Ultimate Temptation. Sara Craven

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      All this grandeur for the kind of rent we’re paying? Lucy questioned silently, but the others seemed to take it in their stride.

      ‘A bedroom each, and a couple over,’ Nina exulted. ‘Let’s hope we get lucky.’

      Lucy was hoping for nothing of the sort. That kind of encounter had never been her style, and she felt too raw and vulnerable to contemplate even the most casual of relationships.

      The first couple of days passed tranquilly enough. They sunned themselves, bathed in the pool and enjoyed Maddalena’s excellent cooking. Sandie and Fee spent a fair amount of time on the telephone, having low-voiced giggly conversations.

      Lucy could only pray they weren’t calling home to Britain, or the bill at the end of their stay would be horrendous, and her funds were strictly limited.

      But she would worry about that when the time came. In the meantime, she could revel in the drowsy ambience of her surroundings, and the unusual luxury of having a maid to wait on them.

      Except, this morning, Maddalena hadn’t turned up.

      ‘Perhaps it’s her day off,’ Nina commented crossly as she wrestled with the coffee-machine. ‘Did she say anything to you, Lucy?’

      ‘She hardly says anything at all,’ Lucy admitted wryly. ‘She still seems scared to death of us.’ She looked at Sandie. ‘Why don’t you go down to her cottage and see if she’s all right?’

      ‘Why me?’ Sandie bridled.

      ‘Because you and Fee have been to Italian classes,’ Lucy reminded her patiently.

      Fee pulled a face. ‘And a lot of good it’s done us so far. But I’ll try and get some sense out of her,’ she added, with the air of one making a great concession.

      She was back almost at once. ‘There’s no one there,’ she reported. ‘I had a look through one of the windows and the place looks deserted, as if she’s cleared out altogether.’

      ‘Oh, Lord.’ Nina was alarmed. ‘Our money—our travellers’ cheques...’

      But all their personal possessions and valuables were still safely in place.

      ‘She must have got fed up with the job,’ Fee said discontentedly. ‘But maid servce is included in the price Tommaso’s charged, so he can bloody well provide someone else. We’ll tell him after we’ve been to the alimentari this morning.’

      Which was how Lucy now found herself sitting in Montiverno’s main square drinking coffee with Nina, while the other two shopped for provisions—something they’d volunteered to do, to her surprise.

      They came back laden, and smiling like cats with a saucer of cream.

      ‘You’ll never guess who we bumped into in the supermarket,’ Sandie said airily as she sat down. ‘Those guys we met on the flight over—Ben and Dave. Ben’s parents have got a summer place just a couple of miles away at Lussione. Isn’t that an amazing coincidence?’

      Her face and voice were equally guileless, but Lucy spotted the wink she directed at Nina.

      They’d clearly been in touch with each other from the start. That was what all the phone calls were about, she thought resignedly. And this morning’s shopping trip had been a rendezvous.

      ‘So tonight we’re throwing a little party—a welcome to Tuscany bash for us all. They thought it was a great idea.’ Fee adjusted her sunglasses nonchalantly.

      Lucy stared at her. ‘You’re having this party at the villa?’

      ‘Why not?’ Sandie challenged.

      They were all glaring at her suddenly, looking as if they were waiting for her to put a damper on everything. As she felt she must.

      ‘It doesn’t seem the right setting for that kind of thing.’ She felt about one hundred and three. ‘A lot of the furniture’s old and very valuable. And Tommaso may not want a lot of strangers on his property.’

      ‘Well, if you’re so uptight about it, ask him,’ Nina flung at her. ‘Get his permission at the same time you tell him about Maddalena. Ask him to join us, if he fancies it.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’m going to look in that little boutique down the road. We’ll see you back here in an hour.’

      Now I really am the outsider, Lucy thought as she climbed up through the maze of narrow cobbled streets towards the rocca. Party pooper par excellence.

      She stopped to check the address Tommaso had given her, frowning slightly. She’d asked for directions at the café before setting off, but the houses in this area seemed far too shabby and run-down for the man who controlled the Villa Dante. The paint was peeling off many of them, and the roofs needed attention as well, their tiles either slipping or missing altogether.

      A scrawny dog, lying in a patch of shade, lifted its head and growled at her as she went past, peering at the numbers on the doors.

      Tommaso’s house was in the middle of the street. Two cracked steps led to the front door, and a broken shutter hung at a crazy angle from the main ground-floor window.

      When the bell didn’t work, Lucy hammered on the door, but to no avail. There was no sound or movement in the house.

      She stood on tiptoe, peering through the window. The room was totally bare. No furniture. No sign of life at all.

      Lucy bit her lip as she stepped back onto the street. First Maddalena, she thought uneasily, now Tommaso. What on earth’s going on?

      She glanced round, uncertain what to do next. Her phrasebook didn’t equip her to deal with errant maids and missing landlords, and she had the uncanny feeling, anyway, that she was being watched from several adjoining houses, and not in any kindly spirit either.

      I’d better find the others—tell them, she decided, and began to retrace her steps, glad to get away from the mean, narrow street and its unseen eyes.

      But she must have taken a wrong turning, because she found herself in a different square altogether. No bars or bustle but dominated by an elaborate Gothic church, and completely deserted apart from the statutory pigeons.

      Lucy heard her own footsteps echoing as she crossed the cobbles and she paused, wondering which of the many alleys leading off the square would take her back to the town centre.

      The silence was oppressive—threatening. Then suddenly it was shattered by the roar of a motorcycle coming from behind her.

      The pigeons flew up in a flurry of alarmed wings. Lucy spun round, had a confused impression of two figures, leather-clad and anonymous in helmets, and realised a gauntleted hand was reaching towards her as the bike swerved in her direction.

      She cried out, and tried to jump back as the hand snatched at the strap of her shoulder bag and tried to jerk it from her. But Lucy clung on grimly, refusing to let go. She heard the snarl of the throttle, warning her that the bike was about to accelerate away, and was pulled forward, falling painfully onto the cobbles. She was going to be dragged behind the bike if she didn’t release her bag.

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