that gleamed in her fingers.

'Mr Rome said you must wear this with the dress, miss. Isn't it charming?'

Julia turned to Lucie, who was holding a necklace so it caught the light of the lamps. Strung on stems of gold were buds and flowers made of emeralds with diamond centres, and even as the female in Julia responded to the charm of the necklace, she resented passionately the way her husband was wooing her with expensive gifts… letting her know with each presentation that she was going to give him in return the pleasure of her body.

She took a deep shaking breath, as if something constricted her heart. In every way he had bought her… first with the money Verna had lost to him, then with a wedding ring that saved her from indignity, and now with costly dresses and jewels. She had called herself his toy, and as if wound up with a little key that made her respond, she allowed Lucie to place the necklace around her neck and clasp its diamond catch.

'You look lovely, Miss Julia.' Lucie smoothed the dress and the fair hair, which lay in a soft upcurl on the velvet. Julia wore very little make-up, and her mouth had a vulnerable curve to it. 'Everyone used to say your sister was prettier, but I always knew you'd grow up to be the elegant one. My, you should have your portrait painted just as you are! I wonder if the
signore
will think the same?'

'I don't imagine so.' Rome, in Julia's cynical estimation, wanted a woman he could touch, not a painting of her to look at. He wasn't an artistic sort of man like Paul Wineman who appreciated elegance for its own sake, not as something he wanted to disorder with his hands, uncaring if nylon laddered, if silk ripped and soft skin bruised in an effort to escape the lips that stole a woman's right to surrender herself with love.

Julia met Lucie's eyes and saw in them a kind of puzzlement, as if she was beginning to notice the lack of warmth and eagerness in Julia's attitude towards the man she had married.

'I—I was always the reserved one, remember?' Julia applied a little perfume to her neck and wrists. 'In several ways Verna and I are unalike—I guess you could say she's the ardent one.'

'Still waters run deep, miss.' Lucie gave Julia a careful scrutiny. 'It's in deep waters where the best fishing is supposed to be, and some men like it that way, so I've heard.'

'You and your sayings,' Julia smiled. 'I am glad you're here, Lucie, to take care of me. Now the house doesn't feel quite so alien.'

'My Bert always said I had a cheerful face. Now you go and have a nice dinner with the
signore
, out there on the
terrazza
in the moonlight. My, but he has grown up to be handsome! Gives even a middle-aged body like me a kick to look at that face of his, not to mention his fine figure. He's straight as the Guardsmen at the Palace.'

'Do you miss London?' Julia asked. 'Didn't you want to go back there when you lost your husband?'

'Not really, miss. I've worked too many years in America, and now this is quite a change for me, working in Italy. It's lovely and warm in this part of the country—there's something romantic about it.'

'I always thought you had a romantic soul.' Julia's gaze settled on the bed that dominated the bedroom and she felt a tremor deep down inside her. There seemed so little romance in her marriage… she was here because she had no choice, and it wouldn't be too long before Lucie realised that she was going to have Rome's baby and that it had been conceived some weeks before their marriage.

Resentment stirred again through Julia's body. She had been her own private person until fate had thrown her into Rome's ruthless arms… those arms which the Italian sun had tanned to a deep gold. His skin all over was a golden hue, holding in it a sensual warmth that Julia remembered, and ran from the bedroom in an effort to forget.