“I think you’re making a big mistake.” Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE Copyright

“I think you’re making a big mistake.”

“A mistake?”

“It wouldn’t work.”

He feigned innocence. “Why on earth not?”

“You really need to ask?” Lady Caterina grimaced as she elaborated. “We’re not even capable of conducting a civil conversation. How on earth could we possibly contemplate working together?”

Matthew smiled. “Think of it as a challenge.”

Caterina did not smile back. “There are challenges and challenges. And this one, I’m afraid, just doesn’t appeal to me.”

Dear Reader,

Welcome to ROYAL AFFAIR! By appointment to her loyal readers, Stephanie Howard has created a blue-blooded trilogy of romeos, rebels and royalty. It follows the fortunes of the San Rinaldo royal family: Damiano, the Duke of San Rinaldo, his brother, Count Leone, and their sister, Lady Caterina. Together the three of them are dedicated to their country, people and family. But it takes only one thing to turn their perfectly ordered lives upside down: love!

COUNT LEONE MONTECRESPI, the younger brother of the ruling Duke, is a habitual heartbreaker. A playboy of the old school: love them, leave them and on no account, marry them. But will small-town American girl, Carrie Dunn, be the one to finally get him up the aisle?

LADY CATERINA MONTECRESPI, Leone and Damiano’s baby sister, has swom off men since her last disastrous encounter with the opposite sex. And Matthew Allenby is hardly the man to change her mind. As far as Caterina is concerned, he’s a crook and a charlatan. Unfortunately he’s also proving irresistible!

The DUKE OF SAN RINALDO, DAMIANO MONTECRESPI, had married Sofia to secure his dukedom and produce an heir. But duty for Sofia is a cold bed partner—she wants Damiano to love her as much as he does their baby son, Alessandro. Is a happy ending to their fairy-tale romance too much to ask for?

Each of these books contains its own stand-alone romance, as well as making up a great trilogy. Follow Leone and Carrie’s tale in The Colorado Countess. In The Lady’s Man, it’s Caterina and Matthew’s turn. And finally, The Duke’s Wife features Sofia and Damiano’s story—not forgetting little baby Alessandrol

Happy Reading!

The Lady’s Man
Stephanie Howard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Stephanie Howard was born and brought up in Dundee, Scotland, and educated at the London School of Economics. For ten years she worked as a joumalist in London on a variety of women’s magazines, among them Woman’s Own, and was latterly editor of the now defunct Honey. She has spent many years living and working abroad—in Italy, Malaysia, the Philippines and in the Middle East.

THE MONTECRESPI ROYAL FAMILY TREE

CHAPTER ONE

CATERINA was furious. White-knuckle furious. As she marched down the corridor like some unstoppable human tornado, her glossy light brown bob swinging in time to her fury, there was no doubt about it, she was spoiling for a fight.

‘How dare he?’ she was muttering. ‘I’ve had enough of his interfering!’ Her fists were clenched, her blue eyes sparking. ‘Well, this time I’m putting my foot down! He’s not getting away with it!’

Luckily the corridor down which she was marching was empty. The only eyes and ears to bear witness to her tirade were the unseeing, unhearing ones depicted in the portraits—of bishops and princes and generals of old—that hung in their carved frames from the silk-upholstered walls. For the corridor in question was the splendid west-wing corridor of the fabulous Palazzo Verde, home for three hundred years of the illustrious Montecrespis, hereditary rulers of the little dukedom of San Rinaldo—the west wing being where the current Duke had his private quarters.

Generally, it must be said, visitors to the Duke’s private office—for that was where Caterina was currently headed—tended to proceed down the corridor at a more respectful pace and quite often with a sense of awe at their surroundings. But Caterina, at this moment, was feeling far from respectful and she was unlikely to be awed for she was used to these surroundings. For the man she was on her way to see, His Grace, the Duke- of San Rinaldo, just so happened to be her brother.

Not that her feelings right now were particularly sisterly either. As she reached the panelled door that led to his office, she flung it open impatiently and strode across the threshold.

‘Damiano!’ she bellowed. ‘I’ve got a bone to pick with you!’

The only person in the room, however, was Rosa, Damiano’s pretty young secretary. She’d been sitting at her desk, quietly working at her word processor, but she leapt to her feet now like a poor startled frog.

‘Lady Caterina, I’m sorry,’ she started to explain, curtsying, ‘but I’m afraid His Grace isn’t here at the moment.’

Normally Caterina would have chastised her for curtsying, for she had told her a hundred times that it really wasn’t necessary. But right now she had other, more pressing matters on her mind.

‘Isn’t here?’ She swept furiously across the huge room, totally disregarding what Rosa had just told her, and thrust her head round the door of his private inner office. ‘He’s got to be here! I made an appointment!’

But, appointment or not, there was definitely no Damiano, though Caterina continued to stand in the doorway for a moment, her china-blue eyes angrily scouring every corner as though she might detect him hiding under the carpet.

‘Damn him!’ she muttered. ‘He knew I was coming!’

Then she turned back to Rosa, scowling like a gorgon. ‘Where has he gone? What’s going on here? Why didn’t somebody let me know?’

Poor Rosa, who took pride in being the very soul of efficiency and who had never seen Caterina in such a ferocious mood before—the Duke’s twenty-five-year-old sister was normally easygoing and friendly-blushed in dismay at this implicit accusation.

‘I—I don’t know, m’lady,’ she stuttered. ‘I wasn’t told anything. I—’

But that was as far as she got. She was stopped in her tracks as a male voice said, ‘Don’t worry about it, Rosa. I’ll take charge of things from here.’

The two young women turned as one in the direction of the speaker, who was standing in the doorway that led from the west-wing corridor. And as their eyes fell on his dark, commanding figure one of them smiled and one of them did not.

The one who did not was Caterina. Well, one didn’t generally smile at the sudden appearance of a viper, and a viper was precisely what Caterina saw as she looked, with a rush of loathing, into Matthew Allenby’s face.

If he was a viper, however, he was a viper with biceps, for Matthew Allenby positively exuded ruthless power. Tall and muscularly built, he possessed an arrogant self-assurance that shone, as sharp as a razor, from the iron-grey eyes. Eyes that could stop you in your tracks with just the force of a single glance.

He could also stop you in your tracks just with the way he looked. For, as even Caterina would not have denied, he really was quite outrageously attractive. Dark hair, thick and glossy, wide, sensual mouth, the lines of his tanned face sculpted and powerful. And he had an aura of danger and mystery about him that most women, Caterina suspected, found irresistibly seductive.

Most women, that was, very definitely excluding her! Though as she looked at him now and he met her eyes and smiled at her with that habitual air of casual superiority she felt, as always, the threat of the danger that lurked in him and knew it would be wise to keep him safely at arm’s length. She loathed him but she found him deeply unsettling.

She flicked him a cool look. ‘So you plan on taking charge? Well, I’m sorry, Mr Allenby, but you’ll be doing no such thing.’

‘Forgive me, Lady Caterina, but I rather think I will.’

As he addressed her, as protocol demanded he inclined his head slightly, but the amused, superior smile not for one moment left his face. He had this knack, as Caterina had noted on many occasions, of going through the motions of showing the respect due to her position—for she had most assuredly never told him not to bother with the formalities!—while apparently showing not a crumb of respect for her personally. Abominable man, she thought now, her skin prickling with antipathy.

There were a number of reasons why Caterina loathed Matthew Allenby. For a start, he was arrogant and too clever by half. He was a shameless social climber and he had too much influence over her brother.

An Englishman of unknown origins, for his background was swathed in mystery, he had come to San Rinaldo just under a year ago to advise on some building projects that the Duke was involved in. For, though still only in his mid-thirties, he was an internationally renowned architect, though Caterina had heard stories that he’d got where he was by ruthlessly sticking knives into the backs of his rivals.

At any rate, his association with the Duke had strengthened. Pretty soon, it seemed, he was spending far more time here, in the sunny little Mediterranean dukedom of San Rinaldo, than he spent in his own, more rainy homeland. But, though she detested all he was, this wouldn’t normally have bothered Caterina, for her path and Matthew’s very rarely crossed, in spite of the fact that, in addition to his town office, these days he also had an office at the palace.

No, the reason why she detested him was much more personal. For it was thanks to Matthew Allenby that, last September, she’d lost the love of someone who meant the world to her.

Thinking back on that time, she fixed him with a steely look as he turned with that maddeningly easy smile he could switch on and proceeded to address the still bewildered-looking Rosa.

‘It must be about your lunchtime? Perhaps you wouldn’t mind leaving us? Lady Caterina and I have things to discuss.’

‘Of course, Mr Allenby. Right away.’

Caterina noted how the girl flushed with pleasure beneath his gaze as she switched off her computer and reached for her bag. Clearly she was one of those women who found him irresistible, who failed to see the viper beneath the good looks and potent charm.

Though it wasn’t only women Matthew Allenby conned. Men, too, were taken in by that powerful aura of his. Even the normally astute Duke, for some inexplicable reason, failed to see him for the self-seeking hypocrite he was. Damiano treated him like a friend, when really he was no friend. He only courted the royal family to gain influence and social standing.

Caterina waited until Rosa had taken her leave of them, then she turned, with a frosty little smile to face him.

‘You know, you really needn’t have bothered getting rid of Rosa. I don’t know what you think we could possibly have to discuss. I came to see my brother but, since he’s not here, I shall simply come back and see him later.’

And so saying, she swung round and headed for the door.

‘Suit yourself.’

Quite unperturbed, Matthew watched her departure. He had known she would react like this for he knew what she thought of him and, quite frankly, her antipathy didn’t matter to him a damn. He let his eyes sweep. unhurriedly over her willowy figure, dressed in a simple straight blue skirt and a matching round-necked top, as informal and casually elegant as her glossy light brown bob. She was so unassuming in some ways, so impossible in others, with a wild streak he sometimes thought it might be amusing to tame.

But, right now, they had other business on hand.

As she was about to disappear back out into the corridor, he observed to her back, ‘You seem to be unaware that your brother has assigned me to deal with the problem you came to see him about. That’s why I’m here. I understood it was urgent.’

‘You?’

Stopping in her tracks, Caterina swung round to glare at him.

‘You?’ she ground out again. ‘My brother assigned you? Well, maybe I don’t want my problem dealt with by you!’

‘Maybe you have no choice.’

‘Oh?’ Such arrogance! ‘And says who?’

Matthew looked back at her without a flicker. ‘Maybe that’s just the way it is.’

Normally, Caterina’s complexion was creamy and flawless, a perfect luminous foil for her china-blue eyes, which, most of the time, were filled with warmth and humour. But two angry red spots had risen to her cheeks now and her eyes were as warm and humorous as chips of ice. Even her soft-lipped mouth, which smiled and laughed so easily—though it had done its fair share of crying in recent months—was drawn into an uncharacteristic tight, angry line. Matthew really did have the worst possible effect on her.

She replied between her teeth, ‘Well, I’m afraid it’s not the way it is.’ She would stick needles in her eyes before she would discuss her business with Matthew Allenby! And she turned sharply away to resume her interrupted exit.

But then Matthew spoke again. ‘I think I should warn you that your brother has handed over the or ganisation of the garden party to me.’

As he paused, Caterina swung round again, just as he’d known she would. She glared at him, daggers flying from her eyes.

Quite unfazed, he continued, ‘That’s why I said you had no choice—for it was about some problem relating to the garden party that you wished to see your brother, I believe?’

He believed correctly, and it was intolerable that he should be aware of her business. Caterina said nothing for a moment, just glared at him furiously, wishing she had the power, simply with a look, to make him melt like a disagreeable blob into the carpet.

But there seemed little hope of that. All too physically substantial, he continued to stand there by the open doorway. Then, with a shrug, he observed, ‘But maybe it wasn’t important.’ And, with that, apparently dismissing both her and her problem as of no further interest to him whatsoever, he proceeded to cross the room, right in front of her, heading for the door to the Duke’s inner sanctum.

Damned impertinence! ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ No one was allowed in there without her brother’s permission!

Matthew totally ignored her admonition. Even as she stood there, bristling with indignation, he pushed the door open and disappeared inside.

Caterina was after him like a shot. ‘Excuse me! If you don’t mind...!’ But in the open doorway she paused and blinked in disbelief. This was too much, surely, even for the monstrous Matthew Allenby?

He was standing by the huge carved mahogany desk that stood beneath a painting of Rino, the capital city, executed by the Italian master Canaletto during a visit to San Rinaldo in 1739. And he was picking up a pile of papers that lay there on the desk and riffling through them as bold as brass!

Not even Caterina would have had the nerve to do such a thing. No, not nerve. Nerve didn’t come into it, she corrected herself swiftly. What this was was a case of barefaced insolence!

‘Put those papers down at once!’ She was hurtling towards him. ‘How dare you? Nobody touches the Duke’s private papers!’

He did not put them down. He did not even deign to look at her. He just continued, unperturbed, with his insolent riffling.

‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’

‘Yes, I heard.’

And still he riffled.

‘Then why don’t you do as I tell you? Put those papers down this instant!’

She was standing right next to him, her eyes on his hands, which hadn’t so much as paused in their insolent work, and suddenly she noticed something she’d never noticed before. He had exceedingly beautiful hands. Sinuous and very masculine, with long, dexterous fingers, sure and swift in their movements.

But what the devil was she doing admiring his hands? A little shocked at herself, Caterina flicked her eyes to his face, with its high, sculpted cheekbones and arrogantly curved nose.

‘Mr Allenby, I’m warning you. Put those papers down at once!’

‘I’ll put them down, Lady Caterina, when I find what I’m looking for.’

Still he did not look at her. Still his fingers kept on searching.

It was too much for Caterina. ‘I said put them down!’ And she reached out angrily to snatch the papers from him.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’

Her hand never even made contact with the papers. Quick as a flash, Matthew caught her firmly by the wrist, his grip a band of steel pinning her to the spot, making something flare hotly and unexpectedly inside her.

‘We don’t want your brother’s papers getting damaged, do we?’ The iron-grey eyes pierced through her like bayonets. ‘And let’s get something straight.’ His tone was as taut as a crossbow. ‘I don’t take orders from anyone, and very definitely not from you. I work for your brother. He hired me to do jobs for him. And you, I’m afraid, my dear Lady Caterina, don’t enter into the picture at all.’

There was no trace of the famous Matthew Allenby charm now. What she was seeing was the real man, ruthless and dangerous, though this was only the civilised tip of the iceberg, of course. Caterina felt a shiver touch her spine at the thought of the dark savagery beneath.

Yet she did not back down. She tossed her glossy bobbed head at him. ‘That’s where you’re wrong! I do enter into the picture! As his sister, I have a duty to protect the Duke’s interests. You have no right to go rummaging through his private papers!’

‘I’m sorry but I do. Every right, as it happens. Your brother asked me to pick up certain papers from his desk and that is precisely what I’m doing.’

He continued to hold her, his fingers cool around her wrist. ‘So, you see, all your moral outrage is really quite misplaced.’

Was he telling the truth? Caterina suspected that he probably was. After all, she knew how thick he’d become with Damiano, exerting his evil influence all over the place—even on such unlikely matters as her love life, as she already knew to her painful cost. Yes, she decided reluctantly, he probably was in the right.

But only as regards her brother’s papers. Regarding another small matter he had-definitely overstepped the mark.

She narrowed her blue eyes at him and a little belatedly demanded, ‘And now, if you don’t mind, kindly let go of my arm!’

‘My pleasure.’ With an amused smile he released her instantly. ‘Now,’ he observed calmly, ‘I can finish what I was doing.’ And, turning away, he resumed his search through the papers.

Caterina watched him, hating him, though there was this much to be said for him—at least she knew exactly where she stood with him. For he clearly disliked her every bit as much as she disliked him. And, strangely, there was a perverse satisfaction to be had in the way they were able to clash so openly.

Still, they had never before clashed quite so openly as now—and certainly never with such unleashed physicality. Feeling that band of steel around her arm again, she shivered. Savage! she thought. How dared he lay a hand on her? The only reason why she hadn’t demanded instantly that he release her was that she’d been so taken aback at the insolent black nerve of him.

‘Here it is.’ Matthew had found the document he’d been looking for. As he drew it out of the pile and laid the pile back on the desk, he cast her an amused look from the corner of his eye. ‘Funnily enough,’ he observed, ‘this is a report concerning the garden party. The very event you wished to see me about.’

‘Not you. My brother.’

‘Ah, yes, your brother. Well, in this particular case, that amounts to the same thing. As I told you, he’s put me in charge of the arrangements.’

‘Congratulations. That’s quite a coup.’ Her tone was cutting. ‘You’ll be taking over his duties as head of state next.’

‘I’m afraid I couldn’t spare the time.’ The gibe simply amused him. He held her eyes for a moment, enjoying her frustration—was there no way she could ruffle this wretched man’s feathers? Then he continued, ‘Your brother felt the garden party needed a new look this year. And I’m more than happy to take on the job.’

No doubt he was. The annual Montecrespi garden party, held each year in mid-July to celebrate the Duke’s birthday, was one of the highlights of the European social calendar. Guests flocked from far and wide—from the United States, even Australia—for the honour of drinking vintage champagne and eating smoked salmon and truffles and wild strawberries, while at the same time rubbing shoulders with princes and earls, ambassadors and prime ministers and the cream of the entertainment world.

For as long as Caterina could remember, the transformation of the palace gardens into a suitable venue for this starry event—which had always been held in July, for the old Duke’s birthday had been then too—had been left in the capable hands of Baron Igor. But the old man had recently died and someone was needed to fill his shoes. Caterina had been aware of this, but she certainly hadn’t known that Matthew Allenby had been assigned to the job.

A sad thought struck her. In previous years she would have known. But these days she and Damiano were not so close any more—all thanks to the débâcle over her love life last September, a débâcle created by Matthew Allenby. And she found herself reflecting, not for the first time, that she would very much like to pay him back for that.

She told him now, disparagingly, ‘Well, like I said, congratulations—though I must say I’m surprised you were given the job. I wouldn’t have thought it was quite in your line.’

‘No, it isn’t, I suppose. It’s not strictly architecture. But I quite enjoy getting involved in a bit of simple design from time to time. And it won’t be too demanding. I’ll be able to fit it in between other things.’

Of course. She had forgotten. This was Matthew Allenby, the human dynamo, who never had fewer than a score of projects running at any one time. In another man she would have admired the sheer energy and scope of him, but in Matthew Allenby it was simply one more aspect to despise. Especially since she knew—though of course he was unaware of this—that some of the projects in which he was involved were of a rather dubious legitimacy.

Oh, yes, she knew things about him he had no idea she knew!

‘Well, that’s all very interesting.’ She smiled cut-tingly as she said it, just in case he might delude himself that she actually meant it. ‘However, you were wrong to assume that my problem concerning the garden party falls within your sphere of influence. You see, it was nothing to do with the design side of things that I wanted to speak to my brother about.’

She delivered him a cool look. He wasn’t as omnipotent as he liked to think!

Or maybe he was. With a cool look of his own he informed her, ‘I think you’ll find that it probably does concern me. You see, it’s not just the design side of things I’ve been put in charge of. Your brother has asked me to handle the whole lot.’

‘The whole lot?’

‘From top to bottom.’

Caterina narrowed her eyes at him. ‘But surely not,’ she insisted, ‘including the guest list as well?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’ He smiled at her look of horror. ‘I’ve been put in charge of the guest list as well.’

But this was monstrous! Suddenly speechless, she blinked at him. The guest list to the annual Montecrespi garden party was virtually a sanctified roll of honour. There were some who would have sold their souls—and their mothers twice over—for the privilege of being on it!

The way it had always worked was that each member of the royal family submitted a list of proposed guests for the Duke’s approval and Damiano then made the final decision. Handing over this responsibility to Matthew Allenby, number one crook and social climber, struck Caterina as being about as wise as setting a wolf to guard a chicken coop!

Though it did, of course, explain why she had a problem. And mentally she kicked herself. She ought to have guessed he was involved!

She glared at him. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘I find this astonishing.’ Then as he looked back at her impassively, quite unmoved by her astonishment, she put to him in a tight tone, ‘Tell me something... The lists that were submitted by the rest of the family... were there any problems? Were their proposed guests approved or not?’

Matthew knew what she was leading up to, but he gave no hint of this as he replied, ‘The Duchess’s list was certainly approved without any problem.’ He was referring to Sofia, Damiano’s beautiful young wife, mother of the couple’s eight-month-old son.

‘And Leone’s?’

Count Leone was Caterina’s second brother, once known as an incorrigible playboy but now a happily married man.

Matthew nodded, still revealing nothing. ‘I believe the Count’s also went through without any problem.’

‘Very interesting. And the Countess’s?’

‘No problem at all.’

‘I see. So everyone else’s went through without a hitch... Then how come,’ she demanded, ‘there was a problem with mine?’

Matthew regarded her for a moment. Then he told her in a flat tone, ‘I’m afraid you included some rather unsuitable people.’

‘Unsuitable in whose eyes?’

‘In mine,’ he responded. ‘As I know they would also have been in your brother’s.’ And as he looked at her his eyes warned her not to pursue this subject further.

Caterina saw the warning and deliberately ignored it. ‘Exactly in what way are they unsuitable?’ she demanded.

‘They had certain connections.’ There was an edge of steel to his tone now. ‘Certain connections which sadly rendered them quite unsuitable to be guests at a royal garden party.’

Liar! If anyone was unsuitable it was him! But these people who had been so peremptorily crossed off her list—as she had discovered only this morning, with the party just two weeks away—had been friends of Orazio, her ex-boyfriend. And that, as she well knew, was sufficient reason for Matthew’s veto.

She thought of an old saying: my enemy’s friend is my enemy. Well, Orazio had certainly been Matthew Allenby’s enemy, for he had dared to try and expose him for the two-faced scoundrel that he was. Little wonder then that Matthew, who had so much to hide, should prefer to keep his enemy’s friends at a distance.

Caterina looked at him now, full of anger and loathing. Because he knew how to fight dirty and because he had the ear of Damiano, he had triumphed easily over Orazio, disgracing him and putting an end to his romance with Caterina and turning Caterina’s life upside-down in the process.

Damn him! Suddenly she’d had enough of this unpleasant confrontation. In a cold voice she informed him, ‘I intend to take this up with my brother. I shall have your judgement overturned and these people will be invited to the party.’

Matthew did not argue.

‘That’s entirely up to you.’

But as she looked into his eyes Caterina had a feeling that he was probably already plotting how best to thwart her. That prompted her to inform him, just to defy him further, ‘I shall make a point of having a word with him this very evening. The sooner this is dealt with the better, I feel. Yes, I shall speak to him before I go off to the Bardi dinner.’

As she added that last bit she couldn’t resist a smile. She had briefly forgotten about the Bardi dinner that was to be held in the Town Hall with herself as hostess this evening. A sumptuous affair, the purpose of the dinner was to celebrate the awarding of an important new contract to build an extension to the Bardi Home for Disabled Children, one of the many charities of which Caterina was patron. And the reason why she had smiled was that she knew something that Matthew Allenby was unaware of. Something that would not please him in the slightest when he found out.

Feigning innocent curiosity, she tilted her head at him. ‘Will you be attending the Bardi dinner?’ she enquired. Though, knowing what she knew, she was pretty certain he would not.

Matthew, who did not know what she knew, nodded. ‘I might.’

‘And the presentation this afternoon?’

‘Yes, I think that will be interesting. I shall definitely go along to that.’

Of course he would! He wouldn’t miss it for the world! For Caterina happened to know that he had secretly entered the contest that had been held for the Bardi extension contract—secretly, for he had entered under the name of Tad UK, one of his lesser-known companies in London. And he would be there at the presentation this afternoon, when it would be Caterina’s happy duty to announce the name of the winner, no doubt expecting, in his arrogance, that the winner would be him.

For the name of the winner had not been made public. Not even the winning company knew yet that it’d won—which was why all the contestants had been invited to attend the presentation, as well as the celebratory dinner this evening. And today’s announcement of the winner was going to be a really big event.

It was also going to be a thoroughly demoralising one for Matthew Allenby, for though he thought himself incredibly clever he had come nowhere near winning. Caterina smiled at that thought. It was deeply cheering, as also was the fact that he would not be at the dinner. For she knew very well that a man of Matthew Allenby’s towering self-importance was scarcely likely to want to show his face in defeat.

She threw him an oblique look now. ‘Yes, it will definitely be interesting.’ Then, out of sheer badness, savouring his imminent humiliation—for an architect of his standing didn’t enter such a contest, even anonymously, unless he intended winning—she added, ‘The winning design is really quite superb.’

He was watching her with a curious look. ‘Of course, you know who the winner is.’

‘Indeed I do. I was on the panel that did the choosing.’

And the rejecting, she thought with a twist of satisfaction, though she had rejected his design—as had the rest of the panel—not because it was his, for they had only discovered the connection later, but simply because it quite genuinely wasn’t good enough. Still, when she had found out, it had given her an immense amount of pleasure.

Mock-innocently now, she added, just to stir him up a bit, ‘It’s a foreign company. One we’d never heard of. And, like I said, the design is really quite brilliant. It’ll be my privilege to finally meet their representative this afternoon and present him or her with the contract for the extension.’

. Matthew smiled a shuttered smile. ‘You’re making me curious,’ he told her. ‘I shall be watching the proceedings now with even more interest.’

Caterina smiled back at him sweetly. And I’ll be watching you, she was thinking. And it will be my inestimable pleasure to see the look on your face when I stand up on the podium and announce the winner.

As she turned to go, there was a cheerful spring in her step. The day was turning out not so badly after all.

The atmosphere was electric as the seven members of the panel, with Caterina at their head, dressed in a butter-yellow dress, stepped out to loud applause onto the stage.

And as she looked out over the rows of faces—for the hall was packed to the gunnels—Caterina felt a fierce thrust of excitement and satisfaction. It had been hard work organising the contest, but it had been a resounding success. Entries had poured in from all over the globe and the publicity it had stimulated had done nothing but good for her beloved charity. Donations had more than trebled over the past six months.

And for a moment she quite forgot her private beef with Matthew Allenby. Since the break-up of her romance she had turned her back on men and love and poured all her energies into her charity work, and she was thrilled that this particular project had turned out so well.

All her charities were dear to her, but Bardi especially so, and she was deeply involved in the new extension. And now she couldn’t wait to meet the winner of the competition, for it would be her duty and her privilege to work closely alongside him.

The panel members took their seats as Signor Roberto Lecori, chairman of the Bardi children’s home, stepped up to the microphone to make an introductory speech. A hush fell across the hall and the audience settled back in their seats, all eyes fixed on him, as he began to speak.

All eyes, that was, except a pair in the fourth row which were fixed unblinkingly on Caterina.

She looked quite beautiful, Matthew thought. Serene and relaxed. Not at all the spiteful vixen who had confronted him a few hours earlier. His eyes narrowed; he was intrigued. There were so many different sides to her. Any man who got involved with her would have a real challenge on his hands. And he smiled, savouring that thought. He had always enjoyed a challenge. What a stroke of good fortune if fate were to throw them together.

He let his gaze sweep over her as he sat unseen in the fourth row—for he was aware that she hadn’t spotted him yet—and the iron-grey eyes were full of appreciation. She really was quite stunning, far more beautiful than she seemed to realise, for she possessed none of the vanity that often accompanied such beauty. That wonderful glossy hair, that lovely face so full of character, that softly feminine, willowy figure...

Though not too willowy these days, as had been the case a few months ago at the time of the break-up of her romance. And as he remembered her unhappiness and how thin she’d got then Matthew felt a twist of regret at his part in the whole débâcle. Though, of course, he’d had no choice. He’d had to intervene. But he was pleased to see that she’d recovered. These days she was looking perfectly splendid.

And again he reflected that it really would be rather nice if fate were to offer him the opportunity to enjoy this gorgeous creature.

Signor Lecori was coming to the end of his speech now and the audience were starting to shift expectantly in their seats as the moment they had all been waiting for grew near. Then at last he turned to Caterina.

‘And here to announce the winner... our beloved patron, the Lady Caterina...’

Caterina rose to her feet, smiling, though inwardly she was cursing. For the past ten minutes, with the utmost discretion, she’d been searching the sea of faces for a glimpse of Matthew Allenby. But there was no sign of him at all. Damn it, she was thinking. Was she to be denied, after all, the pleasure of looking into his face and seeing his disappointment when she announced the winner?

“Thank you, Signor Lecori...’ She took her place on the podium and turned to address the audience before her. ‘Ladies and gentlemen...’ she began. But then her heart jumped inside her—for, joy of joys, at last she’d spotted her quarry!

He’d been half-hidden behind a woman in a wide-brimmed hat, but from up here on the podium she could see him perfectly—looking, it must be said, as dangerously handsome as ever in a dark blue suit and bright red tie. And as he met her eyes and smiled she mentally rubbed her hands with glee. In a couple of minutes’ time he wouldn’t be feeling much like smiling!

She began the short speech she had prepared, praising the high standard of the entries, her eyes flicking from time to time to the face in the fourth row, savouring the moment, fast approaching, when she would see the confident look in those dark grey eyes crumble.

And as the moment drew near her heart was hammering. It was shameful just how much she was going to enjoy this!

She paused. ‘And now it’s my very great pleasure to announce the winner, whose design, in spite of the high standard of its competitors, stood out, in the unanimous opinion of the judges, head and shoulders above the rest...’

Her gaze flicked to the fourth row. Here it comes, she silently warned him. Brace yourself for a nice big disappointment.

‘And the winner is...’ She licked her lips mentally. ‘The winner is Secolo Designs of Geneva!’

The audience burst into applause, everyone looking excitedly round them to see who would stand up to claim the prize. But, before she did likewise, Caterina turned with a smile to focus for a gloating moment on the figure in the fourth row. That’s one in the eye for you, Matthew Allenby! she thought.

But what on earth was happening? Her heart tripped inside her and suddenly her blood was turning to powder—for, right before her eyes, Matthew was rising from his seat and, with a triumphant little smile, walking towards her.

CHAPTER TWO

‘FOR a piece of blatant, barefaced dishonesty I would say that really takes the cake!’

The presentation was over, all the photographs had been taken and Caterina and Matthew were back at the Palazzo Verde, confronting one another across the desk in her private office.

At least Caterina, white with fury, was confronting Matthew, her hands tight fists as she glared at him across the desktop, wishing she could pluck his arrogant head from his shoulders, bury it at the bottom of some dark and spidery hole and never have to look at his hateful face again.

Matthew, for his part, was having no such violent fantasies. As he sat in the tan leather armchair opposite her he was feeling thoroughly pleased with the way things had turned out. And he was aware—though he really wasn’t looking that way on purpose—that his air of quiet satisfaction was simply driving Caterina crazy.

‘Dishonest?’ he queried, not quite managing to suppress a smile. ‘What on earth makes you come to that conclusion?’

‘Secolo Designs of Geneva! That’s what makes me come to it! That was a pretty shameless bluff!’

‘Bluff? Why do you call it a bluff? It’s the name of one of my companies.’

‘Oh, yes! I know!’ Her blue eyes sparked angrily. ‘How clever, and how convenient for you to pull that out of the bag! Did you invent it specially for the occasion?’

It had been the shabbiest trick. Only someone like Matthew Allenby could have stooped so low as to pull a stunt like this. Caterina shuddered, remembering how her blood had turned to powder when she had read out the name of the winning company and seen Matthew rising to his feet.

Just for a moment she hadn’t believed it. She’d blinked. Thought she must be dreaming. But no, there he’d been, mounting the steps up to the stage, coming towards her with a smug, triumphant smile to accept the contract for the Bardi extension. It hadn’t been a dream, after all. It had been a waking nightmare!

After that, she’d had to endure the torture of a photo-call. She’d had to stand there shaking his hand before a battery of press photographers, a smile pinned to her face, going through the motions of pretending to be delighted that this perfectly monstrous man had just walked off with her precious contract.

It had been ghastly. Utterly ghastly. Her flesh had crawled just to think of it. And as soon as it was over she had taken him to one side and demanded that he see her in her office back at the palace immediately. Before this thing went any further, she wanted a few explanations.

Needless to say, he had kept her waiting. She’d been wearing out the carpet for at least fifteen minutes, pacing backwards and forwards, steam coming out of her ears, before he had deigned to poke his arrogant head round her office door.

‘Sorry,’ he’d offered, clearly not sorry in the slightest, ‘but I got tied up with a bunch of reporters. They wanted to know how I felt about winning the contract.’ He’d smiled into her black face. ‘I told them I was over the moon.’

Caterina had known, of course, that he would enjoy rubbing her nose in it. For his triumph wasn’t just triumph at winning the contract, it was also triumph at having so roundly trumped her. He knew how she felt about him and he was loving every sordid minute of this.

He said now in response to her accusation, ‘It’s not my fault you didn’t know Secolo was one of my companies—and has been, as a matter of fact, for the past two years. You see, it wasn’t just invented for the purpose of hoodwinking you.’

And from the slight edge of admonishment in his tone as he said that Caterina deduced that she was actually supposed to believe that he was totally incapable of such deceit. Hah! she thought scathingly. He must think I was born yesterday!

‘If you’d done a bit of checking up,’ he added, ‘you could easily have found out.’

That had occurred to Caterina too, but there had been no cause to check up on the various contestants who’d entered designs for the competition. The designs, after all, had been judged solely on merit. Any additional information just hadn’t been deemed necessary.

All the same, she observed now, bitterly, ‘I very much wish I had checked up.’

‘You mean you would have voted differently if you’d known?’ He made a pretence of looking quite shocked at this notion. ‘For someone with your high moral standards, surely that would have been unthinkable?’

Caterina eyed him. Let him mock her and make fun of her if he liked—they both knew that he didn’t suffer from moral scruples!—but it did genuinely trouble her that when she’d asked herself certain questions earlier she hadn’t been at all sure of her answers. Could she really have voted knowingly for Matthew Allenby? Could she posssibly have done otherwise given that his design was by far the best?

‘I think,’ she said, frowning, coming to a decision, ‘that I would have had no choice but to resign from the panel of judges.’ It sounded rather extreme, but what else could she have done?

‘I see.’

Matthew seemed to contemplate her answer for a moment. Was he offended Caterina wondered, to know the strength of her antipathy? With anyone else she would have avoided such callous bluntness. But not with Matthew Allenby. She didn’t care if he was offended. And anyway, as she well knew, he could take it.

Which was one of the reasons why it was almost a pleasure to clash with him. When you were mad with Matthew Allenby you didn’t have to hold back. You could just say what you were thinking and go straight for the jugular.

He continued to watch her in silence for a moment. Then he pointed out, ‘But you didn’t resign over the Tad UK entry... and I think you knew my connection with that company?’

Caterina could not deny it. ‘Yes, I knew it was one of yours.’ Then she looked at him and smiled. ‘But there was no dilemma with that one. I wouldn’t have voted for that design whoever’s it had been.’ And her smile turned unrepentantly malicious as she added, ‘You must have been having an off-day when you did that one.’

‘It wasn’t that bad. It had one or two good features.’ Then, seeing her expression turn openly disdainful at this apparent display of self-justification, Matthew smiled and informed her, ‘I had no hand in it, however. It was the work of one of our new trainees. Not bad at all, I thought, for a beginner.’

Caterina was careful not to let her expression alter. So she was to be denied even the small pleasure of having thwarted him on that one! Damn, she was thinking. He was as slippery as an eel!

She leaned back in her chair and narrowed her eyes at him. He was totally maddening. Irritating beyond reason. What she really ought to do was wind up this meeting and spare herself the displeasure of another moment of his company. But she felt disinclined to do that. There was something about him. Something that seemed to stir in her a strange and fierce compulsion. The irritation and antipathy that he aroused in her was so acute, it was like an itch that simply had to be scratched.

And, besides, she hadn’t finished with him yet. Not by a long shot.

She told him, her tone accusing, ‘I really think you should have told me that you’d entered a design for the competition. Surely that’s what any normal person would have done?’

Matthew eyed her and smiled. ‘I had my reasons for keeping silent. After all, I wouldn’t have wanted people accusing me of seeking favours by making my interest in the contest known. I am close to the Duke, after all, and you are his sister. People might have thought I was seeking special consideration.’

Yes, that was possible. People might have thought that. Though it hadn’t even crossed Caterina’s mind until this moment. For it was actually a totally ludicrous notion. Pigs would fly before she would give Matthew Allenby ‘special consideration’, and these days virtually any associate of her brother’s would be liable to receive exceedingly short shrift from her. It was sad, but true. Their once close relationship really had sunk that low since the bust-up over Orazio.

She laughed a harsh laugh now. ‘How little they know!’

‘How little indeed.’

Matthew knew what she’d been thinking. At least, he knew she’d been thinking about Orazio. And, hearing that harsh laugh, it suddenly struck him that perhaps he’d been wrong when he’d made the assumption that she was completely over that sad affair. For at the heart of that laugh he had sensed real pain.

What she needed, he reflected, was a new affair to take her mind off it. And he wouldn’t mind in the slightest providing the therapy himself.

Out loud he returned to the earlier point he’d been making. ‘By making known my interest in the contest I would simply have been putting you in an uncomfortable position. And I would never have forgiven myself,’ he added as though he really meant it, ‘if you’d felt obliged to resign from the judging panel.’

Such kind consideration. He was making her heart weep. Caterina delivered him a look as cynical as his sentiments. ‘I had no idea you possessed such an altruistic streak.’

‘I tend to keep it well hidden. My modesty demands it.’

‘Modesty as well?’ Her eyebrows lifted.

He smiled. ‘Naturally I try to keep that hidden as well.’

‘Without too much difficulty, I imagine.’ She flicked him a dry look. ‘I must say this is really most revealing. All these fine qualities I would never have guessed at in a million years.’

‘Really?’ The dark eyes were fixed on her. ‘How very ungenerous of you.’

‘Not ungenerous, just realistic.’

She looked right back at him, at the arrogantly handsome face, so full of secrets, at the dark grey eyes with their menacing allure that, if you weren’t careful, would suck you in and seduce you. He was many things—a cheat, a scoundrel and a social climber, as well as a dangerous male force to be reckoned with—but alas he was none of the fine things he was claiming.

‘I judge what I see, and what I see,’ she told him, ‘rather contradicts those unlikely claims you’re making.’

‘Which only goes to show how deceptive appearances can be. But never mind,’ he smiled. ‘Once we’re working together, you’ll have plenty of opportunity to explore below the surface.’

Up until that point, though he’d irritated her beyond reason, Caterina had been quite enjoying their verbal fencing. So many of the men she encountered were so timid in her company, afraid to put a foot wrong, reluctant to contradict her. And she grew tired of it. At times it could be downright wearying being surrounded by people who agreed with you all the time.

And at least Matthew Allenby never did that. Even when he wasn’t actually fighting with her he wasn’t necessarily agreeing with her either. And, though she hated to admit that there might be anything she actually liked about him, she did in fact rather enjoy that side of him. Arguing with him gave her a buzz. A strictly intellectual buzz, of course!

But that last comment had definitely not been to her liking—that cool, breezy reference to their working together. For that was something she simply couldn’t let happen.

Couldn’t and wouldn’t. She must find a way out of this dilemma. That was something she had realised very quickly. The Bardi extension was her pet project. She’d poured months of dedication and energy into it and she’d been looking forward to working alongside the winner and seeing the whole thing come to life. But there was no way she could work alongside Matthew Allenby, so a solution had to be found that somehow eased him out.

And in the course of the past hour or so two solutions had occurred to her—one quite civilised, the other rather more brutal. She would try the first one first and see if she could avoid spilling blood.

Speaking calmly and keeping her tone as matter-of-fact as she could manage, Caterina enquired, ‘Do you really think we’ll be working together?’

Matthew looked surprised. ‘I had certainly assumed we would be. You’re in charge of this project, aren’t you? And I understood from the brief that you planned to be heavily involved in its execution.’

She shrugged. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘Then we’ll be working together.’ And he smiled a maddening smile, clearly relishing this prospect.

Caterina dropped her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts calmly. She must handle this with great delicacy or it would blow up in her face. One whiff of her true motives and he’d refuse to play ball.

She told him, ‘The problem is you’re a very busy man. I know you’re involved in several projects just for my brother alone—including now,’ she added with what she hoped was a benevolent smile, ‘the organisation of the garden party. All these things take up time and, as you know, the Bardi extension’s rather urgent... I fear it might be putting just a little too much pressure on you to expect you to work on it as well...’

Was she striking the right note? She tried to judge as he sat watching her, his long, supple frame leaning casually against the chair-back, the strong tanned fingers lightly clasping the arms, his eyes fixed on her face, an impenetrable smile on his lips.

He said, ‘You’re quite right. I do have a lot on my plate.’

Inwardly, Caterina sighed a small sigh of relief. Well, at least he hadn’t instantly shot her down in flames. That mild response even suggested that she might be on the right track. She crossed her fingers mentally and carried on.

‘You’ve already done the important part by producing the winning design... Its implementation... well, that requires less talent...and you have so many companies, so many talented people working for you...’ She swallowed and finally spat out the conclusion she’d been working towards. ‘I can’t help feeling it would take the pressure off you if you were to appoint one of your employees to do the actual donkey work.’

Matthew watched her for a moment, saying nothing, seeming to give some thought to her proposal.

‘That’s certainly the way I sometimes do things,’ he confessed.

‘It makes sense.’ Reassured, Caterina hurried on. ‘I mean, you can’t be expected to do everything yourself. That would just be crazy. After all, you’re only human.’ She forced a sympathetic smile. ‘You can only stretch yourself so far. And this isn’t such a terribly important project, after all. I’m sure you have far more important ones to claim your time. So it really would be more sensible to hand this one over to someone else.’

‘I suppose there might be a kind of logic in that.’

As he nodded, Caterina congratulated herself. I’ve done it! she was thinking. And she smiled to herself, feeling a huge lift of elation.

‘Well,’ she said, relief pouring through her—for it looked as though she’d got her way without having to spill blood. ‘I’m very glad we’re in agreement about that.’

Matthew smiled a slow smile, holding her eyes with his own as he did so. ‘You know...’ he said, letting his gaze wash over her, touching her face, her neck, her shoulders, then moving down to the soft swell of her breasts in a way that was so unexpectedly yet so openly sensual that Caterina, totally thrown, found herself just sitting there, as though he had taken a hammer and nailed her to the chair.

‘You know, when you calm down a bit, when you relax, when you smile, you really are quite extraordinarily attractive,’ he told her. ‘I was thinking that this afternoon, when you were on stage at the reception. You seemed totally relaxed and you looked quite beautiful.’

‘Oh?’

Caterina forced the monosyllable between stiff lips. What she really wanted to do was tell him quite frankly that she had no wish to hear his opinion on such matters. But two things were stopping her, one she could control and one she could not.

The first was a reluctance to upset this sudden mellow mood of his. She had got what she wanted and she would be mad now to blow it just for the pleasure of putting him in his place.

But the second thing that was stopping her was the strangest sensation of somehow being mesmerised by the force of those dark eyes, a sensation somehow both pleasurable and quite intolerable at the same time. And it gripped her like a vice. She could not shake it off.

The grey eyes smiled. ‘I hope you’re going to be like this this evening. Then we can really enjoy our dinner together.’

Caterina blinked. She had almost forgotten about the dinner. She was expected to partner him, as winner of the contest, to the celebratory dinner at the Town Hall this evening. That fact flicked her back to reality, for she’d been dreading the dinner, and that feeling of being mesmerised abruptly vanished. Though she kept her expression sweet. She must not antagonise him. And, anyway, the prospect of dinner no longer seemed so ghastly. It would, after all, be the last unpleasant chore that she would be required to perform with him.

With a smile she put to him, ‘Perhaps we can discuss at the dinner tonight who you might like to replace you on the job? You might even want to make an announcement to the other guests at some point?’

And she sat back in her seat. The whole thing was virtually sewn up.

But Matthew’s expression had changed. ‘An announcement?’ he was saying. Then he shook his head. ‘You’ve got it wrong, I’m afraid. There’ll be no one replacing me. I intend to do the job myself.’

‘But you said—’ Suddenly Caterina was sitting up very stiffly in her seat. ‘Wh-what do you mean?’ she stuttered. ‘You just said you would!’

‘I said no such thing.’ His expression had hardened again. ‘All I said was that your suggestion contained a kind of logic. But it’s always been my intention to see this project through personally.’ He smiled a harsh smile. ‘Sorry to disappoint you.’

So he had tricked her. Caterina glared at him, quite speechless for a moment. He had known all along why she was trying to edge him out—not out of concern for his heavy workload at all, but because she couldn’t stand the prospect of working with him.

And he refused to play ball. Well, that was to be expected. But the matter wasn’t settled yet, even though he seemed to think it was. She’d tried the soft approach first; now it was time to get tough.

She fixed him with a direct look. ‘I think you’re making a big mistake.’

‘A mistake?’

‘It wouldn’t work.’

He feigned innocence. ‘Why on earth not?’

‘You really need to ask?’ Caterina grimaced as she elaborated, ‘We’re not even capable of conducting a civil conversation. How on earth could we possibly contemplate working together?’

‘It might be hard, I confess.’ He smiled. ‘Think of it as a challenge.’

Caterina did not smile back. ‘There are challenges and challenges. And this one, I’m afraid, just doesn’t appeal to me. No, you and I will not be working together.’

One dark eyebrow lifted. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He regarded her narrowly for a moment then put to her, ‘I take it this means you’ll be handing over to someone else?’

‘No, it doesn’t mean that. This project is my baby. I wouldn’t dream of handing it over to someone else.’

‘In that case, you’ve lost me.’ The dark eyes regarded her unblinkingly and it was impossible to tell what was going on in his head. ‘If neither of us is planning to hand over to someone else, surely that means we’ll be working together?’

‘No, it doesn’t. You see, whether you like it or not, you won’t be doing the Bardi job.’

‘Won’t I?’ His tone was low but had a definite edge to it. ‘You’re going to have to explain why. I’m afraid that makes no sense to me.’

As she faced him, Caterina’s heart was thumping inside her. And now that the moment had come she found herself hesitating. It was harder than she’d thought, playing the heavy.

‘Quite frankly,’ she said, ‘I’d hoped to avoid this sort of unpleasantness—’

‘Unpleasantness?’ He continued to watch her.

‘What kind of unpleasantness are you talking about?’

Caterina swallowed hard. Damn and blast him, she was thinking. Why did he have to cross my path in the first place? But she couldn’t back down now, even though what she had to do came far from naturally. She simply had to get him off the job.

She swallowed again. ‘The sort of unpleasantness, I’m afraid, that could ruin your career and have you thrown out of San Rinaldo. You see,’ she hurried on before her nerve deserted her, ‘I know things about you... things you wouldn’t want made public...and I’m prepared to use them against you unless you withdraw from this job.’

There, she had said it, and as she stopped speaking her blood was pounding. Breathing carefully, she watched him, waiting for his response.

She did not have long to wait. He began to rise to his feet. In a voice like sandpaper he said, ‘So, that’s what this is all about? Well, I think I’ve heard enough.’ He flicked her a look as hard as granite. ‘But you’re wasting your time. I won’t be withdrawing.’

‘Oh, yes, you will. You’ll have no choice in the matter once my brother gets to hear the things I know. And that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to tell him everything. Unless,’ she stressed again, ‘you drop out of the Bardi job. If you’re prepared to do that, I won’t say a thing.’

Matthew said nothing for a moment, then he fixed her with a stony look. ‘Blackmail’s an ugly thing, you know. It doesn’t really suit you.’ Then, as she looked away, fighting a blush—for he was right, this didn’t suit her—he added in a tone grown suddenly heavy with contempt. ‘No doubt this is one of the unsavoury little tricks you learned in the course of your association with Orazio?’

It was like a slap across the face. Caterina’s sense of unease vanished. She looked back at him now, seeing only the hated face of the man who had been responsible, with his lies and his slanders, for all the emotional hurt she’d recently suffered.

Her heart filled with bitterness. Why should she feel uneasy about employing a bit of blackmail on a man like Matthew Allenby—a man who, in spite of the high moral tone he was taking, was far from being a stranger to such methods himself? Why, his hands were as black as the blackest corners of his soul!

She told him, her tone cutting, ‘No, I didn’t learn it from Orazio. I’m simply using the sorts of tactics that I feel sure you’re familiar with.’

‘Well, they won’t work, I’m afraid. Face facts. You’re a novice.’ The dark eyes flayed her. ‘I’m way out of your league.’

Quite possibly he was, but he was still not as invulnerable as he believed. As he started to turn away, she angrily informed his back, ‘I’m not bluffing, you know. I know all about you. And I have evidence in my possession. Real, tangible evidence. I shall expose you for the cheat and the charlatan that you are.’

Matthew was almost at the door when she finished the sentence. Unhurriedly, he turned round and looked into her face and his eyes were a pair of steel hooks tearing into her.

‘You know,’ he informed her, ‘you’re making a big mistake. I’m really not the best man to pick a fight with. People who pick fights with me invariably end up regretting it. And I guarantee,’ he added in a tone like a whiplash, ‘that you will be no exception to the rule.’

Never before had Caterina seen such a look in a man’s eyes. A look without mercy. Black and menacing. But instead of feeling scared, or outraged, or angry, what she felt was a sudden flare of reckless excitement and a trickle of anticipation like cool fingers down her spine. She was going to thoroughly enjoy the fight ahead.

Matthew continued to watch her, then, with a quick, cynical smile, he inclined his head briefly in his usual parody of a salute.

‘Goodbye for now, Lady Caterina. Until dinner this evening.’

Then he turned and strode swiftly from the room.

There was only one thing for it after that encounter with Matthew Allenby—a nice long bubble bath laced with oil of patchouli to help restore her frayed and tattered nerves.

‘Help!’ she’d told Anna, her personal maid, when she’d returned to her private quarters still seething with anger. ‘Be an angel and run a bath for me. I think I’m going to explode!’

And that was where she was now, up to her chin in scented bubbles, listening to Anna happily singing to herself next door as she got Caterina’s things ready for the dinner this evening. Though she was only listening with half an ear. Most of her attention was focused on trying to sort out the hopeless jumble in her head. Her brain felt as though it had been attacked by an electric blender.

Damn Matthew Allenby! Damn him to infinity! What had she ever done to deserve this blight on her life?

She lay back, letting her hair trail in the water, and gazed up at the painted and gilded ceiling with its pictures of water nymphs and seashells and dolphins. In a way, she felt appalled by the stance she’d been forced to take with him, threatening to ruin him and have him kicked out of San Rinaldo. She must have sounded like some heavy in a second-rate gangster movie! But what alternative did she have? She simply could not work with him. And anyway, after what he’d done to her, he deserved every nasty thing she could fling at him.

She sighed. In the beginning, of course, she hadn’t realised he was such a viper. She’d known little about him, other than that he worked for her brother, and their paths had crossed only on brief and rare occasions so that the two of them had remained virtual strangers. He had really only become of interest to her when Orazio had opened her eyes.

Orazio. Her gaze still fixed on one of the water nymphs, she paused in her thoughts and let her mind settle on Orazio.

She had thought she was in love with him, but now she suspected she never had been. She had got over him far too quickly for it to have been love. But she had been fond of him. He had been fun and a decent and caring person, and he definitely hadn’t deserved to be treated as he had been.

The whole disaster had happened, of course, because of what he knew about Matthew Allenby. For he had a friend, he had told her, who had once worked for Matthew and who had told him all about the way he went about his business. Bribes, intimidation, secret handouts, blackmail. These were the methods by which he had got where he was. And, of course, by the careful courting of those with influence and power.

‘Your brother can’t possibly realise what kind of man he’s got tied up with. For God’s sake warn him,’ Orazio had advised her just a short while after they’d started seeing each other.

And she had. She’d gone to Damiano and told him everything and her brother’s response had been very clear and simple. ‘Accusations without proof are worthless,’ he’d told her. ‘Show me some evidence and then we can start talking.’

And so Orazio had set about gathering together what they needed—files and letters and tapes and photographs—and they had planned that, as soon as he’d gathered enough, Caterina would present the whole lot to Damiano. She’d gone along with this plan not out of any malice towards Matthew Allenby, for at that stage she’d had nothing personal against him, but because she loved and wanted to protect her brother.

But neither she nor Orazio had realised they were playing with dynamite.

The first hint of the shambles that lay ahead had been when Damiano, who didn’t normally interfere in her private life, had started expressing disapproval of Orazio—not saying anything specific, just that he considered him unsuitable—and brother and sister had exchanged sharp words on the subject. But Caterina had not been prepared for the avalanche that was to follow.

It had happened quite out of the blue. Damiano had called her to his office and proceeded to regale her with a list of accusations against Orazio.

‘He’s a crook,’ he’d told her, ‘a two-bit crook and a lowlife, and I can’t allow you to continue to see him.’

Caterina had been outraged. She’d refused to listen. How dared he make these false accusations?

‘I know the real reason!’ she’d stormed at him. ‘It’s because he’s a commoner! Well, I won’t stop seeing him and you can’t make me!’ Then she’d added, just out of bravado, because she was so damned mad at him, for really there had been no such intention in her head, ‘I might even marry him if I decide it suits me!’

That had been when Damiano had, almost literally, exploded. ‘Take my word for it,’ he’d warned her, ‘that that will never happen!’ And there and then he had ordered her to break off the romance immediately or he would cut her off without a penny.

He’d meant it, too. But that hadn’t stopped Caterina, as she’d swung out of his office in tears of helpless rage, retorting defiantly, ‘I don’t care! I won’t stop seeing him!’

For she could be as hard-headed as Damiano and, besides, it was a matter of principle. She would not be dictated to in this fashion.

And she would have stuck to her guns if Orazio hadn’t talked her out of it and insisted on making a discreet withdrawal.

‘I can’t let you make this sacrifice,’ he’d told her. ‘I’d never be able to live with myself if I did.’

Besides, he’d no longer had a job nor much hope of finding another one. Word was already being circulated that he was persona non grata—Damiano hadn’t wasted any time there—and it really hadn’t looked as though there was much of a future for him in San Rinaldo. So within a week he’d been gone, in spite of Caterina’s pleas that he stay on and at least fight to redeem his good name. ‘I’d rather sacrifice my good name than bring you embarrassment,’ he’d told her. And that had been the end of the romance.

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