In The Count's Bed: The Count's Blackmail Bargain / The French Count's Pregnant Bride / The Italian Count's Baby. Catherine Spencer

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      He got to his feet, lithe in cream denim trousers and a black polo shirt, and went to the trolley. ‘May I bring you some of this excellent ham?’

      ‘Thank you.’ She watched him carve several slices off the bone with deft precision. As he placed the plate in front of her she said, ‘Maybe he’ll feel better later on, and be able to get up. We’re supposed to be going to Assisi.’

      ‘Paolo will be going nowhere for the foreseeable future,’ Alessio said calmly. ‘Unless his mother insists on my summoning a helicopter to take him to the nearest hospital, of course.’

      ‘He has a cold in the head.’ Laura’s mouth tightened. ‘It’s hardly terminal.’

      ‘It would be inadvisable to say so in front of Zia Lucrezia.’ Alessio ate a forkful of ham. ‘Not that we will see much of her either,’ he added meditatively. ‘Her time will be taken up with nursing the invalid, smoothing his pillow, reading aloud to him, and bullying my poor Emilia into creating little delicacies to tempt his failing appetite.’

      Laura finished her peach juice, and set down the glass. She said slowly, ‘You’re really serious about this.’

      ‘No, but my aunt is. However,’ he added silkily, ‘I gather that, with rest and quiet, the prognosis is generally favourable.’

      In spite of her private concerns, Laura found herself laughing. ‘It’s just so absurd. All this fuss about a cold.’

      ‘Ah, but it is the areas of fuss that matter in marriage, I am told,’ Alessio said blandly. ‘It is best to discover what they are before the ceremony, and you have now been given a valuable insight into Paolo’s concerns about his health.’

      He watched with interest as Laura began to cut her ham into small, careful squares.

      ‘You plan to marry my cousin, of course?’ he added after a pause.

      Her eyes flew warily to his face. ‘I—I think…I mean—there’s nothing formal. Not yet.’

      ‘But you are travelling with him in order to meet his family. And last night it seemed certain,’ he said. ‘For the Vicentes, as for the Ramontellas, the giving of a ring—particularly an heirloom—is a serious thing. A declaration of irrevocable intent. One man, one woman bound in love for the rest of their lives.’

      ‘Oh.’ She swallowed. ‘I didn’t know that. He—didn’t tell me.’

      ‘And now you must wait until he recovers from this trying cold,’ Alessio agreed, adding briskly, ‘Would you like coffee, or shall I tell Emilia to bring you tea?’

      Her mind had gone into overdrive, and she had to drag herself back to the present moment. ‘Oh—coffee would be fine.’

      She took the cup he brought her with a murmur of thanks.

      ‘You seem a little upset,’ he commented as he resumed his seat. ‘May I know the problem?’

      ‘It’s nothing, really.’ She bit her lip. ‘Just that I feel a bit useless and in the way with Paolo being ill.’ She tried to smile. ‘I shan’t know what to do with myself.’

      ‘Then I suggest you relax.’ He pointed to the steps. ‘They lead down to the swimming pool, a pleasant place to sunbathe—and dream about the future, perhaps.’

      He smiled at her. ‘And try not to worry too much about Paolo,’ he advised lightly. ‘He has about six colds a year. You will have plenty of opportunity to nurse him, I promise.’

      She put down her cup, staring at him suspiciously. ‘You’re making fun of me.’

      ‘Well, a little, perhaps.’ The smile widened into a grin. ‘Teasing you is almost irresistible, believe me.’

      He pushed away his plate and sat back in his chair, regarding her. ‘But allow me to make amends. I have to go out presently on a matter of business in the village. But if you came with me, we could combine it with pleasure by driving on to Assisi. There is much to see there, and a good restaurant where we can have lunch. Would you like that?’

      There was a tingling silence. Laura’s look of uncertainty deepened.

      She said, ‘You—you’re offering to take me to Assisi.’ To her discomfiture, she felt herself beginning to blush. ‘That—that’s very kind of you, signore, and I—I’m grateful. But I couldn’t put you to all that trouble—not possibly.’

      ‘But it would be no trouble,’ he said. ‘Al contrario, I would find it delightful.’ He paused deliberately. ‘But I notice that you still have a problem calling me by my given name, so perhaps you feel you cannot yet trust me enough to spend a day alone with me.’

      Or perhaps it is yourself you do not trust, bella mia, he added silently, watching the colour flare in her face. And if so—you are mine.

      ‘N-no,’ she stammered. ‘Oh, no. It’s not that—not that at all.’ She cast around frantically for an excuse—any excuse. ‘You see—it’s Paolo. The Assisi trip was his idea, and maybe I should wait until he’s better, and we can go together. I—I don’t want to hurt his feelings. Can you understand that?’

      ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I understand perfectly, believe me.’ More than you think or wish, my sweet one, he added under his breath.

      He sighed with mock reproach. ‘However, I am distressed that my shattered hopes do not concern you. Now that is cruel. But if I cannot persuade you, so be it.’

      And when the time comes, he thought as he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, some day—some night soon—then I will make you come to me. Because you are going to want me so much that you will offer yourself, my shy, lovely girl. Make no mistake about that. And I will take everything you have to give, and more.

      Aloud, he said, ‘Arriverderci, Laura.’ His smile was pleasant—even slightly impersonal as he looked down at her. ‘Enjoy your solitude while you can,’ he added softly.

      And he walked away, humming gently under his breath, while Laura stared after him, still floundering in her own confusion.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      LAURA finished applying sun lotion to her arms and legs, and lay back in the shade of the big striped umbrella with a little sigh of contentment. Contrary to her own expectations, she was enjoying her solitude. The pool area occupied an extended hollow at the foot of the gardens, offering a welcome haven of tranquillity, with its marble tiles surrounding a large rectangle of turquoise water, and overlooked by terraced banks of flowering shrubs.

      It was sheltered and very private, and, apart from birdsong and the hum of insects, it was also wonderfully quiet.

      She put on her sunglasses and applied herself to taking an intelligent interest in her book, but the heroine’s ill-starred attempts to pursue entirely the wrong man struggled to hold her attention, and at last she put the thing down, sighing impatiently.

      In view of her current circumstances, it wasn’t the ideal plot to engage her, she thought ruefully. In fact, War and Peace might have been a more appropriate choice. Especially СКАЧАТЬ