Moth to the Flame (11 page)

'No,' he agreed with her. 'But do you suppose Mario will believe

that when he discovers your whereabouts, as I intend he shall?'

'Yes,' she improvised wildly. 'If he's your brother, he must know the

lengths you're prepared to go to in achieving your own way. I'll

explain to him. I'll tell him exactly everything you've said—you've

done. We'll see then whom he believes.'

'We will indeed.' He smiled faintly. 'Especially as by that time, he

will already have seen the newspapers.'

She stared up at him. 'Newspapers?'

He nodded. 'I'm surprised that someone as used to cameras as you

are,
cara,
did not notice that we were being photographed last night

at the restaurant. I also took the precaution before we set off last

night of telephoning a journalist of my acquaintance and casually

letting slip that we were heading south together for a few weeks of

sun and pleasure.' He paused. 'He was frankly envious of my good

fortune. You come highly recommended, Janina. I have not seen the

morning papers, but I've no doubt that by now he will have tipped

off his own gossip columnist and that the news that you are with me

will have permeated along the grapevine.'

She bit her lip. 'And that's that, of course,' she said, trying to infuse

the right amount of sarcastic scepticism into her voice. 'Once you've

set your arrogant seal on a woman, there's nothing more to be said.'

'I'll say this much,' he said quite gently. 'No one will ever believe,

mia,
that I had you here against your will, although they will

understand your motives for making such a claim. But believe me,

you are not the first—lady to enliven a vacation of mine.'

He was not boasting, just stating a fact, and there was no reason at

all. why hearing the words from his own lips should have cost her a

pang, but it did.

'Nor,' he added quite gently, 'is it the first time for you,
cara,
so let

us play no more games. Be honest—in other circumstances, this

little interlude could have been enjoyed by us both. As it is ...' He

shrugged.

'You're vile!' she whispered. If she had been flushed before, she was

now as pale as death.

His eyes hardened. 'Don't let us start calling names either. At best

it's unprofitable. Besides, I have far more names for you than you

could ever imagine for me.' He rose to his feet in one lithe

movement and stood looking down at her. In spite of herself, Juliet

shrank and her hands gripped the sheet until the knuckles showed

white. He saw the instinctive movement and smiled rather grimly.

'Don't worry,
cara.
As I was going to say—as it is, I wouldn't soil

my hands with you, so you have nothing to fear.' He turned away.

'And now I'll tell Annunziata to bring you some coffee. You look as

if you could do with some kind of stimulant.'

Dry-mouthed, she said, 'How can I be sure it's safe for me to drink?'

'It's safe.' He gave her an ironic glance. 'I have no Borgia blood,

mia?

'But you drugged me,' she said tonelessly. 'You drugged me and

brought me here, and now you're going to keep me prisoner, and

you really think you're going to get away with it.'

'You were hardly drugged,' he said coolly. 'A harmless sleeping pill,

that was all—a brand that my mother has taken for some time

without ill effects. And—yes, Janina, I do think I'm going to get

away with it. What you say about me, what you do when you leave

here is immaterial. My only concern is that you do not marry my

brother, and he will not stoop to pick up what he will believe are

my leavings. Nothing else matters to me. But if you are so foolish

as to cry your woes to the world, then I leave it to you to judge

whose account of these events is more likely to be believed. I am

not without influence, as you must realise by now.'

'I realise a great many things,' she said, her heart thudding so hard

that it was incredible that he did not hear it. 'And now have the

goodness to get out of my room.'

He gave her a long mocking look from the doorway. 'Something

else for you to realise,
cara
,' he said almost carelessly. 'This is not

your room. It is mine.'

And on that, he disappeared.

Juliet searched wildly for words to fling after his retreating figure,

but none came to her. When a moment or two had passed and she

was sure that he was not coming back, she turned over, buried her

face in the softness of the pillow and gave way to her overcharged

emotions.

There was little point in telling herself that she could have avoided

all this simply by telling him her real identity. It was too late for

those sort of recriminations now. Here she was, and here she would

stay until, presumably, he decided she had been here long enough,

or discovered his mistake.

She shivered as she lay, her wet face pressed against the softness of

the pillow. In many ways the whole escapade had started out as a

game of chess, in which she, the white queen, was going to

triumphantly overcome the arrogant black king. Now she knew

bitterly that she had merely been a pawn all along. A fierce

gladness rose within her at the knowledge that at least Jan had

escaped him. No matter what humiliation she herself had suffered at

Santino's hands, nothing could take away the fact that he had

ultimately lost. Jan and Mario were safe from his machinations at

least for the time being. What kind of married life they would have

if they were to live perpetually in the shadow of his disapproval,

she did not dare guess at.

Anyway, it was all so unnecessary and unfair. What, really, did he

know about Jan? Not even enough to enable him to distinguish her

from her sister. It followed therefore that his low opinion of her

must be based on hearsay, and there was no justice in that.

Juliet lifted herself up on to an elbow, scrubbing the remaining tears

from her eyes with a childish gesture. Well, even pawns had their

place in a chess game, she reminded herself, and there would be an

immense satisfaction in seeing his face, all his arrogance and power

deflated, when he learned how sadly all his carefully laid plans had

gone awry. Any humiliation she had suffered would be repaid in full

on that day, she told herself fiercely.

She glanced towards the door. It was not even closed now, let alone

locked, as if he felt he had won already. Well, he would discover

his mistake soon enough! She stiffened as she heard the sound of

approaching footsteps, then relaxed again as she realised she was

hearing the unmistakable shuffling of slippers, and not Santino's

quick stride.

A moment later a woman appeared in the doorway. She was a

plump soul dressed in the ubiquitous black, her thick grey hair

dragged back into an untidy bun. She carried a tray of the promised

coffee, and her plump olive-skinned face wore a broad grin. Dark

twinkling eyes candidly assessed Juliet as she approached the bed.

'Buon giorno, signorina. Come sta?' she greeted her.

'Benissima
,' Juliet replied with as much sarcasm as she could

muster, but it was entirely wasted, she saw with resignation as

Annunziata's face threatened to split in two with her smiles. She

nodded approvingly at Juliet as she placed the tray on the chest of

drawers, and poured some coffee into the fine china cup.

'Bella,
' she muttered as she handed Juliet the cup, and Juliet felt her

colour rise under the older woman's all-encompassing glance.

She took a cautious sip at the coffee, but this time there was no

underlying bitterness to warn her. It was hot and fragrant and just

what she needed, and in spite of herself she found her spirits

beginning to rise.

'Grazie,'
she said, indicating the coffee.

Annunziata broke into a flood of animated Italian, and Juliet with a

laughing shake of her head indicated that she did not understand.

Annunziata's face fell slightly, but she soon made it clear that she

did not consider a trivial language barrier any real obstacle to

having a gossip with her master's latest and unwilling guest.

Though of course Annunziata would not appreciate the fact that she

was unwilling, Juliet thought as she drank her coffee. It was quite

plain what the other woman thought was the true state of affairs,

and there wasn't the slightest hint of disapproval on her plump face

as she stood gazing down benignly on the girl in the bed.

Juliet finished her coffee with a sigh of repletion and placed the cup

back on the tray. The next thing to do, she decided, was obtain

something to wear. Using her few words of Italian and a lot of sign

language, she managed to ask Annunziata if she knew where her

clothes were, and to her relief the other woman nodded excitedly,

her eyes full of laughter as she expressed quite volubly and

unmistakably to Juliet's embarrassment that she too in her youth had

known so impatient and ardent a lover.

There was no point in arguing about the real facts, Juliet told herself

resignedly. There was no way in which she could make herself

sufficiently understood to disabuse Annunziata's mind of the notions

that possessed it. There was little doubt in her own mind that she

was far from being the first naked girl Annunziata would have

brought coffee to in Santino's bed, and she did not care for the pang

that this realisation cost her.

It was none of her business what Santino did, she told herself

resolutely, except where she herself was directly concerned. And

although she had been frightened and upset, and her Roman holiday

had been spoiled, yet it seemed she had little more to fear from him

than had already transpired. She might have to suffer his taunts, but

that was all. What was it he had said? '
I wouldn't soil my hands

with you
...' The remembered contempt in his voice chilled her in

spite of the heat of the day.

It was not long before Annunziata returned, lugging with her a

suitcase which Juliet recognised thankfully as her own. But when

she was alone again and able to examine its contents, she found to

her dismay that they were a curious amalgam of her own things and

Jan's as well. The glimpse she had had of Jan's wardrobe, not to

mention the dress she had worn the previous evening, had shown

her quite plainly that their style of dressing now lay worlds apart.

Jan's taste was more sophisticated and daring in every way, and

Juliet groaned as she examined some of the garments which would

have to see her through the next few difficult days.

She had no idea how long her enforced stay with Santino was going

to last. As she had expected, there was no sign of her bag, with the

precious wallet containing her passport and money, and she was not

silly enough to imagine she could hope to get anywhere without

them.

The

best

policy—indeed

the

only

one

under

the

circumstances—seemed to be to sit this thing out. Sooner or later,

she reasoned, Mario would be in touch to tell his brother that his

marriage was now a
fait accompli,
and after that there would be no

reason for Santino to detain her any longer. Unless he was so angry

with the deception that he murdered her and dumped her body in

the bay, she thought detachedly. One thing was certain, she could

not imagine him being a good loser.

At last she chose, almost in desperation, a pair of flared denim

pants with a brief matching waistcoat, which was slightly more

substantial than the majority of the tops that had been included, and

thrust her arms into a flimsy cotton peignoir which did belong to

her, while she searched for a bathroom.

She didn't have far to look. Two doors away she found a massive

bathroom with correspondingly massive marble furnishings. The

only concession to modernity, apart from the hot water and the

abundance of large fluffy towels, was the shower cabinet in the

corner, and Juliet made full use of it, revelling in the splash of the

cool water on her body. She dried herself slowly and' thoroughly,

before sampling some of the range of toiletries displayed on a wide

shelf above the handbasin. Some of the most famous names in the

French perfume industry were among them, and every possible