his father, the once noble and profitable estate that had been in the Cassano family for countless generations had been brought to its knees, the vineyards neglected, the farms uncared for and the many properties virtually in ruins. And that included the majestic Castello Trevente.
This was his father’s legacy—a legacy Orlando couldn’t wait to get shot of. Finding out that he had to go to Trevente in person to do just that had only fuelled his rage. But despite putting his legal team on to it there appeared to be no way of circumnavigating the ancient Italian laws—no getting out of climbing the twisty stairs to the stuffy office of the family solicitor, shaking hands with notary, or the mayor, or whoever else had to witness his signature in this archaic system.
Only then would he be able to arrange for the sale of the whole damned place and finally walk away—wash his hands of his heritage for ever.
Now Orlando’s eyes scanned the defiant figure who stood before him. So he was being dumped. There was a novelty value there, to be sure, but that didn’t compensate for the sharp sting of rejection, the virtual slap on the cheek. Not to mention his disappointment that he was going to be denied a brief period of escapism with this lovely young woman.
The sensible thing would be to take Isobel’s words at face value. Shake her hand and say goodbye. But his body was far from sensible where Ms Spicer was concerned. It had been from the very first moment he had seen her arrive on his Caribbean island, wobbling to stand up in the motor launch. Even now it was refusing to accept what he had been told, and the tightness in his groin was showing no sign of abating. He realised he wanted answers, needed answers, before he could walk away.
Isobel had retreated further from him now, deeper into the room, and she stared at him with something like mutinous rebellion. He watched as she pushed back her shoulders, tucking her glossy chestnut hair behind one ear. Her cheeks were stained with twin streaks of colour, her wide green eyes unnaturally bright. Something was going on here. And she wasn’t leaving until he had damned well found out what it was.
Forcing himself to find some of the legendary calm that he was so famed for, Orlando moved over to the table and pulled out two chairs.
‘Sit down, Isobel.’
Isobel hesitated, then did as she was told, crossing her legs and smoothing the short but sensible pencil skirt over her thighs. Seating himself opposite her, Orlando watched her top leg start to jiggle, and immediately his very male attention was drawn to the jut of her knee through the sheer tights, the graceful sweep of her calves down to those ankle boots with their vertiginously high heels.
He’d noticed them as soon as she had walked into the boardroom—as had every other person sitting around that table. Their vivid red colour had flashed brighter than a robin’s breast in the glass and steel setting of this modern office building.
Immediately his thoughts had flown to how he would remove them, sliding down the zippers at the side and inching them off her feet whilst Isobel was splayed across his bed, waiting for his attentions. That would work. Or maybe leaving them on, removing the rest of the clothes from her luscious body and waiting for those long legs to wrap around him, boots and all, with the suede rubbing against his skin, the scratch of the heels down his back.
Hearing Isobel clear her throat, he forced his way back to the present, his eyes back up to her heated face.
‘So...’ He leant back, stretching long legs out in front of him. ‘Am I allowed to ask why the change of heart?’
Isobel shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘It’s not a change of heart.’
‘What, then?’
He could see her struggling to find the right words. Her lips, he noticed, were still swollen from the force of their kiss—a kiss that had affected them both equally, no matter how much Isobel tried to cover it up.
‘This is just for curiosity’s sake, you understand. I will obviously respect your decision, no matter what the reason.’
‘I know that.’
‘So...?’ he repeated.
Goddammit, why didn’t she have the guts just to come out with it? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t worked it out for himself by now anyway.
Impatience, and a possessiveness he didn’t want to acknowledge, made his voice a growl. ‘Perhaps you would like me to make it easier for you?’
At this, Isobel’s green eyes shot up from where they had been watching her hands twisting in her lap. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve met someone else.’ Orlando was surprised by the way just saying those words made him want to go out and punch something—hard. ‘A new boyfriend?’
‘Ha!’
Isobel’s bitter laugh, coupled with the look of astonishment on her face, told him he’d got that wrong and for a fleeting moment relief washed over him.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Orlando.’
Was that so ridiculous? They hadn’t seen each other for over a month. Plenty of time for some young gun to step in and claim Isobel for his prize. But it would seem that wasn’t the case. Orlando’s clenched fists loosened momentarily, before tightening again as another thought took hold.
‘An old boyfriend, then?’ His eyes narrowed, piercingly intense now as he waited for her answer. ‘Perhaps someone you failed to mention when we were on Jacamar?’
‘Of course not!’ Isobel straightened her spine, tossing back her head so that the mane of hair gleamed richly. ‘I would never have slept with you if I had had a boyfriend. What sort of a person do you take me for?’
Orlando shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Isobel, you tell me. Presumably not the same person I knew on Jacamar. Because she appeared to enjoy my company every bit as much as I did hers.’
‘I did!’ Her reply came out in a burst of anguish before she lowered her voice in soft confession. ‘Of course I did.’
She turned her head to one side, but not before Orlando had caught sight of the flush of heat that had flooded her face. He waited, watching with cold interest as she struggled to find her composure.
‘I’m not denying that what happened between us was...mutual.’ The intensity of his gaze demanded more. ‘Was...good, in fact. But that was in the past. Circumstances have changed.’
‘Evidently.’
He didn’t have time for this. Orlando felt what little patience he’d had march out of the door.
Pushing back his chair, he drew himself up to his full height and looked down on this infuriating woman. ‘Look, Isobel, I’m not here to mess about or to play games. I’ve only got a short time in London and I thought it would be nice to spend some of it with you. Even if it’s just dinner. But I’m certainly not going to force your hand.’
Standing with his feet apart he folded his arms decisively across his chest.
‘If you have other plans, or would rather not, that’s fine too. Just say the word.’
‘Two words, actually, Orlando.’
Orlando narrowed his eyes, something about
