In The Count's Bed: The Count's Blackmail Bargain / The French Count's Pregnant Bride / The Italian Count's Baby

His voice broke across her reverie. ‘What are you thinking?’

Quickly she forced a smile. Spoke eagerly. ‘Oh, just how good it will be to see Paolo again. We don’t seem to have been alone together for ages.’ She managed a note of anxiety. ‘You really do think you’ll be able to persuade your aunt?’

‘Yes,’ Alessio said quietly, after a pause. ‘Yes, I do.’

And they ate the rest of the meal in silence.

Siestas were probably fine in theory, thought Laura. In practice, they didn’t seem to work quite so well. Or not for her, anyway.

She lay staring up at the ceiling fan, listening to its soft swish as it rotated, and decided she had never felt so wide awake. She needed something to occupy her.

Her book was finished, its ending as predictable as the rest of the story, and she had no wish to lie about thinking. Because her mind only seemed to drift in one direction—towards the emotional minefield presided over by the Count Alessio Ramontella.

And it was ludicrous—pathetic—to allow herself to think about a man who, a week ago, had been only a name on the paperwork from the Arleschi Bank’s head office. A distant figurehead, and nothing more.

And no matter how attractive he might be, that was how he would always remain—remote. No part of any world that she lived in, except for these few dreamlike, unforgettable days.

Except that she had to forget them—and pretty damned quickly too—as soon as she returned to England, if not before.

She slid off the bed. She’d have a shower, she decided, and wash her hair. She’d brought no dryer with her, but twenty minutes or so with a hairbrush in the courtyard’s afternoon sun would serve the same purpose.

Ten minutes later, demurely wrapped in the primly pretty white cotton robe she’d brought with her, and her hair swathed into a towel, she opened the shutters and stepped outside into the heated shimmer of the day.

She was greeted immediately with a torrent of yapping as Caio, who was lying in the shade of the stone bench, rose to condemn her intrusion.

Laura halted in faint dismay. Up to now, although he was in the adjoining room, he hadn’t disturbed her too much with his barking. But she’d assumed that the Signora had taken him with her to the other end of the house to share her sick room vigil. She certainly hadn’t bargained for finding him here in sole and aggressive occupation.

‘Good dog,’ she said without conviction. ‘Look, I just want to get my hair dry. There’s enough room for us both. Don’t give me a hard time, now.’

Still barking, he advanced towards her, then almost jerked to a halt, and she realised he was actually tied to the bench. And, next to where he’d been lying, there was a dish with some dry-looking food on it, and, what was worse, an empty water bowl.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ She spoke aloud in real anger. Caio would never feature on any ‘favourite pets’ list of hers, but he deserved better than to be left tied up and thirsty.

She moved round to the other end of the bench, out of the range of his display of sharp teeth, and grabbed the bowl. She took it back to her bathroom, and filled it to the brim with cold water.

When she reappeared, Caio had retreated back under the bench. He growled at her approach, but his heart clearly wasn’t in it, and the beady, suspicious eyes were fixed on the bowl. She put it on the ground, then, to demonstrate that the suspicion was mutual, used her hairbrush to push the water near enough for the tethered dog to reach it. He gave a slight whimper, then plunged his muzzle into the bowl, filling the silence with the sound of his frantic lapping.

When he’d finished every drop, he raised his head and looked at her in unmistakable appeal.

I could lose a hand here, Laura thought, but Caio made no attempt to snap as she retrieved the bowl and refilled it for him.

‘You poor little devil,’ she said gently as he drank again. ‘I bet she’s forgotten all about you.’

The leash used to tie him was a long one, but Laura realised that it had become twined round the leg of the bench, reducing his freedom considerably.

She could, she thought, untangle it, if he’d let her. But would he allow her close enough to unclip the leash from his collar, without doing her some damage?

Well, she could but try. She certainly couldn’t leave him here like this. She could remember hearing once that looking dogs in the eye made them more aggressive, so she seated herself at the far end of the bench, and moved towards him by degrees. When she was in his space, she clenched her hand into a fist and offered it to him, trying to be confident about it, and talking to him quietly at the same time. His initial sniff was reluctant, but he didn’t bite, and she tried stroking his head, which he permitted warily.

‘You may be spoiled and obnoxious,’ she told him, ‘but I don’t think you have much of a life.’

She slid her fingers down to the ruff of hair round his neck and found his collar. As she released the clip Caio made a sound between a bark and a whimper, and was gone, making for the open space of the garden beyond the courtyard. And after that, presumably, the world.

‘Oh, God,’ Laura muttered, jumping to her feet and running after him, stumbling a little over the hem of her robe.

What the hell would she do if she couldn’t find him? And what was she going to say to the Signora, anyway? She’d be accused of interfering, which was true, and coming back with a counter-accusation of animal negligence, however justified, wouldn’t remedy the situation.

She had no idea how extensive the villa’s grounds were, or if they were even secure. Supposing he got out onto the mountain itself, and a wolf found him before she could?

This is what happens when you try to be a canine Samaritan, she thought breathlessly as she reached the courtyard entrance, only to find herself almost cannoning into Alessio, who was approaching from the opposite direction with a squirming Caio tucked firmly under his arm.

‘Oh, you found him,’ she exclaimed. ‘Thank heaven for that.’

‘I almost fell over him,’ he told her tersely. ‘Where has he come from?’

‘He was tied to the bench over there. I was trying to make him more comfortable, and he just—took off. I was terrified that I wouldn’t be able to find him.’

‘He was out here—in this heat?’ Alessio’s tone was incredulous, with the beginnings of anger. He glanced at the bench. ‘At least he had water.’ He looked at Laura again, more closely. ‘Or did he?’

She sighed. ‘Well, he has now, and that’s what matters.’ She was suddenly searingly conscious of the fact that she was wearing nothing but a thin robe, and that her damp hair was hanging on her shoulders. ‘I—I’ll leave him with you, shall I?’ she added, beginning to back away.

‘One moment,’ he said. ‘What made you come out here at this time?’

‘I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d wash my hair, and dry it in the sun.’ She forced a smile. ‘As you see.’

His brows lifted. ‘A rather primitive solution, don’t you think? Why didn’t you ring the bell for Emilia? She would have found you an electric dryer.’

‘I felt she had enough on her plate without running around after me. And it is siesta time, after all.’ She paused. ‘So, why are you here, come to that?’

‘I could not sleep either.’ He glanced down at Caio, who returned him a baleful look. ‘Under the circumstances, that was fortunate.’

‘Just in time to spoil his bid for freedom, poor little mutt.’ She offered the dog her hand again, and found her fingers being licked by his small rough tongue.

‘You seem to have made a friend, bella mia.’ Alessio sounded amused. ‘My aunt will have another reason for jealousy.’ He scratched the top of Caio’s head. ‘And I thought the whole world was his enemy.’

‘He’ll think so too, if we tie him up to that bench again,’ Laura said ruefully.

‘Then we will not do so. I will put him in my aunt’s room instead, with his water. His basket is there, anyway, and he will be cooler,’ he added, frowning. ‘I cannot imagine why she would leave him anywhere else.’ He sighed. ‘Another topic for discussion that will displease her.’

‘Another?’

‘I have yet to raise the subject of your visit to Paolo.’

‘Oh, please,’ Laura said awkwardly. ‘I’ve been thinking about that, and maybe I shouldn’t persist. If she’s so adamant, it will only cause problems.’

He said gently, ‘But that is nonsense, Laura mia. Of course you must see your lover. Your visit can do nothing but good, I am sure.’ His gaze travelled over her, from the high, frilled neck of her robe, down to her bare insteps, and she felt every inch of concealed skin tingle under his lingering regard. Felt an odd heat burgeoning inside her, which had nothing to do with the warmth of the day.

He smiled at her. ‘And I will ask Emilia to bring you the hairdryer,’ he added softly, then turned away.

Laura regained the sanctuary of her room, aware that her breathing had quickened out of all proportion.

She closed the shutters behind her, then, on impulse, decided to fasten the small iron bar that locked them. It had clearly not been used for some time because it resisted, finally falling into place with a bang that resounded in the quiet of the afternoon like a pistol shot.

She could only hope Alessio hadn’t heard it, because he’d be bound to put two and two together. And the last thing she needed was for him to think that he made her nervous in any way.

Because she had nothing to fear from him, and she was flattering herself to think otherwise.

Someone like Alessio Ramontella would live on a diet of film stars and heiresses, she told herself, pushing her damp hair back from her face with despondent fingers. And if he’s kind to me, it’s because he recognises I’m out of my depth, and feels sorry for me.

And as long as I remember that, I’m in no danger. No danger at all.

Her reunion with the dying Paolo was scheduled to take place before dinner. A note signed ‘Ramontella’ informing her of the arrangement had been brought to her by Emilia, along with the promised hair-dryer.

He’d certainly wasted no time over the matter, Laura thought as she followed Guillermo over to the other side of the villa. All she had to do now was pretend to be suitably eager.

She’d dressed for the occasion, putting on her other decent dress, a slim fitting blue shift, sleeveless and scoop-necked. Trying to upgrade it with a handful of silver chains and a matching bracelet.

She’d painted her fingernails and toenails a soft coral, and used a toning lustre on her mouth, emphasising her grey eyes with shadow and kohl.

The kind of effort a girl would make for her lover, she hoped.

She found herself in a long passageway, looking out onto yet another courtyard. The fountain here was larger, she saw, pausing, and a much more elaborate affair, crowned by the statue of a woman crafted in marble. She stood on tiptoe, as if about to take flight, hair and scanty draperies flying behind her, and a bow in her hand, gazing out across the tumbling water that fell from the rock at her feet.

‘The goddess Diana for whom the villa is named, signorina,’ Guillermo, who had halted too, told her in his halting English. ‘Very beautiful, si?’

‘Very,’ Laura agreed with less than total certainty as she studied the remote, almost inhuman face. The virgin huntress, she thought, who unleashed her hounds on any man unwise enough to look at her, and who had the cold moon as her symbol.

And not the obvious choice of deity for someone as overtly warm-blooded as Alessio Ramontella. Her dogs would have torn him to pieces on sight.

She looked down the passage to the tall double doors at the end. ‘Is that Signor Paolo’s room?’

‘But no, signorina.’ He sounded almost shocked. ‘That is the suite of His Excellency. The signore, his cousin, is here.’ He turned briskly to the left, down another much shorter corridor, and halted, knocking at a door.

It was flung open immediately, and the Signora swept out, her eyes raking Laura with an expression of pure malevolence.

‘You may have ten minutes,’ she snapped. ‘No more. My son needs rest.’

What does she think? Laura asked herself ironically as she entered. That I’m planning to jump his bones?

The shutters were closed and the drapes were drawn too, so the room, which smelled strongly of something like camphorated oil, was lit only by a lamp at the side of the bed.

Paolo was lying, eyes closed, propped up by pillows. He was wearing maroon pyjamas, which made him look sallow, Laura thought. Or maybe it was the effect of the lamplight.

She pulled up a chair, and sat beside the bed. ‘Hi,’ she said gently. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Terrible.’ His voice was hoarse and pettish, and the eyes he turned on her were bloodshot and watering. ‘Not well enough to talk, but Alessio insisted. I had to listen to him arguing with my mother, and my headache returned. What is it you want?’

‘I don’t want anything.’ She bit her lip. ‘Paolo, we’re supposed to be crazy about each other, remember? It would seem really weird if I didn’t ask for you.’ She hesitated. ‘I think your cousin feels that I’m stuck here in a kind of vacuum, and feels sorry for me.’

‘He would do better to concentrate his compassion on me,’ Paolo said sullenly. ‘He refuses to call a doctor, although he knows that I have had a weak chest since childhood, and my mother fears this cold may settle there.’ He gave a hollow cough as if to prove his point. ‘He said he would prefer to summon a vet to examine Caio, and he and my mother quarrelled again.’

Laura sighed. ‘I’m sorry if you’re having a difficult time, but you’re not the only one.’ She leaned forward. ‘Paolo, I’m finding it really hard to cope with being the uninvited guest round here. I need you to support me—take off some of the pressure.’ She paused. ‘How long, do you think, before you’re well enough to get up and join the real world again?’

‘When Mamma considers I am out of danger, and not before,’ he said, with something of a snap. ‘She alone knows how ill I am. She has been wonderful to me—a saint in her patience and care.’ He sneezed violently, and lay back, dabbing his nose with a bunch of tissues. ‘And my health is more important than your convenience,’ he added in a muffled voice.

She got to her feet. She said crisply, ‘Actually, it’s your own convenience that’s being served here. You seem to be overlooking that. But if you’d rather I kept my distance, that’s fine with me.’

‘I did not mean that,’ he said, his tone marginally more conciliatory. ‘Of course I wish you to continue to play your part, now more than ever. I shall tell Mamma that you must visit me each day—to aid my recovery. That I cannot live without you,’ he added with sudden inspiration.

Her mouth tightened. ‘No need to go to those lengths, perhaps. But at least it will give me a purpose for staying on.’

‘And you can go sightseeing, even if I am not with you,’ he went on. ‘I shall tell Mamma to put Giacomo and the car at your service at once.’ He coughed again. ‘But now I have talked enough, and my throat is hurting. I need to sleep to become well, you understand.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Of course.’ She moved to the door. ‘Well—I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Outside, she leaned against the wall and drew a deep breath. The daily visits would be a rod for her back, but, to balance that, being able to use the car was an unexpected lifeline.

It offered her a means of escape from the enclosed world of the villa, she thought, and, more vitally, meant that she would no longer be thrown into the company of Alessio Ramontella.

And that was just what she wanted, she told herself. Wasn’t it?

CHAPTER SIX

EXCEPT, of course, it had all been too good to be true. As she should probably have known, Laura thought wryly.

Several long days had passed since Paolo had airily promised her the use of the car, and yet she was still confined to the villa and its grounds, with no release in sight.

Naturally, it was the Signora who had applied the veto. Paolo was still far from well, she’d pronounced ominously, and, if there was an emergency, then the car would be needed.

‘If you had wished to explore Umbria, signorina, then perhaps you should have accepted my nephew’s generous invitation,’ she’d added, making Laura wonder how she’d come by that particular snippet of information.

But it was an invitation that, signally, had not been repeated, although she often heard the noise of the Jeep driving away.

And far from them being thrown together, after that first day, the Count seemed to have chosen deliberately to remain aloof from her.

He’d finished his breakfast and gone by the time she appeared each morning, but he continued to join her at dinner, although the conversation between them seemed polite and oddly formal compared with their earlier exchanges. And afterwards, he excused himself quickly and courteously, so that she was left strictly to her own devices.

So perhaps he too had sensed the danger of being over-friendly. And, having brought about her reunion with Paolo in spite of his aunt’s disapproval, considered his duty done.

She should have found the new regime far less disturbing, and easier to cope with, but somehow it wasn’t.

Even in his absence, she was still conscious of him, as if his presence had invaded every stone of the villa’s walls. She found she was waiting for his return—listening for his footsteps, and the sound of his voice.

And worst of all was seeing his face in the darkness as she fought restlessly for sleep each night.

The evening meal, she acknowledged wretchedly, was now the highlight of her day, in spite of its new restrictions.

It was an attitude she’d have condemned as ludicrous in anyone else, and she knew it.

And if someone had warned her that she would feel like this, one day, about a man that she hardly even knew, she would not have believed them.

Yet it was happening to her—twenty-first-century Laura. She was trapped, held helpless by the sheer force of her own untried emotions. By feelings that were as old as eternity.

She’d soon discovered that he was not simply on vacation at the villa when she’d made herself take up his invitation to borrow something to read. His library, she saw, was not merely shelved out with books from floor to ceiling, but its vast antique desk was also home to a state-of-the-art computer system, which explained why he was closeted there for much of the time he spent at the villa.

Though not, of course, when she’d paid her visit. It had been Emilia who had waited benignly while she’d made her selection. She had just been hesitating over a couple of modern thrillers, when, to her surprise, she had come on a complete set of Jane Austen, and her choice had been made. She’d glanced through them, appreciating the beautiful leather bindings, then decided on Mansfield Park, which she hadn’t read since her school days.

The name Valentina Ramontella was inscribed on the flyleaf in an elegant sloping hand, and Emilia, in answer to her tentative enquiry, had told her, with a sigh, that this had been the name of His Excellency’s beloved mother, and these books her particular property.

‘I see.’ Laura touched the signature gently with her forefinger. ‘Well, please assure the Count I’ll take great care of it.’

However tenuous, it was almost a connection between them, she thought as she took the book away.

But, although the hours seemed strangely empty in Alessio’s absence, she was not entirely without companionship as one day stretched endlessly into the next.

Because, to her infinite surprise, Caio had attached himself to her. He was no longer kept in the courtyard, but she’d come across a reluctant Guillermo taking him for a walk in the garden, on the express orders of his master, he’d told her glumly. Seeing his face, and listening to the little dog’s excited whimpers as he’d strained on the leash to reach her, Laura had volunteered to take over this daily duty—if the Signora agreed.

Even more surprisingly, permission had been ungraciously granted. And, after a couple of days, Caio trotted beside her so obediently, she dispensed with the leash altogether.

He sometimes accompanied her down to the pool, lying under her sun lounger, and sat beside her in the salotto in the evenings as she flexed her rusty fingering on some of the Beethoven sonatas she’d found in bound volumes inside the piano stool. At mealtimes, apart from dinner, he was stationed unobtrusively under her chair, and he’d even joined her on the bed for siesta on a couple of occasions, she admitted guiltily.

‘I see you have acquired a bodyguard,’ was Alessio’s only comment when he encountered them together once, delivered with a faint curl of the mouth.

Watching him walk away, she scooped Caio defensively into her arms. ‘We’re just a couple of pariahs here,’ she murmured to him, and he licked her chin almost wistfully.

But she never took Caio to Paolo’s room, instinct telling this would be too much for the Signora, who had no idea of the scope of her pet’s defection to the enemy.

And I don’t want her to know, Laura thought grimly. I’m unpopular enough already. I don’t want to be accused of pinching her dog.

On his own admission, Paolo’s cold symptoms had all but vanished, but he refused to leave his room on the grounds that he was still suffering with his chest.

Laura realised that her impatience with him and her ambiguous situation was growing rapidly and would soon reach snapping point.

These ten-minute stilted visits each evening wouldn’t convince anyone that they were sharing a grand passion, she thought with exasperated derision. And if the Signora was listening at the door, she’d be justified in wagering her diamonds that she’d soon have Beatrice Manzone as a daughter-in-law.

But: ‘You worry too much,’ was Paolo’s casual response to her concern.

Well, if he was satisfied, then why should she quibble? she thought with an inward shrug. He was the paying customer, after all. And found herself grimacing at the thought.

But as she left his room that evening the Signora was waiting for her, her lips stretched in the vinegary smile first encountered in Rome. Still, any calibre of smile was a welcome surprise, Laura thought, tension rising within her.

She was astonished to be told that, as Giacomo would be driving to the village the next morning to collect some special medicine from the pharmacy, she was free to accompany him there, if she wished.

‘You may have some small errands, signorina.’ The older woman’s shrug emphasised their trifling quality. ‘But the medicine is needed, so you will not be able to remain for long.’

Well, it was better than nothing, Laura thought, offering a polite word of thanks instead of the cartwheel she felt like turning. In fact, it was almost a ‘get out of jail’ card.

Saved, she thought, with relief. Saved from cabin fever, and, hopefully, other obsessions too.

She’d have time to buy some postcards at least—let her family know she was still alive. And Gaynor, too, would be waiting to hear from her.

In the morning, she was ready well before the designated time, anxious that Giacomo would have no excuse to set off without her. She still couldn’t understand why the Signora should suddenly be so obliging, and couldn’t help wondering if the older woman was playing some strange game of cat and mouse with her.

But that makes no sense, she adjured herself impatiently. Don’t start getting paranoid.

Seated in the front, Laura kept her eyes fixed firmly ahead as the car negotiated the winding road down to the valley, avoiding any chance glimpse of the mind-aching drop on one side, and praying that they would meet no other vehicles coming from the opposite direction.

She only realised when the descent was completed that she’d been holding her breath most of the time.