Promise Of The Unicorn

He gave her a coaxing smile. ‘My poor love, you sound as if you had quite a shock. But you’re quite safe. I’ll take care of you.’

It was what she wanted to hear, and as his arms closed round her again, she melted eagerly against him, closing her mind to everything but the realisation that this was Mark who she loved and who loved her …

From the doorway, Angelo said drily, ‘La disturbo? Am I disturbing you?’

Mark released her hurriedly, and Sophie stepped back, her face flaming, avoiding Angelo’s ironic gaze as he came slowly across the room towards them.

He said coolly, ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am Angelo Marchese, and I think you must be the young man Sophie intends to marry.’

‘I’m Mark Langton, yes.’ While they shook hands, Sophie sought to recover her composure.

‘I must apologise for my thoughtless intrusion,’ Angelo was saying pleasantly. ‘But I did not expect to find the drawing room occupied. Sono molto dispiacente.’

Mark said eagerly, ‘It really doesn’t matter. After all, the main purpose of my being here is to meet you.’

Angelo’s eyes rested on his meditatively. ‘As you say,’ he agreed. ‘Perhaps we could further our acquaintance over a drink? Sophie—will you act as hostess for us. I’ll have whisky with ice if you please.’

‘And with soda for me,’ Mark put in, and Sophie noted irritably that his tone was almost deferential.

She said expressionlessly, ‘Of course’ and went off to get the drinks. When she returned Mark was in full spate about Craig Jefferson’s company and the amazing opportunity for investment it presented, while Angelo listened with courteous interest. Mark broke off almost reluctantly to accept the drink she handed him.

Angelo lifted his glass to her. ‘You are an enchantment to the eyes, mia cara,’ he said softly. He looked at her empty hands. ‘You don’t drink with us. Not even a sherry—or perhaps—a glass of wine?’

Sophie shook her head, her eyes meeting his unflinchingly. ‘I don’t think alcohol agrees with me,’ she said.

Angelo’s eyes narrowed mockingly, but he made no reply, and at that moment John and Barbara came into the room, Barbara exclaiming distractedly because they had not been the first downstairs.

After that, the evening seemed to merge into a blur for Sophie. At the dinner table, she was nowhere near either Mark or Angelo and couldn’t hear what, if anything, they were saying to each other.

And when the meal was over, she had to do the dutiful rounds of the other guests before she could ask her mother tentatively if she knew where Mark was.

Barbara frowned. ‘He and Angelo seem to be smoking cigars in the conservatory,’ she said tartly. ‘I hope that young man doesn’t mean to be a nuisance and monopolise Angelo for the remainder of the evening. He seems to be following him about, and as he’s your guest, it’s up to you to see that he behaves. I don’t want Angelo to be annoyed.’

‘Oh, God forbid,’ Sophie’s chin lifted. ‘It doesn’t occur to you, Mother, that they might have mutual interests to discuss this evening?’

Mrs Marchese gave her a dry look. ‘Frankly, no, darling. Now please rescue Angelo. After all, he comes down here to relax.’

‘Oh, really?’ Sophie was openly sarcastic. ‘I thought he had Signora Vanni for that.’

Barbara’s expression was scandalised. ‘Sophie—that is no concern of yours.’

Sophie shrugged wearily. ‘Of course not. I’m sorry. I’ll—go and break up the smoking party.’

But as she moved along the covered walk to the conservatory, Mark was already coming to meet her, his face alight, and his eyes gleaming with excitement.

‘There you are.’ He grabbed her arm, bruising the flesh. ‘I’ve got to talk to you.’

Sophie detached herself, rubbing her arm ruefully. ‘Is this private enough?’ she asked, indicating the long cane seat which stood against the wall.

‘Yes, of course.’ He said down with her. ‘Sophie, you’re all wrong about Angelo Marchese. He couldn’t have been nicer to me. He thinks, like me, that Craig’s offer is the chance of a lifetime.’ He paused, drawing breath. ‘He says that I have ambition, and he likes that,’ he disclosed with a kind of awe. ‘He wants to get to know me better—discuss my future in more depth—his own words.’ He took both her hands in his. ‘Sophie, he’s invited both of us to stay with him on this private island he has. He wants us to join him there at the end of the month.’ He paused again. ‘What do you think of that?’

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘Angelo has invited you—us to Avirenze? I don’t believe it.’

‘Why not?’ Mark’s tone held a touch of aggression. ‘I just told you—we got on well together.’ He grinned. ‘And I have the distinct impression he means to make me an offer himself.’

‘An offer you can’t refuse?’ Sophie asked with a kind of desperate flippancy, then sobered. ‘Mark—do we have to accept this invitation?’

‘Of course we do.’ He stared at her as if she was mad. ‘A millionaire’s hideout near Capri—that’s fantasy stuff, and I’m not missing out. It’s different for you,’ he added a shade peevishly. ‘I suppose you’ve been there a dozen times already.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I never have. My parents go each year, but they were always invited during term time.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘I can understand why, I suppose. I was enough of a brat to have started asking embarrassing questions about why Angelo was there with a different lady each time.’

‘Was he?’

Sophie’s brows lifted. ‘You sound envious,’ she accused with a smile in her voice.

But Mark didn’t seem to hear the smile. He said flatly, ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Is this why you don’t want to go to Avirenze? Because of some silly childhood embargo?’

She shook her head. ‘Of course not. But I don’t understand this invitation, and I can’t really believe it’s all as simple and friendly as you seem to think.’ She took a breath. ‘What it boils down to is—I don’t like Angelo, and I don’t trust him either.’

‘Oh for God’s sake, you’re letting your prejudices run away with you,’ Mark said irritably. ‘This is important to me, Sophie, and important to my career. Hell, after we’re married, we’ll have to entertain clients, and you’re not going to like them all, but you’re going to have to behave as if you do. Well, start practising with your cousin Angelo.’

‘Angelo is not my cousin,’ Sophie reminded him wearily. ‘And he’s not noted for his philanthropy either.’

Mark shrugged. ‘He agreed to help you when you asked him, didn’t he,’ he demanded unarguably. ‘Anyway, I don’t know what you’re complaining about. A couple of weeks in the sun off the coast of Italy. Where’s the harm in that?’

The harm, Sophie thought, was Angelo—the shadow in that sun. But it was clearly pointless pursuing any such argument with Mark. She’d seen Angelo’s charm in operation before, and although she was immune, Mark was bound to be flattered by the attention he was receiving.

She said quietly, ‘If you’re really set on going, I suppose I must agree.’

‘Sophie—don’t act like a martyr,’ he appealed with an irritated groan. ‘This could be a turning point in our lives.’ He kissed her. ‘It will be wonderful,’ he whispered. ‘I know it will.’

She made herself smile, return his kiss, but the warmth of his lips did little to dispel the chill of unease within her—the chill that reminded her that the Marchese family had been manipulating people since the time of the Doges of Venice.

The party didn’t break up until nearly three in the morning. It had been a great success, and people were leaving with obvious reluctance.

Mark was among the first to go. ‘I don’t want to out-stay my welcome,’ he murmured as he kissed her goodbye. ‘After all, I want your family to like me.’

Sophie was troubled, however, as she made her way back to the drawing room. John and Barbara had been little more than civil all evening, and she could imagine their reaction when they learned Mark was going to Avirenze. If Angelo’s ploy was to force Mark into their company, then it clearly wasn’t going to work, and so she would tell him.

But finding an opportunity to do so was another matter. Angelo was deep in conversation with her stepfather, and they looked as if they might be there for the rest of the night, so at last, she admitted defeat, and said good night to the room at large.

But once in her bedroom she made no attempt to get undressed. She felt too jittery to rest or relax, and she sat by the window for a while, watching the stars fade.

It seemed ages before she heard the sounds of movement and muted voices which suggested the party had broken up at last.

She waited until the house was quiet, then slipped out of her room like a little ghost and made her way to the room Angelo occupied when he stayed with them.

She knocked, but there was no reply, and she hesitated. Surely, he couldn’t be asleep already. She went to knock again, but as she did so, the door opened abruptly, and she was caught off-balance, her hand raised, feeling foolish.

She said lamely, ‘Oh, there you are.’

‘Where else did you imagine I would be at this hour?’ Angelo returned drily. ‘What do you want, Sophie?’

‘I need to talk to you.’

‘Then could it be at a more civilised hour? As you see, I was about to go to bed.’

Yes, she saw. He was wearing a dressing gown in dark red silk, reaching to mid-thigh and loosely belted at the waist. The neck hung open in a deep vee, revealing an expanse of hair-darkened skin. and the long muscular legs were bare too. His black hair looked damp and slightly ruffled, as if he’s just taken a shower.

His eyes surveyed her impatiently. ‘Well?’

‘I’m sorry, but I’d rather it was now,’ Sophie said. ‘I—I won’t keep you long.’

‘That,’ he said grimly. ‘I can guarantee.’

As he motioned her past him into the room, and turned to close the door, Sophie knew a twinge of misgiving.

‘Perhaps it would be better if I waited …’ she began.

She saw the familiar gleam of mockery in the dark eyes. ‘Nervous, Sophie? But of what? Surely not me—but perhaps—yourself?’

She flushed dully. ‘That is not what I came here to discuss,’ she said icily.

‘How disappointing,’ he said, and for a moment, the dark eyes rested on her lips like a disturbing caress.

She felt the breath catch in her throat, and hurried into speech. ‘Why have you asked us to Avirenze?’

His brows lifted. ‘I understood from your parents, it had always been one of your ambitions to go there.’

‘When I was a child, perhaps.’ Sophie said with hauteur.

‘But no longer?’ The long brown fingers cupped her chin, turning her reluctant face up to his. ‘What is your objection?’

Sophie trod carefully. ‘Because there’s no need for you to go to these lengths. I know I asked for your help, but …’

‘You did,’ he said. ‘And now you are questioning the way in which that help is to be given. Isn’t that a little churlish, Sophie?’

Well, she should have expected that, Sophie thought grimly. She said, ‘I thought you intended to encourage my parents to get to know Mark.’

‘I do,’ he said. ‘And how better than during a relaxing stay on Avirenze. It’s a very small island, Sophie mia. It encourages intimacy—at all levels.’

He was baiting her, but she refused to rise to it. A lot of the wind had been taken out of her sails anyway. ‘You mean—Mother and John are coming as well. I—I didn’t realise.’

‘Naturally they will be there,’ Angelo said. ‘Anything else would hardly be decorous.’

‘Oh?’ Sophie’s voice was tart. ‘I wasn’t aware that decorum was any big deal with you.’

He sent her a sardonic grin. ‘But where members of my family are concerned,’ he said softly. ‘It will amaze you how decorous I can be.’

‘I’m not a member of your family. I’m a Ralston,’ she said flatly. ‘Will other people be there too?’

His grin widened. ‘Plenty of other people,’ he said silkily. ‘With a little care, cara, it should be possible for you to avoid me completely.’

She flushed mutinously. ‘Will Gianetta Vanni be among them?’ She could have bitten out her tongue the moment the question was asked. She expected a crushing snub in return.

But, all he said, quite mildly, was, ‘You wish me to supply a guest list for your approval, cara?’

‘No,’ she snapped, hating him. ‘It’s your island. I suppose you’re entitled to invite anyone you like.’

He laughed. ‘Graciously spoken. So—have I allayed your fears? Do you still believe that I am willing to help you to your heart’s desire?’

The words were lightly spoken, but she was aware that he was watching her keenly, and she moved awkwardly, avoiding his gaze.

At last, she said stiltedly, ‘I’m sorry. I’m clearly putting you to a great deal of trouble.’

‘You talk nonsense,’ he said. ‘And it was always my intention to invite you to Avirenze, cara.’ He added softly. ‘I was only waiting for you to become a woman.’

There should have been some smart comeback to that, but for the life of her, Sophie couldn’t think of one.

Instead, she heard her voice sounding very young, and rather breathless, as she bade him good night and turned, heading blindly for the door.

He was there ahead of her, opening it courteously for her. But that meant she had to brush past him, and suddenly he was altogether too close, the cool clean scent of his skin overwhelmingly in her nostrils.

For a startled moment, her whole body seemed to breathe him, and she knew an overpowering longing to turn to him, to feel his arms close around her, to know once more the taste of him—the touch …

She felt as helpless as a puppet. Invisible strings were drawing her. Nameless desires were turning her limbs to water, slowing her instinctive flight. She wondered crazily what he would do if she put her lips against his skin, where the neck of his robe parted, and the breath choked in her throat as she realised exactly what she was inviting.

She couldn’t look at him in case she saw in his face some recognition of her torment. Because if he knew—if he had the least idea, she would be shamed forever.

She thought, ‘Oh, God, what am I doing here?’ and fled, her heart hammering like that of a terrified bird.

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