Promise Of The Unicorn

But finding an opportunity to do so was another matter. Angelo was deep in conversation with her stepfather, and they looked as if they might be there for the rest of the night, so at last, she admitted defeat, and said good night to the room at large.

But once in her bedroom she made no attempt to get undressed. She felt too jittery to rest or relax, and she sat by the window for a while, watching the stars fade.

It seemed ages before she heard the sounds of movement and muted voices which suggested the party had broken up at last.

She waited until the house was quiet, then slipped out of her room like a little ghost and made her way to the room Angelo occupied when he stayed with them.

She knocked, but there was no reply, and she hesitated. Surely, he couldn’t be asleep already. She went to knock again, but as she did so, the door opened abruptly, and she was caught off-balance, her hand raised, feeling foolish.

She said lamely, ‘Oh, there you are.’

‘Where else did you imagine I would be at this hour?’ Angelo returned drily. ‘What do you want, Sophie?’

‘I need to talk to you.’

‘Then could it be at a more civilised hour? As you see, I was about to go to bed.’

Yes, she saw. He was wearing a dressing gown in dark red silk, reaching to mid-thigh and loosely belted at the waist. The neck hung open in a deep vee, revealing an expanse of hair-darkened skin. and the long muscular legs were bare too. His black hair looked damp and slightly ruffled, as if he’s just taken a shower.

His eyes surveyed her impatiently. ‘Well?’

‘I’m sorry, but I’d rather it was now,’ Sophie said. ‘I—I won’t keep you long.’

‘That,’ he said grimly. ‘I can guarantee.’

As he motioned her past him into the room, and turned to close the door, Sophie knew a twinge of misgiving.

‘Perhaps it would be better if I waited …’ she began.

She saw the familiar gleam of mockery in the dark eyes. ‘Nervous, Sophie? But of what? Surely not me—but perhaps—yourself?’

She flushed dully. ‘That is not what I came here to discuss,’ she said icily.

‘How disappointing,’ he said, and for a moment, the dark eyes rested on her lips like a disturbing caress.

She felt the breath catch in her throat, and hurried into speech. ‘Why have you asked us to Avirenze?’

His brows lifted. ‘I understood from your parents, it had always been one of your ambitions to go there.’

‘When I was a child, perhaps.’ Sophie said with hauteur.

‘But no longer?’ The long brown fingers cupped her chin, turning her reluctant face up to his. ‘What is your objection?’

Sophie trod carefully. ‘Because there’s no need for you to go to these lengths. I know I asked for your help, but …’

‘You did,’ he said. ‘And now you are questioning the way in which that help is to be given. Isn’t that a little churlish, Sophie?’

Well, she should have expected that, Sophie thought grimly. She said, ‘I thought you intended to encourage my parents to get to know Mark.’

‘I do,’ he said. ‘And how better than during a relaxing stay on Avirenze. It’s a very small island, Sophie mia. It encourages intimacy—at all levels.’

He was baiting her, but she refused to rise to it. A lot of the wind had been taken out of her sails anyway. ‘You mean—Mother and John are coming as well. I—I didn’t realise.’

‘Naturally they will be there,’ Angelo said. ‘Anything else would hardly be decorous.’

‘Oh?’ Sophie’s voice was tart. ‘I wasn’t aware that decorum was any big deal with you.’

He sent her a sardonic grin. ‘But where members of my family are concerned,’ he said softly. ‘It will amaze you how decorous I can be.’

‘I’m not a member of your family. I’m a Ralston,’ she said flatly. ‘Will other people be there too?’

His grin widened. ‘Plenty of other people,’ he said silkily. ‘With a little care, cara, it should be possible for you to avoid me completely.’

She flushed mutinously. ‘Will Gianetta Vanni be among them?’ She could have bitten out her tongue the moment the question was asked. She expected a crushing snub in return.

But, all he said, quite mildly, was, ‘You wish me to supply a guest list for your approval, cara?’

‘No,’ she snapped, hating him. ‘It’s your island. I suppose you’re entitled to invite anyone you like.’

He laughed. ‘Graciously spoken. So—have I allayed your fears? Do you still believe that I am willing to help you to your heart’s desire?’

The words were lightly spoken, but she was aware that he was watching her keenly, and she moved awkwardly, avoiding his gaze.

At last, she said stiltedly, ‘I’m sorry. I’m clearly putting you to a great deal of trouble.’

‘You talk nonsense,’ he said. ‘And it was always my intention to invite you to Avirenze, cara.’ He added softly. ‘I was only waiting for you to become a woman.’

There should have been some smart comeback to that, but for the life of her, Sophie couldn’t think of one.

Instead, she heard her voice sounding very young, and rather breathless, as she bade him good night and turned, heading blindly for the door.

He was there ahead of her, opening it courteously for her. But that meant she had to brush past him, and suddenly he was altogether too close, the cool clean scent of his skin overwhelmingly in her nostrils.

For a startled moment, her whole body seemed to breathe him, and she knew an overpowering longing to turn to him, to feel his arms close around her, to know once more the taste of him—the touch …

She felt as helpless as a puppet. Invisible strings were drawing her. Nameless desires were turning her limbs to water, slowing her instinctive flight. She wondered crazily what he would do if she put her lips against his skin, where the neck of his robe parted, and the breath choked in her throat as she realised exactly what she was inviting.

She couldn’t look at him in case she saw in his face some recognition of her torment. Because if he knew—if he had the least idea, she would be shamed forever.

She thought, ‘Oh, God, what am I doing here?’ and fled, her heart hammering like that of a terrified bird.