Tempted by Desire Page 5

  Grey eyes became flinty with displeasure and at any other time she would probably have run away to hide. But not today. The Conte Cesare Martino had been nothing but condescending and downright rude to her since the first time he had spoken to her, and she had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of seeing her cower as she felt sure many other people had done before this superior man.

  The Conte looked self-assured and completely unruffled by her outburst. Except for those eyes, icy grey eyes that could look right through you. ‘Then just what would you say my purpose was in coming here?’ he asked coolly.

  ‘To warn me off Vidal,’ Suzanne answered unhesitantly.

  ‘You are presumptuous, Miss Hammond!’ he said in that stilted voice.

  She shook her head. ‘Not at all, Conte. Though why I should present a threat to your barbaric plans for your brother I have no idea.’

  His mouth twisted mockingly at her anger. ‘And what barbaric plans would these be?’

  Suzanne shrugged. ‘An arranged marriage.’ It surely had to be that if Vidal could behave with her as he had yesterday. And he certainly hadn’t seemed in a hurry to talk lovingly about a fiancée. In fact, he had seemed reluctant to talk about his personal life at all, and no wonder, with such a powerful man trying to pressurise him into marriage.

  The Conte flexed his long legs before standing up, towering over her as she also scrambled to her feet. Goodness, he was tall! ‘Our ways are not yours, Miss Hammond.’

  ‘They certainly aren’t!’ How arrogant he was! ‘Am I to take it your offer to take me sightseeing is now rescinded?’ A devil inside her seemed to force her to taunt him in this way. He was so powerful, so self-confident, and seemed to consider himself omnipotent.

  His look could only be called glacial. ‘My offer stands. Am I to take it you are now transferring your undoubtable charms to me? Is Vidal to be cast aside in favour of a better prospect?’

  Suzanne’s blood boiled. Only this man could have turned the tables so neatly on her for her barbed taunt. ‘Certainly not!’ she said indignantly. ‘I can hardly replace Vidal when he hasn’t been mine to start with. And you wouldn’t be a likely candidate under any circumstances.’

  ‘You mean a Conte is not up to your standard?’

  There was no missing the sarcasm in his voice. Her eyes narrowed. ‘Just what do you mean this time?’

  The Conte bowed formally. ‘Forgive me. I was under the impression that it was myself and not Vidal who held your interest.’

  ‘How conceited you are!’

  ‘Not at all. I am well aware of the power of money, and the receptionist informed me yesterday evening that you had asked of my whereabouts almost every day you have been here. I naturally assumed that you were using Vidal as a means to an introduction.’

  ‘Oh, naturally,’ she said sarcastically. ‘It’s the sort of thing I usually do, chase after strange Venetian counts and when thwarted resort to the younger brother. I do it all the time! If you’ll excuse me, Conte Martino, I think I have to go to my room and be ill.’

  She didn’t wait to see his reaction to this outburst but ran quickly to the stairs leading up to her room on the sixth floor. She negotiated the stairs without thought. How dared he! How dared he come here and try to ruin something that had started off so wonderfully. First Celeste and now him. Why did they have to drag what had seemed like a dreamlike romance down to the everyday basics? First Celeste had sup posed it to be a waiter and now that man—that man had accused her of being after bigger game, a conte no less, and not just any conte but himself, the Conte Cesare Martino.

  What woman in her right mind would want to chase an arrogant brute of a man like that! The anger started to leave her rigidly held body and she slowed down her pace. It was much too hot to be running about like this, especially up six flights of stairs. And really she could answer her own question. Any woman, in her right mind or otherwise, would want such a man. But she certainly hadn’t been asking for him at the reception desk. Why, she hadn’t even known of his existence until yesterday. Celeste knew more about this family than she …

  Celeste! That was it. It had to be. Hadn’t the Conte mistaken her for Signora Hammond last night? Celeste was the one who had been asking for him every day. But why? Surely it was Vidal Martino she was interested in. Hadn’t she said as much when talking about him? Suzanne shook her head dazedly. It was about time she and Celeste had a serious talk about this and not just arguments as they had been doing. It might help her to understand what was going on if she knew Celeste’s motives for her actions.

  Once in her room she showered and changed into a pretty pink vest top and white linen skirt. She had smuggled a couple of pairs of her denims into her suitcase, but had soon realised that the rich sophisticated people who frequented this hotel would frown disapprovingly on such attire. Celeste didn’t even know she had them with her or they would have been promptly put out for the maids to throw away.

  She decided to follow up her idea of yesterday and eat in one of the smaller cafés in town. It didn’t look as if Celeste was going to be back for lunch, so she might as well take advantage of this opportunity. With the sun beating down on her and the people around her all looking comparatively relaxed her ill-humour soon left her. She had half expected the Conte to be still in reception when she walked through, but there had been no sign of him.

  Suzanne had no idea of the attractive picture she made with the sun giving her hair a golden hue and her eyes glowing with anticipation of her little outing. After days of confinement to the hotel in the company of Celeste this walk in the town was like a breath of fresh air on a spring day. The cafés and restaurants were busy at this time of day and Suzanne walked along until she found one that wasn’t quite so crowded, entering the hot but pleasant-smelling restaurant with more confidence than she might have felt in the company of Celeste. Not that Celeste would demean herself by entering one of these quaint home-cooking restaurants. Celeste preferred more sophisticated fare, and the hotel supplied that in plenty.

  Since she had not an extensive knowledge of Italian, the menu would have been a complete mystery to her if there hadn’t been a short but telling description of the dishes added below each name. Her Italian flatmate, Maria, had introduced her to a few Italian dishes and she finally decided on her favourite spaghetti bolognaise, not very exciting but something she enjoyed and didn’t have too often nowadays. She knew it would be delicious, and with a creamy coffee would not be too expensive. Not that Celeste was mean with her money, but Suzanne didn’t want to have to tell her stepmother of her walk and meal out, and if she spent too much money it would be impossible not to do so.

  Her meal was lovely, much the best spaghetti bolognaise she had ever tasted. It had obviously just been prepared on the premises and was piping hot, besides having a flavour that was unlike anything she had ever tasted. Leaving her money for the meal and a sizeable tip she wandered back out into the sunshine, deciding to explore some of the streets that branched off from the main street.

  As soon as she moved out of the busy street and down one of the tiny side-streets the day seemed to become darker. Buildings stood tall either side of this narrow road and Suzanne became enthralled with the different architectures and the other people who were obviously tourists like herself, all enjoying themselves. She didn’t know how far or for how long she had walked, but suddenly she realised that all the houses looked the same and she could no longer find her bearings.

  Her panic grew as she began to look about frantically for something she knew, a recognisable face, anything. People were beginning to look at her strangely and she stopped an old man, intending to ask the way. ‘Please,’ she begged. ‘Please, can you help me?’

  The man looked at her blankly with bleary eyes before breaking into a string of abuse that was totally incomprehensible to Suzanne in her distress. Manchester was a big town, but it was a town she had lived in most of her life. Here she knew nothing and no one, and nothing was in the
least familiar. She was lost, completely and utterly lost.

  She felt a hand at her elbow and spun round to face her assailant. The man at her side spoke rapidly to the old man in sharp English, causing the man to skulk off with a scowl in their direction, mainly directed at Suzanne. And she had only wanted him to help her! Well, she had certainly got help now, only not from someone she relished being beholden to.

  The Conte steered her firmly away from the man and back in the opposite direction to the one she had been taking. Suzanne shook off his restraining hand. ‘Take your hands off me! What do you think you’re doing?’

  Dark brows met over those curiously grey eyes and Suzanne longed to ask him the reason for his unusual colouring. ‘I thought I was helping a lady in distress,’ he bowed distantly. ‘It seems I was wrong—on both counts.’ He turned on his heel and walked away.

  Suzanne ran after him, grasping pleadingly at his arm. ‘Oh, please!’ she beseeched him. ‘I’m sorry, Conte. I didn’t mean to be rude, but you frightened me, appearing suddenly like that when I thought I was lost and alone.’

  ‘You should not have wandered so far away from your hotel. You do not know your way about London and you look very suspect, a lone woman wandering around without thought of a chaperone.’

  ‘I don’t need a chaperone,’ she scoffed. ‘I’m old enough to take care of myself.’

  ‘So you have just proved,’ the Conte said dryly.

  ‘That was just a chance happening,’ she retorted heatedly. ‘It could happen to anyone who doesn’t know their way about.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Suzanne almost had to run to keep up with his long strides. ‘All right,’ she sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I admit that I didn’t know where I was going and I shouldn’t have gone off alone like that.’

  ‘No, you should not.’

  ‘How did you know where I was anyway? I didn’t see you behind me.’

  ‘You were not intended to. You appear to be a very independent young lady. I felt sure you would not accept advice from me. I spotted you leaving the restaurant as I was on my way to a business meeting. Your hair is unmistakable.’

  ‘So you followed me?’ Suzanne looked at him curiously. The arrogant Conte Martino followed a nobody like herself? But why?

  He nodded. ‘At a distance. I wanted to assure myself you would be all right. You were not.’

  Suzanne sighed again. ‘I’ve already said I’m sorry.’

  ‘So you have.’ He stopped. ‘You are back at your hotel now and I trust you will not roam about on your own again. There are guides at the hotel for just such a reason. You have only to ask.’

  She saw that they were indeed back at the hotel. It had taken much less time to get back and she could only wonder at the Conte’s intimate knowledge of the streets of London, but perhaps he spent a lot of time here. She smiled at him gratefully. ‘Thank you very much, Conte Martino. It was very kind of you to help me.’ It was a genuine gesture and yet the words still seemed to stick in her throat.

  He smiled at her mockingly. ‘Very prettily said. And you will not explore alone again?’

  She shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing enticingly. ‘Not if you say I’m not to.’

  ‘I do,’ he bowed haughtily. ‘Goodbye, Miss Hammond.’

  ‘Oh, Conte! I forgot,’ she put out her hand to delay him and stopped the movement as she saw the disdainful look on his face. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she muttered:

  ‘Now you have started you may as well finish,’ he advised shortly. ‘You should never stop once you have decided to do something.’

  ‘Really? Even if it would be imprudent to continue?’

  ‘And would it be that?’

  ‘Not this time. I merely wanted you to know that it was my stepmother and not I who had been asking for you.’

  ‘I see,’ those grey eyes mocked her. ‘Thank you for telling me of my—mistake.’

  Suzanne’s green eyes widened. ‘You don’t believe me, do you?’

  Dark brows rose at her verbal attack. ‘Is it important that I should?’

  She held herself stiffly. ‘It is to me, Conte. Whatever else you may think of me, I am not a liar.’

  ‘Whatever else?’ he queried mildly. ‘Why should I think anything of you at all. We met for the first time only yesterday.’

  ‘It seems longer,’ she returned defiantly. ‘Much longer.’

  ‘I am glad I have made such an impression on you.’

  ‘You could hardly do anything else when you literally warned me off Vidal. Tell me, Conte, do you have to do this often?’

  She had all his attention now. ‘Do what, Miss Hammond?’ he asked coolly.

  ‘Warn women off your brother. Does he make a habit of forming unsuitable friendships? Unsuitable in your eyes, I might add.’

  ‘My brother’s behaviour, suitable or otherwise, is none of your affair, Miss Hammond. I have told you of Vidal’s betrothal, but I can do no more. If you choose to continue seeing him then that is between the two of you.’

  ‘But you disapprove, wholeheartedly.’ She spoke the words he was perhaps too polite to say.

  He shrugged. ‘I can do no other in the circumstances.’

  ‘And what circumstances are they, Conte? Your brother may be betrothed, but that doesn’t stop him feeling attracted to other women. After all, he knew about his fiancée, I didn’t.’

  ‘I do not care to discuss this any further.’

  ‘I think you’re right, Vidal is old enough to make his own decisions.’

  ‘So you intend to continue seeing Vidal,’ his eyes were flinty, ‘and nothing I say will deter you?’

  Suzanne had no intention of continuing to see Vidal Martino, but she wasn’t going to tell the Conte that, let him think what he might. She had a healthy respect for marriage, and although Vidal was only engaged she knew that engagements were rarely broken in his country, especially not by the man. If broken at all it had to be broken by the girl, for her own good, and if she wanted another man to offer for her. Besides, she and Vidal had only known each other a day, and although she found him very attractive she didn’t want to cause any trouble between Vidal and his family—well, no more than she already had.

  ‘No,’ she lied.

  ‘I see.’ His gaze raked mercilessly over her slim body and Suzanne moved uncomfortably, unwilling to let him see how he unnerved her.

  ‘What do you see, Conte?’

  ‘A very young girl who defies conventions, who goes after her goal no matter who or what stands in her way, a young girl who wants money and position in life no matter how she gets it. Vidal is rich, I grant you, but I do not intend dying just yet, so the title may never be his. Even then it may pass to my son.’

  ‘So you do intend marrying one day, Conte? I had begun to think that it was only Vidal who had the arranged marriage in your family.’

  ‘My intended bride died.’ His words were clipped and stilted. ‘Now if you will excuse me I am already late for an appointment.’

  Suzanne watched him leave, dismay written all over her face. The Conte had looked bitter and bleak as he had left, and she was left with the inevitable knowledge that she had caused it. She had believed him to be invincible, but a few short words had penetrated that urbane shell he hid behind.

  She entered the hotel slowly, her thoughts still on the Conte. Vidal was the handsomer of the pair, but it was the Conte who was the most striking and stayed in the mind. He was a much deeper personality, unlike Vidal in every way, and yet both were attractive individuals. The Conte would be a hard person to get to know, but once a trusted friend would remain so, Vidal was a more shallow person and yet more easily likeable. But he wasn’t for her; the Conte’s information had seen to that.

  Carlo, the waiter, was crossing reception as she entered the hotel and she smiled at him, and then wished she hadn’t as he stopped and came over to her. ‘Miss Hammond, I am sorry if you thought me rude this morning. I did not mean to be so.’

 
‘I know that, Carlo,’ she accepted easily. ‘As soon as I realised who my visitor was I knew you were right about my clothing. It wasn’t suitable at all.’

  ‘You were not annoyed at my forwardness?’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘I was surprised at first,’ she admitted. ‘But as I said, once I realised it was the Conte Martino I understood.’ She looked at him closely. ‘Did the Conte say something to you after I had spoken to him?’

  Carlo flushed uncomfortably. ‘Signor Conte was not pleased—’

  ‘He did say something,’ Suzanne said angrily. ‘Well …’ Carlo paused. ‘This is his hotel, signorina. And I should not have been familiar with one of the guests.’

  Suzanne almost laughed at his grave expression. ‘You weren’t being familiar, Carlo, you were trying to be helpful. I was just too silly to understand what you meant. I wish I had now, I looked slightly ridiculous clothed like that when the Conte was dressed so formally.’

  A ghost of a smile lit his face. ‘I am glad you are not angry, Miss Hammond, although the Conte …’

  ‘Never mind the Conte, Carlo. I made no complaint and I certainly don’t intend doing so.’ Turning, she saw Celeste entering the hotel, looking beautifully perfect in a lime green silk dress that clung to her tall shapely figure. Her eyes blazed as she saw Carlo standing just behind her stepdaughter, and Suzanne smiled gratefully at the hotel manager as he reached her before the angry Celeste.

  ‘Miss Hammond,’ David Brewster smiled stiffly, a tall middle-aged Londoner, who despite his age still managed to be handsome, in a mature sort of way. His hair was iron grey, but this only lent him an air of distinction, and he had all of the pride of the older Londoners. He might only be the manager of this fine hotel, but he certainly seemed to bow to no one, except perhaps the Conte. But she was trying to forget him! It wasn’t an easy task. ‘Miss Hammond, I hope you have accepted Carlo’s apology. He’s usually a polite boy, hardworking and very helpful to our guests. I can’t comprehend his behaviour in this affair. And the Conte a personal friend of yours! It isn’t—’