Tempted by Desire Page 8

  ‘It is when it sticks in your throat,’ she replied tartly.

  ‘Can we not forget our dislike for this afternoon, cara?’ he purred, his eyes holding her gaze until she had to wrench her eyes away.

  ‘Don’t call me that!’ she snapped.

  ‘Cara? But why not? You did not object when Vidal used the same endearment.’

  Suzanne moved uncomfortably. ‘That’s different.’

  ‘I do not see why,’ he replied tolerantly. ‘I have been in your acquaintance almost as long as Vidal, in fact, I have probably seen more of you—literally.’

  She blushed a fiery red. ‘No, you haven’t! I was wearing a bikini when I met Vidal too.’

  ‘Tell me, Suzanne, where is your father?’

  ‘My father died three years ago. Why do you ask?’

  ‘It is not good for you to have been in the company of a woman so much older and sophisticated than you for so long without the restrictions of a male protector. You have forgotten you are a child and not up to the expectations of men, especially men of Vidal’s type.’

  ‘And your own,’ she put in cattily. Really, how dare this man lecture her like this!

  ‘And my own,’ he agreed. ‘And yet you are perfectly free with both of us. Has your stepmother not taught you how to behave?’

  Celeste hadn’t been in her life long enough at one time to teach her anything, let alone how to act with men; she relied upon her own common sense and decency to tell her that. And here was this man accusing her of being—of being—–

  ‘Do not look so indignant, Suzanne. I am perfectly well aware of how Englishwomen do not consider the conventions of life.’

  ‘What do you mean!’ she whispered crossly, keeping her voice down so that Celeste and Vidal should not hear their argument.

  ‘I am well versed in the ways of your countrywomen,’ he said bitterly. ‘Of how the vows of matrimony mean nothing to you, and the ties of children even less.’

  ‘I don’t understand you,’ she shook her head. ‘I haven’t done any of those things.’

  ‘Not yet, perhaps. You have plenty of time to commit these atrocities.’

  ‘Why do you hate English women so much? What have we ever done to you?’

  ‘You, personally, have done nothing. But I have learnt of women’s cruelties through hard experience. My own mother was English,’ he told her harshly. ‘And she did not hesitate to leave my father and myself for her young lover, a boy of twenty to her thirty. I have learnt well not to trust one of your countrywomen!’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SUZANNE stepped back from the harsh cruelty of his face, her green eyes darkening with apprehension. The reason for his colouring was now apparent. An English mother and a Venetian father! But what an attractive combination it had made—and a dangerous one too. This man had learnt early in his life that his mother was faithless and had apparently rejected him quite easily, and it had embittered the adult man, making his dislike of her all the easier to understand. But she couldn’t be blamed for his mother’s indiscretions!

  ‘I’m sorry about your mother,’ she said stiffly. ‘But you can’t judge every Englishwoman against her faults. It isn’t fair to do that.’

  ‘Fair!’ his face darkened even more. ‘Was it fair that she left behind her a broken shell of a man and a bewildered child of three?’

  ‘She was only one woman, Senor Con—’

  ‘Cesare!’ he said shortly. ‘You will use Cesare!’

  ‘All right, Cesare. But just because your mother acted like that it doesn’t mean we’re all the same. Anyway, your father didn’t waste much time marrying again—Vidal isn’t that much your junior.’

  ‘My mother was killed shortly after her flight of love, and there seemed no reason for my father not to marry again. And this time to a properly brought up Venetian girl,’ he told her haughtily. ‘As he should have done in the first place.’

  ‘But then you wouldn’t have been born,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Perhaps that would have been as well,’ he snapped angrily. ‘My father’s second wife’s family did not approve of the future Conte Martino being of mixed blood, and Vidal likes it even less.’

  ‘I’m sure you can handle it,’ she said dryly.

  ‘Perhaps.’ His steely eyes were narrowed against the sun’s glare.

  ‘Cara.’ Vidal dropped back to fall into step beside her, sliding his arm possessively across her shoulders. ‘Of what are the two of you talking so avidly?’ he asked lightly, the hardness of his eyes belying that tone.

  Suzanne wished now that she hadn’t greeted him so. eagerly; she was beginning to feel rather embarrassed by his possessive attitude—when it suited him, of course, like now. She moved uncomfortably, but his arm would not be shaken. ‘Nothing of importance,’ she answered him softly.

  He grinned down at her. ‘But you both looked so intent,’ he persisted. ‘Will you not tell me?’

  ‘There is nothing to tell,’ replied his brother. ‘We were merely discussing the attractions of London.’

  ‘I see.’ Vidal frowned. ‘Cesare believes this to be the most beautiful city in the world—next to Venice, of course,’ he told her mockingly.

  ‘He may be right.’ Suzanne found herself siding with the Conte, out of pure perversion, she thought, although she herself found London very interesting.

  Vidal grinned with good humour. ‘You have found a kindred spirit, Cesare,’ he mocked.

  The Conte looked down at her through narrowed eyes. ‘Perhaps,’ he agreed.

  Vidal’s mouth tightened at that look. ‘We will talk together, Suzanne.’

  Suzanne knew it was only a ploy to get her away from his brother, but for the moment she didn’t care. The Conte was too much of a personality, too forceful, too overbearing in every way, from his sensual good looks to his domineering nature.

  They talked of trivialities until they reached the town of London itself. Again Cesare seemed to be the one to guide her, the touch of his hand on her elbow faintly exhilarating and the look in his eyes causing her to quickly look away again. For a moment she had seen naked desire in those flinty grey eyes, stronger now than yesterday evening. But that was ridiculous; the Conte didn’t desire her, of course he didn’t.

  Buckingham Palace was beautiful, much more beautiful than Suzanne had ever imagined, although the Conte appeared to be her guide once again, pointing out things of interest to her. This arrangement seemed to suit Vidal and Celeste, surprisingly, neither of them interested in the historical beauty around them.

  Suddenly Suzanne laughed, realising the irony of the situation. ‘Shouldn’t I be the one to tell you about the beauties of London?’ she smiled at him. ‘After all, it is my country.’

  ‘As I am half English I can claim both Venice and England. Also, you have never visited London before have you?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve lived in the north of England most of my life.’

  ‘Vidal tells me you are at college there.’

  ‘Yes.’ She felt surprised that the Conte had bothered to think of her at all after their parting of yesterday.

  ‘Studying the human body,’ he said huskily. ‘How strange that you should tremble so much in a man’s arms when you have studied the workings of the body so intimately. Did my desire frighten you?’

  ‘D-desire?’ She looked about her quickly to see if anyone could overhear them.

  Those grey eyes never left her face. ‘Do not tell me you cannot tell when a man desires you?’

  Suzanne blushingly looked away. Of course they had discussed such things at college, but clinically, like all the other lectures on the human body. For this man to admit to such feelings only embarrassed her—and excited her a little too, she had to admit that. ‘I—’ she licked her lips nervously.

  ‘But of course you can tell,’ the Conte said scathingly. ‘I am not the first man to react to your slender body or the beauty of your hair. I am sure Vidal found you equally desirable.’


  There was no missing the taunting edge to his voice, and she was just about to give him a cutting reply when Celeste joined them, threading her arm intimately through Cesare’s. ‘Couldn’t you tell me a little now, Cesare?’ she asked throatily. ‘Poor Vidal is becoming quite jealous.’

  Those grey eyes darkened momentarily. ‘He has no need to be. Suzanne and I had finished our conversation anyway.’

  She felt Vidal’s arm about her shoulders as he drew her to his side, leading her gently but firmly away from the other couple. ‘You found my brother’s conversation—interesting?’ he queried softly.

  Interesting! That was the last thing it had been! Revealing was more the word she would have used. Vidal’s resentment towards his brother was perhaps more understandable now. He considered that a true Venetian should hold the title of the Conte Martino, although anyone more arrogant and haughty than his brother she had yet to meet. She considered Cesare Martino aristocratic enough to hold any position he wanted to.

  She smiled brightly at Vidal. ‘Your brother knows a great deal about London and its history.’

  ‘So he ought to, it is partly his own country.’

  ‘So he told me.’

  ‘I hope you will not expect me to be as knowledgeable,’ he said almost sulkily. ‘England does not hold the same interest for me as it does for Cesare.’

  Vidal’s words proved to be correct. Suzanne relying mainly on the guide book he insisted on buying for her to obtain any information about the Palace.

  She felt quite exhausted by the time they all returned to the hotel, and she knew Celeste felt the same, although the Martino men looked as fresh and alert as when they had left. Besides Buckingham Palace the Conte had shown them Nelson’s column and the Tower of London, and although Suzanne had enjoyed it all immensely she knew Celeste and Vidal had been bored. Consequently she found herself more in the company of the Conte than she would have wished for, even if he was so informative.

  ‘Why isn’t your brother living with you at your apartment?’ she asked, Vidal and herself seated alone in the lounge of the hotel having their after dinner coffee. The Conte and Celeste had decided to have their dinner at a restaurant in town.

  Vidal looked amused. ‘Why should he live with me? I am thirty-two years of age, I do not require a chaperone.’

  She blushed. ‘I didn’t mean that. I—’

  ‘I understand you, Suzanne. I am only teasing. Cesare has been in charge here during my holiday, my assistant is in hospital, so it is not a normal occurrence. He finds it easier to travel from the hotel than from my apartment. He spent all of last week visiting our hotels in the south-west of England.’

  So that was why he hadn’t been here when Celeste had asked about him! ‘Do you travel about the country too?’

  ‘Sometimes. But not any more now for a while, not when Cesare himself has put in an appearance. The staff will be terrified enough without my turning up too. He does this periodically to assure himself that his hotels are being run as they should be.’

  ‘So he’ll be returning to Venice soon?’

  ‘He could be, it all depends on how much of an effect your stepmother has on him. He has been known to change his plans to suit a beautiful woman.’

  ‘You think Celeste has affected him that much?’ She hadn’t thought them that close this afternoon.

  Vidal shrugged. ‘They are together now, are they not?’

  He had a point. Celeste and the Conte had showered and changed and gone straight out again. They had been invited too, but Vidal had said a firm no.

  He sat forward, taking her hand into his own to look down at her tapered nails. ‘I return to work tomorrow, cara. Will you miss me?’

  She smiled shyly, finding the directness of both the Martino men faintly disconcerting. ‘I hardly know you,’ she said softly.

  ‘Sometimes you do not need to know a person for a long time to realise you are attracted to each other, and we are attracted, are we not?’ His deep brown eyes never left her face.

  Suzanne sipped at her drink. ‘Are we?’ she said coolly.

  Vidal laughed huskily. ‘We are,’ he told her in mock sternness. ‘Tomorrow evening I will take you to the theatre. I will call for you at seven. Is that suitable?’

  She had to laugh at his audacity. ‘And if it isn’t?’ she teased. ‘I could have other plans for tomorrow.’

  ‘I would ask you to break them,’ he said haughtily.

  ‘You’re arrogant, Vidal!’ she gasped. ‘And I’m not sure I should say yes to you, you appear to have things too much your own way as far as women are concerned.’ And she meant it! Vidal was too self-confident and over-sure of her reactions to his blatant good looks. If she wasn’t careful he would walk all over her—and she wasn’t sure she would object!

  ‘Now you are annoyed with me.’ He looked suitably upset. ‘And you will not come out with me now?’

  Now she felt guilty. ‘Of course I’ll come, Vidal. I only—’

  His face brightened immediately. ‘I knew you would come, Suzanne, you were just punishing me a little for my arrogance, were you not?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ she admitted. ‘You’re both very arrogant, aren’t you?’

  ‘Both?’ His face darkened. ‘Ah, you mean Cesare too? My brother appears to occupy your thoughts a great deal. I thought you said he did not interest you?’

  ‘He doesn’t!’ Suzanne felt hot and tired, and Vidal’s constant jealousy regarding his stepbrother appeared to her to be totally unnecessary. The Conte could be rather overbearing at times, yes, but not enough to warrant Vidal’s incessant bickering with him. It made Vidal seem like a little boy. And at the moment, for some unknown reason, she appeared to be a bone of contention between the two of them. ‘You imagine things about your brother and myself that just aren’t true. If you persist in these accusations I shall go to my room!’

  ‘You would not do that!’

  ‘Yes, I would.’

  He stood up angrily. ‘Then I will save you the trouble. I myself will leave. I will call for you at seven tomorrow?’

  All Suzanne’s anger left her. ‘Yes,’ she breathed huskily.

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘Vidal, are we having an argument?’

  His body relaxed and his eyes softened as he looked at her. ‘Our first,’ he admitted. ‘I hope it will not be the first of many. But I must leave now anyway,’ he grimaced. ‘I must not be late back to work on my first day back. I would see you to your room, but I am afraid it would cause a certain amount of gossip. Most of the staff employed here are loyal to my brother and have his same prudish mind. Nevertheless, I will see you to the lift doors, that would be only polite.’

  ‘I think I’ll finish off my coffee first, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Will you not come out into the garden with me before I leave?’ He looked at her imploringly.

  Suzanne knew that he wanted to kiss her, and yet she felt reluctant. What if she shouldn’t see the flashing lights or sounds of thunder, as she hadn’t the last time they kissed? In every other way Vidal Martino was her ideal man, and yet that one thing was missing. And yet it was the most important thing!

  She looked at him uncertainly. ‘Not tonight,’ she answered softly.

  ‘You are still angry with me,’ he stated. ‘I understand.’ He kissed her fingertips. ‘Until tomorrow.’

  Suzanne watched him leave with a faint feeling of dismay. Why had she refused? He was handsome and exciting, everything she had ever dreamed of. Maybe if she had let him kiss her again she might have felt something, maybe the flashing lights and sounds of thunder came with practice. But that couldn’t be right, it should happen straight away, not be a delayed reaction.

  Vidal might be everything she had ever wanted in a man, but in truth his kisses affected her no more than Robert’s. Admittedly he was more polished and experienced, and his kisses evoked a certain amount of response in her, but it wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t enough!

  She finished her
coffee and wandered out into the garden. She was so confused. If Vidal was everything she had thought exciting in a man, why couldn’t she fall in love with him? Because she wasn’t, and that was what confused her. No one like Vidal Martino had ever entered her life before, and yet she wasn’t falling in love with him!

  ‘Suzanne?’

  She stopped in her tracks. That voice! She would always know and recognise that voice. She turned slowly to face the Conte. This was the second evening she had met him in the garden, neither of them by her design. She looked behind him for Celeste, but he appeared to be alone. Her gaze returned to the Conte as he stood silhouetted in the open doorway from the lounge. He was looking his usual elegant self, dressed formally in a white dinner jacket and black trousers.

  ‘Conte Martino?’ she returned coldly.

  He closed the door behind him, putting them in comparative darkness again. He chuckled softly as he moved towards her, his light hair showing startlingly, blond in the moonlight, as did her own. ‘You will insist on formality between us, Suzanne, but I will not be angered by it. I thought it was you out here when I saw your hair.’

  She put up a self-conscious hand to her fair curls, framing her face as usual in riotous disorder. ‘I see,’ she said non-committally.

  ‘Vidal has already left?’ All the time he was moving closer to her, until he was so close she could smell his tangy aftershave and the cigars he occasionally smoked.

  ‘It would appear so.’

  The Conte looked down at her. ‘You are on the defensive again, Suzanne,’ he warned deeply. ‘I am merely making conversation.’

  ‘Where is Celeste?’ she asked pointedly. ‘I’m sure she would love to listen to you.’

  ‘But not you?’

  ‘Not me,’ she agreed.

  ‘Why do you dislike me so much? I realise I was rude to you the first time we met, but I have since apologised.’

  She looked away from the seductive quality in those compelling grey eyes. ‘And promptly proceeded to insult me again,’ she reminded him.

  ‘I did?’

  ‘You know you did.’ She walked away from him to trail her hand in the softly falling fountain. It adorned the middle of the garden, softly illuminated, and very beautiful. ‘You accused me of chasing you for mercenary reasons.’