Loving Venus (Sally-Ann Jones Sexy Romance) (4 page)

     He was already mounted, his powerful legs leaving the horse in no doubt as to who was the master, his hands lightly holding the reins. As he squeezed his animal forward, the muscles in his thighs and calves flexed and, riding behind him, she felt the now familiar flutter of lust deep inside her at the sight of his rounded buttocks, slim hips and triangular-shaped torso.

     If his body was that of a classical statue, she mused, his face belonged in a fresco. His eyes were dark brown pools of liquid chocolate in which she would happily drown. His lashes were long and dark and brushed his cheeks when he glanced downwards. His brow was smooth and high and his cheekbones angular, with hollows beneath, curving to a proud, square, dimpled jaw. His nose was that of an emperor on an ancient Roman coin, leaving one in no doubt as to his lineage. His lips, she was sure, were made for kissing, full and sensual. She remembered that he’d laughed a lot during that summer when she was a girl on the brink of puberty. He rarely smiled now.

     Annabella sighed and wondered how she
’d be able to stay in the saddle. She felt so overcome with yearning for him she feared she might faint. She recalled her gallops on Gregorio, when she’d skirted so dangerously close to the cliff-edge. There’d be no risk-taking like that in Alessandro’s presence now. Even a slow walk was almost too much for her in her present state.

     How would she cope, she asked herself, seeing him every day, perhaps, and not being able to even touch him while Claudia…

     She slammed the thought from her mind, her body at once alert again and in its true horse-riding mode. She rode often on the farm at home and was good at it. Alessandro, too, was an excellent horseman though even he seemed to be making hash of it today, she noticed, his foot falling out of the stirrup several times, his hands less sure.

     She squeezed her
mount past his, giving it its head as it seemed to want.

     Alessandro sighed and wondered how he
’d be able to stay in the saddle. His mutinous body was making a liar of his professed dislike for his second cousin. He’d risk his life if he tried galloping in this state.

     He watched her canter past, her hair flying in a red tangle behind her, her soft, round breasts and bottom bouncing so deliciously he knew he
’d have to seek out Claudia very soon or he would burst.

      Soon, horses and riders came to the edge of the woods, a dark, silent place where the leafy canopy filtered the sunlight and splashed it like green paint on the forest floor. Even the birds seemed to understand that it was siesta time and were quiet. Only the river, burbling peacefully over its pebble bed, made a sound.

    Alessandro could have counted on one hand the number of times he’d been here since he was seventeen and showing it to Annabella for the first time. He wondered why he’d denied himself this magical, beautiful refuge. He almost felt human again – almost.

     “It’s exquisite, just as I remember,” she whispered, walking her horse beside his.                       

     “Yes. It’s perfect,” he agreed, before adding bitterly, “And now it’s yours.”

                                          CHAPTER THREE

The mood was spoilt and they both knew it.

    “I’m going back,” Annabella said, turning her horse homewards.

     “Race you!” called Alessandro, his nostalgia replaced by a feeling of anger against this intruder into his life and against the world in general. He squeezed his mount into a gallop, his second cousin close on his heels.

     They sped through the trees, leaping fallen logs and ditches in an effort to be the first to return to the stables. This time, unlike on the occasions when he and Annabella had ridden on her first visit to Casa dei Fiori, he didn’t hold his horse back.

     As they tore at breakneck speed around a sweep of trees, another rider appeared, coming towards them uncertainly. Alessandro’s horse, which had been leading, reared up in surprise, as did the other animal, which
was approaching from the bend.

     Its rider was flung onto the ground. Annabella was out of the saddle and beside the unfortunate person in half a second, astonished to realize it was Claudia who lay moaning on the leaf-litter. Claudia, wearing a designer hacking jacket in green velvet, white jodhpurs and long black boots.

     “Are you all right?” Annabella asked her, concerned despite her instinctive dislike of this woman.

     “Claudia,
cara
, you’re not hurt?” questioned Alessandro, who was now also kneeling beside the prostrate form.

     “My ankle!” Claudia whimpered, gripping Alessandro’s hand.

     “Try not to move,” Annabella suggested. “I’ll ride into the village for the doctor.”

     Alessandro looked up from the woman lying on the ground to Annabella. He had to admit, he was proud of her. She could be excused for behaving less than civilly to his neighbour, yet she was showing nothing but compassion and good sense.

     “Do you remember the way?” he asked her.

     “I think so. I hope so,” she said.

     “Why don’t I go for the doctor, in case you get lost?” Alessandro suggested.

     “No, Alessandro, stay here with me, please,” protested Claudia, who was clutching his arm in a vice-like grip.

     “I’ll find the doctor,” Annabella reassured them confidently, determined not to take a last look at the couple on the ground as she sprang into the saddle. Claudia was now, sickeningly, Annabella thought, being cradled in Alessandro’s arms, her perfectly-groomed head against his chest, her hair brushing against his jaw. Why hadn’t she, Annabella, planned to fall off her horse and gain his attention? Round one to Claudia, she conceded. But she wouldn’t win the next one, not over Annabella’s dead body.

     Alessandro watched his second cousin canter in the direction of the village, marvelling at how physically different she was from the plump twelve year old he
’d known. She really was the swan who’d magically emerged from the plain little duckling.

     “My neck is so sore,” Claudia complained, leaning heavily against him.

     He massaged her neck as best he could in his awkward position, doing his best to alleviate her pain and to swallow his irritation when she complained he was rubbing too hard, too soft or in the wrong spot.

     After what seemed an eternity, he heard horses’ hooves and saw two riders emerge through the trees. The woods were impassable for motor vehicles.

     Doctor Esposito was a keen equestrian. He’d brought essential medical supplies in his saddle bag and dismounted quickly, jerking his head back to Annabella, who was slower in getting off her horse.

     “Your second cousin has a very nasty graze across her forehead,” the young doctor informed Alessandro. “I asked her about it and I got it out of her that she had scratched herself against a low branch in her hurry to find me. It needs looking at but she is worried about Signora Silvestro. Will you persuade her to let me treat it later?”

     “Of course,” Alessandro said, watching with increasing concern as Annabella climbed somewhat giddily from the saddle, one hand holding a blood-stained tissue to her head. He wondered why he wished he could help her and why he resented having to act as an armchair for Claudia. Annabella was, he reminded himself afresh, an unwelcome arrival at Casa dei Fiori.

     The doctor removed Claudia’s kid leather boot and was gently examining the swollen ankle, which was also decorated with a gold chain.

     “Is it broken?” the woman demanded.

     “No, Signora, thank God,” the doctor informed her. “Just a little sprain. You
’ll be dancing again on your terrace in a day or two.”

     “A sprain?” she repeated, making the word sound like an accusation. “But that’s ridiculous. The pain is almost too much to bear. I demand a second opinion.”

     “By all means, Signora, seek another doctor’s advice,” the doctor shrugged. “But, you know I am right.” He lowered his voice and spoke worriedly to Alessandro. “I’m more worried about your plucky little relative, Signor. I believe she may have a touch of concussion. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go to her.”

     With Claudia still clinging possessively to him, Alessandro couldn
’t follow the doctor. Annabella had sat herself down against a wide-trunked oak, her head in her hands. Doctor Esposito persuaded her to let him look under the bloody tissue and Alessandro heard him say, “You need a few stitches, young lady, I am sorry to say. And the rest of the day in bed.”

    “But I have to start work on the farm…” she began to protest before the doctor silenced her by putting a finger over her lips.

     “I am going to take you home to Tonia,” he told her. “You aren’t well enough to ride again today. I’ll put you in the saddle in front of me so I can support you and lead your horse.”

     “What about Claudia?” Alessandro heard her ask, her voice shaky.

     “Claudia is Claudia,” the doctor answered enigmatically. He lowered his voice, but Alessandro heard him say, “I suppose she’ll want Signor de Rocco to carry her back to her villa, although she’s perfectly able to walk. She is a manipulator, that one.”

     In the end, Alessandro persuaded Claudia to let him lift her up on the horse she
’d insisted on borrowing from his stable and he led her home, never taking his eyes off the retreating form of the doctor, his arms firmly around Annabella.

     “What on
Earth made you decide to ride?” Alessandro asked Claudia crossly, when at last they were on her terrace, overlooking the peaceful valley and sipping chilled prosecco.

     “I thought that if there was ever going to be a time for me to take up riding, it would be now,” she answered, her topaz cat
’s eyes watching him from over the top of her frosted glass.

      “You’re impossible, Claudia,” he smiled, his anger turned to amusement.

      “You’re not angry with me, then, big boy?” she said in the kittenish voice he loved.

      “Only a little bit,” he told her.

      She recoiled as if he had slapped her. “A little bit? You mean I’m not completely forgiven? Despite the pain you caused me?”

     He sighed and took his eyes off hers, focusing instead on the wisp of blue smoke he saw curling above the cypresses. It came from the chimney of Casa dei Fiori and meant that Tonia was cooking again, probably making soup for Annabella.

     “Why am I in your bad books still, Alessandro?” she insisted, her voice diamond-sharp.

      “Because another person was injured as a result of your stupidity,” he answered, meeting her yellow glare again.

     “Ah yes, little Annabella. You are fond of her,
no
? Although the old man gave her everything, you are a tiny bit in love with her, I think. Am I not right?”

     “You are certainly not right, Claudia,” he bit out, pushing his chair back so hard as he got to his feet that it scraped unnervingly on the tiled floor.

     “But, although you do not love her, you are going to go to her now, eh?”

     “It is my duty to make sure she
’s all right. She has concussion, for goodness’ sake. Even you must realize that head injuries can be dangerous.”

     “Ah, yes. I do realize,” Claudia spat, flinging back the contents of her glass and refilling it. “But, I believe that injuries of the heart are far more hazardous.”

     “What would you know about the heart? I didn’t know you had one,” he retorted.

     She let out a cackling laugh. “The little Australian has certainly exposed a raw nerve in you. I will enjoy watching what happens between you two. I wonder if golden-haired
Dottore
Umberto Esposito will thicken the plot even further.”

     “When will you stop living your life as if you were a character in a romance novel?” Alessandro flung at her before he strode away without a backward glance. What had she meant about the doctor? Was he interested in his beautiful relative? Why would he not be?, Alessandro thought,  sweat breaking out on his forehead. He was single, aged about thirty and probably handsome, by most women’s standards. Also, he was renowned for his bedside manner and Alessandro had certainly witnessed that, when he lifted Annabella so tenderly up on his horse and r
ode with her back to Casa dei Fiori.

     Alessandro entered the house where he
was born, half expecting to see, through the open door that led into the sunny salon, his great-grandfather in his usual chair. The old man had been dead three weeks but the younger one couldn’t quite believe he was gone. His ears strained for the usual hearty greeting, for the sound of his great-grandfather’s ancient dog, which scrabbled to her feet and waddled arthritically over to greet him whenever he came home.

     The dog  died a day after the old man, unable to carry on without her beloved master. Sometimes, Alessandro wished he
’d been able to give up, too. His great-grandfather had been like a father to him and, even at 98, had been a fun-loving, astute companion until the last few days. Alessandro had enjoyed sharing meals with him under the fig tree, was proud to drive him down to Fortezza Rosa for his weekly card games at the little café. Yet, at the very end, the old man had taken this house away from him. The one thing he had left had been torn from him and handed over to someone who cared nothing for it.