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So the dynamic Romano Bellini didn't like being told exactly how things were by a mere slip of an English girl he wouldn't normally look at twice? she thought perceptively, a warm glow of satisfaction making her lower her eyes quickly before it was reflected in her expression. Tough.
'Shall we go?' She kept her face and voice bland as she raised her head and looked at him again, but then her eyes were caught and held by the magnetic power that was so completely natural and all the more lethal because of it.
'But of course.' He rose with animal-like grace, and in spite of all her determination to remain cool and calm her heart thudded crazily as he walked over to her. 'Here, let me.'
He took her jacket from her unresisting fingers and helped her in to it with an easy charm that was seductive in itself, turning her round with a light touch on her shoulders once she was ready and looking down at her with a strange expression softening the hard, handsome features.
'I hope you will enjoy visiting my home, Claire,' he said quietly, all mockery and amusement gone from his face, 'and that our evening together will be an enjoyable one. You are a guest in Donato's home, but more than that you are a dear friend of Grace's, and as such I would like us, too, to be friends. You understand this?'
She suddenly found she couldn't quite meet his eyes and didn't know what to say, but after a moment she forced herself to reply in as normal a tone as she could manage. 'I'm sure we will be friends, Romano,' she said brightly, half turning towards the door. 'Donato and Grace look on you as part of the family.'
She had expected him to loosen his hold, but instead she found herself turned round again, and without quite knowing how it had happened she was looking up into his dark face, held within the circle of his arms. 'Sì, this is true,' he said softly, his ebony eyes with their thick black lashes hypnotic as they captured her golden-brown gaze. 'Perhaps I am not quite such a monster as you believe?'
As his head lowered she stood quite still in his arms, and then his warm, firm lips had brushed hers in a fleeting kiss that was repeated on her forehead before he straightened, letting her go and turning away in the same movement.
He was halfway across the room before her senses returned sufficiently for her legs to move, and then she followed him hastily, her head spinning and her nerves pounding. It was the Italian way, she told herself desperately as he stopped and let her precede him through the doorway. Like his impeccable manners, his protective and undeniably charming way with women, it was all part of the Latin culture that was so different from the English way of doing things. An Englishman would shake hands, Italians would kiss; it was just a social habit, nothing more.
He had just made it perfectly clear he wanted them to be friends for the sake of harmony with Donato and Grace—he had spelt it out, in fact. The moment of tenderness, the way he had made her feel for a split second, that was nothing, not really. She had to keep a grip on herself. She couldn't misconstrue a friendly gesture as something else just because it had affected her so deeply.
No, it hadn't! As the thought struck she denied it harshly. Of course it hadn't. He just confused her, that was all, disturbed her. It was the different culture, the different way of doing things. That was all it—
'Goodnight, Gina.' Romano's deep, dark voice brought her out of the maelstrom of panic in time for her to realise she had walked straight past the little maid without seeing her.
'Oh, I'm sorry, Gina.' She turned with a warm smile, reaching out and touching the young woman's shoulder. 'I didn't see you there. I've promised Lorenzo I'll see to Benito when I get home, cover him up and so on, so don't worry about him, OK?' Lorenzo was spending the night with a friend, and as always Benito had been his prime concern before he had left the house.
'Sì, signorina.' Gina looked relieved. The love-hate relationship between the maids and the indomitable parrot provided much secret amusement for the others in the house. Benito was quite aware they were frightened of him and used the knowledge to his advantage unmercifully.
'You go to bed when you're ready, and tell Anna and Cecilia to do the same. Goodnight.'
'Goodnight, signorina, signore.'
As Gina opened the door for them and they stepped into the mild February night the air was cool and moist, and scented with the faint perfume of sleeping vegetation and lemon. It all seemed a million miles away from England, which only that day had been caught in the worst winter blizzards for years. The moon was sailing high in the black expanse above, the whispering darkness punctured by a myriad of stars glittering like diamonds on a bed of velvet.
'What a wonderful night sky.' She spoke without thinking, her face lifted upwards and her eyes half closed as the magic of the Italian night surrounded her, blanketing her troubled mind for a few precious moments. 'It seems too beautiful to be real, doesn't it?' she said dreamily.
'Far too beautiful,' Romano agreed softly, his gaze on the pure outline of her profile before he continued walking to the red Ferrari, parked at the bottom of the steps, where he opened the passenger door for her to slide inside.
'This isn't the car you used to pick me up from the airport.' As she descended the steps she stared at the gleaming sports car as though it would bite her.
'I have two.' His voice was very dry as he added, 'You do not like it?'
'Oh, no, I like it,' she said hastily. 'It's very—' She stopped the word 'nice' just in time, sensing he would be mortally offended if she applied that particular description to the elegant vehicle. 'Very impressive,' she finished weakly.
'I like cars.' He gestured for her to slide in, which she did with more haste than panache, more than a little thrown by the predatory, prowling look of the vehicle, whose commanding lines and smooth arrogance seemed like an extension of the man himself. 'And this one is beautiful and eager to obey my slightest command— very much like the ideal woman, wouldn't you say?' he added silkily.
Her head shot up as she prepared to do verbal battle, but she caught the gleam of wicked amusement in the dark eyes before he could hide it, and said instead, 'You missed "fast" out of your list of desirable attributes, didn't you? I would have thought that would feature highly on your list of priorities for…cars?'
'Just so,' he drawled, with a wry intonation that told her that her point had been received and understood.
As he slid in beside her Claire suddenly understood the sensual content of all the advertising for such cars. The thing was a metal aphrodisiac, she thought weakly, glancing sideways at him through her thick silky lashes.
He drove slowly along the wide, curving drive surrounded on either side by the magnificent gardens bursting with tropical trees and shrubs, and once through the large wrought-iron gates waited a moment before pulling out onto the road beyond.
Claire had fallen in love with Sorrento, situated high above the clear blue waters of the Bay of Naples, on her visit in the summer. The majesty of the scenic splendour, the fascinating Italian lanes and alleyways, the pretty piazzas and shops had captured her heart, but now the earthy southern charm of the town passed her by as she concentrated very hard on not letting her feelings show.
Control, control… She repeated the word silently all the way to Romano's villa, willing herself to appear cool and collected as she returned his easy conversation without having any clear memory thereafter of what they had talked about.
Grace had told her that the Bellini villa was situated in the Sant Agnello district of Sorrento, among the vast orange groves Romano's ancestors had planted hundreds of years before, which had been the crux of the Bellini fortune for many years. Now Romano, after
