Jodie had to blink to dismiss her mental images of
chainmailed men at arms and heralds announcing
their arrival.
The empty courtyard was lit by the flames from
large metal sconces that threw moving shadows
against the imposing stone walls with their watching
narrow slit windows.
"What an extraordinary place," Jodie heard herself
saying apprehensively.
"The Castillo is a relic left over from a time when
men built fortresses rather than homes. I warn you, it
is every bit as inhospitable inside as it is out."
"You live here?" She couldnt keep the dismay out
of her voice.
"I Dont, but my grandmother did."
"So where?" Jodie began, and then stopped uncertainly
as she saw the way his mouth was compressing.
It was obvious that he did not like her asking
so many questions. He had opened the door of
the car and she wrinkled her nose as she caught the
pungent smell of something burning. "Somethings on
fire," she told him.
Lorenzo shook his head. "It is merely the mixture
of wood and pitch that is used in the sconces. After
a while you will grow so accustomed to it that you
wont even notice it," he added in a matter-of-fact
voice.
After a while? Did that mean that she was to live
here? Without electricity?
As though he had read her mind, Lorenzo informed
her, "My grandmother preferred the old-fashioned
way of life. Fortunately I was able to persuade her to
have a generator installed to provide electricity inside
the Castillo."
When one thought of an Italian castle one thought
of something out of a fairy tale, but this place was
nothing like that. Bleak and brooding, it made her
shudder just to look up at the granite walls.
"Come"
Sitting in the Ferrari had caused her weak leg to
stiffen and seize up. Jodie could feel her face burning
as Lorenzo waited impatiently for her to get out of
her seat whilst he held the door open for her. The
agonising pain that shot through her leg as she finally
managed to do so made her bite down hard on her
bottom lip to stop herself from betraying what she
was feeling. John had hated anything that drew attention
to her infirmity, insisting that she always wore
jeans or trousers to hide the thinness of her leg with
its tell-tale scars.
"If you wear trousers no one is going to know that
theres anything wrong with you," he had told her
more than once. Jodie could feel her throat closing
with painful tears. She had wanted so desperately to
hear him say to her that he didnt care what she wore,
because he loved her so very much that every part of
her was equally precious to him. But, of course, men
were not like that. Louise had said as much when she
had explained to Jodie just why John preferred her.
"The trouble is, sweetie, that men Dont like all that
disfigurement stuff. It makes them feel uncomfortable.
Plus, they want a woman they can show off
not one theyve got to apologise for."
"You mean some men Dont," Jodie had corrected
her, with as much dignity as she could muster.
"Most men," Louise had insisted, before adding
bluntly, "After all, how many men besides John have
actually wanted so much as a date with you, Jodie?
Think about it. And lets not forget," she had added,
pressing home her advantage, "any man is bound to
worry about what hes going to have to face in the
future, with a wife whos got health problems, from
a financial point of view alone."
"I havent got health problems," Jodie had objected.
"The hospital has given me a complete all-clear"
"Because they cant do any more for you. You told
me that yourself. Your leg is never going to be as it
was, is it? You get tired if you have to walk any
distance now imagine how awful it would be for
poor John if in, say, ten years you needed to be in a
wheelchair. How would he cope? With the business
booming the way it is, John needs a wife who is a
social asset to him, not one who is going to be a
handicap. You really mustnt be so selfish, Jodie.
John and I are trying to make this as easy for you as
we can."
It was the "John and I" that had done it, igniting
Jodies temper so that she had exploded and told her
one-time friend in no uncertain terms exactly what
she thought of both her and of John, ending up with,
"And, personally, the last kind of man I would want
to commit to is one so shallow that all he sees is what
lies on the surface. To be honest with you, Louise,
youve done me a big favour. If it hadnt been for
you I might have gone ahead and married John with
out knowing how weak and unreliable he is. You obviously
arent as fussy in that regard as I am." She
had finished pointedly, "But I should be careful, if I
were you. After all, you wont be young and glamorous
for ever, will you? And, since youve said yourself
that looks are so immensely important to John,
Youre going to have to live with the knowledge that
ultimately he may dump you for someone younger
and prettier."
She had been shaking from head to foot as she
walked away from Louise. And when John had turned
up on her doorstep less than an hour later, accusing
her of upsetting Louise, she hadnt known whether to
laugh or to cry. In the end she had laughed. Somehow
it had seemed the better option.
It was then she had gone out and bought herself
the shortest denim miniskirt she could find. The accident
had not been her parents" fault, and she had
fought long and hard to be able to overcome her own
injuries. From now on, she had decided, she was going
to wear her scars with pride, and no man was
ever, ever again going to tell her to cover up her legs
because of them.
For ease of travelling, though, right now she was
wearing a pair of jeans an old, faded pair of jeans
that made her look totally out of place next to
Lorenzo in his beautifully tailored suit, she thought,
as he propelled her across the courtyard and into a
cavernous baronial hall, his hand resting firmly on the
middle of her back.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE room they entered was furnished with several
pieces of intricately carved dark wooden furniture. A
coat of arms had been cut into the stone lintel above
the huge fireplace. The carpet on the stone floor beneath
her feet looked worn and shabby, and she could
see where the film of dust on a table in the middle of
the room had been disturbed by something thrown
down on it with such force that it had skidded through
it.
A door in the far wall was thrown open, and a
woman stood there, framed in the opening. Immediately
Jodie forgot her surroundings as she focused on
her. Tall and soigne.e, she was everything one imagined
a wealthy and elegant Italian woman should be.
Her dark hair was pulled back in a smooth knot to
reveal the perfect bone structure of her face. Dark
eyes flashed a look of triumphant possessive mockery
towards Lorenzo the same kind of predatory female
look Jodie had seen in Louises eyes when she had
looked at John. The other woman hadnt even seen
her, hidden as she was in the shadows. Who was she?
A sense of disquiet started to seep through her; an
awareness of deep and dark waters driven by dangerous
unseen currents that could suck her down into
their icy depths if she wasnt careful. Instinctively
Jodie sensed that Louise and this woman were two of
a kind, and that knowledge was enough to rub against
the still painfully raw emotional nerves inside herself.
She looked at Lorenzo. He looked relaxed, but she
could feel his tension in the sudden increased pressure
of his fingers, where they were splayed across her
back. Something was going on here that she wasnt
privy to but what? So many unanswered questions,
and they were destined to remain unanswered, Jodie
guessed, as she watched the full mouth thin, crimson
with carefully applied lipgloss, and the delicate nostrils
flare. A huge diamond flashed blindingly as the
woman raised one hand to touch the deep vee neckline
of the expensive black dress she was wearing in
a deliberate gesture of enticement. What man could
resist following with his gaze the scarlet glisten of the
long nails as they rested briefly in the valley between
the tight, high fullness of her perfectly shaped
breasts?
Her dress moulded to a waist so small that Jodie
guessed it must be the result of a tightly laced corset,
before curving lushly over rounded hips. Its hemline
revealed a pair of long, slender, warmly tanned legs,
whilst her feet, with their scarlet-painted toenails,
were adorned with the highest and most delicate pair
of strappy sandals Jodie had ever seen. She looked
like someone who was about to walk into the most
sophisticated and luxurious kind of setting there was,
instead of being here in this dilapidated fortress in the
middle of nowhere.
A look of open triumph lit the Italian woman"s face
as she sashayed towards Lorenzo. But her brown eyes
lacked any kind of warmth, Jodie noticed, and as she
walked, talking quickly, her voice sounded harsh and
slightly flat, jarring against Jodies ears, rather than
warm and musical as she had expected.
She had almost reached them when Lorenzo held
up a commanding hand and said smoothly, "In
English, if you please, Caterina. That way, my wife-
to-be will be able to understand you."
The effect of his words on the woman was cataclysmic.
She stopped moving and turned to look at
Jodie, who discovered that she was being propelled
forward out of the shadows and anchored to
Lorenzos side by means of his almost manacle-like
grip on her wrist.
A furious, disbelieving female glare savaged Jodie
where she stood, followed by an equally furious outburst
of Italian.
"This way," Lorenzo instructed Jodie, ignoring her.
"No!" The woman placed herself in front of them,
and said in English, "You will not do this to me. You
cannot! Who is she?"
"I have just told you. My wife-to-be," Lorenzo answered
her dismissively.
"No. You cannot do this." The flat, metallic voice
was filled with fury. "No. No!" She was shaking her
head from side to side so violently that Jodie felt
dizzy, but not one single strand of the immaculately
coiffed hair escaped. "No," she repeated. "You will
not make such a nothing your duchessa, Lorenzo?"
His duchess?
"You will not speak so of my intended wife," she
heard Lorenzo saying coldly.
Dear God, what on earth had she got herself into?
"Where has she come from? What gutter did you?"
Immediately a look of haughty rejection stiffened