The Count's Prize

‘Here at the Castello di Sirena emotions run deep—deeper even than the spring that feeds our ancient lake. It is a place made for pleasure, not for relentless work. Let me show you.’

His voice was a warm caress of desire.

Work later, play now …

The gentle sounds of nature receded as her head filled with clouds of cotton wool. She seemed to be looking at herself from outside. Instead of taking the piece of fruit from Dario’s fingers with her own, she watched herself lean forward to take it directly into her mouth. Through a warm mist of arousal she heard herself gasp as the peach’s unctuous nectar ran down her chin.

Dario had never expected her to do something so spontaneous. His shock and surprise seamlessly turned to raw lust, ready to overwhelm him. No one could expect a man like the Count di Sirena to refuse such an invitation. Swiftly and silently, he took Josie’s hands and moved in to taste her …

About the Author

CHRISTINA HOLLIS was born in Somerset, and now lives in the idyllic Wye valley. She was born reading, and her childhood dream was to become a writer. This was realised when she became a successful journalist and lecturer in organic horticulture. Then she gave it all up to become a full-time mother of two and run half an acre of productive country garden.

Writing Mills & Boon® romances is another ambition realised. It fills most of her time, in between complicated rural school runs. The rest of her life is divided among garden and kitchen, either growing fruit and vegetables or cooking with them. Her daughter’s cat always closely supervises everything she does around the home, from typing to picking strawberries!

You can learn more about Christina and her writing at www.christinahollis.com

Recent titles by the same author:

WEIGHT OF THE CROWN

THE ITALIAN’S BLUSHING BRIDE

THE FRENCH ARISTOCRAT’S BABY

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Count’s

Prize

Christina Hollis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Martyn, for all your invaluable help and understanding.

CHAPTER ONE

JOSIE couldn’t help herself. Trying to pretend that this was going to be just another job was impossible. Bouncing forward in her seat, she rapped on the glass partition separating her from the di Sirena family’s impeccably dressed chauffeur.

‘Stop! Please stop!’

The man immediately stamped on the brakes and whipped around to look at her, his face full of concern. ‘Is there something wrong, Dr Street?’

‘No, no, sorry, nothing’s wrong. I didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s just that I was told the Castello Sirena is very beautiful, so I want to be sure of getting a good look at it,’ Josie confided, sinking back into the sumptuous leather upholstery.

Her chauffeur nodded in agreement. ‘That’s quite understandable, signorina. This castle has been called the most beautiful Italian property still in private hands. But, as you will be staying for a month, surely you will have plenty of opportunities for sightseeing?’

‘I don’t know—I’ve got so much to do while I’m here. I might not have that much spare time to just … admire it,’ she said, smiling. Her excitement at the prospect of new archaeological discoveries was shadowed slightly by the thought of talking about her work in front of students next term, but that worry could wait. She had lots of lovely research to do before then. ‘I’m preparing my first course, and I want to bring some of my undergraduate study trips to this part of Italy.’

One look at the surrounding countryside, glowing gold in the sunshine, and Josie knew that seeing the Castello Sirena just as part of a research project was going to be difficult. The place oozed distraction. However, the ink was barely dry on her PhD and contract of employment at the university, so she didn’t want to smudge either by not making the absolute most of this opportunity. It had taken endless persuading and presentations to get any funding at all for this trip and she’d been so lucky that her best friend, Antonia, had invited her to investigate their family estate in such a way—the Castello Sirena was usually closed to researchers. Without that cherry, she didn’t think her office would have given her the money to travel, and as it was they’d only funded her for a couple of weeks at most.

As a child, she had driven her mother mad by filling their tiny house with muddy bits of ‘buried treasure’ found in the garden. Mrs Street had sacrificed a lot over the years to see her daughter through university, so Josie was determined to build herself a professional reputation for always putting her job first—at least, that was what she kept telling herself.

She whipped her camera out of her bag.

‘Can you spare a minute while I take some photos?’ she asked the driver. ‘My mum back home in England is never likely to see a place like this for herself. I want to give her some proof I’m actually going to be staying in a castle!’

She had hardly finished speaking before the driver got out and opened the car door for her.

‘Oh, that’s so kind of you! I didn’t mean to put you to any trouble …’

‘It’s no trouble, signorina, as I told you when I took charge of your bags.’

His words made Josie go hot with horror all over again. The summer day was warm enough already, without an embarrassing reminder of that scene at the airport. She was so used to fending for herself, being greeted there by a stranger in a sharp suit and totally black sunglasses had made her instantly suspicious. She had refused to hand over her things until she’d checked his ID.

‘Then thank you.’

Josie stepped out of the car and into the furnace that was Tuscany in July. She took a few quick snaps along the tree-lined drive towards the great castle on the hill, then dived back into the luxury of the di Sirena limousine as soon as she could. Its air-conditioning was a wonderful treat on a day like today.

‘What was that lovely smell?’ she asked as they set off down a cool green corridor formed by trees planted on either side of the mile-long drive.

‘This lime avenue is in flower.’ Her driver waved his hand towards the leafy green canopy overhead as they cruised along. ‘Insects love them. You can hear them buzzing from a long way away. Count Dario once told me there could easily be several million bees working away on the flowers at any one time.’

Josie thought that was a very fitting image. Count Dario was the brother of her friend Antonia. Josie had never met him but, from the tales Antonia told about him, the man sounded a real drone. He partied every night and loafed around his estates during the day while everyone else did the actual work. It was no wonder he knew all about bees.

‘Stroll beneath these trees when the sun is high above the old campanile, Dr Street, and you’ll hear them purring like a Rolls-Royce engine.’

Josie sighed. ‘It sounds lovely.’

‘You should make the most of this place while you have it all to yourself,’ the driver said. ‘It was another late one last night, so everyone is still asleep. We’ve already been told the current crop of house guests won’t be taking lunch today. Signora Costa, the housekeeper, will be making arrangements for you to eat alone, Dr Street.’

Josie shut her eyes in relief and thanked her lucky stars. The castello might be a new experience for her, but she had holidayed at Antonia’s apartment in Rome and the di Sirena family villa in Rimini several times. In both places, her best friend’s neighbours were all seriously grand. They were lovely people, but that didn’t stop Josie feeling as out of place as a sardine in a tank full of angel-fish. She always enjoyed playing with little Fabio while his mother, Antonia, went shopping; it was the evenings spent listening to people she didn’t know talking about spending three months skiing and visiting places she had only seen in colour supplements that Josie found hard work. Making small talk was her idea of hell. She was taking it for granted that Antonia’s older brother would be nocturnal because of his notoriously wild social life. That suited her. It meant she would be free to work in and around the ancient splendour of the Castello Sirena all day and be fast asleep before he surfaced, ready for another night on the tiles. With the limited amount of time available to her, she didn’t think she could afford to waste a single day.

At the thought of what Count Dario would be doing in the evenings, it was impossible not to feel a twinge of envy. She looked around at the sun-drenched acres of the Castello Sirena. Although she loved her work, Josie sometimes felt like a hamster on a wheel. She had to keep forging ahead just to pay her bills, while people like Count Dario had everything handed to them on solid silver ancestral platters.

When she’d first started sharing rooms with Antonia at university, she’d wondered if their wildly differing backgrounds would poison their friendship. Instead, it was a source of endless amusement. And when either of them hit rough times, the other was there with support.

Loyalty was important to Josie. She’d thought she had found it in her ex-fiancé, but she had been proved as wrong about him as Antonia had been about her own partner, Rick. When Antonia got pregnant, Rick had abandoned the poor girl instantly. Josie helped her best friend to pick up the pieces, but secretly she thought Antonia was better off without the guy.

After her own experiences, Josie was developing a very jaundiced outlook when it came to men. When her friend decided that she wanted to stay at home with her baby, rather than getting back to her studies, it was a blow to Josie. Her work just wasn’t the same without her friend. That was why she was so looking forward to this project. It gave her a great chance to work, with the prospect of catching up with Antonia and little Fabio when they got home from Rimini.

Josie had to admit that a bit of her envied her friend’s freedom to choose …

‘Right, here we are.’

The chauffeur broke into her thoughts as he pulled up at the great front entrance to the castello. Josie got out of the car, pulling her skirt straight. As she looked up at the rambling old building she fiddled with some unruly strands of brown hair that had escaped from her ponytail. Imagine living in a place like this. The high stone walls and towering fairy-tale turrets were so beautiful. She wondered how many warriors had cantered up to this awe-inspiring entrance over the centuries. Its great oak door was studded with huge iron nails and bleached by hundreds of bright summer days like this one. In the centre, the figure of an iron mermaid, copied from the di Sirena family’s crest, looked down on her with scorn.

Behind her, the chauffeur drove off to deliver her luggage to the back of the house. Conscious of being the latest in an endless line of visitors over the years, Josie advanced, caught hold of the great iron bell pull on one side of the door and got ready to pin on her best public smile.

Count Dario di Sirena was bored. As usual, he had entertained his guests lavishly the night before, but that meant there was no one up and about to entertain him yet. The yachting club members had been busy into the early hours, sampling the wide range of wines in the castello’s cellars. Alcohol had no particular attraction for Dario any more, so he was letting his guests sleep it off this morning while he made his usual early start. That was fine for them, but it left him short of a tennis partner. Hitting balls pitched at him by a machine was no substitute for a proper match. Not that many visitors to the castle ever seemed keen on sport, although they never refused his hospitality. His guests’ interest in him only as a name to drop was beginning to irritate Dario.

Just for once I’d like to find someone willing to forget my rank and give me a good hard game, he thought, scything the heads off a dozen innocent moon daisies with the head of his racket. He opened a green swathe through the sea of calm white flowers. Seeing it, he took another pass, sending florets spinning through the sunshine. As he was idly wondering if it might be satisfying to try scything the whole meadow like that, he heard one of his cars.

Shading his eyes against the relentless sunlight, he watched it stop briefly outside the house while a girl got out. Dario quickly tried to remember who this new visitor could be. Surely it wasn’t Antonia’s friend? She wasn’t supposed to be arriving until the twelfth. He checked the date on his watch, and grimaced. Today was the twelfth. He sighed. Since he’d inherited his title, he found time passed so quickly that all the days merged into one another. Time slipped away like water through his hands, and what did he have to show for it? A golf handicap that was fast approaching zero, and enough frequent flyer miles to circumnavigate the solar system.

Anything Dario wanted, he could have.

Except a good reason for getting up early, he thought.

Shouldering his racket, he strode over to introduce himself to the new visitor with a smile.

Antonia had told him that her best friend was here to work and was not to be … distracted. The way his sister described Dr Josie Street, Dario half expected to be playing host to an eccentric nun. The woman he now saw trying to raise the alarm outside his house was far more appealing than that.

Although … he considered, looking her over with a practised eye, she’s doing her best to hide it. Josie’s tightly drawn-back hair, concentrated frown and shapeless clothes all indicated a woman fighting her natural good looks as hard as she could. She certainly fitted his image of an English academic. Hmm … maybe someone should tell her that there’s more to life than study, he thought in passing as he drew closer to her.

Years spent toiling on archaeological digs as a student meant Josie was no weakling, but the bell pull defeated her. She tried knocking on the door, but its six inches of solid oak deadened all sound. The chauffeur was bound to have warned the other staff that she was on her way, but Josie suspected it would be some time before they came to check. When one final haul couldn’t dislodge the bell pull she stood back, brushing flakes of rust from her hands in disgust.

‘Buon giorno.’

She jumped at the intrusion, and swung around. A man was walking towards her out of the sun, and the mere sight of him made her stand and stare. Towering head and shoulders over her, he was all toned limbs and easy grace. His unruly black hair and flashing eyes were teamed with a golden tan and immaculate tennis whites. It was a breathtaking combination, and she suspected he knew that only too well. In contrast to Josie’s dusty travelling clothes, everything he wore seemed brand new. The state-of-the art tennis racket he bounced against the palm of his left hand as he drew closer didn’t look as if it had ever been used in anger. It even had daisies woven into its strings.

I wonder if they were threaded there by some girl? Josie thought, glancing around to see if this vision was making his way over to someone glamorous who might be standing nearby. The courtyard was otherwise deserted so, wonder of wonders, he must be heading straight for her.

She didn’t need to be told who it was. Those soft brown eyes and dense dark lashes were instantly familiar. This must be her host, Antonia’s brother. To Josie’s eyes, he looked even more wayward than his reputation.

‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am Count Dario di Sirena.’

The vision confirmed her suspicions with a voice like warm honey. In a grand gesture he reached for her hand and swept it up to his lips for a formal kiss.

Josie’s immediate reaction was shock. ‘Why aren’t you in bed?’ she blurted out.

Dario raised his eyebrows. ‘I assume that isn’t an invitation?’

Josie snatched back her hand and retreated, blushing furiously. She had got off on the wrong foot in spectacular style, even for her.

Dario smiled, ignoring her awkwardness. ‘You must be Josie.’

‘Dr Josephine Street, yes,’ she muttered, ignoring the little voice inside her telling her off for sounding so sullen. Meeting new people had never been easy for her, and it was ten times harder when they were this gorgeous.

‘That’s very formal, Dr Josephine Street!’ Dario teased, but Josie was too flustered to smile back at him and flirt like he was no doubt expecting.

‘I’m a very formal person.’

‘Then allow me to say that it gives me the greatest pleasure to welcome you into my humble home,’ he announced with mock gravity. As he spoke, he inclined in a semi-formal bow. When Josie pointedly refused his unspoken invitation to join in the joke he straightened up again, but he was still smiling.

Josie knew that hiding her shyness behind a brave face often worked, so she fell back on that. She lifted her chin and returned his gaze boldly. This was a man who was at ease in every situation—she had learned that much from Antonia’s stories. The same stories that had led her to surreptitiously search for him on Google the other night. Neither the gossip columns nor Antonia had exaggerated. His aristocratic bearing made those anecdotes all too believable, and one look at Count Dario di Sirena showed that his charm ran deep. He was as gorgeous as he was imposing, and radiated an inner assurance that all the wealth and power in the world couldn’t buy. Dario in the living, breathing flesh was a different prospect altogether from his sister—Josie’s cheerful, chubby friend. Without a doubt, he was the best-looking man she had ever seen. The way he looked at her was its own distraction: it set her firmly at the centre of his universe.

It took a supreme act of will on Josie’s part to remember that most men had the attention span of fruit flies. She took it for granted that when she failed to massage his ego Dario would soon lose interest and disappear. That tactic had worked only too well for her in the past, even though she hadn’t done it deliberately. Men seemed to vanish, whether she wanted them to or not. An experienced charmer like Dario wouldn’t waste his time in trying to pursue her.

‘I’m surprised you chose to come straight here instead of staying at Rimini with Antonia and little Fabio first, Dr Street,’ he said conversationally, trying to penetrate her awkward silence.

The spotlight of his attention paralysed Josie. Somehow he seemed to be blinding her, even though his face was in shadow. She moved uncomfortably, trying to persuade herself it was the sun that was sending her temperature off the scale.

‘You can call me Josie,’ she mumbled. ‘I’ve stayed at your villa there before, and felt that I rather cramped Antonia’s style. She always tried to include me in her entertaining, but all those posh neighbours with their stories about people and places I didn’t know were …’ She groped for a way to put it politely.

‘Not quite your cup of tea?’

Dario’s words were slow, but the merriment in his eyes was quicksilver. Hearing his beautiful Italian accent caress such a typically English phrase, Josie felt it melt the veneer of sophistication she had tried to put on. The fierce heat of embarrassment rushed up over her breasts and stained her face with a blush again.

‘The chauffeur took my luggage away with him and left me here on my own. I was trying to work out how to attract someone’s attention.’

‘You’ve got my attention now,’ Dario said with calm assurance, and something deep inside Josie flared to life, wishing that were true. Impervious to Josie’s internal turmoil, Dario reached out to the bell pull and flicked aside a small catch that Josie hadn’t noticed. It was keeping the iron rod clamped in place.

‘Ah—of course. Thank you.’

She put out her hand automatically, but he caught it before she could connect with the heavy iron ring. For a split second she experienced the grip of his strong brown fingers again, then his touch fell away.

‘I wouldn’t. That’s the castello’s original fire alarm, and this is the assembly point. It operates a big bell that gathers everyone within earshot and I don’t think either of us would want that, would we?’

Josie shuddered. The idea of being the centre of attention horrified her—unless her audience was as warm and friendly as this man. With a smile that told her he knew exactly what she was thinking, Dario flicked the safety catch back on.

‘To ring the bell, you need to get up close and personal with Stella Maris here,’ he said, nodding towards the iron mermaid. ‘One of my forebears had a wicked sense of humour.’

Dario seemed to have inherited it. Sticking out his index finger, he pressed the mermaid firmly in the tummy button. An astonishingly loud ring drilled into the interior of the house.

‘Ah! Was this one of the inventions of the eighth Count? When Toni suggested I came here, I read everything I could find about the castello,’ Josie gabbled to cover her embarrassment.

Dario looked bemused, then shrugged. ‘If you say so. I have no idea, I’m afraid. Whoever thought of it must have wanted to deter honest women.’ Dario gave her a wickedly expressive look.

Josie blushed again. Beside Dario, she felt like a hedge sparrow matched against a peregrine falcon. He was totally at ease in his sunny surroundings, and dressed to enjoy them. Josie wasn’t. Her shoes were comfortable but clumpy, while her chain-store skirt suit was totally out of place beyond her university’s lecture theatre.

Within seconds, the great main door creaked open and a servant showed them into Dario’s home.

The castello’s entrance hall was dominated by a huge stone hearth. The fire back was a copy of the di Sirena family crest, with more mermaids like the ones Josie had seen discreetly stamped on Antonia’s luggage.

‘There go your things,’ Dario observed as a member of his staff swept past carrying a suitcase in each hand. ‘They’ll have put you in the West tower. That means you won’t be disturbed by any of the yachting club who stayed here last night. They’re all in the East wing. Come on, I’ll show you up to your suite.’

While Josie stared in wonder at the entrance hall’s carved ceilings and wooden panelling, he was taking the marble staircase two at a time. When he called to her, she had to run to catch up.

‘I’m sure you must have better things to do, Count Dario. Don’t let me put you to any trouble.’ Her voice echoed through the foyer.

He looked down at her sharply from his vantage point on the first landing. ‘You’re already a friend of the family, Josie, so to you I’m Antonia’s brother. Just call me Dario. It really would be my pleasure to show you to your suite,’ he finished firmly.

Josie followed him, although she had her reservations.

‘Are you sure you can find it?’ she said drily as they walked through a warren of corridors. All the flawless white plaster and polished woodwork made them look alike to her.

‘I have been rattling around inside this place all my life. Hasn’t Antonia told you why these floors are so shiny?’

Josie shook her head, smiling at the incongruous image of Dario with floor polish in hand.

‘I’d tie dusters to her feet and push her up and down, along all these miles of corridors. No matter how upset she was, that could always make her laugh.’