Reluctant Prisoner Read online

  Tanya lay for a long time after he had gone, staring into the emptiness that suddenly surrounded her. Her body felt limp, all emotion spent, and she shivered as she pulled the covers over her. She felt cheated somehow— or that she had cheated him. She was not sure. But the technical fulfilment of her own body's needs was not enough. What she had been craving so desperately was a final joining together of the two of them—heart, body and soul. And he had offered none of these. With a bitter sob she clutched the pillow to her face and wept.

  A kind of numbness descended on Tanya after that. A blessing, she supposed bleakly, compared with the agony of indecision and jealousy that had previously tormented her. Now she could neither feel nor think at all. Her mind, her very senses, seemed blanked in a sort of fog, though the dull ache in her heart stirred painfully whenever Fausto was around. Still, there was one positive side to their recent, disquieting intimacy, she told herself. At least this time she need have no fear of pregnancy. She somehow doubted she would be lucky on that score a second time.

  Fausto continued to act as though nothing had happened, though she sensed somehow that he was watching her. The dark eyes seemed to follow her from room to room, and often, as they lunched or dined together at the house, she would glance up unexpectedly to find him gazing at her face. Yet he said nothing to reveal what thoughts were passing through his head.

  It was a week or so later, as she was returning from a quick trip to Varese to pick up a couple of things for the old wash-house, that she found him waiting for her out in the forecourt in front of the villa. She parked the Alfa in its customary place and climbed out, aware that her legs had suddenly turned to cotton wool. What did he want now? she wondered wretchedly, trying to still the sudden, senseless throbbing in her breast.

  He came towards her with an easy stride, hands thrust deep in his trouser pockets, an indecipherable expression on his sun-bronzed face. He said, 'Your father rang while you were out.'

  'Oh.' She tried to keep the disappointment that she felt from showing in her eyes. Her father's promised phone call was the only thing, amidst her current mood of gloom, that she had actually been looking forward to. 'What did he say?' she asked, following him across the forecourt to the house.

  'He was calling from Paris. He sounded fine.' The dark eyes swivelled round to look at her, seeming to probe her features for some response. But she stared impassively back at him as he went on, 'I told him I'd phoned the clinic and what the doctor said about him having to take things relatively easy for a while. He told me to tell you not to worry and that he's not forgetting to take his pills.' A brief smile softened the harsh lines of his face as he paused in the doorway watching her. 'He sends you his love and says he's looking forward to seeing you in a few days' time. He's promised to come to the party and maybe stay on for a day or two afterwards.'

  'He's coming here?' Tanya's eyes lit up and relief tinged with a vague anxiety surged through her as she took in the unexpected piece of news. Relief that she would see him soon; anxiety for what his state of health might prove to be. But at least she would have the opportunity now to try to dissuade him from his recklessly ill-advised activities, perhaps even talk him into going back to the clinic in Lugano for a while.

  'And Renata called just after your father.' Fausto's voice cut sharply through her thoughts. 'She's arriving some time on Friday afternoon.'

  'And my father? When will he be here?' she questioned abruptly, her eyes darting upwards to meet his.

  A faintly ironic smile twisted fleetingly at his lips as he answered her. 'I told you, he'll be here for the party— which,' he added with coldly significant emphasis as he moved aside at last to let her pass into the hall, 'I seem to recall we've planned for the last day of the month.'

  As she hurried past him the words sent an icy shiver down Tanya's spine. The last day of the month. The deadline. And now it was only four short days away.

  Renata's arrival the day before the party was as welcome as a rainbow after a thunderstorm. Bright, full of colour and somehow reassuring, Tanya found herself musing as the three of them sat down to dinner together on Friday night.

  Inevitably, the conversation turned to the subject of the impending party. 'I have to get myself a new dress,' Renata announced, helping herself to a generous spoonful of wild strawberries. Then she laughed out loud at the bemused expression on her brother's face. 'I know what you're thinking, Fausto dear, but I honestly haven't got a thing to wear.' She popped one of the strawberries into her mouth and turned to Tanya with a smile. 'First thing tomorrow morning, cara, you and I will take a trip into Milan and treat ourselves to something really extravagant.' And she glanced across at her brother with a mischievous wink. 'Fausto will pay.'

  Tanya blushed uncomfortably. What she was to wear for the party was something that had never really crossed her mind. Her choice of attire for the ordeal that she saw ahead had scarcely seemed to matter. She had vaguely supposed that she would borrow something of Renata's, as she had done on several occasions now when accompanying Fausto on his business dinners in Milan, but now she found herself totally at a loss.

  Renata almost seemed to read her mind. 'Don't tell me you were planning to wear one of those old things upstairs?' she exclaimed, aghast. 'No, no. You must have something really special for tomorrow night. Consider it a well earned bonus for all the hard work you've done for my brother. I think it's the very least you deserve for putting up with him for all those weeks,' she ended with a teasing smile.

  'But I couldn't possibly accept—' Tanya started to protest.

  Her voice trailed off as Renata cut in adamantly, 'Nonsense!' Then turned to Fausto for support. 'Tell her not to be silly. Of course she must have a new dress.'

  'Of course she must,' he agreed at once, the dark eyes brooking no argument. 'In fact, I absolutely insist on it.'

  'So it's agreed!' Renata grinned triumphantly and popped another strawberry into her mouth. 'I'll tell Beppe to be ready to drive us into Milan tomorrow morning at nine o'clock sharp.'

  After a morning spent scouring some of the most exclusive dress shops in Milan, Tanya found herself wondering if the similarities she had observed between brother and sister were quite so superficial after all. Renata, she discovered, could be quite as ruthlessly single-minded as her older brother when she chose, and she was equally determined to have her way.

  'Try them on!' she insisted for the umpteenth time, thrusting an armful of exquisite creations into Tanya's reluctant arms. Tanya had glimpsed the labels that they bore—names like Armani, Valentino and Ferre—and she shuddered to think what they must cost. But there was no getting out of it, she decided with a woeful shrug, and disappeared into the fitting-room to do as she was told.

  Renata had chosen a cerise silk sheath for herself, strapless, and slit alluringly at one side from ankle to thigh. After a bit of bullying, Tanya plumped for a fairytale gown in pale, dull gold, full-skirted and narrow-bodiced with a flattering off-the-shoulder neckline. 'Wait till Fausto sees you in that!' Renata proclaimed with a wink as the assistant carefully folded it in layers of tissue paper in its box. 'He won't be able to take his eyes off you.'

  Tanya bit her lip and glanced away as a barb of barren wretchedness tore at her like an iron claw. How little Renata understood of the crucial significance of the evening that lay ahead! To her it was just another party, an excuse for dressing up and having fun. But Tanya knew that tonight she would finally have to give Fausto his answer—one way or the other. The deadline he had set expired at midnight. And though her heart was telling her she must say yes, her common - sense commanded otherwise. She was caught in a kind of emotional deadlock from which she could see no escape.

  Emma was waiting for them in the hall when they got back. 'The signor wants you both to join him on the terrace right away,' she informed them, her plump face flushed with the excitement of the day. Then she leaned towards Tanya with a confidential smile. 'Signorina, your father has arrived.'

  With a squ
eal of delight, Tanya raced past her and through the drawing-room to the terrace outside. 'Father!' She rushed towards him and threw herself happily into his arms. But the smile on her face died instantly as she caught sight of the blonde-haired woman with the cat-like eyes who was seated, smug and proprietorial, at Fausto's side.

  CHAPTER NINE

  'What a clever girl you are!' The Countess Bea raised her wine glass to her shiny, coral-painted lips and smiled at Tanya condescendingly. 'Fausto took us to see the old wash-house while you were gone, and it really is quite extraordinary. Not at all in the style that I had expected, of course, but quite delightful all the same.' And she turned her blonde head to her host and smiled one of her dazzling smiles.

  Fausto had been staring absently into his empty glass. He glanced up now and flicked some speck of imaginary dust from the immaculate sleeve of his light blue shirt. 'It's exactly as I wanted it,' he said. 'A first-class job.'

  'I think it's beautiful. I'm very proud of you.' Devlin clasped his daughter's hand and Tanya turned again to look at him. The dismay she had felt on discovering that the countess had arrived in advance for the party and would be staying at the villa overnight had been largely tempered by immense relief the moment she had looked into her father's face. He was a man transformed. Since she had seen him last, just over two weeks ago, he had shed ten years. The blue eyes were sparkling with humour and vitality and the hard, grey lines of weariness had vanished from his face. His very bearing and manner of speech told of a rediscovered dynamism and love of life.

  Tanya smiled wryly to herself, knowing to whom it was that she owed thanks for that. In spite of the upheaval he had wrought in her own life, she was only too sharply aware that it was Fausto's intervention that had saved her father's life. It was many, many months since she had seen Devlin looking as ebullient and fit as he was looking now. And she felt a tiny stab of guilt, remembering some of the harsh, ungrateful accusations she had hurled at Fausto in the past, though her guilt was eased by jealous anger now as she frowned across the table at him. Why hadn't he told her the countess was coming? And why was it necessary for her to be here quite so early anyway? For what reason did she, out of all the scores of guests invited, have to stay at the villa overnight? And above all, she found herself wondering with increasing ire, why did the ridiculous woman have to be sitting quite so close to him?

  If Fausto was in the least aware of the stream of angry questions that were buzzing through her head, he certainly gave no outward sign of it. He seemed vaguely distracted, in spite of an outward show of conviviality, as though his deeper thoughts were occupied elsewhere. What was he thinking of? she asked herself, her eyes taking in the strong, dark profile in a single glance. He looked, as usual, so utterly and unshakeably self-possessed. Could he possibly be thinking of her, wondering what her answer to his proposal of marriage was going to be? Somehow she doubted it. He was probably just quietly savouring the prospect of sharing his bed with the countess tonight.

  The countess, for her part, was doing her best to fire such thoughts. The silky, coral-coloured top she was wearing clung to her body like a second skin, the deep V at the front revealing an ample cleavage. And as she talked, her coral-tipped fingers constantly toyed with the thin gold chains she wore around her neck, blatantly inviting the inscrutable dark eyes to wander downwards to her breasts. From time to time, as she made some point, her hand would reach out to rest lightly on his sun-bronzed arm. That Fausto and she were lovers was clearly something she was quite happy for the table at large to know.

  Tanya seethed inwardly, fighting to keep the hurt she felt from showing in her face. Once, it had taken Fausto's taunting accusation to force her to recognise the cruel emotion burning inside her for what it really was. By now it had become uncomfortably familiar—the humiliating lash of jealousy.

  She almost didn't notice that he was watching her. As their eyes met, he smiled, an odd smile, then abruptly he shifted his gaze to Devlin, consulting his watch. 'I think now would be as good a time as any,' he said, 'for us to have our little talk.'

  The older man nodded and rose to his feet. 'I'll see you later, Tanya,' he said as Fausto abruptly pushed back his chair and took his leave of the assembled company. 'Signor Cabrini and I have a couple of matters to discuss.'

  After the two men had gone, the women continued to sit around the table for a while. The countess poured herself another glass of wine and leaned back in her seat with a self-satisfied sigh. The brightly painted lips curved into a catlike smile. 'I hear you two went shopping this morning,' she purred, addressing herself to Renata. 'Did you manage to find something nice?'

  The dark-haired woman raised one shapely eyebrow and returned the smile. Her expression, Tanya observed, was remarkably similar to the expression she had seen so many times on Fausto's face. A mixture of mild amusement and disdain. 'We think so,' she replied. 'But you can judge for yourself when you see us at the party tonight.'

  The countess took a long sip of her drink and her gaze shifted to Tanya as she said, 'You must be very excited about tonight. I don't suppose you've ever been to a party quite like this before.'

  Tanya bristled at the insult implicit in the remark, but before she could think of some suitable reply Renata cut in. 'We're all excited, aren't we? Fausto's little dos are always fun. And I can tell you one thing,' she added with an elegantly provocative smile. 'This young lady here is going to be the belle of the ball. In the dress she'll be wearing, there won't be another woman present who can hold a candle to her.'

  A faint flush of colour crept into Tanya's cheeks. Renata was overdoing it a bit. But her barbed remark had unquestionably found its mark. The countess winced and smiled a smile that somehow never reached her eyes.

  With graceful composure, Renata rose from her seat. 'I think I'll go and have a little siesta now,' she said. 'I'm quite tired out.'

  'Me, too.' Tanya stood up hurriedly, relieved at the opportunity to escape.

  As they walked from the terrace and made their way through the drawing-room towards the hall, Renata touched Tanya lightly on the arm. 'I'm sorry,' she said, 'but the Countess Bea never fails to bring out the bitch in me. She really is an absolute—' She bit her lip and shuddered. 'And it's true, I really do need to lie down for a while after a solid hour of her company. She wears me out.'

  Tanya laughed. 'I know exactly what you mean.'

  As they parted company on the upstairs landing, Renata suddenly turned to her, a strangely searching expression on her face. 'Don't let that silly woman get to you,' she said. 'She just isn't worth it, I promise you.' Then added, with a meaningful smile, 'Believe me, you have nothing to worry about.'

  What did she mean by that? Back in her room, Tanya stared at her reflection in the mirror and asked herself lust how much Renata had guessed. Probably just about everything, she feared. There wasn't much that escaped those bright, intelligent dark eyes. And she herself, she knew, was not much good at camouflage. The powerful longing she felt for Fausto, the electric responses that rushed through her the moment he walked into a room, the way her heart leapt every time he looked at her, must be blatantly obvious to all but the most dim-sighted observer. So the rampant jealousy that inevitably seemed to afflict her whenever the countess was around must be blatantly obvious too. But why had Renata said that she had nothing to worry about?

  She sank down on the bed and kicked off her sandals. Then, on an impulse, she pulled open the drawer of the bedside table and gazed down at the little leather-bound box that lay inside. Since Fausto had given her the ring, she had never looked at it again, had never even dared to open up the drawer in which it had lain till now.

  Very gingerly, she picked it up and with trembling fingers raised the lid. The big solitaire diamond flashed at her as though illuminated by a thousand lights, and she almost gasped out loud at its magnificence. She shook her head and smiled to herself. Trust Fausto to be extravagant! Then, with a delicacy bordering almost on reverence, she lifted the ring slowl
y from its satin bed. It was beautiful, more beautiful than anything that she had ever owned, and it had been given to her by the only man she had ever wanted in her life.

  Involuntary tears sprang to her eyes. Fausto had said that she must keep it whether she accepted his proposal of marriage or not, but she had always known that she could not do that. If she left, then she would leave the ring behind—for if she turned him down she also knew that she would have to go. At once. There could be no alternative. And he would not try to stop her. She knew him well enough to understand that now. A wrench of pain tore at her heart to think that if she left this place she would probably never see Fausto again.

  She jammed the ring back in its box and snapped the lid shut. Could she really live with that? Never to see his face again, to feel his arms around her or taste the sweetness of his lips on hers? Never again to hear his voice or thrill to the warmth of his body against hers? Never again to see him smile? Her fingers tightened round the little box as she clutched it, trembling, to her heart. She could not, any more than she could take a life, sentence herself to the wretched existence that her own life would surely be if he was not a part of it.

  Yet the fear in her lingered as she laid the box back in the drawer and pushed it shut. How could she lay her heart and soul at the mercy of a man who took pride in claiming that he had neither heart nor soul himself? A man who treated women like playthings? A man she wasn't even sure that she could trust?

  But why had Renata told her that she had nothing to worry about?

  Too many questions. She closed her mind and took refuge in a long, hot, soothing bubble-bath. Just as she was drying herself, the blue phone rang. It was Devlin.

  'I'm sorry I took so long to get back to you, sweetheart,' he apologised, 'but Fausto and I got chatting and—' He laughed. 'Well, you know how it is with us businessmen.'