The Count's Prize (6 page)

‘An orange bikini?’ She goggled. ‘That’s the very last thing I would have guessed!’

‘Dario said you needed one.’ Antonia was grinning from ear to ear. ‘He says you’ve got to learn to swim.’

‘If I got into a swimming pool with your brother while I was wearing this, I think drowning would be the least of my worries,’ Josie said drily.

‘You’re all right. You’d be perfectly safe.’

Josie laughed. ‘Oh, dear. And people say
I’m
unworldly! Hey—it looks like your mothering skills have gone a bit haywire …’ she said, craning past Antonia to check the deserted back seat of the limousine. ‘You’ve
never
left Fabio back in Rimini?’

‘Of course not, silly! Dario was waiting for us by the gate on his horse, Ferrari. He had brought one of Fabio’s ponies out with him so they could ride home together.’

‘
One
of his ponies? How many does that child have?’ Josie asked in astonishment.

Antonia rolled her big brown eyes in a gesture so reminiscent of Dario, Josie was touched. She smiled.

‘I have no idea. Dario likes him to have the right size, so we have a selection here.’ Antonia smiled a bit guiltily. ‘Money might not buy happiness, but it makes most problems go away.’ She hesitated for a moment, as if lost in thought. After a pause, she shook herself and elbowed Josie in the ribs again, grinning. ‘So you’re still on speaking terms with Dario, then? He never said.’

‘Why would he? I’m just a guest here.’ Josie laughed, but jumped back into her trench before Antonia could see her expression.

‘Then you can have a great time getting to know him better at the party tomorrow,’ Antonia replied airily.
‘Dario’s decided he’s going to use it as an excuse to celebrate our safe return from Rimini. He’s invited everyone we know and a few more besides, so it’ll be brilliant. But then, Dario’s parties always are.’

‘Thank goodness I shall be safely tucked up in bed long before that.’

Antonia frowned. ‘Oh, come on, Josie! I know you aren’t the sociable type, but couldn’t you make an exception just this once? It’ll be fun. There are usually all sorts of things going on—an auction of promises, and games—’

Josie grimaced.

‘Don’t look like that. It’s all in aid of charity and you’ll love it, really! Besides, the food’s always fabulous here, even though I do say it myself—’ She had been hovering near the finds table and now peered into Josie’s lunch-box with interest. The castle kitchens provided Josie with a mini-feast to go each day, and she could never finish it all.

‘Have some,’ she told her friend, who didn’t need to be asked twice.

‘You can’t possibly miss one of Dario’s parties!’ Antonia insisted, choosing some mini-calzone.

‘I shouldn’t think I’m invited. I haven’t heard anything about it.’

‘Josie, you’re a friend of the family—just walk in!’

‘I don’t think so,’ Josie said uncomfortably. ‘That’s not how parties work where I come from. In any case, I’ll have more than enough to do, cataloguing all the finds from this little spot. Work and an early night. You know that’s what I’m here for, after all.’

… Although now I can’t help wishing that Dario himself might come and sweep me away from all this
, she thought wistfully.

A
NTONIA
promised to return and help Josie catalogue her finds, once she had put Fabio down for an afternoon nap. When a brand new four-by-four painted with the di Sirena logo came rolling along the drove road towards her excavation, Josie assumed Antonia had managed to get away at last, but it wasn’t her friend who had come to find her. When the vehicle stopped, a member of the castle staff climbed out of the driving seat. The man carried a large transparent box, so Josie could see before he handed it to her that it was full of artist’s materials.

‘Oh, wow!’ she said in delight. ‘Thank Count Dario very much for me. This is perfect!’ she called after the driver as he got back into his vehicle and drove away.

Opening the container, she breathed in the wonderful, very particular aroma of brand new pencils, brushes and paper. Her fingers itched to start work.

Why not?
she thought, filled with devilment at the idea of trying something that wasn’t on her written list of things to do. There was no one to see. Dario himself had encouraged it,
and if he thinks I’m good enough …
she thought, unable to remember anyone praising her
artwork before. That made her feel good in a way that was somehow more satisfying, more
personal
than praise for her academic work had ever been. When she spotted a formal white envelope tucked in between a sketchbook and a watercolour pan, she began to feel really special.

Her heart beating faster by the second, Josie picked up the letter. She could hardly wait to rip it open and find out what it said, but the envelope alone was unique. It was faintly watermarked with the di Sirena mermaids, and addressed in fountain pen with bold copperplate handwriting. That was another reason to stop and stare.

Dr J. L. Street
, she read.

She turned the letter over to find a red blob of glisteningly official sealing wax. It had been impressed with the magnificent crest of the di Sirena family. She let out her breath in a whistle. It was almost as grand as a medieval manuscript! Easing it open, she found that the envelope was lined with fine grey tissue paper. It contained a single sheet of deckle-edged notepaper folded neatly around a large, thick white card. Looking at the letter first, she found a couple of exquisitely written lines:

It was signed with the single word ‘Dario’, which flowed across the page like the faint but distinctive tang of his aftershave.

His note had enclosed an invitation like nothing she had ever seen in her life before:

She read from the stiff card, embellished with gold tracery, and, wide-eyed with astonishment, she shook her head in disbelief.

This is amazing!
she thought.
Fancy getting an official invitation to something like that! I can’t believe it … and my mum certainly never will … it almost makes me wish I had the nerve to go …

She let out a long drawn-out moan of disappointment. The thought of seeing Dario formally dressed again was almost enough to make her accept the invitation, even though she was sure Antonia was behind it. She knew Dario must look truly magnificent in his natural surroundings of a glittering formal party, wearing a tuxedo and strolling around with a glass of champagne in his hand. It made him all the more alluring, and it made Josie certain that she had to turn down his invitation.

She was tongue-tied enough in his presence. His party would be filled with people she didn’t know, and with whom she had nothing in common. That would be bad enough, but to feel like that while she was in Dario’s company would be unbearable. He had all the social skills and charm, while she had none. Though Josie was honest enough to admit that wasn’t the whole
reason. If her heart had felt at risk from their kiss by the pool, what would happen when she was at a party, where Dario was in his element? It felt as though this invitation tempted her further away from the world she knew—from where it was safe.

Josie stared at the wonderful invitation for a long time. Then she slid it back into its envelope and tucked it away in her bag with real regret. There was nothing for it. She sat down at her table to write a polite refusal—but didn’t even get as far as ‘Dear Dario’. That was no way to reply to an invitation like this. She would have to do it face to face. Standing up, she took two steps towards the
castello
, then went and sat down again. It was hard enough looking Dario in the eyes, without having to resist the temptation to throw caution to the wind and go to the ball.

She picked up her phone, but it took a while before she could press the right keys in the right order. When one of Dario’s staff answered instead of him, she almost laughed with relief.

‘I’m just ringing to let Count Dario know that I’m not able to attend his party,’ she said in a sparkling rush, then ran out of words. The PA merely thanked her politely, and put down the phone. Josie stared at her handset. Turning down Dario’s invitation was bad enough. Having her refusal accepted as a matter of course was worse.

Dario frowned at the slip of paper he had been handed by his PA. Its message presented him with another novelty. As always seemed to happen these days, Josie was
at the bottom of it. People had been known to crawl from their sickbeds to attend one of his parties, but she had looked perfectly fit and well when he last saw her. He smiled, lingering over that image of her lithe, toned body. It didn’t seem right that she should deny herself the chance of an evening’s entertainment. She ought to make the most of every opportunity the Castello Sirena could offer while she was here.

Picking up his phone, he got her number and rang her in person.

‘Everyone else jumps at the chance of attending a Castello Sirena party,’ he said without bothering to introduce himself.

‘I’m sorry, Dario. Parties aren’t really my thing.’

She sounded uncertain, and he wasn’t so easily deterred. ‘I know you said you weren’t wild about the social life in Rimini, but this will be different.’

‘No, it won’t. Not unless your social circle has magically shrunk away to nothing, or is composed solely of archaeologists.’

‘
Dannazione!
Now why didn’t
I
think of that before I had all those invitations sent out? I could have included the staff of the National Museum!’ he drawled with lilting amusement. He added, ‘Don’t forget there will be at least one other archaeologist there—Antonia.’

‘And I’m sure she’ll love the chance to play the part of hostess again—I don’t want to get in her way. I’m sorry, Dario, but I won’t be there. Better luck next time.’

‘And would you really be more likely to attend “next time”?’

‘Er …’ she hesitated, but knew lying was impossible;
Dario was bound to know she wasn’t telling the truth ‘… probably not, no.’

‘Is that your final decision?’

‘I’m afraid so. It was really kind of you to invite me, Dario. I’d better leave the partying to those who can appreciate it,’ she said, unable to suppress the note of wistfulness in her words.

‘OK …’ he said, then went silent.

‘Are you still there?’ she said after a pause.

‘I was waiting for you to change your mind.’

She had to laugh at that. ‘Well, I’ll give you ten out of ten for persistence, but it’s not going to happen, Dario!’

‘Fine,’ he said, and then he was gone.

In the years since Arietta’s death, Dario had replayed their final, fatal row a million times in his mind. He had vowed long ago that he would never make the same mistakes again and, so far, he hadn’t. If a woman decided to go her own way, that was fine by him. If she wanted to leave, he would open the door, thank her for her time and show her out.

But Josie actually sounded sorry that she couldn’t come
, he thought. Letting out a curse, he jumped up and decided he needed a distraction.

‘I’m going out for a ride,’ he called out to anyone who could hear, uncharacteristically leaving his staff to worry about his appointments for the rest of the day.

Heading straight for Ferrari’s stable, he pulled his saddle off its tree but, after a moment’s consideration, dropped it back down again. Vaulting onto the stallion’s broad back, he rode out of the stable yard and into
the estate. His mood was so black, it transmitted itself straight to his horse. Pointing him in the direction of the far hills, Dario gave Ferrari his head. He was so deep in thought it was only as he reined in the horse after their pipe-opener that he realised how far their gallop had taken them. The silvery streak in the far distance was the drove road. He was heading towards the old olive press—and Josie’s dig.

Things had got right out of control. Now he couldn’t even take an innocent ride in the country without winding up on her doorstep.

Why can’t I take what she says at face value?
he thought irritably.
Why can’t I get her out of my mind?

Dr Josie Street’s problem is that she can’t see further than her next intellectual puzzle
, Dario decided. Her life was so lacking in fun, she hardly knew what the word meant. She not only refused to go to his party, she would rather use a telephone to tell him, rather than come out with it face to face. There must be something wrong, something lurking behind her stubborn single-mindedness. Grimly determined to find out what it was, he came to a decision. Josie would learn to relax and enjoy her stay at the
castello
if he had to stand over her and supervise her every moment.

And her every movement
, he thought, suddenly struck by a vision of Josie in that wet white T-shirt.

Coming back to reality, he had two choices. He could let well alone, turn right and head straight back to his studio. There, he could take out his frustrations on a new canvas.

Or he could turn left and give Dr Josie Street an experience she would never forget.

The result was a foregone conclusion. Dario pulled out his mobile and made one short, succinct phone call to Antonia. Then he turned Ferrari’s head in the direction of the old olive press and rode out like the last in a long line of conquering heroes.

At first, the sound was only the smallest disturbance in the summer day. The continuous scratchy songs of grasshoppers under the hot Tuscan sun absorbed the unusual sound until it was close enough to resolve itself into the regular rhythm of a walking horse.

Josie dropped her trowel. Every nerve in her body went on high alert. When the jingle of harness joined the steady reverberation of hoof beats, she got out of her trench. The sun reflected off the glittering white dust of the drove road, making her raise one arm to shade her eyes against the glare. There was nothing to see—yet. The approaching horseman was hidden by a dip in the track, but Josie didn’t need to see him to know who it was. Something deep within her soul told her it was Dario, and he was coming for her.

Time stood still for her the second she saw that dark tousled head, contrasting so vividly with his golden skin and dazzling white shirt. It was revealed with tantalising slowness as he made his way relentlessly towards her. Flashes of painful brilliance seared her retinas as his horse’s bridle glinted in the sunlight. She hardly noticed. When he drew so close she could smell the rich mixture of saddle soap and leather, she wondered if the
power of speech had deserted her completely. Now was the time to find out.

‘Dario.’

His name sizzled on her lips as it hit the dry air.

‘Josie.’

Thickened by the heat, his accent made her name sound more foreign and exotic than ever.

‘Are you here because I turned down your invitation?’

He straightened his back, becoming every inch the dignified aristocrat. ‘No. That was your decision. This has nothing to do with the invitation, but it does have everything to do with you, Josie.’

The chill in his voice sent her backing into the canopy pole. She was like the figurehead of a ship, clutching at the last point of stability as her universe rolled and bucked around her.

‘I’ve come to take you home with me, Josie.’

She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, very slowly.

‘What?
Why?
’ Her voice was barely a whisper, but his explanation was strong and sure.

‘Antonia needs your help,’ he announced.

Primed for him to admit that he wanted her, Josie deflated with sudden, sharp disappointment. She felt her fingers release their grip on the aluminium pole. Her hands fell to her sides and she walked forward onto the drove road. When Dario didn’t automatically move his horse to fall in step beside her, she stopped and looked back at him quizzically.

‘I came to give you a lift.’

He ran his hand down Ferrari’s mane to make the point that they were a team, and for the moment Josie was the odd one out.

‘You’re not serious?’

The thought of being carried home was more frightening than Josie wanted to let on. Her gaze ran over the sleek sides of the horse but fell short of the powerful, brooding form of its rider. Her silence told Dario more than she wanted to put into words.

‘Don’t tell me you can neither swim nor ride?’ He was incredulous.

‘There isn’t much call for either, down in a trench.’

‘That doesn’t matter. There’s nothing to it. And, in any case, I shall be the one doing the riding—all you have to do is put your arms around my waist.’

Josie’s gaze rose almost shyly to include Dario as well as Ferrari.

‘So I’d be sitting behind you?’ she said slowly.

‘Yes.’

‘Oh …’ she said eventually. Her voice was little more than a whisper, but the heat of excitement powering through her veins was more fierce than the summer sun. Dario was wrong. If he had ridden up and swept her into his arms without a word she wouldn’t have been able to utter a single complaint. She would have been stunned into silence, and an all too willing and dangerous surrender.