as he followed her in. Soles wet from their passage across the grass, her sandals had no purchase on the terrazzo. Lucius shot out an arm as she skidded, hauling her up against him, his hand warm at her waist.
‘You must take more care,’ he said, making no immediate attempt to let her go again.
‘I will,’ Gina assured him. ‘I’m fine now, thanks.’
His laugh was low, the brief pressure of his lips at her nape where the curtain of hair had parted stirring her blood in a manner she deplored.
‘I’d prefer you didn’t do that,’ she got out.
He laughed again, but this time released her. Gina made herself meet the dark eyes. ‘I realise you probably won’t be used to it, but I’m telling you again that I’m not…available.’
‘Do you not think that you might be the one now taking too much for granted?’ Lucius returned with mock gravity.
‘Am I?’ she challenged, and saw the glint return.
‘No. I would be only half a man if I could look at you and not want you in the instant, cara.’ He gave her no time to reply—if she could have come up with a reply at all. ‘I will begin enquiries about the Barsini family this very morning. I would hope to have news of them before the day is over.’
A forlorn hope, Gina reflected ruefully. The longer this charade of hers continued, the harder it became to revoke.
‘There’s something I—’ she began, breaking off as Guido heaved into view.
‘Something you…?’ Lucius prompted.
She shook her head, courage lost. ‘Forget it.’
Leaving him standing there, she ran lightly up the stairs to head for her room. The situation was becoming increasingly difficult. If it weren’t for her lack of transport, she would be tempted to abandon the whole idea and return home. She was vitally attracted to a man who might just be a close blood relation, a man who was making no effort to conceal his objective. Even if there should prove to be no connection, she wasn’t into the kind of casual, ships that pass in the night, relationship that was all Lucius would have in mind.
Despite last night’s refusal, breakfast was brought to her at eight o’clock. Gina ate it out on the balcony, enjoying both the view and the warmth. The sky was so blue, the quality of light a joy in itself. It was possible that her father had viewed the same scene—perhaps even from this very room. Could she really bear, Gina asked herself, not to know for certain?
She went downstairs again with no notion of how she was going to spend the day. Wandering out to the terrace, she found Ottavia stretched out on a lounger beneath an opened umbrella. She was wearing a gold-lamé bikini that barely covered her voluptuous curves, her eyes shielded by designer sunglasses. Her toenails, Gina noted, were painted the same shade of scarlet as her fingernails and lips, the whole effect more reminiscent of the film world, she thought, than Italian aristocracy.
‘Buon giorno,’ she proffered tentatively.
Ottavia pulled down the sunglasses a fraction to run a disparaging eye over the cotton dress Gina had elected to wear. ‘You are quite recovered from your weariness, I trust?’ she enquired, without bothering to respond to the greeting.
‘Quite, thank you,’ Gina confirmed. She felt it necessary to add, ‘The breakfast was very good, but I really don’t expect to be waited on while I’m here.’
‘As you are here at my brother’s invitation, you are entitled to be treated as any other guest,’ came the smooth reply. ‘You realise, of course, how fortunate you are to have gained his support in this affair.’ She didn’t wait for any answer. ‘A word of warning, however. Lucius may pay you some attentions because he is a man and you are attractive to look at, but it means nothing.’
‘In other words, don’t run away with the idea that he might be about to offer marriage,’ Gina returned. ‘I’ll certainly bear it in mind.’
The irony left no visible impression. ‘Good,’ was the only comment.
Her presence wasn’t exactly welcome, Gina gathered, as the glasses were replaced and the head returned to the supporting cushion. She was tempted to stay anyway, just for the hell of it, but there was little to be gained from keeping company with someone who so obviously didn’t want her there.
She had only covered a small part of the immediate grounds earlier. Now would be the right time to take a turn round the other side of the house before the heat became too great for comfort. With several days to fill, and nowhere else to go, she was probably going to be spending a lot of time out of doors. Which in this climate would be no great hardship, she had to admit.
She was crossing the drive when a low-slung sports car came roaring round the bend. Gina leapt instinctively for safety, missed her footing and went down on one knee in the gravel, steeling herself for the impact she was sure was to come. The car screeched to a halt with its front bumper bare inches from her. Spouting Italian at a rate of knots, the driver leapt out without bothering to turn off the engine, a look of concern on his handsome face as he came to lift her to her feet.
‘Inglese,’ Gina said for what seemed like the millionth time in response to what she took to be a spate of solicitous enquiry. ‘Non capisco.’
‘English!’ he exclaimed on a note of surprise.
‘That’s right.’ Gina gave a wry grimace as she eased her knee. ‘Does everybody round here drive like bats out of hell?’
His brows drew together in puzzlement. ‘Bats?’
‘It’s just a saying,’ she explained, regretting the use of it. ‘It means fast, that’s all.’
The frown cleared. ‘Ah, fast!’ Concern leapt once more in his eyes as he caught sight of the trickle of blood running down her leg. ‘You are hurt! Why did you not tell me you were hurt?’
‘I hadn’t realised it was grazed,’ Gina admitted, lifting the edge of her skirt to view the not inconsiderable damage. ‘I thought I’d just knocked it.’
‘It must be cleaned and dressed,’ he declared. ‘Before it becomes infected.’
‘It will be,’ she assured him. ‘Just as soon as I get back to the house. I’m a guest there,’ she added, in case he was in any doubt. ‘Gina Redman.’
‘A friend of the family?’ He sounded intrigued.
‘Not exactly. There was an accident. My car was badly damaged. Lu—Signor Carandente very generously invited me to stay until it’s repaired.’
His lips curved. ‘But of course. Lucius is the most generous of men. I am Cesare Traetta. You must allow me to drive you to the villa.’
‘It’s hardly any distance,’ Gina protested. ‘I might get blood on the upholstery.’
‘If so it will be cleaned.’ He went to open the passenger door. ‘Please to get in.’
Gina wiped away the trickle of blood with her handkerchief before doing so. The soft leather seat cocooned her, its contours designed to hold the body in position. Definitely needed, she thought,
