The Italian Count's Defiant Bride by Catherine George

Author:Catherine George
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2009-09-01T16:00:00+00:00

Alicia surfaced again to the wonderful smell of coffee and a tap on the door, and shot out of bed to wrap herself in her dressing gown and push her hair behind her ears.

‘Come in.’

‘Buongiorno.’ Francesco, hair damp from a shower, smiled as he came in with a tray. ‘Did you sleep, Alicia?’

‘Good morning. I went out like a light. Unlike this one.’ Embarrassed, she switched off the bedside lamp. ‘I couldn’t cope with the dark last night.’

‘It is not surprising.’ Francesco put the tray down, eyeing her closely. ‘You look better. No more dreams?’

‘No. If you give me five minutes to wash and brush my teeth, I’ll be with you.’

‘Hurry, or I shall eat all the pastries,’ he warned.

Alicia rejoined Francesco quickly, growing more conscious by the minute that this visit was proceeding along vastly different lines from the ones she’d intended. For years she had thought of Francesco, when she allowed herself to think of him at all, as the villain of her story. But since they’d met up again his role had begun to change. Considerably.

‘What are you thinking?’ asked Francesco as he filled the coffee cups.

‘That this is not what I expected.’

‘This?’

‘You and me, together here like old friends, instead of—’ She stopped short, biting her lip.

‘Enemies.’ He seated her in one of the chairs he’d pulled up to the table. ‘Perhaps you are now able to think of me without remembering the tragedy of our parting.’

‘Tragedy?’

The brilliant eyes held hers. ‘When a man causes such hurt to his bride she runs away on their wedding night what else is it? There is some other English word that describes it better?’

Alicia drank some of the heavenly coffee and took a brioche. ‘Probably not. But since we’re on the subject of our wedding night, Francesco, it’s time you knew exactly why I slapped on the make-up and decked myself out in that extraordinary garment. It wasn’t my idea. I’d been given precise instructions on how to make myself more alluring for you.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘But when you saw the result you looked ready to throw up.’

‘Throw up?’

‘Vomitare?’

He nodded, his eyes narrowed and intent. ‘You said instructions—who gave you these?’

Alicia refilled their cups, wondering whether he was up to the truth. But it was time he knew. ‘Your mother.’

‘Cosa!’ Francesco looked as though he’d taken a blow to the stomach. ‘My mother told you to paint yourself like a puttana?’

‘Not personally. She sent Cinzia to me with a gift just before we left the castello, with instructions to open it in Paris.’ Alicia’s mouth twisted. ‘I was so pathetically pleased that your mother had given me a present, I even thanked her warmly as we said goodbye. But I was shocked rigid when I opened the package. And absolutely astounded when I read the instructions that went with the nightgown. But, because it was your mother’s advice on what my bridegroom would expect, I took it as gospel and followed it to the letter.’

Francesco shook his head vehemently.

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