‘And you’re there too, so whose room have I been given? Someone will end up sleeping on the sofa because of me, and I can’t have that. I’ve got to go.’
‘And stay where-in a hotel? With no money or paperwork?’
‘Well, if you could lend me some money I’ll pay it back…’
Dante shook his head firmly. ‘Sorry, no. To tell the hotel that you’re a trustworthy person, when actually I don’t know if you are, would be most improper. And we must always behave with propriety, mustn’t we?’
Despite her agitation, she couldn’t help laughing.
‘You,’ she said in a slow, deliberate voice, ‘wouldn’t recognise
‘Curses!’ he said theatrically. ‘She’s seen through me. All right, I’ll admit my true motive. I plan to keep you here, a prisoner, subject to my will. Cash would help you to escape, which doesn’t suit my evil purpose.’
‘I wonder if I can guess your evil purpose,’ she said dryly.
‘Well, I’m not exactly subtle, am I? But do I need to be? You’re in my power.’
‘In your dreams!’ she chuckled.
‘In those too,’ he said with a yearning look.
‘No, I didn’t mean-Oh, you know what I meant.’
‘Well, a man can dream, can’t he?’ he asked, eyeing her significantly.
‘He can dream all he likes, as long as he doesn’t confuse dreams with reality,’ she said, also significantly. ‘And you didn’t answer my question. Whose room have I been given?’
He didn’t reply, but his mouth twisted.
‘Oh no, please, don’t tell me…?’
‘If you feel that way, we could always share it,’ he suggested.
‘Will you just stop, please?’
‘All right, all right, don’t eat me. You can’t blame a man for trying.’
‘I can. I do.’
‘You wouldn’t if you could sit where I’m sitting, looking at you.’
She gave up. How could you talk sense to a man who had that wicked glint in his eyes?
But it could be fun finding out.
CHAPTER THREE
‘IF YOU’RE going to reject me, I’ll just have to console myself with those pictures of you that I took,’ Dante remarked.
‘I deleted them,’ she said at once.
‘Like hell you did! If you didn’t delete the evidence of your lover misbehaving, you aren’t going to wipe out the pics of you looking like every man’s dream of sexy.’
‘Will you stop talking to me like that?’
‘Why should I?’
What could she say?
He was a clever man, she reckoned; he made it clear beyond doubt that he was sexually attracted to her, yet with such a light touch that she could relax in his company, free from pressure. She didn’t doubt that he would jump into her bed in an instant, if she gave him the barest hint. But without that hint he would sit here talking nonsense, biding his time.
She wondered how many other women had been beguiled into his arms, and what had happened to them when it was over. She suspected that Dante would always be the one to say goodbye, treating love easily, never lingering too long. But there was more to him than that; instinct, too deep to be analysed, told her so.
His tone changed, becoming what he would have called ‘prosaic’.
‘While I think of it-’ he reached into his wallet and handed her a wad of notes ‘-you can’t walk around without any money.’
‘But you just said you wouldn’t-’
‘We’re back in the real world. You must have something. Here.’
Staggered, she looked at the amount. ‘So much? No, Dante, please-I can’t take this.’ Accepting some of the notes, she tried to thrust the rest back at him.
‘You don’t know what you may need,’ he said firmly, pushing her hand away. ‘But what you will definitely need is your independence, and with that you’ll have it. Put it away safely.’ He sounded like a school master.
‘But what about keeping me in your power?’ she asked, tucking it into her bag. ‘Making me independent isn’t going to help your evil purpose.’
‘True,’ he mused. ‘On the other hand, nothing gained by force is really satisfying. It’s better when she knocks on his door and says she can’t live any longer without his wild embraces. Much more fun.’
‘And do you think I’m going to do that?’
He seemed to consider this. ‘No, I think you’ll go to the stake before you yield an inch. But, as I said before, a man can dream.’
They regarded each other in perfect, humorous understanding.
Afterwards they drove back to the villa slowly, where supper was just being prepared.
‘Some people only turn up just before a meal,’ Francesco jeered, giving Dante a friendly thump on the shoulder.
He’d gone home and returned with his wife, Celia, whom he now drew forward.
Ferne would hardly have guessed that Celia was blind. She was bright and vivacious with a way of turning her head, clearly aware of what was happening around her. They fell easily into conversation, sitting on the terrace and chatting about their work. Celia’s career was making the world accessible to the blind.
‘I’m working on a scheme to make theatres more friendly,’ she said. ‘It involves an ear-piece with a description of the action. Francesco and I were in London a couple of months ago, going to lots of shows so that I could get some ideas, and we went to a performance where everyone was going crazy over the star, Sandor Jayley. They said he looked incredibly sexy in a little Roman tunic.
‘But Francesco wouldn’t tell me that, and I had to find out afterwards when apparently there were some deliciously scandalous pictures of Sandor in the papers. Why, what’s the matter?’
Dante had drawn a sharp breath. The sight of his appalled face made Ferne burst out laughing.
‘Have I said something wrong?’ Celia begged.
‘No, not at all,’ Ferne choked. ‘It’s just that…’
Briefly she told the story and Celia covered her mouth in horror.
‘Oh no! What have I done? I never meant-Please, please-’
‘It’s all right,’ Ferne hurried to say. ‘I saw the funny side of it ages ago. Oh heavens!’ She went off into gales of laughter again, then calmed down and tried to reassure Celia that she wasn’t in a state of collapse. It took a while, but at last she managed it.
When she looked up Dante was observing her with a strange smile and a look in his eyes that might have been admiration. From inside the house they heard Hope’s voice.
‘Ferne, dear, are you there? I need your help.’
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ Ferne said, hurrying away.
Celia listened as Ferne’s footsteps faded, then turned to Dante.
‘She’s gorgeous,’ she said. ‘You’re a lucky man.’
‘What makes you think she’s mine?’
‘Francesco says you can’t take your eyes off her.’
‘And with reason. She’s worth looking at.’
‘I think her face is gentle and kind, like her voice, when she went to so much trouble to reassure me. She sounds lovely.’
‘She is lovely,’ Dante murmured.
