A Gift for a Lion (12 page)

Once and only once had she felt that her first night on the island held any place in his memory. One evening after dinner, Nick had suggested some music from the impressive array of hi-fi equipment housed in the elegant cabinets along one wall of the
salotto
. He had played some Beethoven and Brahms, following this up with works by some of the more modern Russian composers like Prokofiev and Shostakovich. Joanna had only had a nodding acquaintance with their music before and she found it a revelation, containing a beauty and emotional appeal that made her ache inwardly. She sat, her feet tucked under her, her whole being absorbed in the wild and lonely music, and as the last chords died away she came back to earth with a start to find Leo Vargas' eyes fixed on her face. For a moment her gaze held his, then the heavy lids drooped enigmatically over his strange amber-coloured eyes, and he seemed to withdraw to a distance again, leaving her with that same lonely ache that this music had induced. She had excused herself rather hurriedly and gone to her room, for once obscurely grateful for the locked door and the sheltering walls, only to come face to face with the same hooded gaze from his namesake, staring down at her from the ornately gilded frame.

She had made up her mind after that to keep out of the way once dinner was over, but here she was forestalled. The next time she had dined downstairs, she and Nick had been alone, Leo dining in his study with some business papers which had arrived urgently for him from the mainland, Nick explained. He did not join them later either, even when Nick put on a miscellany of romantic tunes and coaxed her into dancing with him. He was an excellent dancer and Joanna could have thoroughly enjoyed herself if it had not been for the thought that at any moment Leo Vargas might emerge from his study to find her in his cousin's arms. Why she should have found that such a disturbing prospect Joanna preferred not to consider too closely, and anyway it did not happen. The study door on the other side of the great tiled expanse of the entrance hall remained tightly shut.

He was obviously determined to keep her at a distance, she thought, and as her aim was to see as little of him as possible during her enforced stay in his house, then she should have been happy. Yet it was useless to pretend that his attitude made her feel particularly elated or to deny that even the sound of his voice in another room could rouse her to a kind of nerve-jangling awareness that had nothing to do with the fact that he was certainly her jailer and quite possibly a criminal as well.

But even as she acknowledged the thought, that warning quiver ran along her senses and a shadow fell across the smooth tiles that bordered the pool edge. She did not need to look up to know that Leo Vargas stood beside her. Anyway, to have looked at him she would have had to stare up into the sun, which would have put her at a disadvantage, so she continued to watch the dancing water in feigned unawareness of his presence.

'Leo!' Nick's jovial greeting brought that little piece of play-acting to an abrupt end. 'Joanna is boasting that she is a better swimmer than I am. While it is no doubt true, this is a slur on the honour of the Vorghese men which you must wipe out. I insist that you challenge her.'

'What makes you think that Signorina Leighton would accept my challenge?'

She had to look at him then, shading her eyes against the sun's glare. Clad merely in the briefest of swimming trunks he was magnificent, lean but superbly muscled with broad, powerful shoulders. She had felt the smooth strength of his chest under her fingers and she was thankful that the expression in her eyes was hidden from him with the naked longing to touch him again that she knew must be revealed in spite of herself. She was shaken by the feelings his very presence was able to arouse in her. She had always believed that physical desire should go hand in hand with mental harmony in any relationship. Yet she doubted whether she and Leo Vargas shared even a thought in common.

She said very deliberately, trying to keep her voice cool, 'I would accept any challenge that you issued,
signore
.'

'And you accept that in any contest between us there can only be one winner?' He slanted a mocking eyebrow at her.

'I do.' Joanna said. 'But I'm not committing myself as to the identity of that winner, she added silently.

'Well,' Nick called impatiently, 'are you two going to race each other?'

'Not at the moment,' his cousin returned. 'We will hold our contest another time, when terms and conditions have been agreed—and when Signorina Leighton is not too tired by her previous exertions to give of her best.'

He dropped the towel that was slung across his shoulder to the ground and dived into the pool. His stroke was fast and powerful and his lithe body cut cleanly through the water. And I am not, Joanna thought, going to sit here openly admiring him, which would no doubt boost the noble lord's ego above its present over-inflated limit. She got up casually and wandered across to where Nick was lying face downwards on the lounger. There was a bottle of suntan oil standing with the tray of drinks, sunglasses and other impedimenta on a small wrought iron table beside him, and Joanna unscrewed the cap of the oil-bottle and began to apply some of the liquid to Nick's back and shoulders. He wriggled under her ministrations, contented as a cat.

'You have fingers like the wings of butterflies,
cara
,' he murmured sleepily.

'I'm glad you approve,
signore
,' she made her voice deliberately light and flirtatious.

'Oh, I do. But will my cousin Leo approve?'

'What is it to do with him?'

'Perhaps nothing—perhaps everything. It is just that whenever I see you together I sense a certain—something in the atmosphere.'

'You're imagining things,' she said shortly, recapping the bottle.

'I hope so,
cara,'
He gave a low chuckle. 'I promise you would find me far more appreciative. Leo has already had more than his fair share of this world's good things, including beautiful girls.'

Joanna was conscious of a sudden constriction in her throat and realised there was little satisfaction to he gained in having some of her worst suspicions confirmed.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Leo Vargas was pulling himself out of the water and she hastily changed the subject, asking Nick if there were any facilities for water-skiing on the island.

Nick rolled over and addressed his cousin. 'What happened to that speedboat you had last year when Marisa Fallone was here, Leo?'

Leo shrugged, looking surprised. 'I think it's stored in the boathouse with the rest of the gear. Why do you ask?'

'Joanna wished to ski,' Nick explained.

'Oh, it's not important,' Joanna put in quickly. 'I just thought that some of the coves on the island would be ideal, but I don't want to put anyone to any trouble if everything is stored away.'

'Oh, it's no trouble. Leo has men just standing around waiting for him to give them a job,' Nick assured her gaily. 'Besides, the boat will have to be overhauled before Marisa's next visit. You will be inviting her later this summer, Leo?'

Leo gave his young cousin a long look. 'Perhaps,' he drawled.

He began to dry himself with his towel. Joanna, pouring herself a drink, knew that his eyes were on her. If he was looking to see what effect the news that he possessed a regular girl-friend called Marisa Fallone had on her, he was going to be disappointed, she thought, taking a composed sip.

When he spoke, his voice held a slight edge of amusement. 'Am I not to be anointed with sun oil in my turn,
signorina
, or is that only Nick's privilege?'

Joanna swallowed nervously. 'Because you keep me in a room like a harem it does not necessarily mean that I have to act like your slave,
signore
,' she said tautly, and flinched at the sudden blaze of anger in the brilliant tawny eyes.

Nick interposed hastily. 'What would you like to do tomorrow, Joanna? Shall we take some lunch and explore the old forts? You have seen little of the island up to now. I warn you, you may be disappointed. Some of the forts are little better than heaps of stones, but there might be a few rusty cannons left.'

Joanna accepted eagerly, noting that Leo Vargas did not raise any objections to her leaving the
palazzo
for the first time. He must be very sure of his security arrangements, she thought.

She found herself regretting her childish piece of rudeness just now, but it was impossible for her to explain to him that feeling as she did, even the thought of touching his bare skin set up uncontrollable tremors all over her body.

'It will soon be time to change for dinner,' Nick observed, glancing at his watch. 'Will Joanna be joining us downstairs this evening, Leo?'

'If she wishes, but perhaps she may prefer to remain in her harem,' Leo Vargas said coldly.

Joanna faced him awkwardly. 'I'm—I'm sorry for what I said,
signore
. I shall be glad to dine with you.'

'
Benissimo
,' he said abruptly. 'Josef will bring you to the
sala
for cocktails as usual, then.'

He turned away, picking up his towel. Joanna hesitated for a moment, then she went after him, catching him at the tall wrought iron gate which gave access to the pool from the grounds.

'
Signore
—please may I not be locked in my room any more?' She saw him frown slightly and went on quickly, 'I so hate being shut in. Maybe I'm a little claustrophobic.'

'What guarantee do I have that you won't do something foolish if I agree to your request?'

'I—I promise I won't try to escape, if that's what you mean,' she said a little huskily. For the time being, her conscience silently amended.

'No?' His eyes narrowed. 'Well, I must take your word, I suppose,
signorina
, your parole. I have that, do I?'

'Yes,' she said with a sigh. 'Yes, I give you my parole.'

'
Va bene
. I think you are being wise.' He unexpectedly put out his hand, lifting her chin so that she fully met his gaze. For a moment he held her so and his thumb brushed lightly across the full curve of her lower lip. It was the merest thread of a caress, but it awakened every clamouring pulse in her slim body, making her want to seize his hand and lift it to her cheek, her lips, her breast. She was shattered by her own reaction and immediately let the long sweep of her lashes veil her eyes and the total revelation that might be in them. His hand fell away and his voice was as cool as ever as he said, 'Now you must excuse me. I will see you at dinner.'

Joanna trailed rather listlessly back to the poolside, ignoring Nick's quizzical glance. So she had been forced into giving him her word, but surely a promise made under duress could not be considered binding, she told herself defiantly.

Even if she had not been his prisoner, she now had an even more telling reason for getting away from Saracina and from him, she realised. He had an altogether too disturbing effect on her. It would be only too easy to forget that she had a life of her own waiting for her and abandon herself thoughtlessly to this timeless existence here on Saracina. And inevitably that would lead to a closer relationship with the master of Saracina. It was no use fooling herself, she thought drearily. It might be a once-in-a-lifetime thing for her, but for him it would merely be another in a series of affairs, and she could not accept the hurt and ultimate rejection that implied in order to enjoy a temporary sensual satisfaction.

She found herself wondering what it would be like to be the only woman in Leo Vargas' life. Had he ever cared for anyone in more than a transitory manner—this Marisa Fallone, for instance?

She allowed herself a brief, melancholy smile. It would be far easier, she thought, if she wanted Nick. The girl who had defied everyone to come to Saracina could have met Nick Vargas, flirted with him and parted from him when it was over with no bones broken on either side. But that girl did not seem to exist any more. She had known what she wanted, instead of being a prey to conflicting emotions that threatened to tear her apart. Lion's prey, she jeered at herself.

She began to collect her belongings together, telling Nick that she wanted to have a bath before changing for dinner. Somewhat to her amusement, he insisted on escorting her back to the house and up to the corridor where her room was situated. In spite of her parole to his cousin, it was obvious that he intended to continue to keep a close eye on her.

It was almost a relief to be back in her room and alone. It was pleasant too to be able to close the door behind her and not hear the telltale click as the key turned in the lock, she thought.

She had a long leisurely soak in warm, scented water, before dressing herself in one of her favourite gowns—a long white caftan, its deep vee neck, sleeves and hem trimmed with thick gold thread. She piled her gleaming copper hair into a sleek coil on top of her head, and attached fringed gold earrings to the lobes of her ears. She was just spraying on some perfume when an odd noise came to her ears. Someone nearby was whistling—and not very well either, Joanna thought with a slight amused grimace. Surely it couldn't be Josef coming to fetch her. He was far too well trained a servant to do anything so undignified as whistle his way down the
palazzo's
marble-floored corridors. Besides, it seemed to be coming from outside.

Giving way to her curiosity, she got up and went to the window. The sun was setting and the sea was glowing gold and pink under a turbulent sky. She had always been too preoccupied with the bars that held her in to care very much about the immediate view of the grounds to be gained from her window. Now she saw that her room overlooked a long gravelled walk bordered by cypresses. It was not particularly familiar, and she wondered if it was part of the grounds that she had explored with Nick.

A man was strolling along this walk, his hands behind his back, and there was no need to wonder any more where the untuneful noises were coming from. Joanna wondered who he was. He was shorter than either of the Vorghese men and not nearly as elegant. The suit he was wearing looked thick and rather clumsy and his dark, greying hair was cut short without any real effort at style. Yet he did not have the air of a servant either, or the physique of any of the security grounds she had seen patrolling discreetly. Another guest? she wondered.