His Delicious Revenge: The Price of Retribution / Count Valieri's Prisoner / The Highest Stakes of All

‘Nonsense.’ Tarn managed an approximation of a cheerful grin. ‘All’s well.’ She’d already decided to say nothing about the day’s revelations, telling herself it would solve no useful purpose.

‘If you say so.’ Della took more salad. ‘And the publishing tycoon? Seen much of him lately?’

‘Why, yes,’ Tarn said lightly. ‘We drove down to the coast yesterday.’

‘Indeed?’ Della raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, I can only hope you know what you’re doing.’

‘Oh, I do,’ Tarn said with quiet emphasis. ‘I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.’

‘Fine,’ Della said equably. ‘Then there’s no need for me to remind you of the old saying that it’s much easier to ride a tiger than it is to dismount?’

‘None at all.’

‘Then I won’t mention it.’ She waved a fork. ‘The cake, by the way, is in that tin over there.’

They spent a companionable evening watching television and chatting on a variety of deliberately non-taboo subjects, but Tarn was conscious there was a distance between them and regretted it.

But Evie had to matter more, she told herself.

She went to work as usual the next day, but just before noon complained of a severe headache and said she was going home to drawn curtains and painkillers.

She arrived at The Refuge prepared to do battle, but it was unnecessary. The nurse she had met previously took her straight to Evie’s room.

‘How is she?’ Tarn asked, and the other woman pulled a face.

‘Yesterday did her no good at all, but it couldn’t be avoided, and it probably won’t be the last time. But it may cheer her up to see a friendly face.’

Evie was crouched in her chair, wan and red-eyed, nursing a box of tissues.

‘Tarn.’ She straightened. ‘Oh, Tarn, it’s been so awful. I’m so scared. You have to do something. You have to keep him away from me.’

‘Yes.’ Tarn pulled the other chair up beside her, and sat, taking her hand. ‘I’ll do my best, I promise, so try not to think about it. About him.’

‘I thought I was safe here.’ Evie swallowed. ‘That he wouldn’t know where I was.’ Her voice rose slightly. ‘I wasn’t going to tell anyone about him—what he did. Truly I wasn’t. He ought to know that. He seemed so kind, as if he wanted to look after me. I never realised what he was really like.’

‘No, of course not,’ Tarn said gently. ‘Why should you?’

After all, I knew, she thought, and it made no difference. I still wanted him in spite of everything. So how can I blame you when I really ought to be disgusted with myself?

Tarn dragged herself back to the here and now. ‘Evie—what actually happened yesterday? What was said?’

‘I can’t talk about it. I’m not allowed to. And, anyway, I’m sick of questions. I won’t answer any more.’ She began to cry weakly. ‘I just want to get out of here. I know I’ve been a fool, but I don’t see why I should go on being punished like this. You have to do something, Tarn. You have to take me home.’

Easier said than done, Tarn thought as she sat on the train back to London. Evie had continued in much the same vein for the entire visit, alternating recrimination with bouts of self-pity. Tarn had done her best to make her think more positively about the future, talking of new jobs and a possible holiday in the sun, and being careful not to mention Caz by name, but her foster sister had just stared at her, wounded, and told her she didn’t understand.

It was almost a relief when the nurse appeared and said that visiting time was up.

‘I’ll deal with him, Evie,’ Tarn said softly, as she rose to her feet. ‘When I’ve finished, he won’t bother you again.’

‘And tell them I won’t answer any more questions,’ Evie called after her, her voice sullen.

I won’t be telling ‘them’ anything, thought Tarn. Whoever ‘they’ were.

She sighed to herself. If she was honest, she could see no prospect of an early release for Evie. From what the younger girl had said, she was still confined to her room. Yet the other residents seemed to move round the house and gardens easily enough, under the watchful eyes of the staff, and the big board in the hall was crammed with notices about the various activity groups on offer. Surely joining with other people and finding new interests would contribute towards Evie’s rehabilitation.

Whereas being made to confront her erstwhile fiancé would not. Especially as it seemed he might be exerting pressure on her to keep quiet about their relationship. And what were these so-called experts like the Professor thinking of to allow it?

Couldn’t Caz see the state she was in? Tarn railed inwardly. Did he truly have no compassion or sense of guilt over the havoc he’d created in the life of someone who’d simply been too trusting and gullible for her own good?

And how, she asked herself almost helplessly, is it possible for him to be so different with me? Unless, of course, he’s simply biding his time. Waiting until he’s tired of me too.

And felt her whole body clench, as if warding off unbearable pain.

As she walked into the flat, the telephone was ringing.

‘I heard you’d gone home sick,’ Caz said. ‘I was worried.’

Tarn took a deep breath. Steadied her voice. ‘It was just a headache. It’s gone now.’

‘Then would you be free for dinner tonight—if I promise not to mention anything stressful?’ There was a smile in his voice.

Tarn had the strange sensation that she was teetering on the edge of an abyss.

But it’s not too late, she told herself desperately. Even now she could save herself. Step back to safety or…

Instead, she heard herself say huskily, ‘I’d love to have dinner with you, Caz. And we can talk about anything you want.’

And threw herself into the waiting void.

CHAPTER NINE

HE TOOK her to the Trattoria Giuliana, as he said, ‘For old times’ sake.’ They even had the same table as before.

As they sat down, he looked at her, his smile faintly rueful. ‘Or am I being overly sentimental?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s a lovely idea. I always hoped we’d come back here sometime.’

‘Then why not make it a regular date,’ he said, the hazel eyes caressing her. ‘For the rest of our lives.’ Then checked. ‘But perhaps I’m being too optimistic. After all, I haven’t had your answer yet.’

Tarn stared down at the tablecloth. ‘I think you know what I’m going to say already.’ And wondered how she could possibly sound so quiet and steady with the maelstrom of emotions raging within her.

‘Or else you wouldn’t be with me tonight?’

‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘But I suppose I could be coy, and say I was still making up my mind.’

‘You could.’ His hand reached for hers across the table. ‘But you won’t. Will you?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I won’t.’ In spite of herself, the warm clasp of his fingers round hers was sending tendrils of sensation throughout her entire being. She paused, looking at him, and allowing her lips to part a little as if she was breathless. Except, she realised with shame, she did not have to pretend, because his lightest touch could do that to her. ‘I—I will marry you, Caz. If you still want me.’

He said softly, ‘More than I’ve ever wanted anything, my darling.’ He signalled, and a beaming waiter arrived with champagne.

‘My goodness.’ She managed a laugh. ‘You really were sure of yourself.’

‘Not in the slightest.’ He studied her for a moment, his expression quizzical. ‘There’s an elusiveness about you, Tarn. As I’ve said, I sensed it from the beginning. I’m wondering if it might not be wise to chain you to my wrist until we’re safely married.’

He was too damned perceptive by half, Tarn thought. She raised her eyebrows. ‘You regard marriage as safety? I thought it was an act of faith—a step into the dark.’

‘Not for us.’ He raised his glass. ‘Here’s to forever.’

He sounded so certain—so bloody sincere, she told herself as she responded to the toast and sipped her champagne. A man any girl would be glad to trust with her future. Unless, of course, she had the memory of Evie, cowering in her chair, to warn her and harden her heart against him. And she would need that every hour of every day.

Caz reached into an inside pocket and produced a small velvet box. He said, ‘At the risk of seeming presumptuous, I brought you this.’

As he opened it, Tarn stiffened, expecting to be dazzled by another showy blaze of diamonds. But she was wrong. The diamonds in this ring were gleaming in discreet brilliance around an exquisite square sapphire in an antique gold setting.

The gasp that escaped her was of genuine wonder and delight. ‘Oh—it’s beautiful.’

‘I’d hoped you’d like it,’ he said. ‘It’s been in the family for a long time, and my grandmother gave it to me for this very occasion. It might have to be made smaller, of course. You have very slim hands.’

‘No,’ she said, dry-mouthed as he slid the ring on to her finger. ‘It—it’s quite perfect.’

‘You’re absolutely sure? It occurred to me you might prefer to keep this as a dress ring and have something modern for our engagement—a special design, maybe.’

She covered it protectively with her other hand. ‘You couldn’t give me anything lovelier.’ Her response was instinctive—genuine. Because this could—should have been the happiest moment of her life, she thought with bewilderment. Yet, instead, she felt as if she was dying inside.

Judas, she said silently, reborn as a woman.

She took a deep breath. ‘But I can’t wear it, Caz. Not yet. Not in public.’

His brows snapped together in a frown. ‘What are you talking about? Why the hell not?’

‘Because I have a job to do,’ she said steadily. ‘Working for you in a section of one of your companies. That means a lot to me, and I don’t want it to change, and it will, once word gets out about us.’

She forced a smile. ‘Besides, when the news does break, it’s bound to be a nine-day wonder, and I’m not sure I’m totally prepared for that. The fuss—the attention—stories in the papers. That’s a lot to take on board—for me. So, can’t we keep it as our secret—just for a while?’

‘Now there we differ,’ he said gently. ‘Because I want to shout it from the rooftops. Tell the whole world what a lucky bastard I am.’

Tarn said with constraint, ‘Are you certain that’s what the whole world wants to hear?’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I suppose we’re back to Ginny again.’ He took her hand again. ‘My darling, the past doesn’t matter.’ His voice was warm and urgent. ‘We can’t let it—not when we have the future.’

And Evie? If she’s part of your immaterial past too, why are you still harassing her? Why can’t you leave her alone?

Now, if ever, was the time to ask these things. To come at him like a bolt from the blue and shock him, perhaps, into honesty. Even into contrition.

Before she walked away…

So why was she hesitating?

After all, she wanted to humiliate him. To let him know at first hand what it was like to be made a fool of and dumped. But a half-full restaurant on a Monday evening was not the public arena for the major victory she’d envisaged.

Better to bide her time, she thought, her throat tightening. Wait for the right moment and the maximum impact.

He said, ‘You’re doing it again, my love. Disappearing into some world where I can’t follow.’

‘Not really,’ she said lightly, and paused. ‘It’s just that there’s suddenly a lot to think about.’

‘Then maybe we should start sharing some thoughts now,’ he said. ‘Do you want a big wedding?’

‘Oh, no.’ The negation was involuntary, and she’d have said exactly the same if this had been the beginning of their future, and the ceremony was to be a reality.

‘You’re very sure,’ he commented, with faint amusement. ‘I thought all women dreamed of floating down the aisle, wearing the obligatory meringue, in a country church crammed with well-wishers.’

Tarn wrinkled her nose. ‘That’s part of the problem. I’d have difficulty filling a pew.’

Caz pulled a face. ‘And I know far too many people who would expect to be there, whether we wanted them or not,’ he said. ‘And someone I do want who, sadly, can’t be there. So, why don’t we do it quietly at a friendly neighbourhood register office? Will your cousin be well enough to act as one of the witnesses?’

Her heart skipped a beat. ‘Well—no. At least she’s not around,’ she added hurriedly. ‘She’s gone away to convalesce. She needs absolute quiet, so she’ll be gone for some time.’

Which at least was the truth.

‘Your flatmate?’

She shook her head. ‘She’s away a lot. I’m not sure of her plans.’

‘I see.’ Caz was silent for a moment. ‘Well, we could ask Brendan and Grace instead. I think you liked them when you met.’

‘Yes,’ said Tarn, despising herself for her faint feeling of desolation. ‘Yes, I did.’

‘And when the news of the wedding does get out, we shall have left on our honeymoon,’ he went on. ‘So we shall miss all the razzmatazz. And by the time we come back, everyone will be used to the idea. So it’s a win-win situation for us.’

No, she thought. It will be a very different kind of victory. And you will be the loser. But she had no sense of triumph. Instead she felt as if everything within her had become a cold, aching hollow.

The food and wine were delicious, but, for Tarn, they might have been bread and water. Her energy and attention were fixed, as they had to be, on this new role she had to play—the happy and loving fiancée.

And, of course, on never letting herself forget that it was just a role. That it could never be anything else no matter what she might want or feel in her inmost being.

Because all that had to be suppressed. Pushed out of sight, and eventually—please, God—out of mind. No more walking round the flat with her arms wrapped round her body, damming back the pain. No more tears, even if she could manage to weep silently.

He said, ‘You’re very quiet,’ and she looked at him, startled.

‘I think I’m just stunned.’ She made herself smile. ‘It’s been a hell of a forty-eight hours, and it takes some getting used to.’

‘For me too, believe it or not.’ He paused. ‘What we need is some time alone and in private. Let’s get out of here and have our coffee elsewhere.’

‘But Della’s at the flat…’

‘Darling, I meant my place, not yours.’ He smiled at her. ‘Besides, it will give you the chance to have a good look round and tell me what you’d like to change.’

‘Change?’

And I have seen it—all of it—the other night. And imagined you there with Evie…

‘Of course. You’re bound to have some ideas about your future home.’ His grin was teasing. ‘I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.’

‘Your flat,’ Tarn said slowly. ‘You’d want us to live there. I—I didn’t realise.’ One of many things she hadn’t taken into account, she thought. The way he already had their lives mapped out in this straight and shining path. But she couldn’t turn back now. She had to go on. Had to…

‘I thought—to begin with at least,’ he said. ‘While we decide where and what our permanent home should be.’ He gave her a searching look. ‘You’re not keen?’

‘I hardly know.’ She searched for an excuse. ‘It’s just that everything’s moving so fast…’

‘Not for me,’ Caz said softly. ‘Given the chance, I’d get a special licence and carry you off this week.’

She forced a smile. ‘I think you’ll have to be patient with me.’

‘I can do patient.’ His tone was rueful. ‘Although I may struggle a bit.’ He took her hand again. ‘You’ll have to make allowances too, my sweet. Promise?’

‘Yes,’ Tarn said and hated herself.

She stood in the centre of that vast living room, trying not to shiver as Caz took her wrap from her shoulders and tossed it over the arm of a sofa before discarding his own jacket.

‘What do you want to see first?’ His voice was teasing. ‘The kitchen? After all, there’s coffee to be made.’

She eased away from him. ‘I think you can manage that perfectly well without my interference.’

‘Then start the tour without me.’ He slanted a grin at her as he headed off. ‘I’ll be asking questions later.’

She’d noticed the big vibrant canvases that hung on the pale walls during her previous visit, but tonight there were no friends or caterers to provide a distraction—or to act as a barrier, said a warning voice in her head—so she had time to look around properly—examine the pictures at her leisure.

Like Evie, she was no expert, but she could see they deserved attention, their colours and textures drawing the eye and invading the imagination, their effect enhanced by careful lighting.

But there were other, homelier touches too. She noticed some charming ceramics, not old enough to be valuable, on a table and walked over to look at a group of photographs on top of a bookcase. Her gaze travelled from a couple, not young, standing smiling in the sunlight in front of a wall, draped in wisteria, to some children on a beach with a black Labrador, and, lastly, standing by an elegant fireplace, an elderly woman whose white hair belied the command of a strong but beautiful face.

Looking down at the sapphire ring, Tarn wondered if this was the grandmother who’d planned for his marriage.

I’m sorry. She sent the message out into the ether. I’m so sorry, and I’m glad you can’t know what’s going to happen.

When Caz returned with the coffee, she was standing at the window, staring at the lamplit panorama.

‘At sunset, it’s truly spectacular.’ He set down the tray. ‘Come and sit down. Can I offer you some brandy?’

‘Better not.’ She kept her tone light. ‘My head’s whirling quite enough, I think.’

She took her place next to him and accepted the cup he handed to her, breathing the coffee’s rich, heady aroma.

She said, ‘I’ve been admiring your pictures.’ She paused, adding deliberately, ‘You’ll have to teach me what they’re all about.’

He gave a rueful shrug. ‘I have a mate called Adam who’d be a far better instructor. My choices are instinctive rather than informed, and he says I’ve been damned lucky not to have been taken for a ride so far. When you meet him, ask him anything you want to know.’

‘But I understood you were a connoisseur.’ She could not hide her surprise.

Caz’s mouth twisted. ‘Well, I can’t imagine where you heard that, flattering though it may be.’ He added, ‘And I hope you’re not disappointed, now you know the truth.’

‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘Not a bit. Besides, your method is probably better than picking something that ticks a lot of boxes with art critics. And I’d rather hear why you chose them.’

‘Let’s save that for some long winter evening,’ he suggested softly. ‘We have other things to discuss tonight.’

Her heartbeat quickened. ‘Yes—of course.’

‘For one thing, you need to see the rest of the place, including the kitchen, even if I couldn’t tempt you in there just now.’ He paused, putting down his cup. ‘My God,’ he said. ‘I never thought to ask. You can cook, I suppose.’

‘Now there’s a male chauvinist question.’ Her glance held mock reproof. ‘If I say no, will you want your ring back?’

‘Far from it,’ Caz said cheerfully. ‘I’m not looking for a domestic slave. If necessary, I’ll simply get the meals myself.’ He paused. ‘But I admit it would be nicer if it was a joint affair.’

‘Much nicer,’ she said. ‘And I may as well confess right now that I love cooking.’

‘Excellent.’ He took her cup from her hand and set it down, then moved closer, sliding his arms round her and pulling her against him. ‘And as love has been mentioned,’ he murmured. ‘Now might also be a good time for you to tell me how you feel about me.’

‘I thought I’d already made that clear.’ Her voice shook a little as the warmth of him, the scent of his skin began at once to work their dark, insidious magic.

‘All the same, my darling, I need to hear you say it.’ He pushed back her hair from her face, letting his lips graze her temple. ‘Would it be so very difficult?’

You don’t know. Oh, God, you just don’t know…

But at least, for once, she could speak the truth without evasion.

For this moment, she thought, just for this moment.

She said quietly, ‘I love you, Caz. I think I did from the first, only I couldn’t—I didn’t want to admit it when there were so many reasons not to. So many reasons for me to keep my distance.

‘But now it’s said and I can tell you that I shall go on loving you for the rest of my life.’

The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth…

Heaven help me, she thought.

He said hoarsely, ‘Oh, God, Tarn, my sweet, wonderful girl.’

He began to kiss her, gently at first, then with increased passion, his mouth moving on hers in urgent sensuous demand.

And Tarn responded, eagerly, helplessly, her arms around his neck, her breasts crushed against his chest, as her lips parted for him.

Just for this moment.

A moment when nothing else in the world existed but the sweet draining delight of his kisses. She found herself sighing her pleasure into his mouth, arching towards him as she felt the first heated explicit thrust of his tongue and offered him an equally candid response in her turn, clinging to him, drinking from the shared moisture of their mouths.

She smiled as she experienced the warmth of his lips caressing her closed eyes, the curve of her cheek, and the crazy throb of the pulse in her throat.

Caz pushed her back against the softness of the cushions, his hands moving slowly but very surely, skimming the delicate line of her shoulders, then sliding down to cup her breasts and stroke them gently through the silky top she was wearing, coaxing her nipples to rise to hard, aching peaks under the passionate certainty of his touch.

Tarn gasped, her head thrown back, her whole being consumed by the long, delicious shivers that were running through her, inspiring her to let her fingers in their turn begin their own exploration—discover the taut muscularity of his back and trace the long supple spine through his fine linen shirt.

To feel the heat of his body as it pressed on hers, and find it echoed in the giddy rush of her own blood stream, and in the deep, inner trembling of her ungiven flesh as she encountered the hardness of his arousal against her slender thighs.

The thin layers of cloth that separated them seemed suddenly too great a barrier. With a kind of desperation, Tarn wanted to be naked in his arms. Naked with him. To find herself at last possessed and know the rapture of his body sheathed in hers.

To understand why she had made herself wait all this time.

Just for this moment. Just for this man. Whom she could not have…

He was kissing her again, slowly, deeply, and she cried out softly in longing and despair, her voice breaking as she whispered his name against his mouth.

‘My angel.’ His voice was hoarse, his hand heavy on her bare thigh where he’d pushed her skirt aside. ‘Tarn—stay with me tonight, darling—please. Give yourself to me.’

All she need do was remain silent and he would lift her and carry her to his room. And to the bed he’d shared with Evie…

It was that realisation that, somehow, forced her to clutch at her reeling sanity. Made her find the words that would save her. ‘I—I can’t.’ She stared up into his eyes, lambent with desire. ‘You—you said you wouldn’t pressure me. You promised…’

‘I did,’ Caz said quietly after a pause. ‘And I meant it. But I’m only human, my sweet, so you can’t blame me for trying.’ He sat up, pushing his hair back from his sweat-dampened forehead while Tarn ordered her dishevelled clothing with unsteady hands.

She said, stumbling a little, ‘Are you angry with me?’

‘No,’ he said gently. ‘Why would I be? I want you very much, Tarn, but it has to be mutual.’ He added ruefully, ‘And for a few moments there, I thought it was.’