The Italian Count's Command Read online

  ‘Get out!’ she grated under her breath, disgusted by what had happened.

  ‘Why don’t we come to a nice little arrangement—?’

  ‘You Severinis and your arrangements!’ she hissed. ‘You’re ruining my marriage—’

  ‘I think I’ve probably exceeded my welcome too.’ Guido grinned. ‘I must make my move quickly, before I’m asked to leave.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  White-faced, she stared after his swaggering figure. The door shut very softly and she cuddled Carlo very hard, much to his delight.

  Her mind whirled. Since he’d arrived, Guido had constantly tried to paw her, jumping away from her with theatrical guilt whenever Dante came near. She knew what he was doing. Sowing more doubts. And succeeding, by the look of it.

  After she’d put her son to bed, she sought out Dante and found him outside on the terrace, staring at the crescent moon. The sky was a dense black and spattered with stars. Cassiopeia, the Plough, the Milky Way. Timeless wonders.

  Before she could attract his attention he began to walk through the garden, and she caught up the material of her billowing taffeta skirt and followed till he reached the little temple by the lakeside and leaned against one of its elegant pillars.

  It was very quiet. Warm lights glowed in the blackness, marking the villages across the lake, their reflections shimmering in the patent-leather water.

  Something caught in her heart. It was all so beautiful. Especially Dante. The pale gleam from one of the lamps strung along their shoreline was highlighting the carved contours of his face.

  ‘Dante,’ she said, helplessly soft and loving despite her intentions.

  He started. ‘I came here to be alone,’ he growled.

  She wouldn’t be put off. This was too important.

  ‘And I came after you to make a request.’ She moved closer, wishing he wasn’t so hard and unyielding. ‘Send Guido away,’ she pleaded. ‘He’s pestering me and I don’t like it.’

  He shot her a cold glance. ‘That’s not how it looks from where I stand.’

  Miranda frowned. Absently slid up a rogue bootlace strap of her low-cut turquoise top and quailed at Dante’s glare of contempt. She knew that he was remembering his brother’s questing finger. But why was he angry with her?

  ‘You think I encouraged him,’ she said jerkily.

  The coal-black eyes blazed. ‘He explained to me just now,’ he snapped. ‘He was tickling Carlo and you grabbed his hand—’

  ‘No!’ she cried in horror. ‘It wasn’t like that! I was stopping him—’

  ‘Basta!’ He abruptly turned his back on her. She could see that he was shaking with anger. ‘He’s been complaining about you ever since he arrived. You…’ There was a pause. The atmosphere was electric with tension and Miranda couldn’t speak for misery, emotion filling her throat with a hard, hurting pain. ‘I want you to move back into your own room,’ he clipped.

  She drew in a steadying breath and forced herself to croak out,

  ‘Why, Dante?’

  The look he threw her over his shoulder was so filled with anguish and loathing that she gave a cry of alarm and stumbled back, almost falling over her full skirts.

  ‘So you do know my name!’ he scathed.

  Her hand went to her heaving breast. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Slowly he came to face her, his eyes glittering. ‘Very tragic. Very beautiful. You even look vulnerable and innocent. A few days ago I would have slowly and lovingly ravished you if you’d posed like that for me.’

  She swallowed. There was no longer any affection or desire in him. Just a boiling rage. Guido had poisoned him against her.

  ‘But not now,’ she said in a low tone.

  ‘No. Not when you murmur my brother’s name in your sleep,’ he snarled savagely, and with an expression of utter hatred he strode away.

  ‘Oh, God!’ she whispered, rooted to the spot.

  She had condemned herself, out of her own lips! She closed her eyes and battled for control over the overwhelming urge to fling herself on the grass and cry till she could weep no more. But she couldn’t. She choked back the tears, biting her lip till it drew blood. She had to pull herself together. Now.

  Her sister and her friends were arriving any minute for the party the next night and she had to behave as though nothing had happened, even though her world had fallen apart.

  This was Guido’s revenge. To make Dante believe that she’d been flirting with his own brother.

  ‘Damn you, Guido!’ she seethed, dashing away the hot tears which had escaped from her burning eyes.

  He was clever, she’d give him that. If she ever decided to tell Dante that it must have been Guido who’d laced her drink, then he’d think she was making excuses—and that she’d been perfectly willing.

  Miranda groaned. Slowly she began to trudge back. She reflected unhappily that Dante would never give her the benefit of the doubt if she did announce that she was pregnant. He’d be convinced it was Guido’s child. And the horror of it was that he could be right.

  Dante didn’t trust her. He believed the worst. She came to a halt and covered her face with her hands in utter despair.

  ‘Oh, when will I know if I’m pregnant?’ she moaned.

  There would be no time the next day for a trip to Como. The hours would be taken up with entertaining Lizzie and her friends.

  With her eyes awash in unshed tears, she studied the elegant façade of the palazzo. Everyone would think she’d landed on her feet. A gorgeous husband, an adorable child and a fairy-tale palace full of beautiful antiques and glorious paintings.

  They’d admire the Venetian glasses, the frescoed walls and ceilings and the hand-carved oak staircase. At night they’d slip into the bed linen of sand-washed silk with the Severini orchid embroidered on the edges, and they would envy her.

  But all those riches, together with the lemon-tree walk, the stream and waterfalls, the orchard and the stunning views, were nothing without Dante’s love and trust. She would swap them all for that. For an end to this torment. The loneliness.

  All she wanted was to be loved. Was that too much to hope for?

  ‘Lizzie!’

  She stared, aghast, at the scene before her eyes. She had to say something. Couldn’t let her sister be fooled… Ever since she’d arrived the previous night, Lizzie had been glued to Guido.

  It was the afternoon of the party now, and everyone was taking a rest. But she and Dante were checking the arrangements.

  In supervising the placing of strings of lights down to the river, she’d been horrified to see her sister and Guido in a passionate embrace.

  ‘Lizzie!’ she called, more desperately.

  Her sister saw her, gave the grinning Guido a little push and ran happily to her side. ‘Isn’t this all fantastic? I’m so happy for you. Now. What do you want, darling?’ she prattled, her eyes alight with excitement.

  ‘My dress!’ Miranda lied, raising her voice, not wanting to alert Guido to the real reason she was taking Lizzie away. ‘I need your input. One is very glam and glittery, the other’s grand and simple…’

  ‘Say no more.’ Lizzie tucked her arm in Miranda’s and began to walk back with her. ‘You must be a bag of nerves, all these important—’

  ‘Liz! I have to tell you something,’ Miranda whispered on impulse. ‘You won’t like it.’

  ‘You look horribly pale!’ Lizzie said in concern. ‘You’re in trouble—’

  ‘Wait till we’re in my room,’ Miranda replied in agitation, longing to unload some of her burden. ‘I’ve so much to say.’

  Unusually, Lizzie listened without interruption, such was the shock of Miranda’s story as the words tumbled out—the whole story, from beginning to end.

  Miranda was sobbing when she’d finished. ‘I know you won’t believe me,’ she jerked. ‘You’re crazy about Guido and—’

  ‘Darling Miranda!’ Unusually sombre, Lizzie wrappe
d her arms around her elder sister. ‘He’s good-looking and he’s loaded and we’ve had a kiss or two, but I was never crazy about him. And the more I got to know him, the less I liked him. I’m so sorry this has happened to you. I’m appalled at what you’ve gone through. If only you’d confided in me! I love and admire you more than any woman I know. If you say this is true, then it is. You don’t tell lies, I know that.’

  ‘I wish Dante was as loyal as you,’ Miranda sighed.

  ‘Darling, he’s horribly jealous. And be fair, it must have looked as if he’d caught you after one hell of an orgy. Even worse, you’ve been calling out his brother’s name in your sleep. It would take a saint not to doubt you—and he’s a hot-blooded Italian with a passionate nature. He’s struggling to make sense of what happened. And I’m sure he’s trying hard to accept it. Things’ll turn out OK in the end. Honest. Dante loves you to pieces.’

  ‘Don’t give me false hope. You’re only saying that—’ Miranda mumbled.

  ‘No. He does. Believe me. He can’t keep his eyes or his hands off you, Miranda. I saw how he looked at you last night. He wants to believe you, but I bet he can’t get that scene out of his head.’

  Miranda shuddered. ‘Neither can I! And I don’t know what to do!’

  ‘You’ve got to tell him why Guido figures in your dreams,’ Lizzie said firmly.

  ‘I don’t know that I can! He adores his brother—’

  ‘Are you mad?’ Lizzie gave her an impatient little shake. ‘He’s a rat. First you, then he has a go at me! How dare he? The little squirt doesn’t deserve your silence! You’ve got into the habit of keeping your mouth shut over the years. This is the time to speak out—’

  ‘Not yet,’ Miranda said, her face wan. ‘We’re both too emotional, too upset. Perhaps when Guido’s gone…’ Her words tailed away. She couldn’t bear for Dante to think so badly of her.

  Lizzie gave her a consoling hug. ‘Don’t lose heart now. You love him too much to give up. And he’ll come round in time.’

  Miranda shuddered. ‘And if I am pregnant?’ she wailed.

  ‘Very unlikely,’ Lizzie declared stoutly. ‘I’ll get that test for you in Bellagio today—I’ll go out now. I’ve got to get some stuff from the chemist anyway. I’ve had an infection in my ear and I’m on antibiotics for a couple more days.’ She made a face. ‘That means no booze for a while! Oh, and Guido says he’s leaving for London after the party, so you and Dante will have time alone together to work on your marriage.’

  Astonished by Lizzie’s supportive attitude, Miranda dashed her hand across her eyes and gave a shaky little smile.

  ‘Thank you. You’ve held me together,’ she whispered.

  Her sister hugged her again. ‘Thank you. For all the sacrifices. I owe you my entire childhood, my untroubled life. Now you’re in trouble, I’ll do anything I can to make things right again.’

  The two sisters embraced, a deeper understanding and warmth existing between them. Odd, Miranda mused, how something good always came from something bad.

  ‘I must go. I’ve got to check everything’s OK for the party,’ she said with a rueful smile.

  ‘Good thing. Take your mind off it all,’ Lizzie encouraged. ‘Scoot!’

  Tense and on edge but determined to stay optimistic, Miranda managed to liaise with Dante over a couple of problems connected with the catering, and then they threw themselves into some energetic games with Carlo.

  By the time he’d been tucked up in bed, she felt exhausted. Ahead lay a night of bright chatter and play-acting. Steeling herself, she selected the beautiful sapphire dress she and Dante had chosen, and let it slither down over her naked body.

  It shimmered with every movement, cradling her breasts and pushing them up in a subtle invitation. She turned around to see the back. Or, rather, her back, since the dress dipped in a figure-hugging curve to her waist. It was daring. But Dante had loved it and it made her feel a million dollars.

  Carefully she applied her make-up and swept her hair to the top of her head, taking pains to ensure the overall effect was both elegant and sexy.

  Slipping her feet into a pair of sensationally high sandals, she walked into Dante’s quarters, her entire body trembling with nervous strain and hope.

  He had to fall in love with her all over again. If he looked into her eyes he’d see his name written there. If he had any sensitivity at all he’d feel the passion flowing from every part of her.

  He was staring out of the window and wearing a tuxedo, which had clearly been built around his body by a talented tailor. For a moment or two she devoured him hungrily with her eyes, then said with deceptive coolness,

  ‘Will I do?’

  With apparent reluctance, he turned to face her. She noticed his jaw tightening, a convulsive swallow. But nothing else in his expression told her that he found her desirable.

  ‘Perfect,’ he said shortly, as if she were an item in a shop window. ‘But not that silver chain.’

  A little puzzled, she fingered the necklace and watched him open a safe. He brought a box to her and opened it. She gasped.

  ‘Dante!’

  ‘My uncle’s mother owned them. Put them on.’

  Awed, she took the dainty flower-shaped sapphire and diamond earrings from the box and fixed them to her lobes. The diamond necklace looked fragile, fashioned as a scattering of interlaced flowers, each centre a perfect sapphire.

  ‘It’s absolutely beautiful!’ she breathed.

  He watched her struggling to fasten it. After a moment, and with a mutter of irritation, Dante came behind Miranda to do it for her.

  His fingers were cool on her hot skin. Tingles of electricity flew across her skin from wherever he touched.

  Hardly breathing, she looked over at their reflection in the huge baroque mirror decorated with golden cherubs, and felt a pang of love for the dark-haired man who hovered so enticingly close.

  ‘Dante,’ she murmured.

  ‘Time we went down,’ he said sharply, moving away. ‘Miranda…’

  Her voice lifted with hope. ‘Yes?’

  My darling, she added in her mind.

  He exhaled sharply. ‘We must be affectionate in public,’ he rasped. She nodded, disappointed. ‘But don’t imagine,’ he growled, ‘for one second, that I mean anything I do or say.’

  Stoically she took the blow and hid the fact that she reeled from it. ‘I’m sorry you don’t trust me,’ she said quietly.

  ‘How can I,’ he hurled, ‘after the things I’ve seen and heard?’

  Good will triumph, she told herself. And with dignity, said, ‘Shall we go?’

  ‘It means nothing to you, does it?’ he snarled. ‘Our marriage is destroyed, our child’s happiness is threatened and you have condemned me to living with a cheating, lying harlot—’

  ‘Our guests will be arriving,’ she reminded him, controlling her shaking hands. The pain was making her feel faint. ‘We must be there to meet them.’

  This wasn’t the moment to fight her corner. She was too close to tears, and she didn’t want to let him down by appearing before his friends with her wounded heart on view.

  ‘Of course.’

  Abruptly Dante jerked out his arm and she slipped her hand into it, her fingers resting on the sensually soft material.

  ‘I love you,’ she insisted. He glanced at her, his eyes tarry black and on fire with contempt and anger. She felt his hurt and wanted to ease it. Tenderly she persevered, ‘One day you will know that is true. I hope it will be soon because my heart is breaking—’ She had gone too far. Her eyes were blurred with tears. Hastily she averted her gaze and wished she’d kept her own counsel. ‘Let’s go,’ she husked.

  And as they moved towards the sound of music, she wondered how she would find the strength to endure the next five or six hours.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  IT WAS the friendliness and affection of their guests that buoyed her up. Dazed by their compliments, touched by their goodwill towards her, she was sur
prised to find she was enjoying herself.

  Until the first dance.

  She was talking to Felipe and some of Dante’s business friends when she saw Dante crossing the ballroom floor. His gaze was fixed on her: dark, compelling and so intensely sexy that it made a frisson run through her.

  Miranda felt an irresistible force pulling her towards him. He held out his hand.

  ‘My regrets, gentlemen, but I have come to take my wife away from you. We are to start the dancing,’ he said in an oddly husky voice.

  Dumbly she reached out trembling fingers and found them clasped in his warm grip. And then she was in his arms, the music swelling and swirling all around her as he swept her into a series of spins that left her elated and dizzy.

  ‘You must talk to me,’ he rasped, his eyes blazing at her from under his brows. It seemed to her that he wanted to be anywhere but here, with her in his arms.

  She licked her lips and said the first thing that came into her head. ‘I love dancing with you.’

  As if weakened by this confession, she sank, boneless, deeper into his arms. Somehow her head was on his shoulder. The warmth of his hand, splaying over her naked spine, penetrated deeply. Miranda surrendered herself to him, her fingers pressed firmly against his frantically beating heart.

  And then his body shifted and she drew in a sharp breath of desire.

  ‘Yes,’ he muttered. ‘I can’t hide the fact that I want you. I curse the day you were born! Any man would desire you, the way you look tonight. You’re temptation itself. The archetypal ice queen challenging man’s ability to melt that veneer of reserve and tap the heat beneath.’

  Again he was making her feel like an object to be possessed, rather than a woman with feelings. ‘I don’t want just sex with you,’ she protested.

  ‘It’ll have to do. I’m giving nothing more.’ He nuzzled her ear and she whimpered, loving it. ‘You’re killing me slowly, you know that?’ he muttered harshly. ‘Every time I touch you—and I find that I must—I think of another man, another time. I think of him holding you, kissing you, hearing you cry out…knowing you.’

  ‘Oh, Dante! I’m sorry,’ she mumbled, but he’d buried his face in her neck and was grinding out broken sentences in anguished Italian.