fixed on her hand, tenderly enfolded between those of the Baron.
‘Forgive us,’ Orazio said smoothly, rising but not releasing her. ‘In my wonder at discovering a lady so full of wisdom and learning, as well as so beautiful, I forgot my manners and monopolised her. May I say, Marco, how profoundly fortunate you are to have secured the affections of this delightful-’
Harriet’s lips twitched. It was an outrageous performance, but an amusing one. Then she stole another look at Marco’s face. He didn’t find any of this funny.
‘You have already conveyed your congratulations, for which I thank you,’ Marco said in a wintry voice.
His stony gaze was fixed on Harriet’s hand, which she quickly disentangled from Orazio, who managed to kiss it before letting go.
‘I live in anticipation of your visit,’ he said, ‘and the time we will spend together.’
Marco’s lips tightened. Harriet wanted to say, ‘Don’t let him tease a rise out of you. Can’t you see he’s doing it on purpose?’ Instead she slipped her hand in the crook of his arm and walked back to the house with him.
‘Don’t be angry,’ she said in a coaxing voice.
‘Not angry?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Do you realise that it’s nearly midnight?’
‘Oh, goodness, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been gone so long.’
‘Perhaps we can discuss that later,’ he said in a tight voice.
It astonished her to realise that he was taking this seriously. He knew she cared only for the treasures in Orazio’s home. He was sophisticated. He should have been able to shrug it aside. But his cold fury left no doubt that this had flicked him on the raw.
They had begun to climb the steps that led up to the broad terrace that ran along the side of the house.
‘Marco-’
‘Let’s not talk about it now. Our guests must see us in perfect accord.’
‘Not if you’re glowering at me.’
‘I’m not. This is much simpler.’
The party had spilled out into the garden, from where the guests had a grandstand view of the terrace, and of Marco suddenly sweeping his bride into his arms and covering her face with kisses.
‘I don’t think-’ she managed.
‘Shut up,’ he said savagely. ‘Shut up and make it look good.’
Cheers rose from the garden as he tightened his arms in a rough simulation of desire and Harriet gave herself up to his embrace. She wouldn’t have chosen it like this but she had a guilty feeling that she’d treated him badly and should help him save face.
If only he wouldn’t hold her so tightly, kissing her again and again with a fierceness that looked like passion to the watchers, but which only she could sense was anger.
‘Marco, don’t-’ she murmured. ‘Enough.’
‘Yes,’ he said in a voice that shook. ‘That’s enough to convince them for the moment. Now we play the loving couple until the end of the evening.’
He loosened his grip and she swayed for a moment. Her head was spinning and she had to cling onto him. The guests, who’d crowded up onto the terrace, surrounded them, laughing and cheering at what they thought had happened. Some of the younger ones, their tongues loosened by wine, said what the rest were thinking.
‘Marco, you’ve made the poor girl faint-’
‘That’s the way to kiss the woman you love-so that she really knows-’
‘Now he wants to get rid of us quickly-’ Roars of laughter.
‘That’s enough of that,’ Lucia said, quelling the riot.
‘We were just congratulating him,’ one lad said, irrepressibly. ‘Now, if Harriet were mine-’
‘But she isn’t,’ Marco checked him. ‘She’s mine, and you’d be wise to remember it.’ His voice was light, almost friendly. Only a few of his listeners heard the undertow of steel, and one of them was the woman standing in the circle of his arms, who could still feel that he was trembling, as she was herself. As he spoke his arm instinctively tightened about her, and she knew the message was as much for herself as for them. It was a warning.
‘Bring some more champagne,’ Marco called. ‘Champagne for everyone.’
Servants hurried forward bearing foaming bottles, passing among the crowd until every glass was filled. Marco raised his hand for silence.
‘I am the luckiest man on earth,’ he said. ‘The most wonderful woman in the world has promised to be my wife. There can be no greater happiness than this.’
How could he say that? she thought, when he’d all but accused her of playing him false. How could she ever know what this man was truly thinking?
‘Raise your glasses, with me, to my bride!’
They all toasted her. Over the rim of Marco’s glass she saw his eyes, but couldn’t discern anything behind their smile.
Then the guests toasted the two of them and the evening ended in a riot of good fellowship. It took another hour for the long, shiny cars to come, one by one, to the front door, and carry the guests away, with the family standing on the steps to bid them farewell.
When the last car had gone Harriet closed her eyes, worn out but exhilarated. Now she must make things right between herself and Marco. But when she opened her eyes again there was no sign of him.
‘Don’t worry,’ Lucia said, seeing her look around. ‘He’s probably taken his cousins to his study for a whisky. Don’t wait up for him.’
Harriet agreed. It might be better to let his anger cool first. She kissed Lucia goodnight and went up to her room.
She meant to shower and go to bed, but she couldn’t. Something about tonight hadn’t ended yet. She reached behind her neck, trying to undo the clasp of the heavy gold necklace, while one level of her mind recited the usual commentary: French seventeenth century, genuine in gold, wrought in the style of-
Who cared about anything except the look she’d seen in Marco’s eyes when he’d found her with the Baron? What did anything matter except what that look had meant?
And then she saw it again. She hadn’t heard him come into the room and the first she knew, he was there behind her, brushing her fingers aside so that he could undo the clasp. His face was so dark that she almost expected him to snatch the jewellery from her, but he removed the necklace quietly, although his fingers weren’t quite steady.
‘You’re not still angry,’ she coaxed. ‘It was such a wonderful evening.’
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ he said, tight-lipped. ‘And yes, I’m still angry. You made a fool of me.’
‘Just because I got into conversation with-’
‘You disappeared from our engagement party with another man, and stayed away for nearly an hour,’ he grated. ‘Is that reason enough for you?’
‘Was it really that long? I lost track of the time and forgot about-’
It was the wrong thing to say.
‘I’m sorry.’
Rage turned his voice to pure steel. ‘I appreciate that your ideas of behaviour are unconventional, but did nobody ever explain to you that a woman is supposed to prefer her fiance’s company to that of any other man? If she can’t manage that she’s supposed to pretend. It’s polite. It’s the accepted thing. It stops him looking a complete fool in front of the whole world. Do you understand
‘Of course I do. Oh, look, I’m sorry Marco, I really am. I didn’t mean to insult you, I just got carried away-’ she saw his face. ‘I’m making it worse, aren’t I?’
‘What you’re doing is proving how English you are,’ he said bitingly. ‘You think having an Italian name makes you one of us, but I tell you that the name is nothing. What matters is the Italian heart and you have no idea of that.’
Harriet stared, astounded that the cool, composed man she thought she knew could have said something so cruel. ‘How dare you say I’m not one of you!’ she flashed. ‘It’s my heritage as much as yours.’
‘Yes, you were born with warm Mediterranean blood in you, but it no longer speaks. Otherwise you’d know by instinct that it’s vital to a man how his woman treats him.’
