shrugged away his thoughts. Her survival was not his concern. He had other matters, another kind of survival, to worry about, and she was merely the instrument by which he would achieve that. Had he genuinely wanted to marry her…His frown deepened. What kind of thought was that? He had no desire to marry anyone, much less a thin, wan-faced young woman who had ‘broken heart’ written all over her.
He glanced down at the small case he had removed from the boot of the car, and then went to check the interior of the car itself.
‘How long did you say you intended to stay away from your home for?’ he asked Jodie wryly as he carried her things back to the Ferrari.
Jodie flushed at the implication she could hear in his voice. ‘I have enough with me for my needs,’ she told him defensively, adding with angry dignity, ‘And there are such things as laundries, you know.’ She wasn’t going to tell him that she had chosen her small trolley case specifically because it was light enough for her to lift, and that the last thing she had felt like when she was packing had been bringing with her all the pretty things she had bought for her honeymoon.
She felt the increase in weight of the car as Lorenzo got back into the driver’s seat. There was a disconcerting intimacy about being in a machine like this one with a man who was so very much a man.
The scent of expensive leather reminded her poignantly of an afternoon she had spent with John, when he had gone to buy a new car and taken her with him. They had visited showroom after showroom as he admiringly inspected their top-of-the-range vehicles. But none of them, no matter how expensive, had come anywhere near being as luxurious as this car, she thought now, her senses suddenly picking up on the cool, subtle woody scent of male cologne mixed with the very sensual smell of living, breathing male flesh.
By the time she had finished absorbing the messages with which her senses were bombarding her, Lorenzo had reversed the Ferrari and turned it round.
‘Where are we going?’ she demanded uncertainly.
‘To the Castillo.’
The Castillo. It sounded impossibly grand. But five minutes later, when she saw its steep escarpments rising sharply up out of the rock face, she decided that it was more barbaric than grand—like something left over from another less civilised age. An age where might was more valued than right; an age where a man could take what he wanted simply because he chose to do so. An age surely well suited to the man seated next to her, she decided a little sourly.
They drove into the Castillo through a narrow arched entrance, so evocative of the Middle Ages that Jodie had to blink to dismiss her mental images of chainmailed men at arms and heralds announcing their arrival.
The empty courtyard was lit by the flames from large metal sconces that threw moving shadows against the imposing stone walls with their watching narrow slit windows.
‘What an extraordinary place,’ Jodie heard herself saying apprehensively.
‘The Castillo is a relic left over from a time when men built fortresses rather than homes. I warn you, it is every bit as inhospitable inside as it is out.’
‘You live here?’ She couldn’t keep the dismay out of her voice.
‘I don’t, but my grandmother did.’
‘So where…?’ Jodie began, and then stopped uncertainly as she saw the way his mouth was compressing. It was obvious that he did not like her asking so many questions. He had opened the door of the car and she wrinkled her nose as she caught the pungent smell of something burning. ‘Something’s on fire,’ she told him.
Lorenzo shook his head. ‘It is merely the mixture of wood and pitch that is used in the sconces. After a while you will grow so accustomed to it that you won’t even notice it,’ he added in a matter-of-fact voice.
After a while? Did that mean that she was to live here? Without electricity?
As though he had read her mind, Lorenzo informed her, ‘My grandmother preferred the old-fashioned way of life. Fortunately I was able to persuade her to have a generator installed to provide electricity inside the Castillo.’
When one thought of an Italian castle one thought of something out of a fairy tale, but this place was nothing like that. Bleak and brooding, it made her shudder just to look up at the granite walls.
‘Come…’
Sitting in the Ferrari had caused her weak leg to stiffen and seize up. Jodie could feel her face burning as Lorenzo waited impatiently for her to get out of her seat whilst he held the door open for her. The agonising pain that shot through her leg as she finally managed to do so made her bite down hard on her bottom lip to stop herself from betraying what she was feeling. John had hated anything that drew attention to her infirmity, insisting that she always wore jeans or trousers to hide the thinness of her leg with its tell-tale scars.
‘If you wear trousers no one is going to know that there’s anything wrong with you,’ he had told her more than once. Jodie could feel her throat closing with painful tears. She had wanted so desperately to hear him say to her that he didn’t care what she wore, because he loved her so very much that every part of her was equally precious to him. But, of course, men were not like that. Louise had said as much when she had explained to Jodie just why John preferred her.
‘The trouble is, sweetie, that men don’t like all that disfigurement stuff. It makes them feel uncomfortable. Plus, they want a woman they can show off—not one they’ve got to apologise for.’
‘You mean some men don’t,’ Jodie had corrected her, with as much dignity as she could muster.
‘Most men,’ Louise had insisted, before adding bluntly, ‘After all, how many men besides John have actually wanted so much as a date with you, Jodie? Think about it. And let’s not forget,’ she had added, pressing home her advantage, ‘any man is bound to worry about what he’s going to have to face in the future, with a wife who’s got health problems, from a financial point of view alone.’
‘I haven’t got health problems,’ Jodie had objected. ‘The hospital has given me a complete all-clear—’
‘Because they can’t do any more for you. You told me that yourself. Your leg is never going to be as it was, is it? You get tired if you have to walk any distance now—imagine how awful it would be for poor John if in, say, ten years you needed to be in a wheelchair. How would he cope? With the business booming the way it is, John needs a wife who is a social asset to him, not one who is going to be a handicap. You really mustn’t be so selfish, Jodie. John and I are trying to make this as easy for you as we can.’
It was the ‘John and I’ that had done it, igniting Jodie’s temper so that she had exploded and told her one-time friend in no uncertain terms exactly what she thought of both her and of John, ending up with, ‘And, personally, the last kind of man I would want to commit to is one so shallow that all he sees is what lies on the surface. To be honest with you, Louise, you’ve done me a big favour. If it hadn’t been for you I might have gone ahead and married John without knowing how weak and unreliable he is. You obviously aren’t as fussy in that regard as I am.’ She had finished pointedly, ‘But I should be careful, if I were you. After all, you won’t be young and glamorous for ever, will you? And, since you’ve said yourself that looks are so immensely important to John, you’re going to have to live with the knowledge that ultimately he may dump you for someone younger and prettier.’
She
