Promise Of The Unicorn

She tried to return his glance with cool indifference, but she was already aware of the mounting colour in her cheeks, and his scarcely veiled amusement at her embarrassment. It would have given her the greatest pleasure to have been able to walk out on him, she thought furiously.

She sat stiffly while the waiter served the avocado vinaigrette, wondering if she would be able to choke any of it past the knot of tension in her throat. She was remembering various laughing comments from her stepfather about Angelo’s predilection for beautiful girls, and while she didn’t consider she came into that category, it was nevertheless disturbing to be looked over in that way.

By coming here today, she’d placed herself at a disadvantage, she realised ruefully. It might have been safer to wait for the anniversary party, and approach him under the sanctuary of her stepfather’s roof. As it was, she felt rather out on a limb suddenly.

It was all too easy to contemplate Angelo’s wealth and power as chairman of the bank, and virtual head of the Marchese family, and to overlook the fact that he was also very much a man, barely more than thirty, and sensationally attractive.

And for the first time he’d looked at her, not as if she was a troublesome child, but as though he liked what he saw. She wished wryly that she’d stayed with the jeans and sweatshirts he was accustomed to from her.

The second course—chicken in a thyme and lemon sauce—was served, and the wine was poured. With a dignified, ‘Perhaps you’ll ring for me, sir, when you’ve finished,’ the waiter withdrew.

‘Alone at last,’ Angelo remarked. ‘Don’t look so apprehensive, cara. There’s a very solid table between us, and you have an assortment of cutlery with which to defend yourself should my wicked desires prove uncontrollable.’

Sophie addressed herself to her chicken, her face wooden, raging inwardly that he could apparently read her thoughts with such accuracy.

‘No comeback?’ he continued tauntingly. ‘From your earlier remark, I thought you wanted me to regard you as a woman, but perhaps you’re having second thoughts about that.’

The moment of truth had come. Sophie lifted her chin and gave him a cool look. ‘Not in the slightest,’ she countered. ‘As it happens, it’s all to the good if you’re prepared to admit I’m not a child any more. You see——’ she moistened her suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘You see—I want to be married.’

CHAPTER TWO

THERE was a brief silence, blank, almost stunned, then Angelo burst out laughing.

‘Is that a proposal, mia cara? If so, I’m more flattered than I can say, but it is more usual, you know, for the man to do the asking.’

‘Of course it’s not a proposal.’ Sophie glared at him, stormy colour flaring in her face. ‘I wouldn’t marry you if …’ She paused belatedly, realising her denial could have been more politely worded.

‘If I were the last man left on earth?’ Angelo supplied silkily. ‘Why not have the courage of your convictions, Sophie, and say what you are undoubtedly thinking. So—let us agree that neither of us would be the choice of the other. Presumably you have met a man who meets all your stringent criteria as a husband. I am happy for you. Is that what you wanted to hear. Did you come here today to ask my blessing?’

‘Not entirely.’ Sophie fidgeted with her fork. She said carefully, looking down at her plate. ‘You see, my parents don’t want me to marry him, and I’m hoping you will persuade them to change their minds.’

There was another silence. She peeped at him under her lashes, and saw that he was frowning.

‘You are of legal age, Sophie. Why do you need their consent?’

‘Because of Grandfather Ralston’s will,’ she said baldly. ‘Look, I’d better explain everything from the beginning.’

‘I think you should.’ He refilled her glass.

‘I met Mark in the village a few months ago,’ she said. ‘I was caught in a shower of sleet, and I went into the antique shop in Market Street to shelter. It belongs to Mark’s aunt, and he was looking after it for her while she went to some sale or other. Well, we got talking, and he made some coffee, and …’ Sophie paused. ‘Well, that’s how it started,’ she said flatly. ‘We—fell in love.’ She gave him a challenging look. ‘Nothing to say?’

He shrugged. ‘The story seems conventional and innocuous enough. What is your parents’ objection?’

Sophie hesitated again. This was the difficult part. ‘As it happens, Mark hasn’t got a job. At least, he’s had a couple since he left university, but they haven’t worked out. Now, he has the most marvellous chance to go in with a man he knows called Craig Jefferson, making software for computers. He’s been offered a partnership, a share in the business, but, of course, he has to buy it and …’

‘And he has no capital,’ Angelo finished for her. She saw his frown had deepened. ‘I hope he has not tried to borrow money from John.’

‘Oh, no.’ Sophie shook her head quickly. ‘There’s no need. You see, there’s the Ralston money that Grandfather left me. It isn’t a great deal in your terms, but it would be enough to give Mark the start he needs. Only Grandfather was a real dyed in the wool male chauvinist. I only inherit the money when I’m twenty-one, or if I marry before that with the consent of my parents.’

‘Which they will not give.’ It was a statement not a question. ‘They can hardly be blamed, cara.’

‘You’re as bad as they are.’ Sophie bit her lip. ‘I’ve heard all the arguments over and over again, and they don’t matter. Mark and I love each other, and I want to do this for us. I want to give him the Ralston money and give him a start in life.’

He said drily, ‘It is more usual for a man contemplating marriage to provide his own start. But I’m sure John has already made this point to you.’

‘Many times,’ said Sophie defiantly. ‘And it makes no difference.’

‘I imagined it did not,’ he murmured. ‘So—you have come to me. Why do you think I should recommend this—Mark as a suitable husband for you?’

‘Because of a promise you once made.’ Sophie fumbled for her bag, pulling out the tissue wrapped parcel with fingers that shook. ‘You said if there was ever anything I really wanted—all I had to do was return it to you.’ She unwrapped the unicorn and stood it on the table between them, where the sunlight turned it to fire. ‘or are you going to tell me now that it was a piece of childish foolishness—something to keep me quiet, and that you didn’t really mean a word of it?’

There was a long silence, then he said expressionlessly, ‘If I said it, then I meant it. Be in no doubt of that.’

‘Then you promised you’d help me obtain my heart’s desire.’ Sophie’s pulses were beating strongly and heavily, and she was conscious of an odd film of perspiration on her brow suddenly.

Angelo’s dark eyes were fixed on her broodingly, a strange harshness in their depths, giving the impression he wasn’t really seeing her at all. He didn’t answer at once, and she repeated breathlessly, ‘You’ll help me?’

He leaned forward, and picked up the unicorn. For an instant, it seemed as if the long, lean fingers were going to crush it into splinters, and Sophie watched in a kind of bemused horror, then the moment passed, and perhaps, after all, it had only been a figment of her imagination, because he was smiling at her easily, and slipping the little figurine into his pocket.

‘As I promised, cara, you shall have whatever you most desire.’ He paused. ‘That is—if you are sure you know what it is?’

‘I’m sure,’ she said huskily. ‘I love Mark. We love each other. And he deserves this chance. My parents are just prejudiced against him for nothing. They don’t really know him.’

‘Then improving their acquaintance must clearly be a priority,’ Angelo said lightly. ‘Now, finish your lunch, Sophie, or William will be angry with us.’

Her chicken had cooled rapidly, but she didn’t care. She felt so exultant that she could have eaten sawdust and tasted only ambrosia. In the end, it had been easy, she told herself. He had remembered, after all, and he was going to keep his word.

He had also, she realised regretfully, kept the little unicorn, which she hadn’t intended at all.

William reappeared, with offers of dessert which Sophie refused, opting for coffee alone. She sat impatiently, watching Angelo peel himself a peach, the strong brown fingers moveing deftly. She wished that lunch was over and she could make an excuse and leave. She wanted to get back to Bishops Wharton, and tell Mark the fantastic news.

When William had served the coffee and brought Angelo a cognac, he departed, and they were alone once more.

Sophie cleared her throat. ‘So—how will you go about it then? Convincing my parents, I mean?’

He shrugged, watching the swirl of cognac in his glass. ‘I haven’t decided yet, but naturally, I wish to meet your Mark. I should only be a fool if I urged your marriage to someone I had never seen in my life. Will he be at the anniversary party, or has he been forbidden the house?’

‘Oh, no,’ Sophie said. ‘I’m allowed to see him. It’s just the idea of marriage that they’re so against.’

‘It is hardly surprising.’ His tone was dry. ‘Why not be patient, Sophie? Why not wait until you are twenty-one as your grandfather’s bequest states?’

‘I can’t. If we wait much longer, Craig Jefferson’s going to find himself another partner, and Mark will have missed out on the chance of a lifetime.’

‘On the chance of a partnership, certainly,’ Angelo agreed. ‘But, does it have to be that? Are there no other positions with the company? A different starting point, perhaps, from which he can make his own way without the help of his bride’s legacy.’ He paused. ‘I presume you have told him about the Ralston money?’

‘Naturally. I have no secrets from Mark.’

‘Admirable,’ he said sardonically. ‘And was it his idea to approach me for help, once you’d told him of the rash promise I gave you with the unicorn?’

‘Er, no.’ Sophie had to tread warily again. Mark’s actual suggestion had been far more direct and basic. ‘The guy’s loaded, sweetie. Couldn’t you persuade him to lend you the money?’ A suggestion she had flinched from. It had only been afterwards that she’d remembered the glass unicorn, and wondered if it might be a way out of their difficulties. ‘Actually, it was all my own doing. Mark hasn’t the least idea that I intended to approach you.’

‘And presumably, if he had known of your intentions, he would have moved heaven and earth to stop you.’

She hated that undertone of sarcasm. ‘Why should he?’

Angelo shrugged. ‘Perhaps—because I am not noted for offering favours. And perhaps because he might be frightened I might take—advantage of you.’

There was another silence, and Sophie’s discomfort deepened. Mark had frowned when she’d tried to explain about her fraught relationship with Angelo.

‘For heaven’s sake, Sophie,’ Mark had exclaimed impatiently. ‘Don’t you know you can’t afford to upset men in his position. If you’d played your cards right, you could have had him eating out of your hand by now. He’s not exactly immune to beautiful girls, you know.’

Snapping her attention back to the present, she said quickly, ‘I don’t suppose it even crossed his mind. Mark trusts me implicitly.’

‘He sounds a paragon,’ Angelo murmured. ‘I shall be interested to see who has managed to awaken such a passion of devotion in you, if nothing else.’

Sophie set down her coffee cup with an indignant rattle. ‘What do you mean by that?’

He smiled faintly, his eyes lingering in the wide eyes, then down to the vulnerable curve of her mouth. ‘That in spite of your protests, you are still very much a child, Sophie, and that marriage is a drastic way to achieve maturity. Why don’t you enjoy your first love for what it is, and forget marriage for a while?’

Sophie bit her lip as she rose to her feet, reaching for her jacket. ‘That’s exactly the sort of cynical remark I’d expect from you. I hope you’re not suggesting that I should follow your example, and have one affaire after another.’

‘On the contrary.’ Angelo had risen too. He was standing, his head thrown back slightly, watching her, his face speculative. ‘But I hope in turn that you have not fallen in love with this young man because he is the first one to have kissed you. That is hardly a sound basis for matrimony.’

Sophie’s face burned as she struggled into her jacket. ‘That’s none of your business.’

He said flatly, ‘You have made it my business.’ He walked round the table towards her. ‘And the least I can do, Sophie mia, is provide you with grounds for comparison.’

She wanted to run, but the chair was behind her, blocking her way, and as she tried to thrust it from her path, Angelo reached her, his long arms pulling her effortlessly against him.

She said hoarsely, ‘Don’t you dare to …’ but the remainder of her words were lost beneath the pressure of his mouth on hers.

He was very strong, some part of her brain acknowledged numbly. Under the elegant suit, his body was like whipcord, and the kiss should have been hard too. But it wasn’t. Instead his lips were warm and devastatingly sensuous as they explored her own, coaxing them apart to provide him with a more intimate access to her mouth.

Her mind was repeating ‘No’ over and over again, but her mouth was surrendering, her body melting against his, here in this sunlit cage of a room.

He wasn’t even holding her any more. His hands were caressing her instead, stroking the nape of her neck under the smooth fall of her hair, tracing the curve of her spine beneath her jacket, his fingers scorching her flesh through the thin material of her blouse.

She could have stepped back away from him, only she didn’t, because suddenly she wanted the kiss to go on. And she knew too that she wanted him to go on touching her too. That she wanted to know how his hands would feel on her bare skin.

Sanity returned like a drenching with cold water, shattering the sensual dream world which had so insidiously enfolded and enticed her. She wrenched herself free, a hand going instinctively to cover the aroused fullness of her parted lips.

A voice she hardly recognised as her own, said, ‘You had no right to do that.’

He shrugged, his eyes bright and merciless as they studied her. ‘What right did I need? You are not this Mark’s wife, Sophie, not yet.’

She said unsteadily, ‘But I will be. And if I tell him what you’ve done …’

‘Ah.’ He smiled. ‘But you won’t tell him, will you, cara? Or, if you do, you won’t tell the whole truth. Just as you didn’t share the secret of the unicorn with him.’

His shrewdness appalled her. She flung back her head. ‘I would never lie to Mark.’

His brows rose. ‘So—what will you tell him? That it began with a kiss, and ended with both of us wanting more—much more.’ He added softly.

Colour flared in her face. She said thickly. ‘You’re disgusting.’

‘I’m honest,’ he said cynically. ‘But you, mia cara, are a little hypocrite, denying the responses of your own body.’ He took a step towards her, his smile deepening. ‘Shall I prove it to you?’

She recoiled, almost stumbling in her haste. ‘Don’t touch me.’

He halted. The dark eyes met hers, holding them effortlessly in thrall, and to her dismay she felt a shock of totally physical desire shiver through her body. He didn’t have to touch, or even speak. The invitation was there in the way he was looking at her, and it would be easy, so fatally easy to cross the brief space which separated them, and answer that invitation with her lips, and her body.

She closed her eyes, blotting him out, rejecting him with her mind, a shudder of self disgust quivering through her.

But at least she was back in control again, and her eyes opened, unleashing at him all the scorn she could muster. She said quietly, ‘You’re despicable, and I wish with all my heart that I’d never come here.’

‘Ah, but you did,’ he said softly. ‘And the bargain between us still stands, Sophie mia.’

She said violently, ‘Well, I want no further part of it,’ and, turning, walked away out of the room and away from him, wishing that her dignity would allow her to run.

By the time the train pulled in to Bishops Wharton, Sophie was almost able to convince herself that she’d been drunk. There was no other explanation for her behaviour. She’d had that sherry, and then he’d kept topping up her glass with wine, and she wished she knew a word bad enough to call him.

She went straight round to Market Street. Miss Langton was in the shop, and she gave Sophie an indifferent nod as the shop bell tinkled.

‘He’s in the flat,’ she advised briefly. ‘Go on up.’

As Sophie obeyed, she wondered about Mark’s relationship with his aunt. As far as she could gather, each was the only relative the other had, yet there didn’t seem to be a great deal of mutual affection. And when she’d tentatively asked Mark if his aunt couldn’t lend him the money for the Jefferson partnership, he’d stared at her as if she was crazy.

‘Aunt Edwina?’ He’d laughed. ‘Darling, that glorified junk shop of hers doesn’t provide that kind of income.’

Sophie didn’t argue, but she wondered whether Mark wasn’t too dismissive of his aunt’s business. The shop was always attractive and well-stocked, and Miss Langton appeared to have a shrewd knowledge of the value of each and every item.

Mark was stretched out on the sofa, watching television, but he sat up eagerly as Sophie came in.

‘Darling.’ He drew her down to him and kissed her, his lips lingering on hers. ‘God, you look beautiful—like a million dollars.’

She smiled rather tautly, and sat down beside him. ‘While we’re on the subject of money, I went to see Angelo Marchese today.’

‘You did?’ Mark almost yelped. ‘You wonderful girl. What did he say? Is he going to help us?’

‘Up to a point.’ Sophie chose her words carefully. ‘He wants to meet you, and after that, hopefully, he’s going to talk my parents round about our marriage.’

‘Fantastic.’ Mark hugged her, his face jubilant. ‘So all I have to do is convince him I’m a solid citizen, and worth a boost in the right direction. Consider it done.’ He shook his head at her. ‘And you didn’t want to approach him.’

‘I still wish I hadn’t.’ Sophie stared down at the carpet. ‘He made a pass at me.’

‘Well, I’m not surprised,’ Mark said cheerfully. ‘You look delectable. I can hardly keep my hands off you myself,’ he added with a ferocious leer.

Sophie didn’t smile. ‘Don’t you care?’ she asked curiously.

He sighed almost impatiently. ‘Of course I care, darling, but I don’t suppose it was any big deal. You’re a member of his family now, after all. Besides, according to the papers, he has bigger fish to fry,’ he added carelessly. ‘Some dress designer woman. There was a picture of them at some nightclub last night.’ Mark slid his arm round her shoulders. ‘Now, tell me everything Marchese said.’ He paused. ‘I don’t suppose he mentioned lending you the money.’

‘No, he didn’t,’ Sophie said. ‘And I could never ask him, Mark. Please believe that.’

‘All right.’ He gave a faint shrug. ‘We’ll play it the way you want it, darling. It seems to have worked pretty well up to now. What did you do? Appeal to his better nature?’

‘I don’t think he has one,’ Sophie said bitterly. ‘No, I—I reminded him that he’d been kind to me when I was a child—that’s all.’

He grinned. ‘Well, it was certainly enough.’

More than enough, Sophie thought bitterly. It disturbed her that Mark seemed to have failed to understand her feelings in all this. He regarded the events of the day as some kind of unqualified triumph, as if all their difficulties had been swept away in one fell swoop.

Sophie, however, was far from sure about this. She had no doubt that Angelo could persuade her stepfather to do almost anything he chose—if he wished, but he had made no actual guarantees.

She said slowly, ‘Mark, perhaps it would be safer not to hope for too much.’

‘Nonsense,’ Mark said briskly. ‘Can’t you see, darling, that just to meet someone of Angelo Marchese’s stature is the biggest break I’ve ever had. It’s the kind of chance I’ve dreamed of.’

Sophie gave him an uneasy glance. ‘Still, maybe it would be better not to say anything yet to Craig Jefferson.’

He shrugged. ‘Probably not.’ He smiled at her. ‘Who knows? If I play my cards right, maybe I won’t need Jeffersons any more anyway.’

Her alarm deepened. ‘What do you mean?’

He sighed. ‘Oh, come on, Sophie. If it comes to a choice between Jeffersons and—say—the Marchese bank, then it’s no contest. Even you must be able to see that.’

‘But there is no choice,’ Sophie protested, beginning to feel desperate. Mark seemed to be disappearing out of sight suddenly.

‘Not yet. But then I haven’t met your cousin.’ Mark said almost absently. ‘When and where is this meet to take place? Should I ring the bank? Make an appointment?’

Sophie sighed. ‘No—you’ll meet him at my parents’ anniversary party. And he’s not my cousin,’ she added sharply.

He gave her an indulgent smile. ‘Don’t quibble, sweetheart. And do cheer up. After all, this is exactly what we wanted.’

‘It’s what you wanted certainly,’ Sophie said coolly. She rose, smoothing a non-existent crease in her skirt with hands that shook a little. ‘I just hope we don’t live to regret it.’

She felt no happier on the night of the anniversary party itself. She’d been on edge all day, but trying to hide it as she helped Barbara and Mrs Curzon the housekeeper to complete the final touches.

She was dreading the moment when she would have to face Angelo again. The memory of that shameful kiss he had inflicted on her was still strong, and she was unable either to laugh it off as unimportant, or shrug it away as experience. In fact, she was in danger of becoming obsessive about it, she told herself. And the most galling reflection was that Angelo would undoubtedly be highly amused if he knew of her heartsearchings over such a triviality.

She was in her room when his car swept up the drive. She caught a glimpse of the chauffeur opening the back of the Rolls, and his dark figure emerging, before whisking herself away from the window. The last thing she wanted was for him to look up and catch her peeping at him like a schoolgirl.

She took all the time in the world to bathe and dress for the party, timing her descent to the drawing room to coincide with Mark’s arrival.

She took a long look in the mirror, and nodded with qualified approval. The new dress in white chiffon with its draped Grecian bodice and floating skirt was becoming, and she hoped her hair, piled into a carefully casual top-knot gave her some added sophistication.

Mark was standing before the appletree-log fire which had been kindled on the drawing room’s wide hearth. He looked unfamiliar in the formality of his dinner jacket, and endearingly apprehensive as he glanced towards the door. Sophie went into his arms like a homing bird, lifting her mouth for his kiss.

‘God, you look beautiful,’ he said huskily.

She smiled up at him. ‘We aim to please,’ she whispered teasingly.

He swallowed. ‘Is he here?’

She nodded. ‘He arrived about a couple of hours ago,’ she said neutrally.

‘Has he said anything?’

Sophie bit her lip. ‘I—er I haven’t seen him yet,’ she offered rather weakly. ‘I was upstairs when he arrived and …’

Mark groaned. ‘I suppose you’re avoiding him,’ he accused. ‘Sophie, for heaven’s sake. We need to be nice to the man, and that includes you.’

‘Fine,’ she said tautly. ‘Just how nice would you like me to be? I’m sure he’ll meet me more than halfway.’

‘Darling,’ he said patiently. ‘You’re very innocent in many ways. Are you sure you didn’t just—misinterpret an avuncular gesture?’

‘Perfectly,’ Sophie said. ‘Any uncle who behaved like that could end up in court.’