Seduced by Innocence (4 page)

“I don’t really want a floor-length gown,” Terri began to say, and stopped when she saw Maurizio’s face. “What is it?” she asked anxiously.

He seemed to come out of a dream. “Try that one on,” he said with an effort.

“But it’s white. I don’t normally wear white. I think it looks pallid with my coloring.”

“Try it,” he repeated.

The dress was skintight and hugged her so closely that she had to strip off every stitch of underclothing to get a smooth line. Yet the neckline was demurely high, coming right up to her throat. There were no sleeves and the gown was cut away over the shoulders so that everything hung from the neck. Terri drew in her breath at the vision that faced her in the mirror. This was a dress for a woman who was supremely confident in her own body, yet who kept that body for herself, revealing only a little, and that in the most tantalizing and subtle manner; it was for a woman who held back, seeming to offer much yet offering nothing that couldn’t be withdrawn; suggesting much, yet nothing that couldn’t be denied. Only a subtle temptress could wear such a dress, and Terri simply didn’t feel up to it.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, “but not for me.”

“I disagree,” Maurizio said in a strange voice. “I think it suits you to perfection.”

“Perhaps you’d like to take a look at yourself next door,” Zena suggested smoothly. “You can watch yourself walking in the mirrors.” After showing Terri into a long room, one whole wall of which was taken up by mirrors, she discreetly faded away.

Terri stood for a moment, trying not to hear Madge’s voice crying “Slut!” in her mind. Only a slut would wear such a dress, so calculated to warn men off and lure them on at the same time. Slowly, Terri began to walk the length of the room, watching her own movements in the mirrors. Mysteriously, her body seemed to have changed shape in some indefinable way. Now it glided as though it had been born to wear such a provocative garment. It knew just how to walk to reveal the curve of hip beneath the chaste white silk. Maurizio’s face came into her mind, his eyes warm and penetrating as she’d seen them last night. She knew he wanted her to choose this dress and the thought sent heat scurrying through her body, making her breathless. Never before had she known this unnerving sensation of having her will destroyed. She was a strong-minded woman, but all she wanted now was to look as
he
desired, and be what
he
wanted.

Slut! Slut!

“No,” she breathed. “I won’t listen to you. It doesn’t make me a slut to feel this way. It makes me—his. But I’ve only known him a day. How can I be such a fool?”

She walked the length of the mirrored wall again, torn by indecision.

Maurizio, waiting outside with apparent calm, allowed Zena to press coffee on him, drinking it without tasting it. His thoughts were in that room, with Terri. Mentally he walked the floor with her, watching every sinuous movement of the dress against her hips and thighs, contrasting them with the nunlike face above. To torment a man by cloaking herself in feigned ingenuousness—Elena’s daughter would have been born knowing how to do that. What was she waiting for now? Some sign that she could lead him on, perhaps? If so, she would be disappointed.

But as the minutes ticked away and she didn’t appear, his nerves tautened to breaking point. “Perhaps you should go and have another word with her,” he said to the manageress.

She shrugged. “Oh, no. That’s the way to lose a sale. When a woman is undecided, the more time alone she has, the better.”

“In that case, I’ll have some more coffee.” He set his cup down with a slight clatter.

* * *

Terri came to a reluctant decision. She felt like a coward because her nerve had failed her, but Madge’s influence had proved too strong. She pushed her hair up high on her head in the manner the dress demanded and took one last longing look at what she might have been.

“Yes.”

She opened her eyes wide at the soft violence of that word. Maurizio had entered silently and stood looking at her in the mirror. “Yes,” he repeated. “Like that.”

She turned, letting her soft blond hair fall. “I can’t,” she protested. “It’s not me. I only wish it were.”

In a moment he was beside her, turning her to face the mirror again. “That’s because it
is
you and in your heart you know it,” he insisted. His strong, brown hands swept her hair back up, leaving her neck bare, and suddenly she was overwhelmingly conscious of how close his lips were to that bare skin. “Look,” he said, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “Look and see the truth of yourself.” He caught up a tendril from her neck and she shivered as his fingertips brushed her. “Why do you deny it?” he whispered.

She sighed, overpoweringly tempted. “If only...”

“If onlys are for little girls. A woman takes what she wants. You want this gown because it tells you the truth about yourself, and also because
I
want you to wear it.”

Overwhelmed though she was, one calm, ironic corner of Terri’s mind resented this assumption and enabled her to say with a touch of annoyance, “Do I really want only what you want, Maurizio? Aren’t you taking a lot for granted?”

“A lot, yes. Too much? Only you can answer that. Blame yourself for what you’re doing to me.” The words poured out of him in something like desperation. He was closer to losing control than he’d ever been in his life. She’d shown him the vision before threatening to snatch it away, and now he was on the rack.

And he’d blundered. He knew that was so when he saw the sudden aloofness in her eyes. She was watching him and calculating, and he’d revealed too much. He strove to get command of himself, to remember that she was a part of his plan, but it was no good. The warm, sweet scent of her filled his nostrils, making his senses riot. Her pale skin was silk under his fingers, while the dress suggested and concealed everything he wanted to know. Unable to stop himself, he drew her back against him and dropped his head so that his lips rested on her long neck. He felt the tremor that went through her, then the slight stiffening as if she were rejecting what was happening. For a moment, he almost thought she would break away from him, and the thought almost drove him to madness. He wanted her, not Elena Calvani’s daughter but
her,
Teresa Wainright with her soft skin, candid eyes and air of innocent abstraction. He wanted her and he would have her.

He tightened his hold, turning her in his arms so that he could look into her face. Her head was thrown back and her lips were slightly parted, but what struck him most was the startled look in her eyes, as though she couldn’t understand what was happening to her.

“Teresa...” The word was torn from him.
“Teresa...”

He was kissing her before she knew what he was going to do, kissing her with a mad lack of restraint that made a mockery of his careful plans. There was no calculation now, only a burning desire to possess this woman, to discover the heart of her mystery and understand it, so that it ceased tormenting him. She was sweet and melting in his arms, yet with a hint of fire far back, fire that he knew would draw him on so that it could engulf and consume him.

He’d known that her pale blond beauty, so seemingly English, was but a mask for her hot Italian blood. Now he rediscovered it with new force. That mask hid the truth of her, and the truth was what he was determined to have. He forgot that he, too, hid behind a mask of steel that he kept between himself and the world. The touch of her lips on his left him feeling defenseless, open to her and all the new experiences she promised. He kissed her more deeply, reveling in the discovery of a woman unlike all others.

In the first shattering moments of his embrace, Terri tensed. The old instinctive withdrawal was still there, but it couldn’t survive under the onslaught of Maurizio’s passion. She’d been kissed before, but only by boys who’d politely retreated when they sensed her coolness. This was a man who would retreat before nothing, whose desire was fierce enough to melt her icy barriers. She put her arms about him, returning his kiss in a way she hadn’t realized she could. But she did know it because the knowledge was born into every woman for the man who could bring it to life.

She was dizzy as his lips moved slowly over hers. The world seemed to shift underfoot so that she might have fallen but for his arms supporting her. She closed her eyes, wanting not to see him but simply to be totally aware of the magical new sensations that were coursing through her. It was like being reborn, but born with nerves that vibrated to his touch, giving every sensation a thrilling intensity. She let her head fall back against his shoulder, offering herself up completely to what was happening, astounded at her own reaction but glad of it with every fiber of her being.

Maurizio heard her sigh and drew back to look at her. “What is it?” he murmured.

“Nothing, just—kiss me again....”

No power on earth could have made him resist that invitation. Before her words were fully out, he covered her mouth, driving his tongue inside to seek her more deeply.

She was aware of him not merely through her lips but all over her body, as though the dress had melted, leaving her naked. Once, that thought would have embarrassed her, but now she knew that nakedness was the right, the inevitable thing with this man. This kiss was but the first step on the road to physical union, and already that was what she wanted.

His tongue inside her mouth thrilled her. It was teasing her subtly yet purposefully, evoking sensations no man had aroused in her before. In a few seconds those sensations had spread to possess her entire body. She was hot and cold together, calm like someone who’d come home at last, yet trembling with eager discovery.

She could feel his hands roving over her body, trying to find their way to her but defeated by the dress. She wondered wildly if he could tell that she was naked underneath. If only she could be completely naked...with him....

Maurizio was in a state of utter confusion. Desire warred with alarm as he felt her through the thin material. Beneath this demure dress, she was wearing nothing—the perfect temptress.

Just like her scheming mother.

The words shouted in his head, turning his blood to ice and his desire to rage. Suddenly, Elena was there with them, mocking him with the perfect beauty that Rufio had found so irresistible. Rufio was dead and in his arms he held the daughter of Rufio’s murderer. A shudder went through him and he had to fight to stop himself from thrusting her violently away.

“What’s the matter?” Terri asked, sensing his inner withdrawal.

“Nothing—that is, someone might come in. This isn’t the place—” He drew a ragged breath. “Perhaps that dress isn’t right for you, after all.”

“Oh, I think it is,” she said, smiling eagerly. “I’m going to buy it whatever it costs.”

“But I don’t think—” He stopped. He was on the rack. Terri’s eyes, full of innocent puzzlement, gazed at him. “You must make your own choice,” he said abruptly, and strode out.

I
n the luxurious bedroom of the Contessa Elena Calvani, the dressing-table mirror reflected a goddess. The light turned her pale blond hair into an aureole about her face, and everything about that beautiful face was perfect, cool, smooth, time defying and oddly lifeless.

She rose as Anna, her maid, took down the dress she’d chosen for this evening, a black-and-silver, figure-hugging garment that few women of forty-two would have dared to wear. But the countess’s figure had been preserved by a stringent regimen of diet and massage. The same regimen had kept her jawline firm, postponing a face-lift until the last moment. When the day of reckoning had come, the operation was performed in a discreet Swiss clinic in a room on the eighteenth floor where no curious intruders could penetrate. Not until the last bruise had faded did Elena face the world again, and tonight would be her first appearance in public since her return.

Anna, the only person admitted into the secret and who’d been with her in Switzerland, helped her mistress into the dress. “The
contessa
is a work of art,” she pronounced happily. “I promise you, no one will guess.”

“There are plenty who will speculate,” Elena said wryly.

Anna shrugged. “Of course. Perfection always inspires malice.”

“Perfection.” Elena echoed the word as she smoothed the dress down her thighs and considered her long, black, silken legs. “Well, perhaps—for the moment. But for how long? Nothing lasts forever, least of all perfection. And then—” A faint shudder went through her. But she recovered herself and said, “I’ll wear the diamond earrings tonight.”

As Anna was completing her work, the door opened and Count Francisco Calvani entered. He waited in silence until the maid had scuttled from the room in a way that bespoke dislike and fear. He was a tall lean man, with a haughty, aristocratic face that would have been handsome but for its coldness, and he regarded his wife with a look that was part complacent possession, part sneer.

“Splendid, my dear,” he said when they were alone. “No woman there will be able to hold a candle to you—which, of course, is no more than I expect.”

“I’m glad you feel I’ll do you credit,” Elena responded lightly. “I try my best.”

“And your best is superb,” Francisco said without relaxing the cold lines of his face. “No other woman your age would dare to wear that dress. Of course, a figure that hasn’t been ruined by child bearing—” He left the implication hanging in the air, but his sharp eyes didn’t miss the shadow that crossed his wife’s beautiful face.

After a moment, when she didn’t reply, he continued. “I must confess I’m a little surprised that you’ve chosen the Midas for your reappearance in public.”

“Why should you be surprised? Everybody will be there tonight. And Maurizio was so very insistent.”

“To be sure. It’s just that I thought you disliked him.”

“I have no feeling about Maurizio one way or the other,” Elena said with a shrug.

She never discussed her feelings with her husband. Nor was she analytical, or she might have wondered why she’d felt compelled to accept the invitation of a man whose very name gave her a frisson of alarm. She only knew that she had to go there, as though by flaunting her restored beauty to the world she could reaffirm her own courage.

She checked her face one last time. The mirror showed her what she wanted to see, a perfect mask, revealing nothing, not even fear, so much harder to disguise than any other emotion.

“I’m ready,” she said, picking up her black-and-silver purse, and sauntering ahead of him out of the room.

* * *

At the last moment, Terri had an attack of doubts. Hanging up, flat and lifeless, the dress was plainly outrageous and she began hunting frantically among her other things until she found something else. Glad to have the matter settled, she plunged into a shower, but as the water laved over her nakedness, her flesh began to remember Maurizio, how it had felt to be held by him, pressed close to his lean, hard body. She tried to ignore her memories but they made her blood sing, and when she stepped out of the shower, she went straight to the white dress.

She wondered if Maurizio could have been right. Perhaps there really was another side to her, a side that she herself had never suspected—or rather that had been buried beneath the weight of Madge’s disapproval. Without the burden of Madge’s influence, what might she have been?

Her reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door. She wondered if Maurizio had come to fetch her, but it was a bellboy with an envelope. Inside she found her ticket for the party and a voucher for two hundred pounds’ worth of free chips. There was also a note from Maurizio.

Unfortunately, my duties make it impossible for me to escort you tonight, but I hope to spend some time with you.

She smiled and put everything in her purse.

At the door to the roulette room, she presented her ticket and was directed to the place where she could exchange her voucher for chips. She was a little self-conscious about her solitary state, especially when she began to be aware of admiring glances. But she put her head up and soon had enough confidence to start looking around her at the rococo splendor of the huge room.

Heavy marble columns reared up to the ceiling, which was covered in paintings in the eighteenth-century style. Shepherds and shepherdesses postured before one another, satyrs danced through the greenery, silken lords and ladies preened and flirted. The walls were covered in huge mirrors of old venetian glass.

Maurizio quickly made his way over to her. While he was still a few feet away, she sought his eyes and found there what she wanted to see. His gaze was fixed on her, dark, intense. And suddenly she knew that he’d been watching the door. His words confirmed it.

“You came,” he said softly.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“Until the last moment, I wasn’t sure. I’m glad you’re here. I wish I could be with you this evening....”

“I know you have many guests to look after.”

“Unfortunately, yes. But there’ll be other evenings.” He gestured to a waiter who proferred champagne.

“To your success,” she said, smiling and raising her glass to him. “May you have everything you dream of, and may even your most secret wishes come true.”

A strange look crossed his face. “Why did you say that?” he asked quickly.

“Wished you success? But of course—”

“No—after that. About my secret wishes.”

She shrugged. “Everyone has secrets. And you especially.”

“Why me especially?” he asked, trying to keep the strain out of his voice. For some reason, this conversation was unnerving him.

“Because you’re so—what’s the word?” She saw him looking at her searchingly, and laughed. “If you could only see your face!”

“What do you read in my face, Teresa?”

“You’re taking this so terribly seriously. Forget I said anything.”

“No.” He touched her arm, trying to subdue the shock of pleasure that pierced him at the silky beauty of her. “I don’t want to forget. What is the word that you’re looking for? Why must
I
especially have secrets?” He knew he was revealing too much about his thoughts, if she was shrewd enough to read them. But her expression retained its innocent clarity.

“Because you’re so Venetian. Already I know that this is a city of secrets, and you’re its son.”

“Is that all you meant, Teresa?”

“But of course. What else could I have meant?”

He relaxed. “Do you have your chips?” he asked, trying to speak more normally.

“Yes, but there was no need—”

“Every guest tonight has the same, so don’t feel embarrassed. Let me show you how to play roulette.”

He led her to a table and showed her how to place her money on a number. She chose Red and laid a chip on the square. “That’s not enough,” Maurizio told her, scandalized. “Come, be brave. You must risk everything at once.”

“I couldn’t do that,” she said, laughing. “I prefer to go cautiously, just at first.”

Maurizio groaned. “Oh, the cautious English. You should learn to gamble properly.” Before she could stop him, he’d seized all her chips and laid them on the square. The next moment, the wheel spun. Terri kept her eyes on it as it slowed and slowed...and stopped.

The ball was in Black 21.

“You see what comes of putting all your eggs in one basket?” Terri asked comically.

Maurizio leaned over the table and seized her chips, returning them to her. “Since I lost them for you it’s only right that I should give them back,” he declared. “Now, what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make it last,” she told him firmly.

“How different from your brother. Once or twice I had to restrain him in his conviction that he was beloved of the gods and couldn’t possibly lose.”

“That sounds exactly like Leo.”

“Let’s take a breath of fresh air before the place fills up,” Maurizio suggested.

“It looks pretty full already,” Terri said, glancing around at the buzzing room.

“This is nothing. Wait until the party really gets started,” he said, guiding her to the terrace.

It was cool and pleasant outside and Terri breathed in the night air with relief. The roulette room was just above water level and from the terrace Terri had a good view of the Grand Canal with the multicolored lights strung along the bank. She could almost have touched the boats that went by. Even at this time of night the canal was busy, with gondolas splashing softly, and the sounds of faintly chugging motorboats. “Nearly midnight,” Maurizio observed. “Now the casino will start to come to life.”

As he spoke, a long white motorboat appeared around the curve of the canal and slowed as it neared the Midas. It was a sleek, luxurious vessel whose lines spoke of elegance and money. At it grew nearer, the lights from the hotel illuminated a man and a woman sitting in the back. The man had a bored, handsome face, and was discreetly dressed in evening attire. The woman looked frail and slight, and might have been no more than a girl.

“The Calvanis,” Maurizio declared. “Good. He always loses a fortune. Luckily he can afford to.”

“Luckily?” Terri echoed. “So you do care about your customers?”

Maurizio grinned. “Not at all. I’m not a softhearted man, Teresa. I meant luckily for me,”

Terri didn’t answer. Her gaze was fixed on the woman, whose fair hair was made brilliant in the gold light from the hotel entrance. From this angle, she could see little except that Elena Calvani was daintily built and gorgeously dressed, but her heart had begun to hammer as she realized she was seeing her mother for the first time.

Or was this her mother? Had the whole thing been a mad fantasy? A mixture of excitement and fear made her grip the railing of the stone balcony tightly. She didn’t notice that Maurizio was watching her closely, his face set, his eyes appraising.

At last he spoke. “The Contessa Calvani is one of the glories of Venice.”

“She’s certainly very beautiful,” Terri said, not taking her eyes from Elena.

“Beautiful, artistic, the perfect mistress of a palazzo, and famed for her works of charity,” Maurizio said. “It’s such a tragedy.”

“What’s a tragedy?” Terri asked at once.

“That the Calvanis have no children.”

“The
contessa
has—no children?” Terri echoed slowly.

If he noticed this slight change of emphasis, Maurizio’s smooth face gave nothing away. “I believe it troubles her greatly,” he said. “When Francisco dies, the title will go to a cousin whom he detests. I believe he’d do anything to prevent that.”

“But what
can
he do?”

Maurizio shrugged and led her back into the roulette room. “Rid himself of her,” he said. “A discreet divorce, or even an annulment.”

“He can annul their marriage simply because she didn’t give him an heir?” Terri demanded, outraged.

“That depends on why she didn’t. A count expects to marry a woman with a title. But Elena was a nobody from nowhere, and he married her in defiance of his family and friends. Who knows the secrets of her past?” Maurizio shrugged. “Perhaps there’s something that would explain why she’s barren. He, at least, would be glad to know. There’s less scandal in annulment than in divorce.”

“Poor woman,” Terri murmured. “She must live her life on hot coals.”

“I wouldn’t waste too much sympathy on her,” Maurizio said dryly. “She didn’t marry him for love. She set a high price on herself and he was fool enough to pay it. But she didn’t keep her side of the bargain. She’s nervous and she has reason to be.” He saw Terri’s shocked eyes. “Don’t look like that. These marriage deals are done all the time.”

“But not by—”
Terri began fiercely and checked herself, dismayed at how close she’d come to a disastrous revelation. Something bitter and disturbing in Maurizio’s voice had brought her to the edge of defending the mother who was a stranger to her.

“Not by?” He was regarding her closely.

“Not—not by every woman,” Terri said hastily.

“I wonder if that was really what you were going to say.”

“If you want to know what I’m really thinking,” she said crossly, “I don’t like the way you talked about her. You think you know what she’s like but you don’t really. Nobody knows that much about another person.”

“Are you angry with me, Teresa?” He sounded surprised.

“Yes, I am. You sounded so
cruel.
As though it pleased you to think of her misfortune.”

“Aren’t you also judging me too easily?” Maurizio asked, an edge to his voice. “What do you know of me that you call me cruel?”

“I think you could be very cruel when it suited you,” Terri said in a voice of discovery. “I think there’s something cruel about this very room.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“The mirrors all around the walls...they’re all distorted. It makes everyone look slightly diabolical.”

Maurizio flushed. “The mirrors are antiques,” he said. “Such distortions are common in mirrors of that age. If you’re suggesting that I planned it this way, you are wrong.” To his intense annoyance, he realized that he was defending himself, something foreign to his nature. “If you must know,” he added, “I hadn’t even noticed the distortions.”