Wife By Arrangement

In a flash she found herself understanding all sorts of things. For instance, how Elena would be very drawn to this man who, despite his lack of conventional beauty, had an impressiveness that—she put a firm brake on her thoughts.

‘Perfectly, sir,’ she said crisply. ‘I’d suggest “Deep of the Night”.’

‘It sounds just like her,’ he agreed shamelessly.

She rubbed a drop of the perfume on her wrist and held it out to him. He inhaled slowly, then took her wrist between his fingers and brought it close to his face. She had a sudden impression of fierce, controlled power behind his civilised manner, as though she’d been strolling through a sedate garden and seen a tiger lurking behind the leaves, ready to spring. She resisted the impulse to snatch her hand back.

‘Admirable,’ he said. ‘I’ll take the large flagon.’

Heather almost gasped. The large flagon was the costliest item in a very costly range. Her commission on this sale was beginning to look very good. Perhaps even good enough to buy a really beautiful wedding dress…

She stopped that thought in its tracks. It was undignified to hope for something that probably wouldn’t happen.

‘Now, another lady, with a different personality—light-hearted and fun.’

“‘Summer Dance” might suit her. It’s fresh and flowery—’

‘But not naive?’ he asked anxiously.

‘Certainly not. Insouciant but sophisticated.’

She tested it on the other arm and again he took her wrist, holding it a quarter-inch from his face. Heather could feel his warm breath against her skin and she wished he would let her go. But that was an absurd over-reaction, she told herself sensibly. He wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were closed and he was in a faraway world, with his various mistresses. His hold on her wrist was quite impersonal.

But then the thought crept in that nothing was impersonal with him. This was a man with whom everything—every kind word, every cruel one, every insult, every wound to his pride, every gesture of love—would be taken deeply personally. And for that reason he was very, very dangerous: perhaps the most dangerous man she had ever encountered. When he opened his eyes and looked at her she realised that she’d been holding her breath.

‘Perfetto,’ he murmured. ‘How well we understand each other.’

He released her and she felt as though she were awakening from a dream. She could still feel the pressure on her wrist where he’d held it with such soft, yet irresistible power. She pulled herself firmly together.

‘I try to understand all my customers, signore,’ she replied. ‘It’s my job.’

He made a face of appreciation. ‘Signore? So you understand Italian?’

She smiled. ‘I know some Italian and about ten words of Sicilian.’

She didn’t know what had made her mention Sicilian, except perhaps a desire to know if this man really did come from the same part of the world as Lorenzo. It seemed that he did.

He regarded her with amused curiosity, murmuring, ‘I wonder why you are learning my dialect.’

‘I’m not exactly learning it,’ she disclaimed hastily. ‘I just picked up a few words from a friend.’

‘And doubtless your friend is a handsome young man. Has he yet told you that you are grazziusu?’

‘I think we should concentrate on your purchases,’ Heather said, hoping she wasn’t blushing. Lorenzo had used exactly that word to her only the night before, explaining that it was one of the many Sicilian words for beautiful. She shouldn’t be talking like this with a stranger. But he was like a magician, who could twist the conversation this way and that with a wave of an invisible wand. He had said grazziusu with a soft, seductive power that even Lorenzo, in his ardour, hadn’t matched.

‘I see that you understand the word, and not from a dictionary,’ he observed. ‘I’m glad your lover appreciates you.’

No wonder this man had several mistresses if he went about talking like this. Doubtless she too was supposed to be flattered. But she refused to go weak at the knees. It had been a long day, and her legs were tired. That was all.

‘Shall we return to the matter in hand?’ she asked.

‘If we must. What next?’

Heather regarded him levelly. ‘Let me get this clear, signore. Just how many lady-friends are you trying to—er—keep happy?’

He grinned shamelessly, giving an eloquent shrug. ‘Is it important?’

‘It is if they have different personalities.’

‘Very different,’ he confirmed. ‘I like one to suit each mood. Minetta is light-hearted, Julia is musical, and Elena is darkly sensual.’

He was trying to unsettle her; there was no doubt of it. His eyes spoke meanings that went far beyond what his lips were saying. She observed briskly, ‘Well, that should make things nice and simple.’

‘Simple?’

‘A man of only three moods.’

She was startled at herself. A good sales assistant thought only of the sale. She didn’t backchat the customer and risk offending him. But he wasn’t offended. He even seemed amused at her swift riposte.

‘You’re quite right,’ he said. ‘Three isn’t enough. I have a vacancy for a witty lady, which you could fill perfectly.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t suit you at all,’ she fenced.

‘I’m not so sure about that.’

‘I am. Completely sure.’

‘I wonder why.’ He was laughing.

Heather laughed back. She was beginning to take his measure. ‘Well, for a start, I’d never agree to be part of a crowd. You’d have to get rid of all the others.’

‘I’m sure you’d make it worth my while.’

‘If I felt that you were worth it,’ she said daringly. ‘But you wouldn’t be, because I’m not in the market.’

‘Ah, yes, of course! You already have a lover.’

There was that word again. Why was the whole world harping on lovers all of a sudden?

‘Let’s just say that I have a young man who suits me.’

‘And he comes from Sicily, since you are learning his language. Which also means that you’re hoping to marry him.’

To her dismay Heather felt a revealing blush creep over her face. To cover it she spoke sharply. ‘If you mean that I’ve set my cap at him, you’re wrong. And this conversation is over.’

‘Forgive me. It’s not my business.’

‘Indeed it isn’t.’