The Italian Count s Defiant Bride Page 15

  She took a pen from a silver tray on the desk, and, with a look at Francesco, wrote Alicia Cross da Luca where the notary indicated then handed the document back. ‘Grazie.’

  ‘Prego, contessa.’

  Alicia tugged free of Francesco’s hand and rose to her feet. ‘Now will you have some coffee, Signor Raimundi?’

  ‘That would be most pleasant, contessa,’ he said courteously.

  ‘Giacomo will have it ready on the terrazzo.’ Francesco got up to open the door for her. ‘But, if you wish to open your letter alone, we understand, carissima.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She gathered up the letter and package, and preceded the men out into the hall. ‘In that case, I think I’ll take these up to our room, darling.’ She held out her hand to the lawyer. ‘Thank you for coming, Signor Raimundi.’

  ‘It was my pleasure, contessa. Also a privilege to meet you.’ He bowed over her hand.

  ‘Grazie.’ Alice gave him a friendly smile. ‘Arrivederci.’ She turned away to mount the curving staircase, and found that the bedroom was already immaculate with fresh linen on the bed.

  Alicia sat on the chaise under the windows and removed wrappings, to reveal a long, leather box. Taking in a deep, unsteady breath, she pressed a button to open it, then sat very still, gazing at a single string of pearls with a diamond-studded clasp. But what pearls! They were natural, baroque pearls, perfectly matched only in size. No two were the same shape. The contessa had worn them constantly, except for the day she’d waved her son and his bride off on their honeymoon—the last time Alicia had ever seen her.

  Alicia closed the box gently, then opened the envelope. It contained two sheets of paper, one of them labelled, ‘to be read first’. It was dated the day after the wedding, in the same copperplate as the name on the envelope. Sophia da Luca had written in the formal English learned from nuns as a schoolgirl, and later, in her aim to be a polished hostess, practiced diligently during daily conversation lessons with Bianca Giusti.

  My Dear Alicia,

  I regret that I have not welcomed you more warmly, but I have never found it easy to show warmth, except to my beloved Ettore, and to my son Francesco.

  To be truthful, you are not the bride I would have chosen for my son. But, because you are his choice, you and I must learn to live together in harmony for his sake. This will be not be easy for you, when you enjoy so close a relationship with your own mother. But now you are Francesco’s wife in the eyes of God I will strive to make life happier for you here at the castello. The enclosed necklace is my personal bride-gift to you, Alicia. I hope you will wear it with the pleasure it has given me since the day I received it from Ettore, to celebrate Francesco’s birth.

  With my good wishes,

  Sophia da Luca.

  Alicia blinked away tears as she finished reading. The letter had obviously been enclosed with the pearls she’d never received. She laid the letter on top of the box and unfolded the other sheet.

  My Dear Alicia,

  I do not know if Francesco will ever find you, or even if he does that you will come back to Montedaluca to receive this. I pray constantly that you will return, and so learn the truth. Instead of giving this gift into your hands myself, to my eternal regret I entrusted Cinzia, my maid, to deliver it to you while you were packing. I believed she had done so because you thanked me so prettily for my gift.

  But soon after you left Giacomo learned that Cinzia had told one of the other maids she was leaving the castello that very day. He was suspicious, and asked me to give Cinzia some task that would keep her by my side long enough for him to search her room. Giacomo soon found the pearls hidden among her belongings in a suitcase already packed for her departure. The silly girl had even kept my letter.

  Cinzia became hysterical when threatened with the police. She needed to sell the pearls for money to get married, and gave you a pretty nightgown instead, she sobbed. Her tears did not move me. She had expected her crime to remain undiscovered because she would be gone long before you returned. I relented about the police to avoid scandal, but commanded her to leave the castello at once. Next day Francesco returned from Paris in such anguish, Alicia, that I forgot Cinzia in my desperate worry about you.

  Since you are reading this I pray that the breach is now healed between you and my beloved son. I hope that you will accept the pearls, and wear them with my sincere good wishes.

  Sophia da Luca.

  Alicia sat for a long time, reading and rereading both letters. She sighed deeply as she returned them to the envelope. So the mystery was solved at last, and she had taken possession of the legacy she’d sworn she wouldn’t keep. But that was when her feelings towards both Francesco and his mother were still hostile. Now everything had changed. It was too late for a warm relationship with the contessa. But not with Francesco.

  She looked up, blinking away tears as Francesco came in. He crossed the room swiftly to sit beside her, an arm round her waist. ‘You are sad, tesoro?’

  Alicia nodded wordlessly. ‘You mother left me her pearls. Read the letters, Francesco.’

  His face was grim as he finished reading. ‘I could murder the girl!’

  ‘Me too,’ she agreed fervently. ‘As well as money for the pearls, she obviously wanted to ruin our wedding night out of spite because you rejected her. But she never knew how spectacularly well she’d succeeded.’

  ‘Giacomo told me she left town as soon as my mother dismissed her from the castello. She has not been heard of since.’

  Alicia opened the leather box to show him the pearls. ‘You know these so well; would it be painful to see me wear them?’

  He shook his head, smiling. ‘It would give me great pleasure. Wear them tonight for me.’ He got up, drawing her with him. ‘Come; Eduardo has gone, and it is nearly time for lunch. Zia and Bianca are already on the terrazzo.’ He touched his fingers to her cheekbones. ‘Your tears have washed your freckles clean.’

  She pulled a face. ‘You go on, then. I’ll just sort my face out before I join you.’

  Francesco took her in his arms and kissed her, moving his lips from her mouth to her cheeks. ‘You may comb your hair or put on the lipstick, but nothing on the freckles—per favore,’ he added belatedly.

  ‘All right, you tyrant,’ she sighed, resigned, as she went to the dressing table.

  ‘Never tyrant,’ he said quickly, and followed her to slide his arms round her to look over her shoulder into the mirror. ‘If you wish to cover the freckles, do so, innamorata.’

  Alicia twisted round in his arms and buried her face against his chest. ‘You don’t play fair,’ she muttered, weak at the knees because ‘sweetheart’ sounded so much more passionate in Italian.

  They stood together, holding each other tightly—Francesco because it satisfied something primitive and possessive in his psyche to hold her close, protected against the world, Alicia because she needed the comfort of physical contact after the emotion of the morning. She drew back at last and smiled brightly.

  ‘Give me a few minutes and I’ll follow you.’

  His eyes softened. ‘Va bene.’

  Alicia held a handful of wet tissues held to her eyes until she was sure her tears were finished, then tidied her hair and put on lipstick, made a face at the undisguised freckles, and went off to join the others on the terrazzo.

  Zia Luisa and Bianca greeted her with smiles that Alicia returned with warmth, which included Francesco when he gave her freckles an approving look as he seated her at the table.

  ‘How are you, cara?’ said Luisa with sympathy. ‘Was it a difficult morning for you?’

  ‘Not as much as I expected, Zia.’ Alicia helped herself to mozzarella-and-tomato salad dressed with olive oil, and basil freshly picked from Antonio’s herb garden. ‘Signor Raimundi made it surprisingly easy.’

  ‘He is a charming man,’ agreed Bianca. ‘And most efficient. We received our legacies from the contessa very quickly.’

  Alicia’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth.
‘You’ve already received them?’

  Zia Luisa nodded placidly and sipped her wine. ‘Sophia was most generous. She forgot no one, not even young Teresa.’

  Alicia turned, very slowly, to look at Francesco. ‘So I was the only one outstanding?’

  ‘Davverro,’ he agreed, smiling and unrepentant as he refilled Luisa’s glass. ‘Only you, Alicia.’

  ‘What did you receive, cara?’ asked Luisa.

  ‘The contessa left me her pearls, Zia.’

  ‘Ettore’s pearls?’

  ‘So she said in a letter, yes.’

  ‘How wonderful,’ said Bianca. ‘With your complexion they will suit you perfectly, Alicia. Though you must be careful to wear a hat in the sun. Already you have freckles again.’

  ‘She has always had them,’ said Francesco, and placed a buttered roll on Alicia’s plate. ‘She hides them now with cosmetics.’

  ‘But why, child?’ protested Luisa. ‘They are most charming.’

  ‘I keep telling her so,’ said Francesco. ‘Eat, Alicia.’

  She bit into the roll obediently, postponing confrontation with her overbearing husband until later. ‘I mustn’t eat too much, because Francesco’s taking me out to dinner tonight,’ she told the ladies, who smiled in fond approval.

  ‘To the new trattoria,’ agreed Bianca. ‘He took us there to celebrate the signora’s birthday. It was a delightful meal. Though Pina does just as well,’ she added loyally.

  ‘Wear the pearls, cara, and when you are dressed you must come and show yourself to us,’ said Luisa, smiling. ‘See that Alicia rests this afternoon, Francesco.’

  ‘I shall insist that she does,’ he assured her.

  A dish of baked peaches followed for dessert, after which Luisa’s second glass of wine had again left her semi-comatose in her chair.

  ‘I will take the signora to her room,’ said Bianca softly.

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ said Alicia, smiling sweetly at Francesco. ‘You stay and drink your coffee while I have this rest you insist on.’

  Smiling defiantly at Francesco, she took one of Zia Luisa’s arms while Bianca took the other.

  The old lady came fully awake with a start once she was moving, and smiled sleepily. ‘Madonnina! I must drink only one glass of wine in future.’

  ‘Why?’ said Alicia. ‘If you enjoy two glasses, what does it matter?’

  ‘You mean at my age?’

  ‘I mean that at your age you’re entitled to do exactly what you want.’ Alicia grinned cheekily as they reached the tower where Bianca and Luisa slept. ‘But then, I fancy you’ve always done that, Zia, haven’t you?’

  A veined hand loaded with rings patted her cheek. ‘I have indeed, child. Now, rest.’

  ‘Will do. Ciao, ladies.’ Alicia strolled off along the gallery to the other tower, half expecting Francesco to intercept her. Rather deflated when she reached their room alone, she washed her face and stripped down to knickers and bra and got into bed with a yawn, finding she wasn’t really averse to the rest Francesco had insisted on. Tyrant! She snuggled down in the bed, then shot upright again as the door opened and Francesco stalked in with a look in his eye which made his intention clear. Without a word he stripped off his clothes, flung them on the chaise under the windows and got into bed.

  ‘We rest together,’ he informed her, and pulled her close. ‘Even though you are angry with me.’

  ‘You can hardly be surprised,’ she said unevenly. Sharing a bed with a naked man was even more breathtaking in the full light of afternoon. ‘All that talk about people waiting for their legacies! You got me back to Montedaluca by false pretences, Francesco da Luca.’

  ‘Davverro, Alicia da Luca,’ he agreed, in a tone which sent a shiver down her spine. ‘But I feel no guilt, only triumph that my plan worked.’ He raised her face to his. ‘Are you very angry?’

  She sighed. ‘No. You’re a smooth-talking devil, Francesco da Luca.’

  ‘Not devil! Francesco was a saint.’ He kissed her with sudden passion. ‘But I am not. I am a man.’

  ‘Does that mean you want to make love to me?’ Though held so close to him, Alicia had no need to ask.

  ‘No,’ he said, startling her, and kissed her again, his inciting hands moving over her back in caresses that moulded her closer. ‘I want to make love with you. I have enough command of English to make this clear, no?’

  ‘Command is exactly right, Francesco,’ she agreed breathlessly.

  ‘Why do you say my name so much?’ he demanded. ‘I prefer what you said this morning.’

  Alicia thought for a moment, then smiled. ‘Darling?’

  ‘Esattamente.’ He lifted her chin to rain kisses all over her face. ‘You have not said this to me before, even when we first met.’

  ‘It’s not a term I use. Except to you, apparently,’ she added, and caught her breath, her eyes wide as Francesco suddenly pulled back the covers and knelt over her to render her as naked as himself.

  ‘I wish to see all of you as we make love,’ he told her, and smiled possessively. ‘Do not be shy, amore. I am your husband, remember?’

  ‘You’re a hard man to forget,’ she assured him.

  He let himself down beside her, turning her in his arms. ‘Did you try hard, Alicia?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ She leaned into him with a sigh. ‘For years I tried. I had even begun to think I’d succeeded. Then I saw you again that day at the stadium and knew I’d forgotten nothing at all.’

  ‘For which I thank God.’ He kissed her with mounting passion and she responded with an ardour he delighted in, his eyes alight with the joy of possession as he caressed every curve of her body with his eyes before he began the same process with skilled, importuning hands, and hot, possessive mouth that smothered her gasps with engulfing kisses when his searching caresses found that she was more than ready for him.

  Alicia pushed at his broad shoulders, and instantly Francesco raised himself slightly, then groaned like a man in mortal pain as she captured his erection in caressing hands.

  ‘Dio!’ he gasped. ‘No more.’ He caught her hands and drew in a deep, unsteady breath, then kissed her and positioned himself between her thighs. ‘It will not hurt this time,’ he said huskily.

  She licked the tip of her tongue round her parted lips. ‘Show me, then.’

  He grasped her hips, tilted them up to him and slid home into the hot, tight sheath that closed round him in ecstatic welcome.

  ‘Francesco!’ gasped Alicia. ‘I never knew—’

  ‘For which I give thanks,’ he said against her lips as he began to move. ‘Now, diletta mia, we find paradise together.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LATER, wearing the fabulous pearls with her pale, filmy dress, Alicia told Francesco the only thing missing was the red carpet as they walked down to the car to drive the short distance into the town. He smiled as he helped her into the car, and assured her she outshone any celebrity beloved of the paparazzi.

  At La Taverna da Monte the keys of the Lamborghini Gallardo were entrusted to a youth who received them with due reverence.

  ‘Guido is the son of the owner, Mario Ponti, and plays at outside half for Montedaluca,’ Francesco told Alicia. ‘He is most promising. He will also take great care of the car.’

  ‘I hope so. It’s a beauty!’

  ‘It is you who are the beauty,’ he whispered, as a smiling man greeted them at the restaurant door with a flood of Italian so enthusiastic, most of it went straight over Alicia’s head.

  ‘Slowly, Mario, slowly,’ said Francesco, ‘So I may present my beautiful English wife.’

  ‘Contessa,’ said the man, bowing. ‘Welcome. I work many years in England.’

  Alicia smiled warmly, expressing interest, which prompted a stream of reminiscences about Oxford and Bath as Mario led them to a table screened with greenery at the far end of a dining room decorated in bright, contemporary style which contrasted vividly with the venerable building which housed it. Every table in the restaur
ant was full, and, sensing her tension, Francesco kept a protective hand lightly at Alicia’s waist as they made their way past diners who greeted him with smiles and waves as they passed.

  Mario seated her with a flourish, and Francesco moved his chair close to Alicia, shielding her slightly from the room.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered as Mario left them to study menus. ‘I feel like the cabaret.’

  ‘People here are naturally curious about my companion,’ he agreed, pouring mineral water into her glass. ‘Now, tell me what you would like to eat and I will choose some wine, cara.’

  ‘I rather fancy some fish. What do you suggest?’

  ‘When Mario comes back, we shall ask him.’

  They were told that the head chef recommended a dish from his native Livorno. Cacciucco, a fish and seafood soup with herbs and tomatoes, would be served over garlic-scented toasted bread. ‘The fish is straight from Porto Santo Stefano today,’ Mario assured them, and kissed his fingers. ‘It is good.’

  ‘It sounds wonderful,’ Alicia agreed, and slanted a smile at Francesco. ‘Will you mind if I eat garlic?’

  He chuckled. ‘No, because I shall share your cacciucco. And with it we shall drink some Montedaluca Classico, Mario.’

  ‘Va bene. Guido will bring it at once.’ The man beamed. ‘And Carlo will be much honoured that la Contessa has chosen his signature dish, as your chefs say in England.’

  The cacciucco was delicious, as promised, but so filling Alicia could not be tempted to a dessert. And over coffee she began to feel the effects of a day where the emotional revelations of her legacy had been followed by a passionate interlude in bed. ‘I’m a bit tired, Francesco,’ she confessed.

  ‘Then let us go home.’

  Conscious that eyes followed them as they took their leave, Alicia asked Mario to inform the chef that his signature dish was superb, then got into the car as young Guido held the door for her, and waved as Francesco drove away.

  ‘How do you think I did on my first unofficial engagement as your contessa?’ she asked Francesco.

  ‘You were perfect. All the women admired your dress, and all the men envied me,’ he said with satisfaction, and touched a hand to hers. ‘For several reasons I am a very happy man tonight. Grazie, Alicia.’