Love Play by Rosemary Rogers (12 page)

To her renewed fury he laughed shortly; letting his eyes travel over her
body in an obvious way that was meant to be insulting. 'Why? But I'm sure you
know. You are deliberately making of yourself a challenge ... or is it a
victim? Would it be worth my while to find out?'

He was really going too far! Sara felt the anger she had been fighting
to hold back heat her face until it seemed to be

burning. And yet she tried to choose her words carefully -flinging each
one at him with calculated coldness that was meant to negate the downpouring,
enervating heat of the sun.

''I've always found that the best way to find out about anything is to
ask! But in order to save you the expending of any unnecessary energy, I might
as well tell you right now that I am not trying to lure you on - even if you
might like to think so. I don't know and I don't care what you might think of
me, but let me tell you one thing, I'm a one-man woman. I happen to be in love
with someone who wants to marry me, and . . . I'm not looking for anything
else, thank you!'

'Ah, so you are marriage-minded, are you? And in California, so I've
heard, everything is community property - fifty-fifty, even if the woman has
done nothing to help earn the money to which the courts say she is entitled. No
wonder marriage' is so desirable here - for a woman, especially!'

With deliberately faked sweetness, Sara widened her eyes at him - mainly
to hide the simmering of her temper, just below the surface.

'But how old-fashioned you are! Haven't you heard of palimony? If I want
to be married, it means giving up my freedom - it probably means having
children. It would mean commitment. . . but you wouldn't understand that, would
you? I'm sure your head is still in the Dark Ages where women had their place -
several paces to the rear!'

His voice was dangerously soft: 'And what a pity we are not now in what
you choose to call "the Dark Ages". You would have been married by
the time you were fifteen -with two or three children to keep you busy, by now.
And you would be more of a woman because of that!'

By now it was no longer just a duel, but open war. Refusing to flinch
from his derisive look and his subtly threatening closeness, Sara hoped that
the scorn in her eyes showed itself as obviously as she felt it.

'I suppose I should be thankful that I live in a more advanced and
civilised culture where I really don't have to prove I'm a woman by being a
mother at sixteen! And at least when I do have a child it will be because I
want to, instead of being a circumstance forced upon me.'

The hard-edged line of his jaw warned her of a fury in him that held her
back from any further taunts. In fact, Sara turned away from him deliberately -
lying back on her sun-warmed pad with her head turned away from him.

She said in as light a voice as she could manage: 'Oh, please do go away!
There's no reason for you to feel responsible for me — or for us to quarrel.
We're strangers to each other, after all, and I think it's really better that
we stay that way!'

'But are you really sure that is what you would prefer? His voice rasped
across her nerve ends with a subtle reminder of her earlier confusion, and for
all her studied ease, Sara could not help the ripple of apprehension that made
her shiver in spite of the heat. Strange how the same voice could be gratingly
harsh at one moment and as smooth as silk the next. He was a monster, this man.

'Delight ... I have no wish to argue with you, even though you
constantly provoke me to anger. Dio mio! I only came out here to deliver a
message to you, and to offer you transportation back to your apartment if you
wished to go. Or would you like better to stay here with me? It is very private
. . .'

Sara refused to meet his eyes, willing herself to lie still in the
studiedly relaxed position she had taken up. 'Yes, it is, isn't it? And that's
why I'm here. Thanks for the offer of a ride, but I'm sure I can find my way
back later — if I don't decide to take Uncle Theo up on his offer, that is.'

One up for her, Sara thought, although the silence that followed her
impudent speech left her slightly unnerved. What if he ... what was she afraid
of? He was a despicable, detestable man, but he was Uncle Theo's house-guest,
and the proud Duca de Cavalieri for all his arrogance would hardly attempt to
take her by force; not here, out in the open!

'Very well.' His voice was hard-edged with an anger that belied the
overt politeness of his words. 'I will not, in that case, waste my time waiting
for you to make up your mind. You will find your . . . transportation waiting
for you outside, should you decide to leave. Just inform one of the servants.
Have a pleasant afternoon with the sun, Miss Delight Adams.'

Chapter 11

'Have a pleasant afternoon with the sun . . .' Oh, indeed! And the way
in which he'd said it, as if he'd have been glad to consign her to the devil
instead.

He probably wishes I'd fall asleep out here and get burned to a crisp,
Sara thought hatefully; picturing those harsh, saturnine features gazing
contemptuously down at her mortal remains. It was that vision which spurred her
into life from lethargy soon afterwards — once a surrep-titious glance in
either direction had assured her that he was no longer to be seen.

She wandered back to her room, longing to be able to throw herself down
on the freshly made bed and sleep - with no more nightmares to bother her,
thank you! But Uncle Theo wasn't back yet, and the thought of being locked up
in the same house with Riccardo made a coward of her. Better to leave while she
was still safe ... and without stopping to ponder that strange thought, Sara
showered and dressed briskly before she summoned one of the smiling Korean
houseboys.

'Ah, yes!' he informed her with his smile widening. Any time she wished
to leave there was to be a car waiting for her. It would only take a moment. .
.

Outside the colonnaded 'front porch' it waited for her, shiny white and
brand-new, with a removable hard-top that had already been removed for her. The
Mercedes-Benz SL 450 sport coupe of Sara's dreams.Uncle Theo ... a surprise . .
. but how would he have known what kind of car she'd always craved? And why
would he —

'It is a gift. For you.'

Delight would have leapt down the white marble steps with a squeal of
joy. Sara frowned and questioned.

'From whom? From Uncle . . . from Mr Kohler?'

The man shook his head. 'Oh, no, miss. From the other gentleman. He said
to tell you the keys are inside.'

Sara cast one long, wistful look at the shiny new car before she turned
her back on it, hoping her voice sounded even enough not to give her feelings
away.

'But of course I can't accept gifts like that. You must tell the
gentleman so - with my thanks, of course, for the kind thought. Could you call
me a taxi please, Kim?'

The man's eyes widened in puzzlement, even while he shook his head.

'Sorry, miss. Taxis not allowed here.'

Belatedly remembering the gates and the elaborate security arrangements,
Sara frowned with vexation. No taxis - of course he'd have known that! And now
he thought he had her backed into an untenable position. Suddenly, her frown
turned into a smile that warmed the worried look off Kim's face. 'Of course I
should have remembered. Well, that doesn't leave me with much choice, does it?'
This with a brightening of her smile. I'll just have to accept the
transportation offered me - but as a loan of course, and not as a gift. You must
be sure and tell the Duke that.'

She hoped he would be furious. Especially when she had the car delivered
back to him with her casual note that would say something like 'thanks for the
great ride . . .' Damn him anyway, for thinking she could be bought!

Anger alone carried Sara safely through the usual traffic. The Mercedes,
of course, drove like a dream - but she wasn't going to let that affect her
better judgement. For reasons of his own, the Duca di Cavalieri was stalking
her-alternately provoking, insulting, and yes, enticing her...

 
Obviously, he had remembered her
casual statement about the kind of car she'd always wanted. Just as obviously,
money meant nothing to him except as a means to an end.

'Quarry.' Unbidden, the word sprang into Sara's mind, bringing with it a
strange frisson of apprehension that made her fists clench around the wheel.
What had made him decide that he wanted her? And why was she running from him?
Attack was the best form of defence, she had heard -and surely her sister, who
was used to dealing with all kinds of men, would have stayed to face him down!
Approaching the apartment, Sara started to drive more slowly, her forehead
puckered in a frown that was partially hidden by Delight's huge sunglasses.
Now, belatedly, she was annoyed at herself for leaving Uncle Theo's in such a
hurry. She should have stayed, to show him how little his presence meant to
her. She shouldn't have let herself be driven away, especially in view of his
sly insinuations that she was deliberately playing hard to get. Now, as
conceited as he was, he might actually imagine that she had run away so that he
could pursue her all the harder. Oh, damn!

If she had had any doubts, the hot stuffiness of the cramped little
apartment decided Sara on her next move. Here, surrounded by Delight's
scattered possessions, she was more able to put herself into her sister's
personality - to be the daring, impudent Delight Adams who wasn't scared of
anyone or anything, and would dare anything at all for experience or for 'fun'.
No, Delight definitely would not have fled in horror from the advances of a
decadent Italian Duke!

Come to think of it, that was a nicely turned sentence! Sara applauded
herself as she started to throw a few essential things into her overnight case.
'Decadent Duke' . . . very well done, Sara! Her old habit of holding mental
conversations with herself kept nervousness at bay as she took a deep breath,
letting the door to the apartment slam shut behind her. Well, here we go. And
this time, so help me, I really am going to be Delight. I'm going to tell him
off the way she would.

She had, with bravado, parked the white Mercedes in the loading zone
outside the building. Perhaps they had towed it away! But if it was still
there, then she would return it to him - with a flourish and a few words of
hypocritical thanks, which he, of course, would immediately see through. There
was actually a feeling of anticipation growing in her, Sara realised with a
sense of wonderment as she pushed through the revolving doors.

She must have been holding her breath . . . and now she released it with
a sigh. There it was, still parked where she had left it, after all. A
middle-aged man with a camera slung around his neck was circling the sleek
white car with interest. Sara's high heels clicked on the sidewalk, and he
turned with a grin that was at once sly and ingratiating. 'Hi! This little
beauty yours? I was admiring her. Brand-spanking-new, ain't she?'

Thank goodness there was still a lot of traffic, and even a few
pedestrians, which was unusual for Los Angeles where everyone drove. Sara
resisted her impulse to give him an icy brush-off, because she was still trying
to be her sister — seeing everything from a different perspective; reacting
that way. 'Hello. It is a pretty car, isn't it?'

She thought she had handled it pretty neatly! Giving him a vague smile
from beneath enormous sunglasses, Sara began to rummage through her cluttered
purse for the car keys. They had to be in here somewhere. She remembered . . .

'You're Delight Adams, ain't you? Saw Brenda Rowan's story on you on TV
this morning. You mind if I take a picture of you with the new automobile? A
present from a certain Italian Duke, maybe?'

Sara looked up with a gasp — and he was already taking the pictures. He
moved very fast, like a professional photographer, she recognised with dismay.

'You're not to – '

He didn't give her a chance to finish, putting his hand up placatingly
before he handed her a card. 'Hey - thanks for the pictures. I'm Gordo Rapp.
And you're a real cute girl. The publicity ain't going to hurt you, huh?'

All she - or Delight - needed was the paparazzi! How on earth had the
man happened to be hanging around, and what had he meant. . .

The raucous squeal of brakes just behind her and the explosion of a car
door slamming made Sara's indignant protests catch in her throat as she jumped.
Just like Gordo Rapp, who had hastily moved several steps back.

'Are you bothering the lady?'

Oh, no\ Not Riccardo, not now\

With what she hoped was magnificent disregard, Sara said coldly: 'I was
looking for the keys . ..'

At about the same time she felt the warmth of his fingers, contrasting
with the cold of the keys he pressed into her hand, wrapping his fingers around
it with a strength that held her fast when she tried to resist him.

'I brought you the extra set of keys. Were you corning to look for me,
or did you guess that I would come for you?' His blackly inscrutable eyes
flicked from her angry face to a point beyond her as he added, in a deceptively
soft voice; 'As for you — I would move on if I were you.'

'Sure - anything you say, Dukel But lemme take just one more picture
first, huh? I'll be sure and send you proofs -okay, okay!'

As the man made off around the corner, clutching his camera
protectively, Sara turned indignantly on her tormentor.

'Do you realise that that man . . . that our picture is probably going
to be in all the nasty little gossip rags all over the world? And you let him
think that you . . . that I. ..'

How dared he still continue to hold her hand? Although if he had not,
she might have attempted to throw his keys in his dark devil's facel

'Ah! Do you think I should have attempted to go after him? To smash his
camera, perhaps? But then - think of the publicity you would miss.' His voice
held drawling sarcasm that made Sara suck in a breath of pure rage. 'I didn't
really think you would want me to do anything violent to your.,. friend. After
all, you seemed happy enough to pose for him as I was driving up!'