okay. I’m fine here.’
Harper’s heart plummeted. He might be fine there, decorously lounging about in her dressing room, but she felt anything but fine, as a quick glimpse in the mirror brutally revealed.
She looked different somehow, as if some sort of banned substance had entered her bloodstream, changing her features. It took her a second to work out what the peculiar look was, and when she did she wished she hadn’t. Because it was arousal. Her cheeks were lightly flushed and her hazel eyes had darkened to a sultry amber glow as the devastating effect of his lethal attraction continued to pump in her veins.
This evening was going to be awful. However was she going to be able to stand beside Vieri, trying to be the elegant and sophisticated fiancée, when the merest touch of his breath on her neck did this to her?
Staring at the emerald ring on her finger, she fought the temptation to pull the wretched thing off and hurl it across the room. What good would that do? She had signed up to this deal—she had to see it through.
Picking up her hairbrush, she started to tug it forcefully through her curls, giving herself a stern talking-to with each vicious stroke. Then, capturing the thick swathe of hair, she twisted it into a knot on the top of her head and, with a mouth full of hair grips, set about securing the stray tendrils as best she could. Then, setting her features in what she hoped was a suitably bland expression, she went back through to the dressing room.
Vieri, who had been sprawled in a chair, one long leg casually draped over the arm, rose to meet her. His blue eyes raked all over her but he made no comment as she brushed past him to retrieve the shoe box from the dresser, self-consciously lifting out the silver shoes and quickly slipping them onto her feet as if there were nothing remotely unusual about her wearing a pair of sparkly stilettos with a price tag that had made her eyes water, in much the same way as she suspected the shoes themselves would by the end of the night. Throwing a cashmere wrap around her shoulders, she then picked up the silver clutch bag and, drawing in a breath, turned to face Vieri again.
He came towards her, his right arm crooked as he waited for her to slide her arm through it. Nestled so closely beside him, Harper felt her pulse set off at a gallop.
‘Sei pronto, you are ready?’
Harper nodded, although she felt anything but. She gathered the wrap closer to her in a vain attempt to ward off his nearness.
‘Then let’s go.’
As they moved towards the doorway Harper felt the wobble in her step. And it wasn’t just the four-inch heels.
* * *
The Winter Ball was a magnificently glittering affair held in a stunning, floodlit medieval castle not far from Palermo. The guests were escorted across the moat and through the echoing anterooms to a ballroom that had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Giant icicles twirled above their heads, snowflakes danced across the walls, and enormous ice sculptures of fantastical beasts adorned the walls. It was certainly breathtaking, if a little dazzling. As Harper gazed about in awe she realised that most of the women were dressed in appropriately winter colours; ice blue was very popular, as were silver and white. Even the staff were dressed from head to toe in snowy white. And there she was in flaming scarlet.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she snapped in Vieri’s ear as she reluctantly relinquished her wrap, the idea that she might be able to keep it on for the entire evening quickly taken out of her hands by the helpful cloakroom attendant.
‘Tell you what?’
‘That everyone would be dressed in...in cold colours.’
‘I didn’t know they would.’ Vieri surveyed the room dismissively.
Harper followed his even gaze, feeling like a hedgerow poppy about to infiltrate a room full of lilies. But it was too late now. With his arm snaking around her waist, Vieri was confidently escorting her into the room, all eyes turning to look at them. Or so it seemed to Harper. She felt their curious stares, their blatant scrutiny of this boldly dressed stranger who had the audacity to be on the arm of Sicily’s most eligible bachelor. As they advanced further into the room the crowd parted, almost reverentially, to let them through until a middle-aged man came forward to shake Vieri’s hand, demanding to know who this beautiful young woman was. When Vieri casually introduced her as his fiancée there was an audible intake of breath before a group of people closed around them, congratulations flying as the women edged forward to get a better look at her, eyeing the ring on her finger with burning curiosity, while the men were slapping Vieri on the back.
Harper quickly downed half a glass of champagne. She was about as far out of her comfort zone as it was possible to go. Unlike her sister, she had never aspired to live the high life, the affairs of the rich and famous holding no interest for her. While Leah would be poring over celebrity magazines, she would be more likely to be found running her finger down the column of barely legible figures in their father’s accounts ledger, trying to make sure that everything balanced before it was handed over to the estate accountant. Her biggest dread was that the Laird would be forced to sack her father, that they would lose their livelihood, their home. Gordon Gillespie, Laird of Craigmore, was a good man but fundamentally the Craigmore estate was a business, and if Angus McDonald was seen as a liability, Harper knew he would have to go. Which was why she worried herself sick fighting the losing battle to keep him sober, covering his tracks, essentially doing as much of his job as she could for him.
But tonight she had another job to do. Tonight she had to play the part of the adoring fiancée. Although how she was supposed to do that when Vieri was virtually ignoring her, she had no idea. Despite the fact that he had stressed in the car the importance of them giving a convincing performance because the gossip from the night would be sure to find its way back to Alfonso, now they were actually here he seemed to have forgotten all about her. As the great and the good of Sicilian high society swarmed around them, not to mention royalty and A-list celebrities from all over Europe, she watched him being borne away on a tide of adoring females, scarcely giving her a glance as he disappeared into the crowd. Well, maybe it was a much-needed reality check. When Vieri had looked at her in her dressing room, just for that moment, he had made her feel beautiful. He had made her feel special. Now, as she watched the smooth way he charmed the women around him, she realised it had simply been an act. A minor charm offensive. And like a fool she had fallen for it.
Draining the last of the champagne, she swapped the empty glass for a full one from a passing waiter. She wished she could shrink into the background, pretend she wasn’t here, but, given her choice of attire, that wouldn’t be easy. A shriek of laughter turned her head in time to see a beautiful blonde with icicle earrings grasp Vieri’s arm then lean forward to giggle something into his ear. Harper turned back, squashing down the pang of hurt, refusing to let herself feel anything.
‘Signorina?’ A rather dashing young man wearing some sort of military uniform stepped forward. ‘Would you do me the great honour of having the next dance?’
Pasting on a smile and accepting his hand, Harper allowed herself to be led to the dance floor, grateful that at least someone was paying her some attention. She would allow him the honour, and anyone else who might want to dance with her. They would be no substitute for Vieri, of course, but right now her bruised confidence would take anything that was on offer.
* * *
From his table at the side of the ballroom, Vieri’s narrow-eyed gaze flitted across the crowded dance floor. She wasn’t difficult to spot, the flash of that scarlet dress as Harper was twirled around by yet another partner, male guests of all ages queuing
