Venetian's Midnight Mistress Read online

  Mainly because she had no idea what to say to her. Or what Eleni was going to say. Surely that all depended on whether or not Eleni was aware of Dani’s…encounter with her brother the previous evening?

  ‘I’m at Wiverley Hall.’

  ‘What are you doing there?’ Eleni sounded puzzled.

  Good question!

  Hiding, seemed to pretty well answer it…

  Dani had come up with the idea of visiting her parents—of removing herself from London completely—as she’d tried to find a taxi after the masquerade to take her back into the city. She had realised that to stay at her apartment was unthinkable. Niccolo could come storming over at any moment demanding an explanation for her behaviour, once he discovered she had been the woman in the gold gown.

  Because it was inevitable that he would find out eventually. After all, Eleni knew exactly which of her female guests had been dressed in the gold gown and mask the previous evening, and Niccolo only had to ask her to find out the unwelcome truth.

  Of course there was always the possibility that Niccolo, having returned to the conservatory to find his mystery lady had flown, would be too angry or too proud to actually ask his sister who the woman in the gold gown had been. But as Dani recalled the intensity of the passion they had shared, along with Niccolo’s determination to spend the rest of the night with her, she knew it was very likely a remote hope.

  ‘Visiting my parents and grandfather, of course,’ she said with false lightness.

  ‘You left last night without saying goodbye,’ Eleni reproved.

  ‘I did try, but I couldn’t find you in all the crush.’

  ‘Dani?’

  ‘Yes?’

  Eleni’s sigh could be heard. ‘Dani, Niccolo looked for you last night after you left without saying goodbye.’

  ‘For me?’ She feigned surprise even as her fingers tightened about her mobile. ‘Why on earth would he do that?’

  ‘Dani, please don’t,’ her friend rebuked her gently. ‘I know you were the woman with Niccolo last night, and that’s why you left the party so suddenly.’

  Dani sat down abruptly on the bed in the bedroom that had been hers since childhood. But she didn’t see the rosettes she had won as a child at gymkhanas still pinned on the wall. Or the long shelves of books. Or the pretty lace canopy over the bed that had been added when she was a teenager. All Dani could see was Niccolo D’Alessandro’s face. His incredibly angry face…

  ‘Does Niccolo know the woman was me?’ she breathed tremulously, abandoning all hope of convincing Eleni that she had no idea what she was talking about.

  ‘Not yet,’ Eleni said. ‘But he’s going to,’ she warned. ‘I feigned complete ignorance last night when he sought me out and pressed me to tell him who the woman in the gold gown had been, but I doubt I’ll be able to keep the truth from him for long. Dani, what did you and Niccolo do last night?’

  What hadn’t they done? That was probably more the question!

  Just thinking about the previous evening, the intimacies she had shared with Niccolo, was enough to make Dani blush—unbecomingly—to the roots of her red hair.

  She rushed into speech. ‘I didn’t know it was him, okay? You’ve always made such a big thing about your Venetian cousins, how handsome and charming they all are—that I just assumed it was one of them when he began to flirt with me.’

  ‘Niccolo flirted with you?’ Eleni sounded disbelieving.

  He had done a lot more than flirt. They both had.

  Dani had never behaved like that in her life before.

  And she would never behave like that again either!

  Not now she recognised there was no such thing as pleasure without responsibility.

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed huskily. ‘I—I didn’t know it was Niccolo!’

  ‘You already said that,’ Eleni pointed out dryly. ‘Didn’t you pick up on my hint about the D’Alessandro ancestry?’

  ‘If I had, do you really think I would have spent the evening with your arrogant brother?’ she groaned.

  ‘Probably not,’ Eleni allowed.

  ‘Eleni, you can’t think that I wanted to—That I ever intended to spend the evening with Niccolo, of all people?’ she gasped incredulously.

  ‘I really don’t know what to think, Dani,’ her friend replied. ‘All I know is that my big brother is behaving completely out of character and insisting on finding the mystery woman he met last night at my masquerade party.’

  Niccolo was still looking for her? Dani gulped.

  No, he wasn’t looking for her, she reassured herself. Niccolo was looking for the woman who had attracted him the previous evening.

  The woman who had returned that attraction.

  The woman who’d had wild sex with him in his sister’s conservatory!

  Dani had never experienced anything like it in her life before, and she still felt hot all over just at the thought of it.

  ‘You were the one who told me that was what the masks were for,’ she reminded her friend defensively. ‘So that people could behave out of character safely hidden behind them.’

  ‘How “out of character” did you behave, Dani?’ Eleni asked.

  ‘Very,’ she answered tightly.

  ‘How very…?’

  ‘Very, very.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Eleni, are you going to tell Niccolo it was me?’

  ‘It isn’t a question of my telling or not telling, Dani. Brad knows it was you, too,’ Eleni warned. ‘So far Niccolo hasn’t thought to ask him about the woman in the gold gown, but it’s probably only a matter of time…’

  ‘He’ll forget about me in a few days, and then—’

  ‘Niccolo doesn’t forget anything,’ Eleni interrupted ruthlessly. ‘And whatever the two of you did last night it certainly seems to have made an impact.’

  ‘Eleni, please—’

  ‘Dani, tell me that none of this has anything to do with your grandfather’s will.’

  ‘My grandfa—?’ Dani was stunned. ‘What on earth do you mean, Eleni?’

  ‘If you remember, I once joked about you seducing one of my cousins…’

  ‘Eleni, you can’t seriously think that I—You don’t think that I would deliberately—’ Dani was beyond stunned now—she was speechless.

  ‘Actually, Dani, I don’t believe what I think is all that important, do you?’

  Dani became very still as the full import of the possible consequences of last night struck her.

  Eight months ago her grandfather had changed his will to stipulate that Dani had to provide a Bell heir before he died, or her parents would lose their home as well as their living.

  And last night Dani had made love with a man she had believed to be a complete stranger, which was completely out of character for her.

  All of which Eleni knew.

  She had obviously drawn her own conclusions about Dani’s motives for her uncharacteristic behaviour the previous evening. Conclusions that Niccolo, if he learnt of that clause in her grandfather’s will, would no doubt also draw.

  Eleni was right. It didn’t matter what she personally thought of Dani’s behaviour the previous evening; it was what Niccolo believed that was going to be important…

  ‘Your mother told me I would find you out here.’

  Dani almost fell over the bucket of feed she had given her horse while she rubbed him down after her morning ride as she heard the grimness of Niccolo D’Alessandro’s voice just behind her.

  Niccolo was here—at her parents’ home in Gloucestershire?

  Dani’s movements were measured, carefully precise, as she placed the brush down on the straw before straightening to rub her wet hands nervously down the thighs of her jeans and then slowly turn to face Niccolo. A Niccolo who looked as grim-faced as his tone had implied he was going to be.

  There was no mistaking the tension of his body either. In a black tee shirt that stretched tautly over those wide shoulders and fitted jeans, it was as if he were bare
ly repressing his anger.

  As if?

  If Niccolo was here for the reason Dani thought he was, then there was no doubting he was angry. No—furious, she amended as she found herself unable to break her own gaze away from the intensity of his glacial brown eyes.

  ‘Niccolo.’ She forced the muscles in her face to relax as she moved to look at him enquiringly over Jet’s back. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  ‘Do I really need to spell it out, Daniella?’ Those dark eyes glittered dangerously.

  She would rather that he didn’t. She had spent the last few days convincing herself that her time in his arms hadn’t happened at all! But with Niccolo standing only feet away, and with every nerve ending in her body, every one of her senses, screaming her awareness of him, that was no longer an option.

  She knew this man. Had touched and caressed every part of him. And no amount of wishing otherwise was ever going to change that.

  Perhaps that saying should be Act in haste, repent at leisure? From the anger she could feel emanating in her direction from Niccolo’s rigid body he was going to do more than make her repent.

  ‘The two of us need to go somewhere and talk,’ he said icily when she didn’t answer him, and that coldness sent a chill of apprehension down Dani’s spine.

  She wasn’t ready for this—would she ever be? She had simply naively hoped as the days, almost a week, had crawled past, with no sign of Niccolo, that he must have returned to Venice without finding out the identity of his mystery woman.

  One glance at Niccolo’s absolutely livid expression and Dani knew that was no longer true…

  ‘Talk about what, Niccolo?’ she stalled lightly, at the same time continuing to keep the black stallion that her father had given her for her twenty-first birthday between them. Jet shifted restlessly in his stall as he obviously sensed her tension.

  Niccolo’s mouth twisted scathingly. ‘Oh, I think you know, Daniella. Or should I call you Belladonna?’ he added, his voice now lethally soft.

  Dani’s stomach felt as if the bottom had just dropped out of it, and she could feel her hands begin to tremble as she fought for breath.

  This confrontation was worse, so much worse than she had ever imagined that it would be. In those imaginings she had been able to laugh off the incident as unimportant, as just a bit of fun. Niccolo didn’t look as if he found any of this in the least amusing. Or ever would!

  But she tried again. ‘Belladonna?’ She shook her head. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about—’

  ‘Do not even try to deny it was you that night, Daniella!’ Niccolo cut in harshly, not in any sort of mood to play games.

  He had spent all his time these last few days discreetly eliminating every woman who had been at Eleni and Brad’s party that evening, finally coming down to the one woman no one could account for.

  Daniella Bell.

  Incredible as that possibility had seemed to him at first, the more Niccolo had thought about it the more it had become a reality. The woman in gold had been the right height and size to be Daniella, and the white powder would have hidden the brightness of her red hair. And she would easily have been able to disguise the normally brisk tone with which she normally addressed him with that huskily seductive, totally unrecognisable voice.

  It had been a little more difficult imagining that Daniella could possibly be the sexily uninhibited woman who had made love with him. But having openly confronted Eleni this morning, Niccolo now knew that woman had indeed been Daniella Bell.

  Incredible, but nevertheless true.

  And his anger hadn’t abated in the least during his drive to Gloucestershire in order that he might confront Daniella with the truth face to face. In fact it had settled like a cold, leaden weight in his chest.

  Daniella’s evasiveness now, as she shot him apprehensive glances from beneath lowered dark lashes, only increased the intensity of that fury.

  She was wise to feel apprehensive—at the moment Niccolo was clenching his hands into fists at his sides in an effort to stop himself from reaching out and wringing her slender neck!

  ‘Why did you do it, Daniella?’ he growled.

  ‘Why?’ she echoed hollowly.

  He nodded grimly. ‘Explain to me why you made love with me that night and then disappeared before I could discover who you really were.’

  Dani drew in a ragged breath. ‘Niccolo—’

  ‘Could we get out of here?’ he asked impatiently as Jet swung his head dangerously close to him and bared his teeth. ‘Your horse obviously does not like me,’ he added dryly.

  She moved to run a soothing hand down the length of Jet’s nose. ‘You’re making him nervous.’

  ‘And you?’ Niccolo spoke softly—dangerously so. ‘Am I making you nervous too, Daniella?’

  He was frightening the life out of her, if the truth were known!

  Niccolo cutting and sarcastic she was used to. Niccolo totally indifferent to her she could accept too. But this Niccolo, cold and threatening, his anger barely leashed, was terrifying.

  But damn it, he had been a willing participant that night—more than willing! And he couldn’t deny that he had enjoyed it because he had been the one to suggest they book into a hotel so that they might continue doing more of the same.

  Her chin rose as her gaze met his challengingly. ‘Why are you making such a fuss, Niccolo?’ she asked waspishly. ‘We’re both over the age of consent, and you can’t deny we had a good time that night.’ She shrugged slender shoulders. ‘So why can’t you just leave it at that, hmm?’

  Because he couldn’t do it. That was why. Much as he had tried, Niccolo hadn’t been able to get the memory of the woman in the gold gown out of his head—hadn’t been able to forget making love with her.

  He had been so determined to find her again that he had delayed his return to Venice by several days in order to continue his search.

  He still found it incredible that his search had ultimately led him to this woman.

  Had she known it was him that night?

  Had she known and found all the more pleasure—amusement, perhaps?—in knowing that Niccolo had no idea with whom he was making love?

  He had questions, many of them, and he did not intend leaving until Daniella had answered them all.

  His impatience was not improved by the fact that at this moment he was completely aware of Daniella, in the overlarge tee shirt she was wearing over fitted jodhpurs and brown riding boots. That he knew exactly what she looked like beneath those clothes and how to caress and kiss that body in order to give her the ultimate in pleasure.

  His mouth tightened. ‘I have no intention of just leaving anything, Daniella,’ he rasped. ‘I want an explanation for your behaviour last weekend, and I want it now!’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m busy, Niccolo—’

  ‘You will get yourself out of that stall right now, Daniella, or I will come in and get you!’ he threatened.

  He would too, Dani acknowledged heavily. Even Jet’s restless movements, the stamping of his hooves, wouldn’t deter Niccolo if he decided to come in and get her.

  ‘Fine—I’ll walk you back to your car,’ she snapped, giving Jet one last reassuring pat before moving to the stall door. ‘But I really don’t have anything else to say about last Saturday,’ she told him as she let herself out into the yard.

  It was busy at this time of the day, all the stable lads and girls having returned from their early-morning canter and now rubbing down and feeding their mounts. Their chatter and laughter was at complete odds with the feeling of rapidly increasing doom that held Dani in its grip.

  ‘Eleni told me these are your father’s stables,’ Niccolo remarked evenly as the two of them left the busy yard and walked in the direction of the huge manor house.

  Dani eyed him warily. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I believe he is very well thought of as a trainer?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I suppose you have been riding since before you c
ould walk?’

  ‘More or less.’

  ‘Daniella, can you not at least give me credit for trying to effect some semblance of normality by conversing in this way?’ Niccolo glared down the length of his arrogant nose at her.

  Normality? How could anything possibly be normal between the two of them ever again?

  Maybe she should have thought of that last weekend?

  Maybe she would have done if she had realised her pirate Morgan was actually Niccolo D’Alessandro!

  But she couldn’t really say she had been thinking at all that night. She had simply savoured the moment and allowed herself to forget all her troubles, if only for a short time. She had been as devastated that night at discovering Niccolo was her pirate as he probably was now at finding out she was his Belladonna.

  She couldn’t even look at Niccolo now without remembering the intimacies they had shared—the response of his body to her caresses, the pleasure she had felt as he thrust deep inside her…

  This was not helping, Dani rebuked herself impatiently.

  ‘Perhaps you would like me to comment on the weather?’ she taunted him naughtily. ‘I believe that’s always good for a few minutes’ normal conversation.’

  Niccolo turned to give her a narrow-eyed glare, his mouth tightening even further as his frustrated anger deepened dangerously.

  If Daniella imagined this was any more comfortable for him than it was for her, that driving to her parents’ home in order to confront her with the truth had been easy for him to do, then she was mistaken. She was the last woman Niccolo would have chosen to have this conversation with!

  Niccolo turned to look down at her as they reached the black sports car he kept garaged at his house in England. The warm breeze ruffled the fiery length of her hair, revealing the wide brow and high cheekbones that had been hidden by a mask the last time the two of them had talked. Talked? They hadn’t really talked at all—they had been too busy kissing and pleasuring each other to talk!

  He had to stop thinking about that night, Niccolo told himself sternly. Maybe it had been the most sexually enjoyable night of his life, but the reality—knowing it was Daniella Bell he had been making love with—surely made the whole thing ludicrous.