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‘What thunderbolt?’ she echoed in confusion, because her own memory of the day was that it had been bathed in glorious sunlight.
‘In Italy we say un colpo di fulmine. Literally, a bolt of lightning. It is what happens when you look at a woman and suddenly you are struck here. Here.’ And he laid his hand over his chest. ‘In the heart.’
Lily could feel the deep pounding beneath her palm, aware of the significance of what he was telling her—wanting to believe him and yet too scared to dare. Yet hadn’t she felt it, too—a powerful connection when she’d seen the dark stranger in the garden and her heart had clenched tightly? Hadn’t he seemed to symbolise everything she’d ever wanted in a man? He still did. But the main reason she had pushed him away was because she was frightened of the way he could make her feel.
She knew only too wel
l that feelings made you vulnerable. They left you open to heartbreak, and pain. She remembered how devastated she’d been by her fiancé’s sudden exit from her life and had vowed never to put herself in that position again. And Ciro’s proposal was nothing but a whim, she told herself fiercely. How could he possibly be offering her marriage when they barely knew one another? It was about control and desire. About getting her into his bed, no matter what the price.
Reluctantly, she wriggled away from the warmth of his embrace and met the speculative look which gleamed from between his narrowed eyes.
‘It’s an amazing offer,’ she said slowly. ‘But it’s also a crazy one—and I can’t do it. I can’t marry you, Ciro—and when you’ve had a chance to think about it, you’ll thank me for it.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
BUT Ciro didn’t thank Lily for turning down his proposal. On the contrary, her refusal to marry him fed a desire for her which was fast approaching fever-pitch, until he could think of nothing else. For the first time in his adult life, he had come up against something which eluded him. A woman who was strong enough to resist him. And it was driving him crazy.
He thought of Eugenia. Beautiful, high-born Eugenia, whom everyone had thought he would marry. He’d thought so himself, until he’d come to realise that her love of money and power eclipsed all the values he held so dear. He remembered the defining moment which had signalled the end, when a woman had been flirting outrageously with him at a dinner party. Eugenia had noticed, of course, but instead of showing indignation she’d hinted that she could be very ‘grown up’ about relationships, if he was prepared to be understanding. The implication being that he could always buy his way out of a difficult situation. That if he were ever to stray—then she would be prepared to turn a blind eye. She’d delivered the killer blow with a speculative smile. Just as long as he rewarded her with some expensive little bauble or trinket.
Eugenia’s vision of the future had resembled the sophisticated bed-hopping he had witnessed as a child and it had sickened him. Ciro had ended the relationship that same night and his desire for a decent and innocent woman had been born. The cynic in him had never believed he’d find her—but now he had. Lily Scott embodied everything he’d ever dreamed of in a woman. And she had turned him down!
He began to set about changing her mind. To work out what it would take to sway her. For a man who had never had to really try—Ciro now found himself having to make an exception. But then, rising to a challenge had always been an integral part of his make-up.
He sent her flowers—a tumbling mass of blooms which were scented and white. The bouquet was accompanied by a simple, hand-written note, which read: If I promise to behave myself, then will you have dinner with me?
She told him afterwards that the note had made her smile—but she said it in a way which suggested that her week had been light on humour. Over dinner that night he discovered that her brother had gone back to boarding school and was about to turn down his offer of a place at art school. He saw the way her face was working, as if she was struggling to contain her emotions, and he felt an overwhelming sense of frustration, knowing that he could solve her brother’s dilemma in a heartbeat. But he also knew he couldn’t help her unless she was prepared to accept his help.
She told him more about her life at the Grange and he realised how difficult it must have been, living with the avaricious stepmother who had become the mistress of the house. She opened up enough to tell him that Suzy had taken stuff which had belonged to her father, which by right should have gone to Jonny. He heard her voice stumble and that was when he discovered the story of her mother’s missing pearls. A beautiful and priceless necklace which had been in her family for generations.
‘Let me get this straight, Lily,’ he said slowly, staring into her bright blue eyes. ‘You’re telling me that your stepmother stole your pearls?’
Quickly, she shook her head. ‘Oh, I’m sure she didn’t think of it as theft. She just took them up to London and—’
‘Are you expecting to ever see them again?’
She bit her lip. ‘Well, no,’ she admitted.
‘Then that’s theft,’ said Ciro as a cold kind of rage filled him.
He spent the next two days in London and when he returned, he phoned Lily and asked if she’d like to go to a concert in the grounds of a nearby abbey. Her voice lifted as she accepted—almost as if she had missed him as much as he had her.
Ciro felt an immense glow of satisfaction as he got ready for the evening ahead and even the English weather seemed to be on his side. It was one of those magical summer nights, with a huge moon, and they could hear heartbreakingly beautiful strains of violin music drifting through the warm air as they walked towards the venue.
He fed her chocolate and sips of champagne and, during the interval, pulled a slim leather box from the depths of the picnic basket, where it had been nestling in a napkin.
‘What’s this?’ she questioned as he handed it to her.
‘If I were to tell you, then it would only spoil the surprise. Go on—open it.’
Lily fiddled with the clasp, the odd note in his voice making her feel suddenly nervous. She flipped up the lid, dazedly sitting back on her heels as she stared at the contents in disbelief. For there, reposing against folds of satin with a fat and creamy gleam, lay the familiar strand of pearls which had belonged to her darling mother. For a moment, her hands were shaking so much that she let the box slip from her hands and it was Ciro who retrieved it. Ciro who carefully removed the pearls and then looped them around her neck, his warm fingers brushing briefly against her skin.
‘Oh, Ciro,’ she whispered. Her hand reached up to touch them and for a moment she remembered her mother wearing them, looking so beautiful and elegant in those long-ago days before the cruel illness had ravaged her. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she met his compassionate look and it took a moment before she had composed herself enough to speak. ‘Where did you get them?’
‘Where do you think?’
‘From Suzy?’ And when he nodded, she blinked at him in surprise. ‘She gave them to you?’
He resisted the temptation to tell her that he’d paid well over the odds for the necklace. That Suzy Scott had recognised how much he wanted them and an envious look had hardened her eyes as she’d realised why. She had asked for a sum which had been astronomical by anyone’s standards but he had paid it instantly, because the thought of bartering with such a woman had filled him with distaste.
