A Gift for a Lion (20 page)

'No, certainly not all. But a friend at the Foreign Office had dropped a hint, and the papers at home were full of his defection, of course.' His voice changed, became a little gruffer.

'Now then, Joanna. What have you been up to? I was shocked and displeased to hear about your conduct from Leo. He tried to excuse you, of course, but there was no escaping the facts. Young, selfish and spoiled—a nice thing to have to accept about your only child. You were deliberately trespassing and you knew it. I'm only glad that young Tony and the others had more common sense than to join you in this escapade. It shows that at least one branch of the family has some proper feelings, even if my own daughter hasn't.'

Joanna's cheeks had reddened under his rebuke and she was glad to see that Nick had discreetly vanished from the terrace, leaving her alone with her father.

'Daddy, please don't be angry with me. I know I've been a fool and I've certainly been made to feel like one. I—I haven't exactly got off lightly over all this…'

'I'm sure you haven't.' Sir Bernard allowed himself a brief smile, his keen eyes observing Joanna's wan air. 'You'd never bring Leo Vargas to heel as you did young Tony, poor lad. He's taken it hard, I'm afraid, and I've had your aunt wailing at me. What could I say to defend you? You make things damned difficult when you behave like this, Joanna.'

'Daddy,' Joanna tugged at his arm, 'you said you'd been invited to—join me here, but we don't really have to stay, do we? It won't take me long to pack and we could leave straight after dinner…'

'Leave?' Her father gave her an outraged look. 'I haven't come all this way at this speed simply to turn round and fly home again! I've been looking forward to this break. I haven't seen Leo for a year or two. Knew his father well, of course.'

'Then will you let me go home—alone?' Joanna's grip tightened appealingly on her father's sleeve.

'Certainly not.' Sir Bernard gave her a look which left her in no doubt of his displeasure. 'I think it's remarkably civil of Leo to have you as his guest after all the trouble you've caused him. It's not at all what I planned when…' he stopped abruptly as if aware he had said too much.

'What were you going to say, Daddy?' Joanna's voice was quiet as she fixed her hazel eyes steadily on her father's embarrassed face.

'Well, the fact is, child, Leo had asked us to stay with him long before your unofficial descent on him. I had contacted him—I wasn't too happy about that cruise of yours and I asked Leo if he would be good enough to keep an eye open for you as you were likely to be in the area. He not only agreed but insisted that we should both be his guests when your cruise ended. I suppose he knew that Damaryk would have departed by then. I was just about to cable you, telling you to meet me in Ajaccio this week instead of returning to Cannes with the others, when you took matters into your own hands.'

'So you were having my progress on the trip—monitored,' Joanna said, ominously calm. It explained so much, she thought, remembering the dossier of press cuttings, including the photograph, the room that seemed to have been prepared for her, down to her favourite scent on the dressing table. And that was why Leo Vargas had so detailed a knowledge of the events in Calista.

Sir Bernard eyed her awkwardly. 'Well, you are my only child. Naturally I was concerned about you. Four youngsters loafing round the Mediterranean in a boat. God knows what kind of mess you might have landed yourself in—and look what did happen,' he added sharply. 'You proved yourself that you couldn't be trusted to do the sensible thing.'

He saw her bite her lip and put a heavy arm around her shoulders. 'But we'll say no more about it, eh, and just relax and enjoy ourselves. From what I can gather from his cousin, Leo has quite a house party planned over the next few weeks, and the least you can do is accept his hospitality and behave yourself. I don't want to have to apologise for you again.'

'I'm quite capable of apologising for myself.' Joanna's voice was quiet, but she threw her father a distinctly challenging look.

'Hmm.' Sir Bernard was plainly unimpressed, but he patted her cheek. 'Now run along and dress for dinner. I don't want to have to introduce a ragamuffin to the Signorina Fallone.'

Joanna stared up at him. 'Who did you say?' she asked a little shakily.

'Signorina Fallone. She met us at Genoa. Charming young woman—completely feminine. Heavens, child, you look utterly washed out. I daresay all this has been a nerve-racking experience for you, even if you did rather bring it on yourself. A few days' complete relaxation will do you good. Off you go, now.'

As she went up to her room, Joanna reflected bitterly that her father invariably treated her as if she was still in school uniform. She wondered drearily if he would use her recent behaviour as an excuse to exercise even more control over her when they eventually returned to London. If so, she did not think she could bear it. She knew everything he did was intended ultimately for her good, but she had forgotten how stifled and helpless he so often made her feel.

She had an overwhelming impulse to change into yet another pair of jeans for dinner, but eventually decided against it. It was no good wasting her energy on minor confrontations when she needed to reserve it for bigger battles ahead, she told herself firmly. Instead she chose one of her favourite dresses, a full-skirted simple design in jade green cotton, low-necked and sleeveless. Eyeshadow and liner worked wonders, but could not totally outlaw the new wistfulness from her eyes, she thought, banishing the vulnerability of her mouth with the sharp clear lines of a coral lipstick.

Josef was waiting in the hall when she went downstairs again.

'The
signore
asks you to join him on the terrace,
signorina
,' he told her, holding the
salotto
door open for her.

Joanna took a deep breath as she walked across the room to the french windows. Her hands were clenched in the folds of her skirt, but she forced herself to appear relaxed as she moved out into the sunshine.

She noticed Marisa Fallone at once. She was tall and her cerise silk dress flattered every inch of her voluptuous figure. She was standing very close to Leo Vargas, her hand with nails tipped in the same colour as her dress, resting intimately on his arm as she talked to him, smiling up into his face in a way that could have left no onlooker in any doubt as to their relationship.

Joanna stood unnoticed for a moment, watching them bleakly. Nick's words came back to haunt her yet again. 'When Leo wants a woman, one comes to him, believe me.' She had never doubted it, she thought unhappily. She did not need so blatant a piece of proof.

'Joanna,
carissima
.' Nick joined her smilingly. 'Let me get you a Martini.'

She thanked him and moved over to join her father, who was standing at the head of the steps, looking out over the grounds. He turned and gave her a smile which, although restrained, contained a fair measure of approval, and the smile broadened when Nick came over to them bringing Joanna's drink.

Exit Tony, enter Nick, Joanna thought silently. Really, for such an astute man, her father could be almost transparent at times I She-sipped her drink, making the little knot of irritation unwind again. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the shimmer of cerise silk and realised that Leo was bringing his companion over to them.

'Marisa, you haven't met Signorina Joanna Leighton.'

Joanna shook hands and exchanged polite murmurs with the other girl, perfectly aware that she had been comprehensively summed up and dismissed by the sparkling dark eyes.

Marisa turned to Sir Bernard, her smile revealing kittenish white teeth.

'Your daughter,
signore
?' Her voice had an overtly sexy timbre. 'You do not look old enough to be the father of such a big girl.'

Joanna seethed silently. Signorina Fallone obviously believed in killing two birds with one stone, grossly flattering her father and relegating herself to the nursery. She turned away to put her glass down on a wrought iron table and saw that Leo Vargas was watching her. She thought he looked faintly amused and her chin went up, but at that moment Josef emerged on to the terrace to tell them that dinner was served.

Marisa Fallone gave a virtuoso performance over dinner, flirting with Leo and Sir Bernard and even bestowing some crumbs of her attention on Nick. Joanna ate her food without tasting a mouthful and replied politely to any remarks that were addressed to her. When the meal was over, she excused herself and went up to her room.

After lunch the following day, Nick volunteered to take Sir Bernard on a brief sightseeing tour of Saracina and it was taken for granted that Joanna would be accompanying them. She took her place in the car somewhat listlessly, but it was not long before she had succumbed to the island's charm. Nick kept away from the coast this time, and turned the car inland to the more mountainous region, its lower slopes covered in the muted mauve colour of the
maquis
, broken by silvery clumps of olive trees and small groves of cork oaks and pines.

Nick pulled the car off the road and they walked and scrambled up a track that Joanna secretly suspected had been formed by a herd of drunken goats to look at the cascade which Nick had told them was one of the island's chief beauty spots.

She had to admit it was worth the climb. The boiling, tumbling water had slashed itself a small gorge in the dark rocks and brilliantly coloured flowering plants, including the inevitable bougainvillaea, clung to whatever shallow soil had collected in the crevices in the cliffside. Looking down, they could see the water foaming over jagged stones down into the green gash of the valley beyond and the more placid waters of the small river that watered it.

Although Sir Bernard was genuinely appreciative of the scenery, it was clear that he was more interested in going back to Saracina town itself and seeing what had been achieved in the textile and ceramics industries. Joanna sighed to herself. She would have preferred to have kept away from the vicinity of the
palazzo
for a much longer time.

She had gone to the pool that morning, but Marisa Fallone had been there, wearing a minuscule bikini, with Leo in close attendance. Joanna made sure that her lounger was well out of earshot of their conversation and was glad to hide behind the barrier of Nick's inconsequential chat. She felt Marisa resented their presence as an intrusion and it embarrassed her. She knew that Marisa had been planning to visit the town that afternoon to buy some ceramics, and she hoped they would not run into each other.

Saracina itself was little more than one steep street winding its way from the
palazzo
gates at its head to the harbour at its foot. Nick parked the car at the top of the hill and they walked down over the rough cobbles. Most of the shops seemed to consist merely of a rough stall erected outside someone's house. Oranges, lemons and great bunches of grapes added colour to the more homely vegetables on display, and the smell of fish from the quayside fought with the pervading odour of garlic and olive oil.

There were no vehicles to be seen, but plenty of patient donkeys, many of them with huge panniers strapped to their backs. Small alleyways ran between the houses to roughly paved courtyards bright with flowers where hens scratched in the dirt and lines of washing moved gently, to prove that the wives of Saracina were returning. Voices called, dogs barked and children squabbled. It seemed to Joanna that the town was waking up after a prolonged sleep.

Nick murmured in her ear, 'There will be celebrations and dancing in Saracina tonight. The men will have been lonely without their women.'

His voice was full of innuendo and Joanna flushed.

Inevitably her thoughts went to the
palazzo
and its master who had also recently welcomed back his woman. Would he join in the little town's festivities, she wondered, or would his celebration be a more private one, confined to the shuttered rooms of his suite? She bit her lip, setting a curb on her imagination.

She could only be thankful that she had been spared the humiliation of seeing herself supplanted after one night in his arms, she told herself miserably.

She refused to accompany Sir Bernard and Nick to look over the textile factory, saying simply that she preferred to remain in the fresh air. Sir Bernard gave an incredulous sniff, and warned her not to get lost.

'On Saracina,
signore
?' Nick grinned. 'There is nowhere she could go. Meet us at the bar on the quay, Joanna
mia
, in half an hour. We will sit in the sunshine and drink wine.'

She could not help laughing at the comical grimace he threw her over his shoulder as he went off, almost eclipsed in her father's imposing wake.

She wandered off down the street, pausing to inspect the attractive displays of woven raffia espadrilles and the soft hand-made leather bags. Saracina obviously had a tourist trade of sorts in normal conditions, she realised, but Leo Vargas had not allowed his people to put all their dependence on the vagaries of holiday makers. Nick had told her that most of the rugs and cloth and ceramics made on the island were exported to the mainland to satisfy the demands of the quality market.

Ahead of her she saw what appeared to be a forest of swaying masts, and realised she was almost at the quay. There was quite a large crowd of people, mostly men, waiting at the end of the jetty and as she walked towards them she saw they were awaiting the arrival, of a large boat. She stood on the edge of the crowd, watching as ropes were thrown ashore and secured, and a rough gangway lowered. More returning wives, she thought, as a little file of women carrying suitcases and bundles, some of them with small children, began to disembark.

A small, tender smile touched her mouth as she watched the utterly joyful reunions taking place. Nearly everyone else in the crowd seemed to have someone who belonged to them to welcome and it all served to emphasise her own feeling of loneliness and isolation.

Abruptly she turned away, tears pricking her eyes, only to be halted by a hand on her arm. Alarmed, she looked up to see Leo Vargas staring down at her.