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'I'm really sorry about this,' she said tiredly, the stress of several sleepless nights edging her voice. 'Look, can you make it?'
'With the best will in the world, not to the party before nine in the evening...unless you want to meet me there?' he suggested.
Aghast at the idea of arriving alone, Darcy uttered an instant negative.
'Then offer my apologies to your stepmother. I'll come and pick you up.'
Darcy told herself that she was incredibly lucky that Luca was willing to come back from Italy to attend the party at such short notice. 'I really appreciate this...look, you can stay here on Saturday night,' she offered gratefully. 'I'll make up the bed for you.'
"That's extraordinarily kind of you, Darcy,' Luca drawled smoothly.
CHAPTER THREE
ZIA was spending the night with Karen in the gatehouse. Returning to the Folly to nervously await Luca's arrival, Darcy caught an unsought glimpse of her reflection in the giant mirror in the echoing hall...
And suddenly she was wishing she had spent money she could ill afford on a new outfit. The brown dress hung loose round her hips and flapped to an indeterminate length below her knees. The ruffled neckline, once chosen to conceal the embarrassing smallness of her breasts, looked fussy and old-fashioned. She was much more comfortable in trou¬sers—never had had much luck in choosing clothes that flattered her slight and diminutive frame...
And in the back of her wardrobe the green designer eve¬ning dress which had been Maxie's wedding present three years earlier still hung, complete with shoes and delicate little beaded bag. Maxie, no longer a friend and always rather too reserved and too confident of her feminine at¬traction for Darcy to feel quite comfortable in her radius.
As for the dress, Darcy hadn't looked near it once since her return from Venice. She needed no reminder of that night of explosive passion in a stranger's arms. Yet some¬how she still hadn't been able to bring herself to dispose of that exquisite gown which had lent her the miraculous illusion of beauty for a few brief hours.
The Victorian bell-pull shrieked complaint in the pierc¬ing silence, springing Darcy out of a past that still felt all too recent and all too wounding. In haste, she yanked open the heavy door. There she stopped dead at the sight of Luca, her witch-green eyes widening to their fullest extent in un¬concealed surprise.
He was wearing a supremely elegant black dinner jacket when she hadn't dared even to ask if he possessed such an article. And there he stood, proud black head high, strong dark face assured, one lean brown hand negligently thrust into the pocket of narrow black trousers to tighten them over his lean hips and long powerful thighs, his beautifully tailored jacket parted to reveal a pristine white pleated dress shirt. He looked so incredibly sophisticated and gorgeous he stole the breath from Darcy's convulsing throat.
'Gosh, you hired evening dress,' she mumbled, relocat¬ing her vocal cords with difficulty.
Luca ran brilliant dark eyes over her, a distinct frownline drawing together his ebony brows. 'Possibly I'm slightly over-dressed for the occasion?'
'No...no...not at all.' Never more self-conscious than when her personal appearance was under scrutiny, Darcy flushed to the roots of her hair. Her attention abruptly fell on the glossy scarlet Porsche sitting parked beside the an¬cient Land Rover which was her only means of transport. 'Where on earth did you get that car?' she gasped help¬lessly.
'It's on loan.'
Slowly, Darcy shook her curly auburn head. It would be madness to turn up in an expensive car and give a false impression of Luca's standing in the world. Margo would ask five hundred questions and soon penetrate the truth. Then Luca, who could only have borrowed the car for her benefit—and she couldn't help but be touched by that real¬isation—would end up feeling cut off. 'I would really love to roar up in the Porsche, but it would be wiser to use the Land Rover,' she told him in some disappointment.
'Dio mio... you are joking, of course.' Luca surveyed the rusting and battered four-wheel drive with outright incre¬dulity. 'It's a wreck.'
Darcy opened the door of the Land Rover. 'I do know what I'm talking about, Luca,' she warned. 'If we show up in the Porsche, my stepmother will get entirely the wrong idea and decide that you're loaded. If we're anything less than honest, we'll both be left sitting with egg on our faces. We want to blend in, not create comment, and that car must be worth about thirty thousand—'
'Seventy.'
'Seventy thousand pounds?' Darcy broke in, her disbelief writ large in her shaken face.
'And some change,' Luca completed drily.
'Wish I had a friend willing to trust me with a car like that! We'll park the Land Rover out on the road and run away from it fast,'
Darcy promised, worriedly examining her watch and then climbing into the driver's seat to fore¬stall further argument. 'I'd let you drive, but this old girl has a number of idiocyncrasies which might irritate you.'
