A Gift for a Lion (19 page)

'If the secret is out, then I suppose there is nothing to keep me here any longer,' she said at last. I'd better go and pack my things. Is Nick around? I'd like to say goodbye to him before I leave.'

'No. He too flew out on one of the helicopters this morning. He has gone to the mainland to meet a guest for me, but he will be back in time for dinner. You are not planning to leave before then?'

The sarcastic note in his voice flicked her on the raw, but she refused to be provoked. She was leaving soon, she thought miserably. She would leave with what dignity there was left to her.

'I imagine not,' she replied quietly. 'After all, I am dependent on you for my transport, am I not?'

He bowed ironically. 'I should not be in too great a hurry to pack if I were you,' he tossed after her, as she moved to the door. 'Perhaps when you meet my new guest you will decide you prefer to stay on for a while.'

Joanna turned to face him, her eyes blazing in her pale face. 'Believe me,
signore
, all I'm living for is the moment I can get off this island and away from you. I shan't stay here a moment longer than necessary, I assure you.'

'
Benissimo
.' His eyes skimmed her dismissively as he returned to the carved chair behind the desk.

As she reached the door, she remembered something. She indicated her passport.

'As a matter of interest,
signore
, where was it?'

'Why do you ask?'

She shrugged. 'Oh, merely because I could see no sign of it when I went through your desk last night.'

She waited almost expectantly for the explosion, but it did not come.

When he spoke, his voice was soft and very deliberate.

'Be thankful,
signorina
, that I shall permit you to leave Saracina without administering the thrashing you so richly deserve.'

Joanna fled.

Her plans to begin packing immediately were thwarted when she reached her room, only to find it was in the process of being cleaned by Maria and two other women. Joanna decided ruefully that it would be unfair to interfere with their work, which had already been held up that day because of her. She tried haltingly to exchange a few words of conversation with them, but their quick rush of smiling Italian was too much for her and she had to admit defeat.

As she looked round vaguely for a bathing towel, having decided to spend a little time by the swimming pool, she saw that Maria had picked up her discarded chiffon nightdress and peignoir from the floor and was smoothing the crumpled folds with a reverent hand.

'
Bella
,' she murmured admiringly, displaying it to the other women.

Joanna's throat felt suddenly constricted. She was unbearably reminded of the look in Leo Vargas' eyes as she lay in his arms—could it only have been a few hours before? It seemed a lifetime away, if it had ever happened at all She gave an involuntary shiver at the searing memory of his lips and hands on her skin. It was useless to tell herself that she would only have been left with regrets if she had given herself to him as he had wanted. At least she would not have had to suffer this feeling of utter emptiness and sterility.

She turned abruptly to Maria. '
Prendetela
. Please take it,' she said, firmly silencing the immediate voluble protests that the gown was too fine, too delicate and above all too expensive for Maria to accept. '
Per favore
, Maria. Please, you would be doing me—a favour.'

As she looked back from the door, she saw that Maria was holding the nightgown up in front of herself at the mirror, with a look of awe, while her companions, to judge from their ribald giggles, were gauging her husband's probable reaction to the garment. Joanna allowed herself a brief, unhappy smile before she went downstairs and out into the open air.

The swim refreshed her, but it could not drive the ache from her heart or the prevailing feeling of lassitude from her limbs. She pulled herself up out of the water and towelled herself briskly, then sat down on the tessellated edge of the pool, reaching in her bag for a comb. As she pulled and coaxed the tangles out of her hair, she remembered that first afternoon when she had sat on a rock on the deserted beach pretending she was a mermaid. She had been happy then, she thought, with a new certainty of what she wanted from her life. Now she was no longer sure of anything except that somehow she had to pick up the pieces and go on. She still had her plans to become a model which should provide her with sufficient hard work over the next months to prevent her from constantly torturing herself with useless recriminations.

After all, it was so simple really. She had allowed herself to fall in love with a man who had shown her quite clearly that his interest in her was physical and not emotional. It was a situation which had happened to thousands of girls in the past and would undoubtedly continue to happen in the future to thousands more. She could rationalise the whole thing quite easily. What she could not do was stop it hurting.

She tugged the comb through a particularly vicious tangle and told herself resolutely that it was the pain from that which had caused the dancing water, the sun and the flowers to coalesce into one shimmering blur. She did not know when she realised she was no longer alone. Perhaps it was the faint noise from the elegant wrought iron gate which led to the rest of the grounds which attracted her attention, but when she lifted her head, Leo Vargas was standing on the other side of the pool watching her. She was caught, utterly defenceless, without any of the paraphernalia of sophisticated make-up or even sunglasses to hide what she was feeling from his merciless gaze. For an endless moment she had to endure his look and she braced herself automatically for his scorn, or, even worse, his amusement, closing her eyes to shut out the vision of his tall figure standing, as always, she thought drearily, completely out of her reach.

When she opened her eyes again, puzzled by the continuing silence, she was alone, and she wondered for a crazy moment whether she had dreamed up his presence out of her own unhappiness.

She got up and pulled her jeans and top back on over her nearly dry bikini. Then she heard it, away in the distance—the sound of an approaching helicopter. Nick was returning and bringing guests with him and soon she would be required to join them at the dinner table in the
sala
. For the sake of her pride, she would need to do a complete rescue job on her appearance before that happened, she decided, squaring her shoulders. She thrust her feet into her sandals and began to walk back towards the house.

The helicopter was directly overhead by now, and looking up, shading her eyes against the glare, Joanna thought she could see faces looking down at her and even someone waving. That would be Nick, she supposed. It occurred to her that she had never discovered where the helicopters landed in the grounds, not that it mattered particularly any more. She had never been out of doors when one was arriving or departing, she thought. That had usually taken place at night or early in the morning while she was still safely in her room. Now she watched, her hands pressed over her ears to reduce the noise as the helicopter began to descend over the
palazzo
. Joanna felt vaguely alarmed. It looked as if the pilot, if he wasn't careful, was going to land the wretched thing on the building itself, and as she observed the manoeuvres of his descent, she realised it was precisely what he was going to do. There was
no
landing strip in the grounds. The helicopters came and went using the extensive area of the
palazzo's
flat roof. She gave a little sigh. Another mystery solved.

She wandered slowly through the gardens towards the terrace steps, lost in her own thoughts, trying to make plans for her imminent journey to London. She supposed she would be taken to the Italian mainland and decided her best plan was to make her way to Rome and arrange to fly back from there. Her funds were far from healthy, she realised, and she would probably need to cable her father when she got to the mainland and ask him to send her enough cash to get her home.

She was trying to reconcile herself to this rather galling thought when she heard someone call her name and saw Nick on the terrace.

'
Carissima
!' He almost ran down the steps to meet her, putting his hands rather possessively on her waist and kissing her. The casual embrace irked her, and she pulled away from him with a swift shake of her head and a murmured protest.

'Joanna.' His voice was reproachful. 'Is this kind, when I have taken such trouble on your behalf? I have never spent such a morning. I am exhausted, and now you are cold to me.'

She gave him the faintest of smiles. 'I'm sorry, Nick. I didn't sleep too well because of the storm and…'

He did not seem to notice her hesitation and plunged exuberantly on.

'So now you know everything, Joanna
mia
. I wish I could have seen your face when you learned the truth. It was a pity to have to deceive you so, but you were so amusing—suspecting that Leo was a criminal.' He burst out laughing. 'That did not please him, I can tell you.'

'It wouldn't, of course.' Joanna felt completely wooden. 'I—I seem to have made a, complete fool of myself.' In every way, she added silently.

'But no, how could you have guessed? And now I have another surprise for you.'

'Nick,' she tried to stop him as they reached the top of the terrace steps, 'it's a bit late in the day for surprises. 'I'm hoping to leave this evening, after dinner. Didn't your cousin tell you? I expect he means me to travel back to the mainland in the helicopter you came in.'

'And I am sure he doesn't,' Nick sent her a laughing look. 'You could not be so cruel as to leave now when we can really begin to enjoy ourselves? I can show you Saracina at its best at last. You haven't seen the textile factory in the town, or the ceramics workshops. You haven't been water-skiing. No, you cannot leave yet.' He seized her hand, and almost dragged her to the open french windows of the
salotto
. 'Tell her,
signore
. Tell her that you will both stay and enjoy our sunshine and our real hospitality.'

Joanna's eyes searched the room bewilderedly. It seemed dim after the glare of the sunlight outside, but there was no mistaking the tall rather burly figure who rose awkwardly from one of the armchairs.

Stunned surprise fought inside Joanna with an almost childish feeling of relief. She tore her hand free from Nick's and ran forward.

'Oh, Daddy,' she cried on a sob, 'I can't believe! Is it really you?'

'Yes, It's really me, Joanna.' Sir Bernard Leighton's voice held a touch of asperity besides affection, as he bent to kiss her.

'But how did you know I was here?'

'I've known all along exactly where you've been,' her father returned grimly. 'Leo cabled me as soon as you arrived here and explained that he was forced to detain you because you might be at risk otherwise. Later he telephoned me and suggested that I should join you here for a short holiday as soon as things quietened down.'

'Then you knew all about Damaryk?' Joanna stared at him.