The Millionaire's Daughter (The Carew Stepsisters Book 1) Page 17

  ‘Primitive,’ echoed Annis.

  She would never have imagined ultra-sophisticated, urban Kosta relishing anything primitive. And yet here he was in this medieval space looking as if he belonged here, savouring the achievements of the construction engineers of the Middle Ages.

  A faint expression of annoyance crossed his face. ‘I’m not just brocade jackets and champagne, you know.’

  Annis shivered. ‘You’ve got to stop reading my mind like that.’

  The annoyance died. He looked at her, arrested. ‘Was I?’

  But Annis had been betrayed into one admission. She was not going to compound the error. She turned away and concentrated on the map.

  ‘Where am I sleeping?’

  ‘In my arms.’

  She was tracing a crazily fractured corridor. ‘I’ll never find my way—what?’

  He was so close she could feel the heat of his body but he did not touch her. Annis held herself very still and did not turn to face him. She was almost certain that he was bending over her, drinking in the scent of her hair. Her heart lurched and began to thunder.

  He said quietly, ‘You will sleep with me.’

  She did turn then. And saw he was deadly serious. He was rather pale under his tan and the green eyes were no longer laughing.

  She said explosively, ‘You’re not serious. You can’t just announce something like that. What if I don’t want to?’

  ‘Don’t you?’

  She ignored that. ‘What if I refuse to?’

  He did not answer for a moment. When he did, she had the feeling that he was groping his way through a landscape he had never visited before. And that he was trying to tell the exact truth. It was so unexpected that she heard him out in silence. Simmering silence. But at least she let him finish.

  ‘Annis, you and I bring out the worst in each other sometimes. But there’s something there and it’s not over.’

  He paused. She said nothing.

  ‘When you and I made love—well, neither of was using our heads, were we?’

  She snorted derisively but she did not interrupt.

  ‘I knew it was too soon for both of us. You’d made me mad. And then you—well, to be honest you drove me crazy. I had to have you. You must know that. And it wasn’t just me, either, was it? You were as desperate as I was.’

  The look he gave her challenged her to admit it. Annis shrugged, looking away.

  ‘The moment I got into that fantasy room of yours, I knew it was a mistake. You felt invaded. I saw that. And I—well, I suddenly realised how much there was about you I didn’t know. But, like I said, it wasn’t exactly our brains giving the orders.’

  Annis swallowed. ‘No,’ she muttered at last.

  Her skin, her very blood, felt sensitised to his every move, his breath even. But Kosta did not touch her.

  ‘So I thought if you came here—to my private special place—you would feel different. You would know as much about me as I do now about you.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘Hell, you’ll probably end up knowing everything there is to know about me.’

  She did not speak. She could not.

  ‘I thought, if I let you see me here, you would not feel so vulnerable.’

  Vulnerable? She felt naked!

  He said quietly, ‘Sleep with me, Annis.’

  Her head whirled. She said nothing.

  He made a quick movement, as if he would have taken her into his arms then. But she flinched and he thrust his hands into his pockets.

  ‘We don’t need to make love if you don’t want to. We won’t do anything you don’t want to. Just let me hold you.’ The green eyes were serious. ‘I know you’re afraid of being out of control. But trust me this once and I won’t ever ask you to take such a gamble again.’

  Annis swallowed. This time she could see the chasm ahead and it terrified her. Couldn’t he see that? Why didn’t he take her in his arms?

  But Kosta was keeping a meticulous distance. His mouth was drawn.

  ‘How can I get you to stop fighting me?’ A note almost of despair had invaded his voice. No seducer’s mellifluous tones now. Just a man desperately in earnest who did not know what to say or do next. ‘Annis, this thing we’ve got—it happens once in a lifetime. Give it a chance. Please.’

  She looked into the handsome Byronic face and saw honesty. It terrified her. At the same time it made her feel as if she had been given the world.

  ‘I—don’t know.’ Her voice sounded strange to her.

  His eyes were suddenly alert. ‘Look—stay close to me today. I’ll take you round the castle. You can reorganise my plans if you like. Then this evening we’ll cook a meal together. I’ll make a fire; we can read or watch television or talk. Let’s just be like an old married couple today. See how it feels. Then, if you still want to sleep alone, you can. If you want to leave you can and I won’t say a word to stop you. But give me today.’

  It was his negotiating mode, infinitely reasonable, wholly unthreatening. But the chasm was still there and none of his calm practicalities could hide it. Would he get her across or let her fall? If she did fall, her self-respect would be ripped to shreds. Worse, her heart would shatter.

  Because Annis knew, without any question at all, that Konstantin Vitale had the power to break her heart now. Could she risk it? Could she afford not to risk it?

  She looked up and saw his expression. It was almost unrecognisable, so level, so tender. He put a hand out to her. Without even knowing she was doing it, Annis took it.

  The hours that followed were strange, almost dreamlike. An almighty storm blew up. The afternoon went dark. Thunder rolled making the lights flicker.

  Kosta showed her the great hall, hung with tapestries that wafted in the constant draughts and talked of Calabrian history.

  ‘It was one of the great colonies of Greece. There are still remains to be found. But we have earthquakes and it has been inaccessible so long. Archaeologists find other places more attractive. There is a bridge across the gorge to the village and they think they have found an old road there. I’ve been asked if I’ll allow a dig next summer.’

  ‘And will you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Although they’ll invade your privacy? You did say this is your private place.’

  ‘No place is that private. I’ve told you, I don’t believe in ownership.’

  Annis fingered the tapestry. It was seventeenth century and threadbare in places. It must have cost him a fortune. Just as the high-tech appliances lost in the vaulted kitchen downstairs must have. He was not just camping here. He was making it habitable—more, he was making it beautiful—as if he believed he owned it. She said so.

  His brows twitched together in a quick frown. ‘Clever.’ He sounded irritated.

  ‘No. Just intrigued. There seems to be a flaw in your argument somewhere.’

  ‘Nobody else wanted it,’ he said, goaded. ‘It was falling apart.’

  ‘So why were you the one to come to the rescue?’

  He frowned even harder. Then gave a quick dismissive shrug. ‘My father came from round here originally. I was sixteen and looking for my roots.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Annis digested this. He was looking forbidding, as if he wanted to end the subject there. But he had invited her to see him as deeply as he had seen her and she wanted to know.

  ‘Do you still see your father?’

  For a moment she thought he would not answer. Then he said, ‘I suppose I asked for this. Yes, I see him. You want to know all about it, I suppose?’

  Annis nodded.

  ‘He came from Calabria, one of the hill villages further north. He went to Croatia, had a holiday fling with my mother, moved on to the States. She always thought he was a great aristocrat but he wasn’t—just the son of a rural land owner with a good line in self promotion.’

  It sounded bitter. He brooded.

  Annis said, ‘Do you dislike him?’

  Kosta came out of his brown study. ‘What? N
o, of course not. What happened is history, and not my history, at that. He didn’t know about me until both he and my mother had married other people and had children of their own. He was kind enough when I went to the States. We’re not close.’

  ‘And your mother?’

  ‘We’re not close either, but for other reasons. She’s always treated me as if I was some heir to a foreign kingdom. That’s why she went to Australia: looking for education and a better life because I was a sort of sacred trust.’ He scowled. ‘Quite mad. Otherwise, she’s a sensible woman, a very good mother to my stepbrothers. It was just me she thought was too important. I always felt like a cuckoo in the nest. Frankly it was a relief to everyone when I took to the road.’

  Annis was having a revelation. ‘So San Giorgio is the first home you have ever owned?’

  ‘I’ve told you, I don’t own places,’ he said on a flash of temper.

  ‘All right.’ Annis was equable. ‘The first place where you belonged.’

  Kosta looked thunderstruck. Annis bit back a smile.

  Later he walked her along the ramparts. The sky was ink-black but the sheet of rain had moved south.

  ‘Look,’ said Annis, ‘a rainbow.’

  It arced over the gun-metal sea like the entrance to paradise.

  The wind blew her hair back from her face. It left her scar cruelly exposed. Instinctively she put up a hand to hide it.

  ‘Don’t,’ Kosta said fiercely. He caught her hand and turned her to face him. ‘Don’t hide anything from me, good or bad.’

  So Annis told him what she hardly even let herself remember. ‘My mother said it was gross. That it ruined me. That was why she left my father. Because she couldn’t bear to look at me.’

  ‘Nonsense.’

  ‘What?’ Annis was not sure she had heard correctly.

  Kosta bent towards her, shielding her from the wind so she could hear him distinctly. ‘People leave their partners because something has gone wrong between them.’

  Annis stared.

  ‘Did she tell you she left because you were scarred?’

  ‘I never saw her again.’

  ‘OK, did your father tell you that?’

  ‘No. But I knew.’ Annis wrestled with unwelcome memory. ‘I heard her say she couldn’t bear to look at me.’

  He kissed the scar very gently. ‘She was probably in shock. I bet that was just after it happened.’

  ‘Yes, it was,’ admitted Annis.

  ‘Not kind. Or sensible. But I’ll bet she wasn’t thinking of it as grounds for divorce. That was because there was something wrong between her and your father.’

  Annis found, astonishingly, that she believed him. He put an arm round her and pulled her against his shoulder. It felt like a rock. She looked at the rainbow through an inexplicable mist before blinking it away. But she left her head on his shoulder trustfully.

  Before he’d sent his staff away Kosta had made sure that the larder was well-stocked. Annis was no cook but she did not need to be. Kosta had her chopping green peppers and auber-gines while he made a sauce for the pasta which was pure magic. They ate in the kitchen until the storm returned. Eventually there was a loud crash and all the lights went out, including the pilot light on the cooker.

  ‘Just as well I lit a fire,’ said Kosta, unmoved.

  He lit some candles and set a tray with a couple of tiny glasses, a bottle full of something that looked like liquid lemon curd and a flat circular cake.

  ‘Signora Sfogliatelle will provide the dessert.’

  ‘Who is Signora Sfogliatelle?’ asked Annis, trying not to wince as lightning forked across the sky beyond the windows.

  He tapped the cake. ‘Local speciality. Well, fairly local. Tastes of orange flowers. I’ve never had anything like it anywhere else in the world. Come on, we’ll finish supper in front of the fire.’

  He took her up another of those corkscrew stone staircases. This time the room was circular and small enough for the enormous fire to warm it deliciously. Annis saw a sheepskin rug, books and a large, battered chair with a brass Arabic table beside it. Beyond the firelight there were flickering shadows of dark furniture and more tapestries. High up, the walls were studded with tiny arrow slits through which the lightning was still visible.

  Annis kicked off her shoes and sank down onto the rug. The neat skirt she had travelled in slid disreputably up her thighs. She did not care. She wiggled her toes luxuriously in the silky wool. Kosta put the tray down on the small table.

  ‘You cut the cake. I’ll open the limoncello.’

  As Annis sliced into it, a scent of oranges and aromatic leaves vied with the wood smoke.

  ‘Powerful,’ she said, her nose twitching appreciatively.

  Kosta was twisting the top off the bottle. He smiled down at her. ‘Yes, I thought you’d like that, little sensualist that you are. And what about this?’ He held the open bottle out to her.

  Annis sniffed cautiously. The smell of lemon peel was so astringent it made her eyes water.

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘You drink it to get rid of a cold. Kills all known germs. But tonight, we’re going to pour it over la sfogliatelle.’ He did so and handed her a plate. ‘Taste that.’

  The taste filled her mouth with fiery citrus. She blinked.

  ‘Very—energising,’ said Annis truthfully.

  She thought he would sit in the leather chair. It was clearly a favourite. But he did not. He slid down on the rug beside her.

  ‘Is it?’

  She turned her head and was looking straight into his eyes. They were so close, so intent, that her head swam.

  ‘I—’

  He took the plate away from her and put it up on the table.

  ‘Out of harm’s way,’ he said, a smile in his voice.

  The fire was making Annis feel voluptuously languid. But her instincts were all on tiptoe alert. She sat very straight and curled her legs to one side to give him more room.

  ‘Kosta—’

  He slid further down and touched an experimental finger to the hollow of her knee. She gave a gasp, half-surprise, half-pleasure. He looked up.

  ‘You like that?’

  Annis swallowed. ‘I’m not sure.’ Which was true.

  ‘OK. More research needed.’

  He stretched out along the rug and began to play his fingers along her skin as if she were a keyboard. He teased her foot, then her ankle, the sensitive place behind her knee. Annis wriggled, smiling. Sitting up straight was becoming more and more of an effort. Not a very rewarding effort. She felt her senses uncurl at that controlled, expert touch.

  The playful, purposeful fingers moved higher. And suddenly she was not smiling any more. She stilled his hand.

  He was undisturbed. ‘Still not sure?’ She could hear the smile in his voice.

  He put his hands either side of her waist and pulled her down beside him. The smart business skirt concertinaed under her.

  ‘That looks uncomfortable,’ he said, and removed it.

  She shivered, half-longing, half-reluctant. But she did not try to put the skirt on again. She lay still, looking at him very steadily.

  Kosta put a possessive hand on her hip-bone. She knew it was possessive. She felt the claim he was staking as clearly as if he had said it aloud. He was, Annis was relieved to see, no longer undisturbed.

  He said with difficulty, ‘I said we wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want. You’d better tell me what you want before I—’

  In the shadows his face was all cheekbones and dark hollows, tense with need. Annis looked away. In the hearth, flames wavered and danced mesmerisingly. The red core of the fire held little blue-green flames. She looked back quickly and saw they were reflected in his eyes. As they must be in mine, thought Annis.

  For a moment she froze. Astonished at her own courage, she thought, so here I go, then.

  Not taking her eyes from his face, she undid her sober cream silk blouse and let it fall away. It was a gesture of total surrender.
Total trust.

  Kosta made a ragged, disbelieving sound. Clumsy with haste, he stripped her of her remaining garments. As he tossed them aside, Annis thought how fragile they seemed. And how strong she felt without them. Strong and elemental.

  He bent over her, as if she were some precious prize, and kissed her everywhere. Slowly, though he shook with his own need.

  His exquisite courtesy moved her to tears, even while it had her reaching for him in hunger. When he finally slid inside her, she gave a little gasp of utter, astonished completeness.

  Then the elemental took over.

  At some point he stood up and threw more logs on the fire. As the sparks flew she watched avidly. In the firelight, he was lean and golden. And mine, thought Annis. Stretching up, she ran a lazy hand over his naked thigh and felt him quiver in response. He turned. I did that, she thought. She laughed up at him, triumphant in her new trust.

  ‘So what was that about sleeping in your arms?’ she teased.

  ‘Soon,’ he promised huskily.

  But they did not sleep for hours.

  Later he made up the fire for one last time and carried her into the shadows. The shadowed furniture turned out to be a bed, huge and comfortable and warm as an animal’s burrow. But even so she did not sleep. She just lay in his arms in a daze of delighted senses and satisfied heart.

  I have never been so happy. Did she say it aloud?

  Kosta held her to his chest where his heart beat so strongly. He was playing with the hair on her neck.

  ‘This time I’ll say it,’ he said soberly. ‘My love.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  FOR the next three days she went around in a daze of love. It seemed as if Kosta would not let her out of his sight. They walked along the beach hand in hand. They got the generator going again together. They organised Kosta’s work schedule together. They cooked and washed dishes and sat in silence together.

  And they made love. Anywhere. Everywhere. Any time.

  Annis would look up and see that intent look in his eyes. Her heart would beat hard and fast, her muscles would turn liquid, her skin would heat. And she would go to him. Once, in the middle of a late, lazy breakfast, they simply fell on each other and ended up, laughing and satiated, under the refectory table.