desk? You should have finished work at least half an hour ago! It is nearly time to get ready.’
He’d entered the room barefooted, as was his custom when he was at home, and—wrapped up in her own pressing concerns—Laura hadn’t heard him.
‘I was only seeing to a few last-minute things,’ she said, turning. ‘A couple of guests lost their invitations, and there were one or two requests from people travelling from further afield for directions to the villa.’
But Fabian hardly seemed to be listening to any of this. Instead he was frowning deeply as he regarded her. ‘You look tired and drawn, and there are dark circles beneath your eyes.’
‘I’ll be fine when I shower and freshen up. You’d be amazed at the transformation a little make-up can effect!’
Ignoring her false attempt at humour, Fabian frowned again, and the furrow between his golden brows didn’t disappear.
‘No doubt you are far too tense. This morning was an ordeal for you, instead of the pleasure I intended.’
Without waiting for her to comment, he swivelled her chair around and slid his hand beneath her hair behind her neck. Gently but firmly he started to knead the muscles there. His touch was silk and velvet, summer rain and scorching sun, all rolled into one. For weak-willed moments Laura let herself bask in the almost unbearable pleasure of it. Then she abruptly brought herself to her senses and told herself she shouldn’t be encouraging him to touch her like this. It was simply too intimate, and it crushed all possibility of making rational decisions where he was concerned ever again.
‘You have to stop.’ She laid her hand over his and pulled it away. Turning in her seat, she lifted her gaze to his in mute appeal.
‘Why?’
‘You ask me that when—’ ‘When what?’
‘When you are confusing me to such a degree that I can’t even remember my own name!’
Rising to her feet, she found herself with bare inches between their two bodies. He was smiling at her, and that confused her even more. With his slightly crumpled white linen shirt, softly napped jeans, bronzed skin and sun-kissed hair, he was the kind of fantasy that she’d never dreamt would come into her sphere.
‘Don’t, Fabian!’
‘What have I done?’ he asked, in apparent innocence.
You’re leading me down a road I am frightened to go down, Laura answered in the silence of her mind. And yet every second you smile at me the temptation to travel it grows too great to resist.
‘I’m only here to work for you, and you’re treating me like—like something far more personal than that.’
‘I have asked you to be my wife … remember?’
‘But the marriage you have in mind is hardly a proper one.’
‘It will be legal and proper in every way!’ He looked affronted for a moment.
Sensing this was not the time to confront the issue, Laura sighed. ‘You know what I mean! But I suppose we have no choice but to wait until later to discuss it properly. Well … I’d better go and get ready for the evening.’
‘Before you do that I think you should get a massage first. Iron is more yielding than the muscles in the back of your neck! And I want you to be as relaxed as possible tonight, so that you will enjoy the occasion and not dread it.’
His words brought up a new concern. ‘Are you dreading it, Fabian?’ she asked quietly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I haven’t been immune to the fact that you seem a little less than thrilled about the whole event … yet your dedication to helping the children at the hospice is unquestionable!’
Her comment definitely seemed to take him aback. The very blue irises around much darker pupils seemed to acquire an even more intense hue. ‘You are an astute woman, and I cannot deny that promoting and holding this concert brings up some difficult challenges for me personally. But this is not something that I want to consider right now, when I am just a short time away from greeting my guests … si?’
‘Yes, I understand.’
‘Come with me.’ Getting hold of her hand, he steered her firmly towards the door. ‘Where are you—?’
But Fabian wouldn’t say where he was taking her, and Laura had no choice but to allow him to lead her through corridors and vestibules she’d never entered before, and finally down some marble steps to an area that was done out like a Roman spa—complete with inviting swimming pool, and the scent of lemon and pine and sweet herbs clinging to the moist air.
As she glanced interestedly at the beautiful marble statues of scantily clad women that appeared to have been modelled on Botticelli’s Venus, arranged at equally measured distances across an intricate mosaic-tiled floor, a door opened to the right of them and a young man stepped out. Clad in fitted white T-shirt and shorts, with bronzed skin, silky toned muscles and dark curling hair, he couldn’t have been much more than twenty.
‘Ciao, Giuseppe!’ Going forward, his hand still firmly clasping Laura’s, Fabian greeted the younger man with a friendly slap on his hard-muscled bicep. ‘This is Laura, who has been standing in for Carmela the past few days,’ he explained in English. ‘She has been working extremely hard, helping to organise the concert tonight, and is in need of a massage.’
‘Fabian—no!’ Her expression aghast, Laura felt her limbs turn to jelly at the mere idea of this young Hercules applying his practised hands to her pale and less than perfect flesh, with its disfiguring scars. What was Fabian trying to do to her, plunging her into all these uncomfortable situations? Force her to confront the fact that she was different from every other woman he knew? She already knew that.
‘She is a little shy,’ he told Giuseppe with an enigmatic smile. ‘Just her neck, shoulders and back will do. Can you find your own way back to your rooms?’ he asked, his avid gaze latching onto Laura’s again.
‘But, Fabian, I—’
‘You are in good hands with Giuseppe. There is no need to be anxious. He may be young, but he is a master of his craft. I will see you in about an hour and a half at the front entrance. I want you to be with me when I greet our guests. Ciao.’
Leaning forward, he planted a soft kiss at the side of her jaw, just beneath her ear, and Laura sensed heat rush into her with force—especially as he had done it in front of the young masseur.
‘Signorina?’ Giuseppe was holding the door open for her with a smile that was both reassuring and inviting. ‘Do not worry … I will make you feel like a new woman!’ he promised, and Laura felt her ensuing blush right down to the very edges of her toes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE young tenor’s voice elicited goosebumps up and down Laura’s body. Accompanied by a magical Spanish guitar, it was the ultimate gift after all her hard work over the past few days, and made every worry and doubt she’d had about the concert melt away.
Seated in the front row
