Ultimate Temptation

Somehow, she heard herself say, ‘Very well, I’ll stay. But only till you can find someone else.’

‘Grazie, Lucia.’ His smile deepened, half-mocking, but wholly disturbing. ‘And now I suggest you change out of that dress—before I forget all my good resolutions.’

For one long moment, his eyes stripped her lazily and quite deliberately. Then he raised his hand to his lips, blew her an amused kiss, and walked out of the room.

Lucy watched the door close behind him, and said loudly and clearly from the bottom of her heart, ‘Bastard.’

Her first action, naturally, was to find another room. She chose one at the furthest end of the house from his, regardless of the fact that it was also the smallest.

Quite suitable for a servant’s quarters anyway, she told herself, swinging her case onto the narrow bed.

Her pulses still seemed to be behaving oddly. She couldn’t believe how easily she’d allowed herself to be wound up. How could she have thought, even for a moment, that someone like Count Giulio Falcone cherished even marginal designs on her?

The trouble was that at each of their prior encounters she’d been at some kind of disadvantage, which in turn had stopped her thinking rationally. That was the only explanation. And it provided a kind of marginal reassurance.

She still wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to stay, however, except that there didn’t seem to be much alternative. He was a wealthy and powerful man, who could probably be ruthless.

But it wouldn’t be for long, she appeased herself. No doubt his sister would find a replacement nanny from some domestic agency when she’d recovered from the shock of the accident. And then the whole incident would dwindle into a little adventure to be laughed over ruefully back in England. Although not with Nina and the others.

And now to get out of this damned dress.

Lucy twisted round, feeling for the zip and tugging it downwards, but nothing happened.

‘Oh, come on,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘You can’t be stuck.’

But the zip, apparently, had other ideas, and remained exactly where it was. With a sigh of frustration, Lucy decided she’d have to cut herself out.

She was searching for her nail scissors, when there was a peremptory rap on the door, and Giulio Falcone walked in.

‘So this is the sanctuary you have chosen.’ He glanced around. ‘A little cramped, don’t you think?’

‘I think it’s ideal,’ Lucy returned with a coolness she was far from feeling.

‘As you wish.’ He shrugged. ‘But why are you still not ready? I was going to show you where the clean linen is kept.’

‘Just give me general directions,’ Lucy said tersely. ‘I’ll find it myself.’

‘Is there a problem?’

‘Nothing I can’t handle.’ She straightened, scissors in hand.

He surveyed them enigmatically. ‘If you need to defend yourself, the range of knives in the kitchen might serve you better.’

‘Nothing of the kind,’ Lucy said crossly. ‘My zip’s stuck, that’s all.’

‘Then allow me.’ He walked over to her, and turned her so that her back was to him.

She stiffened. ‘I can manage.’

‘Stand still.’

His breath was warm on her exposed skin as he bent closer to examine the erring metal strip.

‘A thread has been caught,’ he murmured. ‘I think I can free it.’

Lucy waited rigidly, trying not to flinch as his cool fingers slid under the edge of the dress and touched her back.

‘Don’t be so nervous,’ he chided softly, laughter in his voice. ‘This must be better than attacking yourself with scissors.’

Not, Lucy thought with gritted teeth, necessarily.

He was infinitely too close to her, in the exact situation she had wanted to avoid. In the wall mirror, she could see his intent dark face, his lips only a fraction away from her bare skin. She found herself remembering, starkly, the feel, the taste of his mouth on hers, and was swept by a wave of longing she could neither control nor excuse. The movement of his hand against her spine as he tried to release the trapped fabric only increased her silent torment.

She said huskily. ‘Could you hurry, please?’

‘I am trying to be careful. I don’t want to damage the material.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘I’m never going to wear it again.’

‘Truly?’ He shrugged. ‘In tal caso...’ He took the edges of the dress’s neckline in his hands and pulled at them sharply. There was a harsh, splitting sound as seams and stitching gave way, then the entire bodice slid gracefully but inexorably from Lucy’s shoulders, baring her to the waist.

For a stunned second she was motionless, then, with a small wail of horror and embarrassment, she snatched at the ruined fabric, dragging it up over her breasts.

Giulio Falcone stood back, watching her struggles, amusement dancing in his amber eyes, along with something deeper and more dangerous.

She said thickly, ‘How could you? Oh, God, how dare you do such a thing?’

He shrugged. ‘I merely followed your instructions. I am hardly to blame if the result did not meet your expectations.’ He paused. ‘Although it exceeded mine,’ he added, half to himself.

‘Get out of this room.’ She was close to embarrassed tears. ‘Get away from me. I should have known I couldn’t trust you.’

‘Then you’d be wrong.’ His voice was stem. ‘If I was the villain you imagine, you’d be in bed with me now, and we both know it, so let there be no more pretence about that.’

He paused again, his mouth twisting. ‘As it is, I’m going to tell myself, mia bella, that you don’t have skin like moonlight, or breasts like flowers waiting to be gathered by a man’s hands, and go downstairs.’ He added laconically, ‘I’m going to make coffee. If you want some, join me.’

He sent her a brief, impersonal nod and walked out.

Lucy sank down onto the edge of the bed: In a reeling world, she was certain of only one thing. She could not risk remaining at the Villa Dante. She had to get away.

She lifted her head and looked at her reflection in the mirror. A stranger with dishevelled hair and eyes wide with confusion stared back. A stranger huddling the remnants of her dress against the pallor of her half-naked body.

‘Skin like moonlight...’ The remembered words sent an aching shiver through her body.

She thought, Let me get through tonight—just tonight.

And realised it sounded like a prayer.

CHAPTER FOUR