they all appeared to be of a purely
technical nature, so she soon abandoned that as a pastime.
Presumably Santino's plans for the entertainment of his women
guests did not include the provision of reading matter, she thought
ironically.
Her stomach rumbled suddenly and disconcertingly, reminding her
that it was a long time since she had eaten. She had enjoyed the
coffee Annunziata had brought, but now she needed solid food
inside her. Presumably as she was no longer a prisoner in her room,
Santino did not plan to starve her either. Moodily, she flung herself
down on one of the sofas and stared into space, wondering among
other things where Mario and Jan were at that moment. She hoped
they were happy, because that was the only thing that would make
this entire business in any way tolerable. For a moment she felt
tears prick at her eyes, then angrily dammed them back. It was
useless indulging in self-pity. She had got herself into this mess, and
she would simply have to get herself out of it in due course, and
pray that she remained unscathed in the process.
As she lay back against the cushions, her eyes closed, struggling to
regain her composure, she was suddenly aware that she was not
alone. Her eyes flew open and she saw Santino standing over her.
She sat up instantly, pushing her hair back with one defensive hand,
hoping she had not exhibited any visible sign of weakness to him.
'I'm surprised to find you still indoors,' he observed after a moment
or two of rather taut silence had stretched between them. 'Or are
you afraid that our warm Calabrian sun will burn and blister that
lovely skin?'
She shrugged a shoulder, thankful that he had mistaken the normal
pallor engendered by a rather damp English summer for the care a
model girl would lavish on her complexion.
It is my livelihood after all, signore,' she replied in a small, cold
voice.
He sat down beside her on the sofa, stretching his long legs in front
of him, his lips twisting cynically as he looked at her. 'And in more
than one way, cara ,' he said softly, and laughed at her small,
indignant gasp.
Her hand swung up to. strike him, to smash the sneer from his face,
but he was too quick for her. Cruel fingers seized her wrist and held
it until she gasped again, this time in pain.
'I think not, bella mia,' he said between his teeth. 'Or I should be
forged to exact retribution in a way that I promise you you would
not like.'
'Simply being in the same room with you, s ignore, is quite
punishment enough, believe me,' she said bitterly, nursing her wrist
where the marks of his fingers showed red against the whiteness of
her skin.
'Veramente?' His brows rose mockingly. 'Then I shall have to think
of something to make your enforced sojourn in my home slightly
less of a penance to you, Janina.'
'And to yourself, no doubt,' she said tartly.
He smiled. 'Oh, I don't regard you as a penance, Janina,' he said.
'For a man, there must always be compensations in the presence of
a beautiful woman.' He reached out a lazy hand and took her wrist
which she was still rubbing, raising it in one sensuous movement to
his lips. 'You bruise easily, cara,' he murmured. 'That is something I
shall have to remember.'
For a moment she was speechless, stunned by the obvious
implication in his smiling words, then with a little choked cry she
snatched her wrist away, trying to ignore the long tremor that had
invaded her body at the pressure of his mouth against her flesh. For
a second she was tempted to put the length of the sofa between
them—he was so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his
body, his thigh brushing hers as he lounged very much at his
ease—but she knew that any such action would merely result in her
looking foolish and undignified. But at the same time she would
have to make it more than clear that she was not his plaything, no
matter what role the other women who accompanied him here might
fulfil.
'I'd
technical nature, so she soon abandoned that as a pastime.
Presumably Santino's plans for the entertainment of his women
guests did not include the provision of reading matter, she thought
ironically.
Her stomach rumbled suddenly and disconcertingly, reminding her
that it was a long time since she had eaten. She had enjoyed the
coffee Annunziata had brought, but now she needed solid food
inside her. Presumably as she was no longer a prisoner in her room,
Santino did not plan to starve her either. Moodily, she flung herself
down on one of the sofas and stared into space, wondering among
other things where Mario and Jan were at that moment. She hoped
they were happy, because that was the only thing that would make
this entire business in any way tolerable. For a moment she felt
tears prick at her eyes, then angrily dammed them back. It was
useless indulging in self-pity. She had got herself into this mess, and
she would simply have to get herself out of it in due course, and
pray that she remained unscathed in the process.
As she lay back against the cushions, her eyes closed, struggling to
regain her composure, she was suddenly aware that she was not
alone. Her eyes flew open and she saw Santino standing over her.
She sat up instantly, pushing her hair back with one defensive hand,
hoping she had not exhibited any visible sign of weakness to him.
'I'm surprised to find you still indoors,' he observed after a moment
or two of rather taut silence had stretched between them. 'Or are
you afraid that our warm Calabrian sun will burn and blister that
lovely skin?'
She shrugged a shoulder, thankful that he had mistaken the normal
pallor engendered by a rather damp English summer for the care a
model girl would lavish on her complexion.
It is my livelihood after all, signore,' she replied in a small, cold
voice.
He sat down beside her on the sofa, stretching his long legs in front
of him, his lips twisting cynically as he looked at her. 'And in more
than one way, cara ,' he said softly, and laughed at her small,
indignant gasp.
Her hand swung up to. strike him, to smash the sneer from his face,
but he was too quick for her. Cruel fingers seized her wrist and held
it until she gasped again, this time in pain.
'I think not, bella mia,' he said between his teeth. 'Or I should be
forged to exact retribution in a way that I promise you you would
not like.'
'Simply being in the same room with you, s ignore, is quite
punishment enough, believe me,' she said bitterly, nursing her wrist
where the marks of his fingers showed red against the whiteness of
her skin.
'Veramente?' His brows rose mockingly. 'Then I shall have to think
of something to make your enforced sojourn in my home slightly
less of a penance to you, Janina.'
'And to yourself, no doubt,' she said tartly.
He smiled. 'Oh, I don't regard you as a penance, Janina,' he said.
'For a man, there must always be compensations in the presence of
a beautiful woman.' He reached out a lazy hand and took her wrist
which she was still rubbing, raising it in one sensuous movement to
his lips. 'You bruise easily, cara,' he murmured. 'That is something I
shall have to remember.'
For a moment she was speechless, stunned by the obvious
implication in his smiling words, then with a little choked cry she
snatched her wrist away, trying to ignore the long tremor that had
invaded her body at the pressure of his mouth against her flesh. For
a second she was tempted to put the length of the sofa between
them—he was so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his
body, his thigh brushing hers as he lounged very much at his
ease—but she knew that any such action would merely result in her
looking foolish and undignified. But at the same time she would
have to make it more than clear that she was not his plaything, no
matter what role the other women who accompanied him here might
fulfil.
'I'd
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