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Watching him posit the tape to her father she was filled with an overwhelming sense of homesickness. Tears welled up in her eyes and refused to be blinked away, and to her intense chagrin several escaped to trickle bleakly down her face.
'Here.'
She took the handkerchief and dried her eyes, and as her vision cleared she saw that two police officers had entered the building. Nico had released her while she dried her eyes, and acting impulsively, she started to run forward, all her hopes and determination concentrated on reaching the policemen by the door.
She had a few seconds' start on Nico and for a moment she thought it was going to be enough. Being small she could dart among the other customers, which he could not, but just as she reached her goal she felt his hands closing on her body, jerking her backwards, his face a mask of cold fury as he swung .her round to face him, so hard that she almost lost her balance.
The policemen looked up; several other people were staring at them. Saffron opened her mouth to beg for help, and cried out with pain instead as Nico's hand left its impact on her face.
For the second time he physically chastised her, although this time somehow the pain wasn't as great, shock being her overriding reaction, for powerful though the blow had looked in reality it had done little more than stun her into silence.
'She has been seeing another man,' he explained for the benefit on the curious police. 'My cousin, no less, and when I tax her with it, she denies it, when all my village have seen them together!'
The police laughed and made a comment that brought fresh colour to Saffron's cheeks; their earthy humour not to her liking. Or course Italy was a male-dominated country, she remembered bitterly, where a man could openly chastise his wife without anyone thinking to interfere, and southern Italy, less sophisticated than the north, still looked upon a wife as her husband's chattel.
With a grip that bruised, Nico marched her back outside, not stopping until they had rounded the corner and were in sight of the Land Rover.
'Try anything like that again and it will be a bullet you'll feel, instead of the flat of my hand. God, but you try my patience, you really do! What did you hope to gain?'
'The most precious thing in the world,' Saffron told him tautly, 'my freedom.'
'Is that why you have never married?' he asked her, catching her off guard. 'Because your "freedom" means too much to you?'
Saffron shrugged. 'Aren't you being a little naive?' she taunted mockingly, salving her pride for the blow he had inflicted upon it. 'If one really wants to one can find all the freedom one desires within marriage these days ...'
'So ...' He shrugged, 'perhaps you couldn't find anyone willing to take you on, on those terms, shop-soiled as you are, so to speak ...'
'Shop-soiled! Haven't you ever heard of female equality?' she demanded. 'Not all men want timid little virgins in their beds.'
'Not in their beds,' Nico agreed suavely. 'But as their wives ... that's a different matter.'
His complacency infuriated her; she could have told him that she hadn't married because she cherished a ridiculous dream of finding a man she could respect and honour as well as love; a man who could be a man and encourage her to be a woman without dominating her or wanting to put her down. She had begun to think such men did not exist.
The drive back-to the farmhouse was uneventful, although with every mile that took her closer to her prison, Saffron's feeling of terror which had begun in Monteveno built up until by the time they actually reached their destination she could think of nothing but the proximity of her own death.
Her life span was only as long as her father's search for the ransom money, she was sure of that. Once they knew it was going to be paid over, she would be disposed of without mercy. Why else would they allow her to see and possibly later identify them? They must think she was a fool, she thought bitterly, especially Nico, who was amusing himself with her, playing with her emotions, knowing what her ultimate fate was to be.
Olivia greeted them with sullen silence. There was a livid bruise along Guido's jaw, and a savage anger in his eyes when he looked at them which intensified Saffron's fear. Only Piero seemed unchanged.
'Have you sent the tape?'
Olivia was openly truculent, her eyes constantly searching Saffron's face, although looking for what Saffron neither knew nor cared. She had already noticed the skirt and blouse Saffron was wearing, and when Nico had answered her she added aggressively, 'You let her go into a shop alone? Wasn't that taking a risk, or does she have some reason for staying with us that the rest of us know nothing about?'
Saffron's colour rose in spite of her determination not to react to the other girl's malice.
'Neither,' Nico drawled, without looking at Saffron. 'I bought them for her. The things she was wearing were practically in rags,' he added smoothly before Olivia could object. 'I decided to replace them in case they drew attentio
n to us. No one queries the presence of two foreigners obviously on holiday, but the sight of a man with a girl at his side, dressed in rags, is bound to be remembered by someone.'
It was obvious that Olivia wasn't happy with the situation and equally obvious that she could think of no further criticisms to overset the logic of Nico's argument. Saffron couldn't herself. Ever since she had woken up in the morning she had been beset by conflicting feelings over which she had no control. There had been a look in Nico's eyes this morning—anger mingled with something else; an almost unwilling admiration combined with self-contempt. If she hadn't known better she might almost have supposed that he was regretting his part in her kidnapping—and yet she couldn't be the first victim he had been involved with in this way; and she couldn't flatter herself that his feelings towards her were likely to be any different than to any of the others.
The evening meal was a silent affair, with Olivia constantly glancing from Nico to Saffron, her eyes watchful and angry. Nico must be aware of her feelings, Saffron knew, and yet he appeared not to notice the furious looks she was giving him, and she wondered at his attitude, especially when as leader he must be conscious of the need to preserve an amicable relationship between the other members of the gang and himself. After the meal was over Saffron noticed how Olivia went straight to Guido's side and how they both stood talking in low voices as Nico studied the paper he had bought in town, and Saffron herself cleared the table under Piero's watchful eyes.
'Leave that,' Nico told her when the things were washed and she started to dry them. 'Olivia and Guido can finish them.' The glance he threw the duo in the corner was cynically assessing. 'How's your cut?' he asked Saffron abruptly. 'Are you taking the prescription?'
She nodded in confirmation. The cut was healing quite well, but Nico's apparent concern unnerved her. Why was he showing such a belated interest in her welfare? Was he trying to lull her into a false sense of security for some Machiavellian purpose of his own? Did he get some sort of kick out of coaxing her to trust him and then destroying that trust? she wondered bitterly.
*
