Пенни Джордан: THE ITALIAN DUKE’S WIFE

laugh or to cry. In the end she had laughed. Somehow

it had seemed the better option.

It was then she had gone out and bought herself

the shortest denim miniskirt she could find. The accident

had not been her parents" fault, and she had

fought long and hard to be able to overcome her own

injuries. From now on, she had decided, she was going

to wear her scars with pride, and no man was

ever, ever again going to tell her to cover up her legs

because of them.

For ease of travelling, though, right now she was

wearing a pair of jeans — an old, faded pair of jeans

that made her look totally out of place next to

Lorenzo in his beautifully tailored suit, she thought,

as he propelled her across the courtyard and into a

cavernous baronial hall, his hand resting firmly on the

middle of her back.

THE room they entered was furnished with several

pieces of intricately carved dark wooden furniture. A

coat of arms had been cut into the stone lintel above

the huge fireplace. The carpet on the stone floor beneath

her feet looked worn and shabby, and she could

see where the film of dust on a table in the middle of

the room had been disturbed by something thrown

down on it with such force that it had skidded through

it.

A door in the far wall was thrown open, and a

woman stood there, framed in the opening. Immediately

Jodie forgot her surroundings as she focused on

her. Tall and soigne.e, she was everything one imagined

a wealthy and elegant Italian woman should be.

Her dark hair was pulled back in a smooth knot to

reveal the perfect bone structure of her face. Dark

eyes flashed a look of triumphant possessive mockery

towards Lorenzo — the same kind of predatory female

look Jodie had seen in Louise’s eyes when she had

looked at John. The other woman hadn’t even seen

her, hidden as she was in the shadows. Who was she?

A sense of disquiet started to seep through her; an

awareness of deep and dark waters driven by dangerous

unseen currents that could suck her down into

their icy depths if she wasn’t careful. Instinctively

Jodie sensed that Louise and this woman were two of

a kind, and that knowledge was enough to rub against

the still painfully raw emotional nerves inside herself.

She looked at Lorenzo. He looked relaxed, but she

could feel his tension in the sudden increased pressure

of his fingers, where they were splayed across her

back. Something was going on here that she wasn’t

privy to — but what? So many unanswered questions,

and they were destined to remain unanswered, Jodie

guessed, as she watched the full mouth thin, crimson

with carefully applied lipgloss, and the delicate nostrils

flare. A huge diamond flashed blindingly as the

woman raised one hand to touch the deep vee neckline

of the expensive black dress she was wearing in

a deliberate gesture of enticement. What man could

resist following with his gaze the scarlet glisten of the

long nails as they rested briefly in the valley between

the tight, high fullness of her perfectly shaped

breasts?

Her dress moulded to a waist so small that Jodie

guessed it must be the result of a tightly laced corset,

before curving lushly over rounded hips. Its hemline

revealed a pair of long, slender, warmly tanned legs,

whilst her feet, with their scarlet-painted toenails,

were adorned with the highest and most delicate pair

of strappy sandals Jodie had ever seen. She looked

like someone who was about to walk into the most

sophisticated and luxurious kind of setting there was,

instead of being here in this dilapidated fortress in the

middle of nowhere.

A look of open triumph lit the Italian woman"s face

as she sashayed towards Lorenzo. But her brown eyes

lacked any kind of warmth, Jodie noticed, and as she

walked, talking quickly, her voice sounded harsh and

slightly flat, jarring against Jodie’s ears, rather than

warm and musical as she had expected.

She had almost reached them when Lorenzo held

up a commanding hand and said smoothly, "In

English, if you please, Caterina. That way, my wife-

to-be will be able to understand you."

The effect of his words on the woman was cataclysmic.

She stopped moving and turned to look at

Jodie, who discovered that she was being propelled

forward out of the shadows and anchored to

Lorenzo’s side by means of his almost manacle-like

grip on her wrist.

A furious, disbelieving female glare savaged Jodie

where she stood, followed by an equally furious outburst

of Italian.

"This way," Lorenzo instructed Jodie, ignoring her.

"No!" The woman placed herself in front of them,

and said in English, "You will not do this to me. You

cannot! Who is she?"

"I have just told you. My wife-to-be," Lorenzo answered

her dismissively.

"No. You cannot do this." The flat, metallic voice

was filled with fury. "No. No!" She was shaking her

head from side to side so violently that Jodie felt

dizzy, but not one single strand of the immaculately

coiffed hair escaped. "No," she repeated. "You will

not make such a nothing your duchessa, Lorenzo?"

His duchess?

"You will not speak so of my intended wife," she

heard Lorenzo saying coldly.

Dear God, what on earth had she got herself into?

"Where has she come from? What gutter did you—?"

Immediately a look of haughty rejection stiffened

Lorenzo’s expression, but Caterina ignored it, grabbing

hold of his arm and insisting, "Answer me,

Lorenzo, or I will…"

"Or you will what, Caterina?" he demanded unkindly,

removing her hand from his arm. "As it happens,

Jodie and I met some months ago. It was my

intention to bring her to the Castillo to meet my

grandmother, but unfortunately she died before I was

able to do so. Knowing now, though, that it was her

dearest wish that I should marry, I intend to follow

the dictates of my own heart as well as fulfil the terms

of her will by marrying Jodie as soon as possible."

Jodie blinked in disbelief as she listened to his entirely

fictitious account of their "relationship".

"You’re lying. None of that is true. I know the

truth, and I shall—"

"You know nothing, and you will do nothing."

Lorenzo stopped her immediately, adding grimly,

"And let me warn you now against any attempt on

your part to spread gossip or rumours about either my

wife-to-be or my marriage."

"You cannot threaten me, Lorenzo," Caterina almost

screamed at him. "Does she know why you are

marrying her? Does she know that it was your grandmother’s

dying wish that you should marry me? Does

she know that you—?"

"Silencio!" Lorenzo commanded harshly, his icy,

furious glare slicing down in front of her like a jagged-

toothed portcullis slicing into an enemy force.

"No. I will not be silent!" She swung round to give

Jodie a contemptuously hostile look. "Has he told you

that the only reason he is marrying you is because of

this place? Because unless he marries he cannot inherit

it?"

This woman must surely be the person with their

own agenda he had spoken of earlier, Jodie thought.

Somehow she managed to stop her expression from

betraying what she was feeling — a legacy, no doubt,

from all those hospital visits, and her determination

not to let others see her in pain and pity her for it.