Unknown (5 page)

Domenico Manzu tapped on her open door. 'How do you find my palace?' he asked her.

'Lush,' she said. Offhand, it was the most horrible thing she could think of to say. 'Too lush for everyday living,' she added.

He glanced round the room. 'Even in here?'

Her eyes followed his. 'You have to admit it doesn't look as though you need any ransom from my father to keep you going,' she murmured.

'No?' His glance met and held hers. 'Perhaps I have kidnapped you for your beautiful face?'

She was disconcerted by his words. 'I'm not so conceited as to think you are interested in me personally,' she said. 'Besides, you wouldn't have brought me here for that! Not with your mother here—and every thing!' She moved restively beneath his gaze. 'So it has to be money!'

'You think too much about money,
cara,'
he rebuked her. There are other things in life. I am glad to know, however, that you have decided you have nothing to fear from staying under my roof.'

'I didn't say that,' she argued. 'How should I know what horrors you have in store for me?'

'But you are hoping for the best?' he taunted her.

'I'm hoping you'll let me go!' she retorted, stung. As if she would ever want to be the object of his attentions ! 'If you own a palace and come from such a long line of gentlemen, surely you're a gentleman yourself? I'm not afraid you'll either murder me, or rape me, if that's what you mean?'

He spread his hands in a gesture of fatality. 'Perhaps you should consider the possibility, Deborah Beaumont. I am a man before I am a gentleman—as were most of my ancestors, I believe.'

'I still don't think you'll murder me,' she said stiffly. 'And as for rape, if you're as easily tempted as all that, you should think twice before you send your minions out to capture hapless females who don't want to have anything to do with you!'

'Like yourself,' he murmured. 'It occurs to me you have been going out with this Michael of yours for too long. You may challenge him with impunity, but a real man is far more likely to conclude that you are asking for trouble.'

She gasped indignantly. 'How dare you? What do you expect me to do, I'd like to know?'

'I'd expect you not to put ideas into my head you can't begin to handle for a start,' he answered.

Fear licked through her veins. 'That's too much!' she protested. 'Why should I submit to being captured and '

'Kissed?'

'Certainly not! I can finish my own sentence, if you don't mind! I was going to say captured and held here against my will!' she finished. 'Of course I'm frightened and
—angry!'

His fingers bit into her shoulders. 'Are you afraid?'

Yes, she was! And she hated him too! She tore herself free of him and took a strategic step away from him towards the window.

'What if lam?'

His expression softened. 'You have no need to be afraid of anyone under my roof,
signorina
. Surely you know that?'

She felt hollow inside as she brushed her hair back off her face and attempted a rather feeble smile.

'I don't like being called
signorina
,' she objected. 'It's so—so foreign and Italian!'

'I am Italian,' he reminded her.

'Yes, I know.' She made a wry face. 'The noblest Roman of them all, I have no doubt, but that is hardly calculated to make me like it any better!'

He stood looking out the window into the small courtyard down below, his back to her. He looked strong and formidable from the rear and Deborah's spirits sank as she wondered what he was thinking.

'Shall I move you to another bedroom near my mother and sister?' he asked abruptly.

'So that I shall find it more difficult to escape?'

'Don't be a fool! So you will feel more at home here in the palace!'

'But I shall still try to escape,' she insisted. 'Not this afternoon, because I've promised I won't, but later on I shall keep on trying until I succeed!'

He turned and looked at her. 'Why?'

'Did you think I wouldn't?' she asked ironically.

'It seems to me most people would rather stay here in the palace as my guest than exist on bread and cheese and cheap wine in a student's flat somewhere in the city?'

'I'd rather be with my friends!' she maintained stubbornly.

'Friends who have to be paid to take care of you?'

That hurt. It hurt even more to remember how little Michael had actually done for her. He had passed her over to the chauffeur almost as though he had been glad to be rid of her. Perhaps none of them really cared whether she was there or not?

'I don't know that!' She tried to put a brave front on it, but her words sounded more than a little forlorn to her own ears. 'He may have had some other business with my father.'

'It's possible.' It was equally clear that Domenico Manzu didn't believe anything of the sort. 'But you won't find it easy to escape me, Debbie Beaumont. In any case, I should like to have your word again that you won't try to disappear this afternoon. You will find it tiresome while you are trying on your new clothes to have me too close to your side. You will have to choose between your desire to escape and your modesty. Which is it going to be?'

Deborah put off the moment of decision for as long as she could. 'Are we going shopping now?'

He put his head on one side, surveying her with a frankness that unnerved her. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, rubbing her fingers together.

'First we shall have your hair cut,' he decided. 'It is no longer fashionable to wear it long in Rome, pretty though it is. When it is short and properly shaped you will look quite different—more sophisticated—and that will be no bad thing!'

'I don't want to have it cut!'

He shrugged. 'The victim of a kidnapping can't expect to have her own way in everything '

'But it's
my
hair!'

He came close to her and putting out a hand tugged on one of her long locks. 'It will still be your crowning glory, I promise you that. If anything, you will be prettier than before.'

'That's not the point! I don't want to look pretty— not for you!'

'If you have your hair cut like a good girl, and don't run away until we have fitted you out with your own new wardrobe, I'll take you sight-seeing tomorrow and show you the very best of my city. Is it a bargain?'

She was tempted to remind him that she had already given him her word of honour, but she had no intention of allowing him to have his own way quite so easily. 'You don't have to
bribe
me ' she began.

'You will do it to please me?' he cut her off. 'That is a very pleasant thought, my dear. Do I have your promise you'll stay by my side for this afternoon at least?'

'That isn't what I was going to say. I'm too old to be bribed into good behaviour by anybody!' She carefully avoided meeting his eyes. 'I'm not going to promise anything!'

'Perhaps you are right,' he agreed at once. 'I shall be useful to you by doing up those awkward zips and advising you on the very latest in French underwear, about which I am considered something of an expert '

'You won't do anything of the sort!'

'On the contrary. I shall enjoy myself extremely! There is much pleasure to be had in helping to choose '

'You wouldn't!' her voice shook dangerously. 'Domenico, you wouldn't, would you?'

'Not if I have your promise not to escape from me today.'

'Very well, I promise—once more!' she murmured under her breath. She ought to be angry, she knew, but she felt more relieved than anything. It would be nice to be able to give her whole attention to the excitement of purchasing the new clothes he had decided she should have. She wondered if he had meant what he had said about French underwear. She had never worn such luxury items in her whole life and would never have considered such an extravagance if he had not held out the temptation to her. 'I won't need many underclothes,' she said, holding her breath in case he agreed with her, 'but I shall need some, and a nightdress, I suppose, and a petticoat, because I don't wear one with jeans, but it's different with a dress '

'You will need several of everything,' he agreed with a promptness that she found highly satisfactory. 'Shoes too!'

'Italian shoes,' she said reverently. 'It will all be terribly expensive!'

'That need not concern you. Your father will be footing the bill and I am sure he will want you to have only the best.'

She made a face at him. 'You don't know Father!' The excitement bubbled within her all the same. 'Do you think it dreadful of me to want pretty things so badly when I can't pay for them myself?' she asked him almost humbly. 'I shall blame it all on you! I'd never have thought of buying French underwear for myself!'

'If it helps reconcile you to my hospitality it will be money well spent!' he averred.

Her face fell. 'You can't buy friendships. No matter how many lovely things you give me, I'll still try and escape as soon as I can. I'd rather not have anything if there are strings attached! My price is much higher than a few fripperies!'

He folded his arms across his chest, unmoved by her spurt of temper. 'How high?'

'Higher than you can afford!' she declared wildly.

'I wonder,' he said. 'But I am not trying to buy you now, so you can put your prickles away with a clear conscience.' His eyes settled on her lips which trembled slightly under his regard. 'Will it make you feel better if I tell you that I have never yet been in the position of having to buy what I want from a woman? I am unlikely to begin with you!'

'I
hate
you! I wasn't You misunderstood me deliberately! I was only talking about the way people make use of one and think it quite all right if they offer you some of their surplus wealth in exchange. There's no
affection
involved '

He touched her cheek, exploring the line of her jaw with his forefinger and moving to her lips. 'Perhaps your pride prevented them from showing you much affection,' he suggested. 'Love and pride make uncomfortable bedfellows.'

'Sometimes pride is all one has left.'

'True, but don't expect more from people than they have to give, for it will hurt you more than them when they fail you.'

Deborah raised her eyes to his. 'But not if they really love me!'

'Perhaps not.'

'Would you fail someone you loved?'

His hand dropped to his side. 'Not intentionally. If I did, though, I should expect more from my beloved than hurt pride, but perhaps your Michael is less demanding. Shall we go?'

He wasn't
her
Michael! So little was he hers that she resented having their names coupled together, yet only that morning she had been happy enough to be in his company. She threw her jacket over her shoulders, holding the collar together under her chin.

'I hope he is,' she said soberly. 'He's a very nice person !' If she sounded more belligerent than she had any reason to be it was because she had remembered the cheque from her father made out in Michael's name. Was that hurt pride that made her feel humiliated by the discovery that Michael had been accepting money on her behalf? Well, if it was, she couldn't help it; it would be a long time before she forgave either of them for the giving and accepting of such a sum over her head.

'There is such a thing as proper pride!' she told him. 'One needs one's self-respect!'

'Not between a man and his woman,' Domenico stated.

'I'm nobody's woman.' She sounded desolate and that was exactly how she felt.

Domenico gave her a little push towards the doorway. 'Poor Michael!' he said in her ear as she went past him.

'Why
poor
Michael? He's a great artist and he's going to be madly rich one day! He's always telling me so!'

'But he hasn't got you?'

'I don't know. He may have.'

Domenico laughed and the sound grated against her nerves. 'If you were mine you would know it in every fibre of your being. There would be no room for any doubt in your mind!' He said something else in Italian and although she didn't understand exactly what it was, she was glad she didn't have to answer him. Her whole being trembled under his touch as he guided her down the long corridors of the palace towards the front door. His hand had a possessive feel to it as it swept her along by his side.

'I thought men preferred long hair,' she said, finding the silence hard to put up with. He could
not
have said he wanted to make love to her! How could he have done so when he found her gauche and rather silly? She must have misunderstood him. It had to be that!

'I should prefer yours short. Short and curling all over your head.'

'It isn't
very
curly,' she almost apologised.

'Properly cut, it will be beautiful,' he soothed her. 'You will see,
cara mia
, how well it'll suit you! Won't you trust me in this?'

She managed a brief nod, her breath having been taken away by the pace he had set. 'I've never had short hair!' she said. 'Not even when I was a child! But I may like it after all.'

'Good,' he said.

She sat beside him in the car wondering at her own meekness. Should she have put up more of a battle before submitting to his edicts about her future appearance? She might have done had he been anyone else, but she was strangely vulnerable where this particular man was concerned. She tried to make up her mind whether she liked him very much, or wanted to put as much distance between them as she possibly could. Neither solution was entirely satisfactory to her, and yet what was the point of wanting both to be with him and never to see him again?

The hair salon to which he took her was much grander than anything she would have thought of for herself. Deborah was doubtful of the soft apricot lighting and the smart, brittle attendants who escorted the customers from one scene of activity to the next. All of them spoke English, but they might as well have not for all the heed they paid to her. It was Domenico who commanded their attention, a Domenico who made himself completely at home in the feminine surroundings in which he found himself and who directed the whole operation on Deborah's hair with a firmness of purpose that brooked no argument from anyone, certainly not from either the man who was nominally creating the new style or Deborah herself.