The Forced Marriage

She gave a slight shrug. ‘My—plans didn’t work out, that’s all.’

‘Ah,’ he said softly.

She eyed him with suspicion. ‘What does that mean?’

‘How prickly you are.’ His tone was amused. ‘Does it have to mean anything?’

She spread her hands almost helplessly. ‘How can I tell? I don’t seem to know what’s going on any more—if I ever did.’ She made herself meet his gaze directly. ‘And what I really can’t figure out is why you’re here this evening.’

‘Because it’s one of my favourite restaurants in London.’ The green eyes glinted.

‘That isn’t what I meant,’ Flora said. ‘And you know it.’ She paused. ‘Clearly you know London well, and your cousin lives here and probably leads a hectic social life. I’m sure she could introduce you to dozens of single girls.’

‘She has certainly tried on occasion,’ he agreed casually.

‘Exactly,’ Flora said with some force. ‘So why aren’t you dining with one of them instead?’

He said reflectively, ‘Perhaps, cara, because I prefer to do my own—hunting.’

She stiffened, eyes flashing. ‘I am—not—your prey.’

He grinned unrepentantly. ‘No, of course not. Just an angel who has taken pity on my loneliness.’

Her face was still mutinous. ‘I’d have said, Signor Valante, that you’re the last person in the world who needs to be lonely.’

‘Grazie,’ he said. ‘I think.’

‘So why, then?’ Flora persisted doggedly. ‘How is it that you’re so set on having dinner with me?’

‘You really need to ask?’ His brows lifted. ‘Are there no mirrors in that apartment of yours?’ His voice dropped—became husky. ‘Mia bella, there is not a man in this restaurant who does not envy me and wish he was at your side. How can you not know this?’

Her skin warmed, and she took a hasty sip of her drink. She said stiltedly, ‘I wasn’t—fishing for compliments.’

‘And I was not flattering.’ He paused. ‘Is the truth so difficult for you to acknowledge?’

She gave a small, wintry smile. ‘Perhaps it convinces me that I should have stayed at home.’

‘But why?’ He leaned forward. Flora thought, crazily, that his eyes were filled with little dancing sparks. ‘What possible harm can come to you—in this crowded place?’

She made herself meet his glance steadily. ‘I don’t know. But I think you’re a dangerous man, Signor Valante.’

‘You’re wrong, cara,’ he said softly. ‘I am the one who is in danger.’

‘Then why were you so insistent?’

‘Perhaps I like to take risks.’

‘Not,’ she said, ‘a recommendation in an accountant, I’d have thought.’

His grin was lazy. ‘But I am only an accountant in working hours, carissima. And now I am not working but relaxing—if you remember.’

Flora bit her lip, conscious of the fierce undertow of his attraction, how it could so easily sweep her out of her depth. If she wasn’t careful, of course, she added hastily.

Thankfully, at that moment the waiter reappeared to tell them their table was ready.

And once the food was served, and the wine was poured, she would steer the conversation into more general channels, she promised herself grimly as she accompanied Marco sedately into the main restaurant.

She was faintly ruffled to discover that they were seated side by side on one of the cushioned banquettes. But to request her place to be reset on the opposite side of the table would simply reveal that she was on edge, she reflected as she took her seat.