Sara Craven Tribute Collection. Sara Craven
poor Marco in jail, will you? His mother’s sick, and he is one of your people…’
‘You’ve made out your case, mia cara.’ There was an odd note in his voice. ‘I can refuse you nothing.’
She leaned back, closing her eyes, as the car moved smoothly forward. Well, the die was cast now. She’d offered herself, and he would take her. She supposed dully that he would buy her somewhere to live—an apartment in Rome, perhaps—and he would visit her there when he was able. She wasn’t altogether sure how these arrangements worked.
But she did know that she could only ever occupy a small, separate part of his life, and she would have to make it enough.
She said, ‘How did you know where to find me?’
‘Ever since you told Tonio about “Marco’s cousin” we have had Fabio watched. We thought Paola would be most in danger. I never once thought he would dare to touch you.
‘When you disappeared last night, I thought at first that you had simply—left me. Then we found Violetta’s car keys near the campanile, and realised the Minerva had gone too, and a sighting of Fabio’s vehicle was reported.’ He spoke quietly, without emotion. ‘Marco was merely going to be picked up for interrogation.’
He paused. ‘I hope you did not make any rash promises about helping Fabio to evade justice?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I hope they lock him up for ever.’
Then she remembered something completely different, and sat up. ‘Guido—I should have told you—the Minerva—she’s in the boot of that car.’
‘Someone will find her and return her.’
‘How can you be so casual about it?’ Clare demanded indignantly. ‘She’s your greatest treasure.’
He said softly, ‘Not any longer.’ And, for one brief, tingling moment, his hand rested on her knee.
Everyone was clustered on the steps at the villa to witness their return.
Guido opened the passenger door and helped her out. Then, before she could move or protest, he picked her up in his arms and carried her up the steps.
In the sea of faces, the one she saw was Paola’s, eyes wide with shock and lips parted. And it brought her to her reeling senses.
‘Guido—put me down,’ she whispered. ‘Are you crazy? What will people think?’
‘What they wish, as usual,’ he retorted without slackening his grasp, as he walked towards the stairs.
He carried her into her bedroom and put her gently down on the bed, then turned, beckoning to the housekeeper who had followed them, giving swift instructions that Clare barely heard.
A bath, deep and scented, was run for her, and Benedetta and Filumena were helping her to undress. She sank down into the water, boneless and weightless, and emerged to be wrapped in a warm bath sheet. Filumena dried her hair into a shining curtain, and Benedetta applied some sweet-smelling herbal ointment to the bump on her head.
The bed had been turned down, and there was even a nightgown waiting for her, one she’d never seen before, in ivory satin, with narrow straps and a deep plunge of a bodice made almost entirely of guipure lace. One side of the skirt was slashed almost to the thigh, and edged in the same lace.
She was suddenly aware of how deferentially they were treating her. And how their eyes slid away when she looked at them.
But what did she expect? By carrying her up the stairs like that Guido had put his mark on her. Virtually announced his intentions to the world.
She bit her lip. She could only imagine what Paola must be feeling, she thought with remorse.
The shutters were closed, reducing the room to discreet shadow, then Benedetta and Filumena withdrew with polite murmurs, and Clare was alone.
Or so she thought. But almost immediately the door opened, and Guido came in.
He had changed too, she saw, into slim-fitting black pants, that hugged his lean hips, and a black silk shirt. His face was serious, and a little remote.
‘How do you feel?’ He stood at the side of the bed and looked down at her.
‘Much—better.’ She hesitated, her eyes grave and a little disappointed. She’d expected him to behave with more finesse. ‘You don’t waste much time, signore..’
‘Because I don’t have much time to waste.’ He paused in turn. ‘Do you like the gown?’
‘It’s exquisite,’ Clare returned with some of her old spark. ‘Do you have a store of them—to meet all eventualities?’
‘No.’ He smiled at her. ‘You have a lot to learn about me, mia bella.’
Her fingers plucked at the embroidered edge of the sheet. Her mouth felt suddenly dry. ‘And is this going to be the first lesson?’ Excitement warred with shyness inside her.
‘That must wait a little, I think. Because we have to talk.’ He sat down on the edge of the bed, and handed her a flat velvet case. ‘I came to bring you this.’
It was a single diamond—a teardrop of fire on a slender gold chain.
‘I searched for a flawless stone,’ he went on. ‘There is other jewellery, of course, some of it very old. But I wanted to give you something for yourself alone—something no one else had worn.’
She swallowed. ‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. But you don’t have to do this, Guido. I—I don’t need jewellery or expensive presents. That’s not it at all.’
‘Then you will have to steel yourself, beloved. The Marchesa Bartaldi is expected to wear the family jewels on grand occasions.’
She said woodenly, ‘I’m sure Paola will look lovely. And don’t you think you should be with her now?’
Guido fastened the pendant round her neck, adjusting the diamond so that it glittered in the valley between her lace-veiled breasts.
‘The perfect setting,’ he said softly. ‘And is my company so undesirable, mia cara, that you wish to be rid of me?’
‘No,’ she said almost desperately. ‘It’s just that I want us to do the right thing—even though I know we’re doing the wrong one. But I want us to do it as well as possible. And you’re laughing at me.’
‘Because you’re talking nonsense.’ He took her hands in his. ‘Chiara—can you be the only person in the world who does not know I have come here to ask you to be my wife?’
She stared at him, her heart pounding suddenly, her lips parting on a soundless gasp. When she could speak, she said huskily, ‘This is some joke. It—must be…’
‘I have never been more serious.’ He tapped his wristwatch. ‘And I would like an answer, carissima. Every soul in the place is hanging on your word.’
‘But you’re going to marry Paola,’ she protested wildly. ‘She’s in love with you. She told me so.’
‘Then that will come as news to Tonio, to whom she’s been engaged for the past forty-eight hours.’
‘And you don’t mind?’ Her mind was reeling.
‘It was what I always intended,’ he said with a shrug. ‘He has loved her for years, God help him. All that was needed was for Paola to stop falling for unsuitable men and realise she could only be happy with Tonio. Which she’s now done.’ He frowned swiftly. ‘I thought she had told you.’
‘She said something,’ she returned numbly. ‘But I didn’t understand.’ She shook her head. ‘But why did you bring me here? You said you wanted me to make her into a willing wife for you…’
‘No, my love. You were the one I always meant to have.