know.’
‘You’ve been to England?’ Jamie was interested; it was obvious that he was very curious about Domenico, and Saskia was nervous of that curiosity, it might make Jamie far more observant than usual.
‘Many times,’ Domenico said. ‘Especially lately; I’ve been going there often over the past couple of years.’
Saskia tensed again, and he looked into her eyes, his mouth twisting with cynical derision.
‘I suppose you have business interests there?’ asked Jamie, quite unaware of any undercurrents.
‘I do, but my visits were mainly personal,’ Domenico said, still watching Saskia.
He had been looking for her. She had always known he would; he wasn’t a man to give up anything easily. At times over the past two years she had been tensely aware of Domenico brooding over her; she had even felt sure he was in her own country, looking for her, and she had been on tenterhooks until she sensed that he had gone back to Italy again.
She couldn’t stand any more. Huskily, she said, ‘I’ve got to go upstairs to change for dinner—excuse me.’
‘See you later,’ Jamie said as she retreated.
‘See you tomorrow,’ Domenico said, with a silky threat hidden in his smooth tone.
Safely in her room, she went into the bathroom and ran a bath, took off her apple-green linen dress, was about to take off her slip when she heard a sound in her bedroom. She ran back in there, her nerves thudding as she saw Domenico closing the door.
‘How did you get in here? What the...?’
He leaned his broad shoulders on the door in a cool pose, smiling mockingly. ‘I told the floor maid I’d forgotten my key and my wife was in the shower and hadn’t heard me knocking, and she let me in with her pass key.’
‘She must have realised you weren’t part of our group! She can’t have believed you were with me; this is a single room!’
‘She must have forgotten that. She was a charming girl, and very helpful; I gave her a handsome tip.’
Saskia shook with anger. ‘You mean you bribed her to let you in here! My God, I’ll call the manager!’
‘And lose the girl her job?’
‘Someone that untrustworthy shouldn’t be working in a good hotel. She could be letting thieves into rooms, if she let you in here!’
He didn’t seem to be listening; he was too busy staring, his grey eyes intent on her naked shoulders and half-covered breasts, the way the silky slip clung to waist and hip, a wide hem of lace ending mid-thigh.
In a mirror on the wardrobe behind him Saskia caught sight of herself and was shocked to realise that with the sun streaming through the window behind her the slip was totally transparent. She might as well have been naked from her waist down, the flat stomach, rounded hips, the dark triangle of hair and below.
Saskia suddenly couldn’t breathe. She backed away, watching him with her heart knocking in her throat, her hand going out to catch hold of a white towelling robe on the end of the bed.
Domenico moved faster, caught hold of her, his hands splayed across her smooth, bare shoulders.
‘No!’ she cried out in panic, but her body was burning, aching, and his body moved against her, one hand sliding down her back to push her closer until they were touching. She trembled, mouth dry, perspiration prickling on her skin.
The conflict between wanting him and being afraid of the pain of loving him made her almost helpless. She had escaped this trap before; now she was back in it again, betrayed by her own desire, weak in the face of his.
Domenico’s mouth hunted for hers; she evaded it, turning her head from side to side. He bent his head and she gasped as his lips brushed her shoulder, crept along the collarbone to her neck, pressed deep into the soft skin. One hand caressed her back, followed the deep indentation of her spine, the other hand moved up to her breast and cupped the full, warm flesh.
She gave a smothered moan and wrenched herself free, retreated to the door, opened it before he could get to her.
‘Do I have to scream, or will you leave quietly?’
Darkly flushed, breathing audibly, Domenico sat down on her bed. ‘OK, you win—I’ll go in a minute; I just want a word with you first.’
She didn’t lock the door again, she held it almost shut, watching him warily.
‘Well?’
‘I want to make sure you aren’t going to bolt for it again, because I’m having the hotel watched, you wouldn’t get far, so don’t bother to try it.’ He gave her a dry smile. ‘I just thought I’d save you the trouble and embarrassment of attempting to get away and being caught.’
She wasn’t surprised, but the threat made her angrier. ‘Go away,’ she said, opening the door wide.
‘And I would have to break the news to your friend Jamie that you’re my wife, wouldn’t I?’ he murmured, then got up, walked past her, his eyes on her every step of the way, making her body shudder.
She slammed the door shut on him, shaking so much that she sank down on the floor, her eyes shut, rocking herself like a distraught child, dry sobs in her chest.
Her bath was cold when she remembered it. She had to run some more hot water into it to make it bearable. She only spent a short time in the lukewarm water, towelled herself and put on her robe, lay down on her bed, trying desperately to think.
She had to confess the truth to Jamie, and she knew he would be sympathetic; he’d understand why she had fled, why she had lived a lie for two years. But she still couldn’t bear the thought of talking about it. The past was an unhealed wound; it would hurt too much to tell Jamie about it.
But what was she going to do about tomorrow? Be on the quay with Jamie, let Domenico take her to this Palladian villa he had inherited? But would he ever let her leave again?
Her only chance was to stick to Jamie like glue while they were at the villa. Whatever Domenico tried to do she wouldn’t let him separate them, or, at least, she would always keep Jamie in sight and make sure Jamie could see her all the time.
The trouble was, she knew how Jamie could be once he was looking at a strange garden, especially an old garden which would no doubt have some old and possibly forgotten, or rare, species in it; he would be too absorbed in plants and trees to notice what was happening to her.
Another, even more disturbing thought hit her. What if other members of the Alessandros clan were living at the villa? They were such a close family, always visiting each other.
What if his father was there?
Ice trickled down her spine.
She could not face Giovanni Alessandros. The very prospect was a nightmare. Two years ago he had tried to kill her, and she was afraid that if he thought she was coming back into his son’s life he might try again.
CHAPTER
