Love Play by Rosemary Rogers (40 page)

'You really think so, huh? And so at last I'll get to meet your lovely
Mama in person! Well - they do say revenge is sweet, and what's a few hours?'
Sara knew she ought to be ashamed of herself for manipulating poor Angelo so,
but he actually sounded pleased, and almost swaggeringly sure of himself.
'Don't worry about a thing, kid! Just wait up here for
 
me — and be sure to get rid of anyone else.
And you can bet on the fact that I'll be here right about this time. Only thing
I'm sorry about is I won't be here to see their faces when you lay it on them!'

Well, Angelo would be proud of her too, Sara vowed to herself after he
had left as quietly as he had arrived. She was going to savour every tiny
detail of her revenge, which would be partly his revenge too. Revenge — and the
last laugh.

She tossed and turned in that wide bed and felt her skin burn and sleep
elude her now. Perhaps she had slept too long in the sun. Hot, primitive sun in
a still-primitive land -making her feel, for a while, as if she had been cut
off both from civilisation and from reality; truly a prisoner of a darkly
dangerous Moorish corsair who used women as chattels. Thank God Angelo had
opened her eyes! And oh,how she could not help despising herself for almost. ..
for almost allowing herself to fall in love with him in spite of the
cold-blooded way in which he'd used her!

Sara almost sprang out of bed to go to the refrigerator with long,
pacing strides. What a thought to flash across her mind! What a foolish, ridiculous
thought! In love indeed... and with him of all people? It was hate -- dislike
and disgust she felt for him, not love! How could she have confused the two?

Still angry at herself and wanting to change the strange direction of
her thoughts, Sara switched on a light and helped herself, defiantly, to more
wine. She caught a glimpse of a tousled reflection of herself in one of the
mirrors she couldn't seem to avoid - her hair already tumbling down below her
shoulders and long enough to brush against her nipples.

Stop it! she warned herself. Enough of that! Perhaps she should have
gone with Angelo tonight, instead of taking the risk of waiting. Tomorrow would
tell!

Chapter 36

The tomorrow she had alternately dreaded and anticipated came late for
Sara, who had found the sleep she sought far too elusive for far too long a
time. And she was even later waking up because Serafina, with a cunning Sara
did not want to believe of her, had not opened the heavy wooden shutters that
would let the sunshine in to wake her. But at least this time there had been no
dreams that she could recall!

There was, when Sara woke up and forced her eyes open, another pair of
eyes staring apprehensively into hers before they looked away, and the young
maid who had been stationed beside her bed jumped up to begin walking towards
the door.

'Buongiorno, signorina! I am supposed to fetch Serafina the very moment.
. .'

Between the stammering near-incoherency of Caterina and Serafina's
urgent insistence that this day should follow the pattern of every other — the
signorina had circles under her eyes and surely needed more sleep? — Sara
managed to order a breakfast she couldn't eat. And in the meantime, mustering
all her resources, she managed to pretend acquiescence; murmuring off-handedly
that she was going to lie in the sun for as long as she could today.

"It's a good idea, signorina. I will be busy for a while, but
Caterina will wait outside your door in case the signorina should need
something. I will come again . . .'

'Thank you, Serafina. I feel quite lazy today. You might make it a point
to wake me again today as you did yesterday, though. I'm more than liable to
fall asleep.'

Easy words. Casually uttered words. Words designed to lull them all into
satisfied relaxation, deliberately meant to distract and throw off. To deceive
- as she had been deceived! Poor little Caterina, innocent though she might be,
was the easiest to trick.

Sara had first forced herself to lie in the sun as she usually did each
day, while she tried to calculate what time it was. Three — perhaps four? And
were they here yet? Oh — they must be, she could almost sense it from the
feeling of bustle and activity and the sound of servants' voices that were
accidentally raised at first and then as quickly lowered.

An hour - had she really been able to contain herself that long? Perhaps
an hour, but she had waited long enough and needed to act now, before her
courage deserted her. On her feet now, Sara padded to the closed door.

'Caterina? Are you still there?'

The girl almost burst into the room. 'Si, signorina. I am to be here for
as long as you might need me. If there is anything -

'Yes, please. My bath . .. and some more wine? I daresay Serafina would
know where it is kept, if you don't.'

In the end, it had all been almost too easy! Serafina was nowhere to be
seen and Caterina too well trained, in spite of her age, to argue with an
order. After all, the signorina hadn't acted as if she planned to go anywhere,
how could she have known? She'd started the bathwater running and had scuttled
back down all those flights of stairs to fetch the wine of a very particular
kind that she would have to look for. In her eagerness to please, Caterina had
quite forgotten the lack of locks on the door she was supposed to guard. Who
could have known that the pretty signorina with the sun-gold lights in her hair
would take it into her head to actually venture downstairs? Or that she would
choose not to wear anything more than a towel, and that only too carelessly
wrapped about her body?

It had to have been Divinely decreed, Sara was to think later. For all
the guesswork involved, she really couldn't have timed it better, not even if
she had known beforehand that the Duchessa enjoyed al fresco meals beside the
pool.

Perhaps there was more of her mother and of Delight in her than she had
ever suspected before, and perhaps it was only the cold feeling of rage that
kept her from ignominious flight before she had descended, with impudent
nonchal¬ance, the last of those interminable marble steps. Afterwards, her only
real recollection was the stunned looks on the two faces that had turned
towards her, watching her jaunty progress. Everything she did and said seemed
to happen without volition; as if she'd transformed role into reality.

It was something that not even the servants, transformed suddenly into
frozen statues, would easily forget. Both Serafina and Caterina, searching
impatiently for the very particular kind of wine that had been ordered, missed
the greatest, and most successful performance of Sara's short¬lived career.

Even her 'surprised' hesitation was perfect as she widened her eyes at
the two women - noting almost annoyedly that one of them was quite young and
rather pretty - in a blonde, insipid way, of course!

'Phh! I'm sorry . . . didn't know there was anyone else here! Are you
friends of Marco's? How nice to have company for a change! And what a neat idea
to have lunch here, instead of up in my room or in that stuffy big dining-room
— such a bore, isn't it?' She smiled at them both in turn, noting with
vindictive satisfaction that neither of the two women, older or younger, seemed
capable of speech yet. 'D'you mind if I go ahead and have my swim, as I
planned? I haven't been in since Marco's been away, and just soaking in a dumb
old bathtub tends to get old after a time, if you know what I mean?'

Another bright smile and Sara dropped the towel, diving in cleanly and
with hardly any splash at all. It relieved some of the tension inside her to
swim two lengths of the pool before she put her elbows on the edge, pushing
dripping wet hair out of her eyes.

'Hi!' The first thing she noticed was the ugly patches of red that had
mottled the pale complexion of the blonde, at whom she now directed her
sweetest smile and her most confiding tone. 'I guess I should have introduced
myself before, huh? I'm Delight, and I'm Marco's girl-friend -current, that is.
Who're you?'

Oh there had been more, much more - both Daddy and Nanny Staggs, who had
tried to bring her up properly, would have been appalled if they could have
seen and heard her. She had been an absolute bitch, borrowing one of Marco's
favourite terms of endearment — and she didn't care! Not even the slightest
pang of guilt had altered her guileless look when the younger woman had surged
to her feet, knocking over her chair clumsily. She had a screechy, fishwife
kind of voice too, Sara decided critically.

'Oh... oohh! Madonna mia, but I will not put up with such humiliation,
not even for a title! I have enough money of my own and men who would respect
me enough not to... to install a cheap little slut under the same roof!' A
red-nailed finger pointed with almost ludicrous drama at Sara, who had to fight
to keep her expression confused. 'Look at that!Look at her, the shameless
American hussy who boasts of what she is to your son and swims naked in front
of everyone . . .! What an escape I've had, to be sure! I... I...'

As the words seemed to sputter into raging incoherence and the Duchessa
attempted to soothe and calm, Sara's clearly and deliberately enunciated words
seem to cut across the confusion, drawing everyone's attention to herself
again.

'Jee-sus! What's eating her? I mean, what have I done, to rate all the
name-calling? It's not my fault I'm here... I was engaged to marry Carlo, when
big brother dragged me out here - and in the middle of a Garon Hunt movie, no
less! And listen, I'm not the possessive type at all, I'm not jealous! I know
Marco digs some really kinky scenes with other gals for variety, and I've never
objected yetl'

The stridently shrill voice that she already hated rose by several
octaves as the blonde forgot she was a lady. 'Bitch! Puttana! Sciamannona! I
hope you drown in there!'

The Duchessa, who seemed to be a real lady in spite of all Sara's
resentment, now sent her a quelling look that reminded her of the headmistress
of the extremely ex¬clusive private school she'd been forced to attend — a
woman that Sara had been positively terrified and over-whelmed by.

'That is more than enough, young woman! Go back upstairs this instant,
and please do not forget your towel! I will deal with you later. And now, Lucia
— you really should not let yourself get so angry; you don't have the right
complexion for it, my dear! Come, why don't we find some privacy away from the
servants?'

Without another backward glance to see if her imperiously uttered
command had been obeyed or not, the Duchessa swept herself and the
still-sputtering Lucia out of sight and earshot with a real kind of splendour
that Sara was forced to admire in spite of herself and the prejudices she had
already formed in her mind. Had she gained a victory and her carefully planned
revenge or lost a battle?

All the hovering servants had vanished as if by magic -all the male
servants, that was. Sara had just hoisted herself, up out of the pool when her
towel was handed to her by a wooden-faced Serafina who looked at her in much
the same way as the Duchessa had.

'What a bad, wicked thing to
do! You make me ashamed, as I am sure your own madre would be if she could have
seen and heard you! Speaking that way, like . . . like all those things that...
the Signorina Lucia called you! An insult to the Duchessa in her own home - I
cannot answer for the consequences when II Duca hears about this! But I think
that he will be more angry than any of us have ever seen him before, and you
ought to tremble with fear!'

Sara was immediately angry with herself for the slight shudder that had
gone through her body, even though it was only caused by the chill of the air
after the warm pool.

Hah! She didn't really care how angry he might be in fact she wanted him
to be angry. Angry, and frustrated, when he returned and found her gone with
Angelo.

She preceded the still-scolding Serafina back up the marble stairs in
tight-lipped silence; consoling herself with the thought that in a few more
hours she would be free at last. And in the meantime she was not sorry for
anything she had said - not even the icy-eyed Duchessa with her autocratic
manner could force a retraction from her.

Back in her room - in her prison, Serafina barely stayed long enough to
utter a curt 'request' that made Sara seethe all over again.

If the Signorina would kindly remain in her rooms and put some clothes
on before the Duchessa sent for her? And if the signorina was hungry, food
would be sent up ...

Bread and water? Sara wanted to ask caustically, but instead she bit her
lip and refused to let herself be baited. A few more hours — that was all! And
in the meantime, what did she have to be afraid of? The Duchessa couldn't
really do anything to her, after all, and she'd be long gone before Marco
deigned to return - to find his precious, suitable fiancee no longer his. And
that would only be the first of the unpleasant shocks he would soon encounter!

Still in a seething mood of rebellion, Sara occupied herself in dressing
— stretch denim jeans (great for wall climbing!) that fitted her like a second
skin and a brief white cotton shirt knotted right under her breasts and leaving
very little to the imagination. Then... she looked at herself critically in the
mirror, trying to decide on her image. Lots and lots of make-up, vulgarly
overdone, or none at all? Sara frowned consideringly before she decided with
some reluctance that the make-up wouldn't do because of Angelo, who might think
she was giving him a come-on. In the end, she compromised by using just the
faintest smudge of brown eye shadow that blended with her newly acquired tan,
and eye liner. A touch of almost transparent gold lip gloss . . , not bad!

With her hair braided into two beribboned pigtails, Sara was able to
smile rather smugly at herself. She could pass as a precocious sixteen-year-old
if she tried hard enough; and maybe the Duchessa would believe it? And maybe,
after all, the Duchessa would decide to ignore her presence here.