Authors: Sara Craven
It was as if some unseen force was propelling Joanna. She felt like a sleepwalker, an automaton without responsibility for her own actions as she walked forward to the base of the statue and stared at the snarling beast.
Her hand was quite steady as she very gently hung her garland over the raised, threatening paw, but as she stood back her whole body began to tremble violently and picking up her long skirt she began to run almost blindly over the uneven grass back to the brooding mass of the
palazzo
.
Joanna avoided entering the house by the terrace. She had a pain in her side from running and she knew that she looked hot and untidy. She was wearing her hair piled up on top of her head and she knew that some of the long strands had worked loose and needed attention before she could present herself in the
salotto
. She made her way to the side door that she and Nick normally used to get to the swimming pool and crept unnoticed through the hall, past the half-open door of the
salotto
where she could hear the sound of music mingling with the voices and laughter, and up the stairs.
Safely in her room, she sank down on her dressing stool and began to remove the pins holding her hair. She shook it free on to her shoulders and sat motionless for a moment, staring at herself in the mirror. Whatever had possessed her to do such a thing? she wondered. At least she could be fairly sure that it would be some time before anyone went near the statue again and by that time her flowers would have died and fallen to the ground again, or been blown away. No one need ever know how foolish she had been. She began to brush her hair with long smooth strokes, finding the action soothing. She was just debating whether to leave it loose for the rest of the evening or to go to the trouble of pinning it up again, when she heard a knock at the door.
It was probably Lucia come to see what had become of her she thought as she called '
Avanti
,' the words dying in her throat as the door swung open and Leo Vargas walked into the room.
It was the first time he had been in her room since he had dined with her that first evening, she realised, the clatter of the brush on to the- dressing table betraying that she had begun to tremble again.
'You—you wanted to speak to me,
signore
?' she managed at last.
He stood watching her for a moment through half-closed eyes, a slight smile playing about his mouth.
'Among other things, yes,' he said, pleasantly, and Joanna desperately moistened her lips with her tongue.
'I don't really think we have anything further to say to each other,' she said with a fair assumption of calm.
'Oh. but you are wrong, Joanna. We have not even begun.' One of his hands was clenched at his side and as Joanna watched, he held it towards her, palm uppermost. As his fingers opened she closed her eyes in quick dread, knowing what she would see.
'Nick told you the old story, didn't he, Joanna? Not just the respectable part of it, which I told Lucia just now, but the way the island beauties used the statue to signal their desires to their lord. Your flowers may be dead, Joanna, but their message is still potent,
mia
. Don't you want to hear my answer?'
'No,' she whispered wretchedly. 'I can't think what I was doing… It was just a foolish joke…'
'A joke,
cara
? And yet I warned you, didn't I, not to play any more games with me, or to lie to me. Look at me, Joanna, and tell me to my face it was just another game.'
'I can't,' she said wildly, feeling trapped, panic-stricken. 'You have no right…'
'Oh, but you can—and I have.' He lifted her from the stool and set her on her feet, his hand tangling in the soft masses of hair, holding her head in an immovable grip.
'You're hurting me,' she whispered appealingly, but his face was grim as he stared down at her.
'Hurting you? It's a wonder I don't break your neck! You've driven me to the edge of my reason with your moods and whims, but this time you will answer me, and it had better be the truth. You left these flowers?'
'Yes.' Her lips quivered at the admission. 'But I never meant—you weren't intended to see them.'
'Oh, I don't doubt it,
cara
, and you would have been quite safe if I hadn't missed you when we got back to the house and gone back to look for you, like a good host. I expected to find you lying in the darkness with a sprained ankle. Instead I found this.' He tossed the handful of flowers on to the dressing table. His hand relaxed its cruel grip at the back of her head and slid caressingly to the smooth hollow between her neck and shoulder. 'Now,' his voice sank to a whisper. 'Now tell me that your flowers lied, and that you have no gift for me.'
He drew her to him, his eyes searching her face with a curious intentness, then he bent, his mouth parting hers with a devastating sensuality that destroyed every pathetic defence she tried to marshal against him.
She clung to him, every nerve in her body vibrant un-der his caressing hands, uncaring of everything but the fact that she was in his arms, even if it should prove to be only for a night or an hour. She felt she had no more pride left where he was concerned.
He drew back at last, those strange golden glints dancing in his eyes again, giving their brilliance an almost magical tenderness as he looked down at her.
'You are mine, Joanna.' It was less a question than a statement.
'Yes.' She breathed her acquiescence so quietly that he had to bend his head almost to her lips to catch it. He gave a low laugh.
'Don't be humble with me,
bella mia
. At the right time I should find your submissiveness a delight, but I don't want you to use it as a pattern for the whole of our life together. What is it,
cara
?' for he had felt the slight involuntary quiver that had run through her at his words. 'Is the fact that I want you for my wife yet another secret that has eluded you?'
'You want to marry me?' she echoed wonderingly. His lips twisted mockingly.
'Yes—for my sins. What else did you suppose? Oh, don't tell me! I am already acquainted with your unflattering opinion of my morals and motives. Shall I kneel at your feet to convince you?'
'No.' She looked up at him, her eyes wide and rather grave. 'But—I didn't realise—you gave me no hint…'
'I had not intended to say anything to you so soon. After all, how long have we known each other? I wanted to pay you a long and leisurely courtship, putting all the storms and upheavals of the past behind us, but even that has not worked out as I planned So here I am,
mia
, at the wrong time and in the wrong place asking you to be my wife.'
His voice became serious. 'But I don't want you to answer me now, at this moment. I want you to think carefully about what it will mean for you. You have sufficient experience with your father to know the sort of life which it will mean for you—the kind of demands that will be made on you. I have never had a permanent home —most of the year I am travelling. Wherever I am there are people whose needs I may have to place before my own. Naturally I want you with me, but there may come a time, if we have children, when I will have to leave you behind sometimes. Do you think you can bear it, Joanna, to take my life and all that it means and make it your own?'
She looked up at him, her first wild exhilaration at his words tempered by his own seriousness, realising that marriage with him would mean an end to the career and independence she had valued so much. With Leo, there would be time for nothing else but simply being his wife.
He bent and kissed her, his mouth gentle and almost restrained on hers. It was as if he was setting the seal on a vow that had already been made.
'Think about it,
cara
,' he murmured. 'And in the morning, come to me, and give me your answer.'
As the door closed behind him, Joanna sank down on to the dressing stool, her knees shaking under her. In just a few moments, her entire world had been turned on its head, she thought in bewilderment. She pressed her hands to her cheeks, staring at herself disbelievingly in her mirror.
There was no question of her returning downstairs to rejoin the others in the
salotto
now. She was so startled by what had just occurred that she was barely able to think coherently. But she was also unable to ignore or subdue the sweet warm elation which was sweeping through her body, carrying any lingering doubts or misgivings away on a tide of certainty.
She would be a bride after all, as Lucia had said, and Leo's wife. She closed her eyes, dizzy with happiness, visualising the dark cool arrogance of his face and the tawny glow of his eyes when he looked at her. It was then that she suddenly realised he had not told her that he loved her, but had simply assured himself of her feelings for him. She frowned a little at the disquiet this thought had induced. But what difference did a few words make? she tried to argue with herself lifting her hand in a curiously defensive little gesture to the softness of her mouth, still warm from his kisses. He must love her, otherwise he would not have asked her to marry him.
But even as the reassurance of the thought warmed her, she remembered Nick's warning that Leo would marry for expediency, and even then would not make a conventional husband. She shrugged away her uneasiness, reminding herself that Leo himself had told her that their life together would not be an easy one.
She had a long, slow scented bath, trying to relax herself, but her clamouring thoughts gave her no respite. When eventually she got into bed, she tried to read, but she could not concentrate on the words. On the opposite wall, the painted amber eyes of the first Leo Vorghese watched her with faint enigmatic amusement. It occurred to her that he had been married, and she wondered what his wife had been like. Leo had mentioned her once, she recalled, and with a sense of unease she remembered he had described her as 'that unfortunate girl he married'. A slight shiver ran through her, but she told herself angrily that she was just being ridiculous, giving way to over-heightened emotions. Lucia was right—she was far too romantic, in the worst possible sense of the word.
She switched off the lights with a determined click, and settled herself, but sleep continued to evade her. Even when she did manage to doze lightly, she awoke with a start after a few moments, conscious of a thudding heart and that strange feeling of disquiet again. Eventually, she sat up and put the lights on again, helping herself to a drink of cool fruit juice from the carafe beside her bed.
It was a warm night. Perhaps she would sleep more easily if she was cooler. Joanna went into the bathroom and turned on the cold tap, letting the fresh coolness of the water play on her wrists and pressing her wet hands against her throbbing temples.
For the first time in her vigorous young life she wished she had some kind of tablet to make her sleep, part from anything else, if she got no rest, she would look a complete wreck when she saw Leo in the morning.
In the morning! She glanced at her wristwatch as she prepared to get back into bed again. It was morning now. She stood very still as the thought came to her. What would Leo's reaction be if she went to him now and gave him her answer? Perhaps he was lying equally sleepless, as disturbed and anxious in his way as she was. Warmth flooded her body as she realised what would be the inevitable outcome if she were to go to his room. For a moment she wavered, trying to assemble all the conventional arguments against such a course of action, but they amounted to very little in the face of her longing for him and her need to be in his arms and feel the hard strength of his body against hers. More than anything she wanted the reassurance of his passion. If she belonged to him completely, then maybe the doubts and fears that were troubling her would disappear.
Her decision made, she stood up, a slightly mischievous smile curving her mouth. If she went, she thought, she would go in style! She went to the wardrobe and began to search. At last she found what she was looking for— Leo's black silk robe which she had worn during her first hours at the
palazzo
, that and nothing else. She lipped off her nightgown and put on the robe, her hands trembling a little as she secured the sash round her slim waist.
She moved down the shadowy corridor and out on to the gallery like a small, black ghost. This time there were no hidden eyes to unnerve her, but she told herself ironically that she was probably too het up already to notice if there had been any.
Her burst of confidence was already ebbing slightly by the time she turned off the gallery into the corridor where Leo's private suite was situated A low lamp was burning on a small table beside his door but it did not disguise the fact that a bright light was visible under the door itself. So he was awake Somehow that made it easier. She swallowed nervously as she raised her hand to tap on the door panel and then paused, her hand transfixed in the middle of the movement. She could hear voices. He was not alone.
She stood helplessly for a moment, trying to decide what she should do. She could always go back to her own room and choose a less compromising time to give him her answer, or she could hide in the opposite passage where the locked room had been until Leo's visitor left. One thing was certain, she could not be found here half naked, outside his door by anyone else She knew with utter certainty that apart from her own pride. Leo would find nothing in the least amusing about such an incident.
With sudden alarm she realised that the voice inside the room were becoming perceptibly louder. His visitor was about to leave. There was no time now to retreat
to
the safety of her own room now. With a gasp that was half a sob Joanna fled to the other passage, concealing herself behind the sheltering folds of the velvet curtain that masked its entrance.
The sound that came to her as the door opposite opened was unmistakable although slightly muffled by the curtain. It was a woman's laugh.
For a moment Joanna stood paralysed with disbelief, then with the utmost caution she pulled the curtain aside just an inch or so she could see.