A Fever In The Blood Page 10

  Cass refused to be daunted. She had been expecting this, for heaven's sake, she told herself. But she was disturbed to hear that apparently Sophia had not been behind Ben's decision to abandon his father's plans for him. Both she and her mother had assumed that Sophia had practised some form of emotional blackmail on him.

  'I think Ben's old enough to handle Daddy, don't you?' she replied now. 'In any case, I shall tell him it was my decision. It was. And I'll deal with the conse­quences.'

  'And your husband?' suggested Sophia bleakly. 'How will you deal with him? What explanation do you intend to offer for walking out on Roger?'

  Cass sighed. 'I don't have to offer him any explana­tion. He knows why I walked out.' She paused. 'So does Ben.'

  Sophia's nostrils thinned. 'I see.'

  'Oh—' Cass could practically read her thoughts. 'There was another woman involved,' she told her wea­rily. 'Does that make things clearer? Roger is having an affair.'

  'So?' Sophia held up her head, and Cass stared at her uncomprehendingly. 'Your father had many such affairs before Diana Palmer-Harris came along and demanded he abandon his honour and his integrity. Oh—did you think your mother was the first?' Sophia's lips twisted. 'Oh, no. She was just the cleverest, that is all.'

  Cass caught her breath. 'That's—not true!'

  'It is true.' Sophia regarded her pityingly. 'And if you expect any sympathy from that quarter, perhaps you should think again.'

  Cass shivered. 'How do you know this? You were living in Genoa.'

  'Do you think only English women find a powerful man like Guido Scorcese attractive?'

  Cass shook her head. 'I've never thought of it.'

  'No—well, why should you?' Sophia was unexpect­edly understanding. 'You were not even born when this was going on.'

  'No.'

  Cass stared out across the terrace with unseeing eyes. Below the cliffs, the dark waters of the Bay of Porto Camagio lapped the cove, and overhead a pale moon cast its illumination on the night-scented vine that clung to the walls of the villa; but Cass was unaware of the beauty around her. She had never considered that her father might have had other women besides Sophia and her mother. Such a thought would have been abhorrent to her. But then, she had always regarded him as being totally above reproach. The idea that there could even have been women since Diana was a startling revelation. Was that why he had been so tolerant of Roger's infi­delity? Because he saw him as a man after his own heart?

  'Do not look so troubled, Cassandra.' Sophia's hand on her arm was surprisingly comforting. 'Maybe I should not have told you. After all, there can be no doubt that Guido loves you. And that is all that matters, no?'

  Cass blinked, and endeavoured to recover her com­posure. 'I'm glad you told me,' she declared after a mo­ment. 'In a way, it helps.' She paused, and then added curiously, 'So why didn't you try to stop Ben from as­sociating with—with us? I mean, it must have been hard for you to—to accept that—that we were friends.'

  Sophia's expression changed. Evidently their brief spell of conciliation was over. 'Benvenuto is Guido's son,' she stated coldly. 'I have never tried to come be­tween them. It was Benvenuto's decision to choose a professione scolastica, not mine.'

  Cass nodded. 'If you say so.' And, curiously enough, she did believe her. Although he loved his mother, Ben was nobody's pawn. Not even Sophia's.

  That conversation had taken place over a week ago now, and since then things had been a little easier be­tween the two women. Perhaps Sophia had realised that Cass, no more than herself, could dictate Ben's actions. Whatever, the Italian woman had made no further ref­erence to Cass's leaving, and the sun and her surround­ings were helping to heal her physically, at least.

  The sun was hot, and Cass wriggled on to her side to consult her wristwatch, which she had left lying on the towel beside her. It was almost noon, time she was gath­ering her belongings together, and making the arduous climb up the cliff path. But she could have one last swim first, if only to allow the salt water to rid her flesh of its glistening coating of protective oil.

  Wearing only her skimpy bikini briefs, she plunged into the clear water, catching her breath at its sudden chill. Although the temperature of the water was fairly warm, it always felt cold on first immersion, and she swam out eagerly from the shore to revitalise her limbs. She could swim quite strongly now. When she'd first come down to the cove, she had hardly dared go out of her depth, but now she had no such apprehensions. Every day she had worked herself a little harder, grad­ually building up her strength, and now she had the con­fidence to trust her own abilities.

  It was when she turned back towards the beach that she saw the figure standing on the sand. With the sun in her eyes, it was difficult to see who it was, but it was definitely a man, and her spirits sank. The distance be­tween the shoreline and the striped canvas bag that con­tained her clothes was several yards and, although she knew that topless bathing was quite common all along the coast, she had never exposed her breasts in public. Thank goodness she was wearing the briefs, she thought drily, remembering how a couple of times she had swum completely nude. In those circumstances, she would have had to remain in the water until whoever it was got tired of watching her. A chilly prospect, she reflected uneasily, recalling Dr Lorenzo's warning about not tak­ing any unnecessary risks with her health. She would definitely be more circumspect in future.

  Deciding she had little alternative but to face the con­sequences of her actions, she swam slowly back to the shore. And, determined to ignore whoever it was, who had no more discrimination than to stand and watch her, she splashed into the shallows. But, as she straightened to walk through the waves to the beach, her anxieties gave way to a disbelieving excitement. It wasn't a stranger on the beach, it was Ben. Abandoning any mod­icum of dignity, she practically ran out of the water into his arms.

  'You're back!' she exclaimed incoherently, hugging him exuberantly, not immediately aware that he was not returning her embrace. 'Oh, why didn't you let us know you were coming? You could have rung! You are a self­ish pig—'

  She broke off abruptly when painful hands on her arms propelled her away from him. Then the towel she had been lying on earlier was thrust into her hands, and Ben said harshly, 'Cover yourself!'

  Cass's enthusiasm for his return took a decided blow, but she took the towel obediently, and wrapped it sa­rong-wise about her. Then, sustaining her smile with dif­ficulty, she pulled a rueful face. 'Sorry,' she murmured, squeezing the excess of moisture out of her hair. 'I was just so pleased to see you.' She sighed. 'Do you have to be such a prude?'

  'I'm not a prude!' If she had thought he was angry before, he looked positively furious now. 'I'd just like to know what you would have done if I'd been someone you didn't know!'

  'Well, I wouldn't have thrown myself into his arms, if that's what you're afraid of,' remarked Cass, some­what facetiously, but Ben was not amused.

  'And what if they had wanted you to?' he suggested grimly. 'Or something not quite so civilised?'

  Cass's shoulders sagged. 'Rape, you mean?'

  'Or worse.' Ben stared at her malevolently. 'Does my mother know you bathe in the nude? Or haven't you dared to tell her?'

  Cass flushed. 'I'm not in the nude.'

  'No?' Ben was not convinced. 'That—that bikini leaves little to the imagination.'

  'Well, everyone wears them,' retorted Cass indig­nantly. 'You've only to go to Alassio or Sestri—'

  'Where there are crowds of people, female as well as male, for protection,' inserted Ben coldly. 'I thought you had more sense! If you have to swim, get yourself some­thing decent to wear. A proper swimsuit would be an improvement. But best of all, don't swim alone.'

  Cass gave him a sulky look. 'And don't sunbathe ei­ther, I suppose.'

  'Not down here, on your own, no. The sun's just as hot on the terrace.'

  'But I couldn't go in for a dip any time I felt like it, could I?' she argued.

  'No.' Ben conceded the
point. 'But you could always take a shower. And the public beach in Calvado is not that far away.'

  Cass sniffed. 'Thank you.'

  'Don't mention it.'

  Ben thrust his hands into the pockets of the grey cot­ton trousers he was wearing and turned his attention to the sails of a yacht on the horizon, and Cass knew an overwhelming feeling of humiliation. For weeks she had been waiting for some word from Ben, anything to prove he had not forgotten all about her, now that she was out of his sight. But now, when he was here and she had shown how overjoyed she was to see him, he was be­having like a boor and a bully, and she hated him for making her feel like a fool, and she wished that she was dead.

  The trouble was, she knew that he was right. It had crossed her mind before how lonely the cove was, and how inaccessible should she need to shout for assistance. But coming here, spending this time alone, had been all part and parcel of her need to prove her independence to herself, and now he had spoiled it, made her feel totally inadequate.

  Snatching up her sandals, and the bag that contained her wrap-around skirt and cotton vest, she left Ben to his observations and strode away across the sand. With tears pricking at the backs of her eyes, she was in no state to conduct a conversation with him, or anyone else, and she started up the cliff path with blind determination.

  'Hey!' Ben had evidently just realised what she was doing, and was following. 'Hey, Cass!' he yelled im­patiently, coming up the steep path after her. 'Slow down, for heaven's sake. You'll give yourself a heart attack in this heat!'

  'Well, at least then you won't have to bother about me any more,' she threw over her shoulder, not really caring if he could hear her or not. 'Go and watch the boats. I'm going to take a shower.'

  'Don't be such a bloody little idiot!' he snarled, right behind her, and she almost over-balanced at the shock of finding him so close.

  He was sweating freely, she saw, just as she was, and although he had loosened his shirt and pulled it out of the waistband of his trousers it was still plastered to his skin in places. Rivulets of moisture were trickling down his chest, drawing her attention to the growth of fine, dark hair that started just below his ribcage, and arrowed down beneath his belt. His hair was damp with perspi­ration, and he was breathing heavily, but it was the musky scent of his body that set every nerve in her body on edge.

  'Go back,' she got out faintly, dragging her gaze away from him with some effort. 'I don't need any assistance. I've climbed this path a dozen times. And if it's any consolation to you, I shan't be coming down here again. You've made your point. As usual, I've been a fool!'

  'Cass.' His use of her name was weary now, and when she summoned the nerve to look back at him she saw the tension in his face. 'Surely you know I was only thinking of you. I don't want you to get hurt. When I saw you down there, I really lost my head. If anything happened to you, I'd never forgive myself.'

  Cass swallowed, and although she was absurdly tempted to lean back against the hard strength of his chest she forced herself to go on, rather less recklessly this time. 'It—wouldn't have been your fault,' she as­sured him, as they neared the top of the cliff. 'I'm old enough to know what I'm doing.'

  'I brought you here,' he insisted.

  'Because I asked you to.'

  'But I've deliberately stayed away,' he retorted flatly, and when she came to an abrupt halt, he couldn't prevent himself from walking into her.

  'Why?' she asked, as his arms closed automatically about her. 'Why did you stay away?'

  'Don't be naive,' Ben advised her roughly, pushing her determinedly up the last few feet of the path, until they were both on level ground again and he could release her. 'We both know the reasons.' His lips twisted. 'And now I think I need a shower, too.'

  Cass hesitated. 'Are you staying?'

  Ben took a deep breath and nodded. 'For a little while,' he conceded.

  'How little?'

  'That depends.' Ben pushed his hands into his trouser pockets again and began to walk towards the villa.

  'Depends on what?' Cass persisted, hurrying to catch up with him, and he grimaced.

  'Perhaps you should say, on whom?' he remarked drily. 'Which reminds me, I didn't ask you how you were feeling? Or is that an unnecessary question in the circumstances?'

  Cass looked sideways at him. 'What circumstances?' she probed, and he regarded her with tolerant eyes.

  'Do you want me to say it? OK. You look much bet­ter. Beautiful! Or should I say bella, like a good Italian?'

  Cass smiled. 'Beautiful will do.' She glanced down at her towel-draped figure. 'How can you tell?'

  Ben's mouth compressed. 'I saw, remember?'

  'Oh, yes.' She knew he could tell from her expression that she hadn't forgotten at all. 'So you approve.'

  'I think we've taken this far enough,' Ben retorted tightly. 'Have you spoken to your father?'

  Cass gave him a resigned look. 'Yes.'

  'And what did he say?'

  'Not a lot.' Cass pulled a face. 'He just thinks I'm suffering some kind of mental aberration. He thinks I'll get over it.'

  'I see.' Ben inclined his head. 'And what do you think?'

  Cass lifted her shoulders. 'Am I allowed to have an opinion?'

  'Don't be silly!'

  'Well—' She was feeling emotional again, and now was probably not the time to be having a conversation of this sort. 'According to your mother, Daddy is hardly likely to consider Roger's little playmate a good enough reason for me to want a divorce. Apparently, he used to do much the same thing. Certainly before he married Mummy, anyway. Who knows what he's done since?'

  Ben halted now, his expression mirroring his feelings. 'Sophia has no right to discuss Guido's affairs with you,' he declared irritably.

  'Affairs being the operative word,' remarked Cass cynically.

  'Don't be facetious!'

  'I'm not.' Cass felt ridiculously near to tears. She took a moment to calm herself, and then said, 'Did you know what he was like? Did you know he had had mistresses? Are you like that, too? I'd like to know.'

  Ben pulled his hands out of his pockets, and for a heart-stopping moment she thought he was going to strike her. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a figure coming towards them. Ben must have seen it, too, because he didn't touch her, even though she sensed he was angry enough to do so. Instead, he turned abruptly away and stalked off to meet his mother, leaving Cass to follow on legs that were distinctly weak.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CASS was dreaming, and in the dream she was swim­ming through layers of glittering blue water. She felt insubstantial, weightless, at one with the sea creatures who were swimming about her. The sunlight, streaming through the water above her, illuminated a magical world of waving fronds and rainbow-coloured fish, none of whom seemed to care that she was swimming beside them. They ignored her, carrying on about their business, with a total lack of curiosity. For her part, she could feel a distinct restriction in her nose, and her eyes felt vaguely sore. Her throat, too, felt most uncomfortable, and she guessed it was due to the choking lump of rubber she was holding between her teeth.

  And then she realised what was happening. She was snorkelling. It was the mask she was wearing that was restricting her nose, and the rubber mouthpiece of the breathing tube was drying her throat. With a sudden twist of her body, she used the black flippers on her feet to propel herself towards the surface. But, as she strug­gled to break free from some constriction that was hold­ing her down, the cool morning air, drifting in through her windows, brought a feathering of goose-flesh to her body. And, when she opened her eyes to the awareness that she was not snorkelling at all, but dreaming the whole thing, she discovered she had kicked off the single sheet, which had been all that was covering her.

  It was a strangely disappointing discovery. For a few minutes, she had been totally convinced she was snor­kelling, and although it hadn't always been an enjoyable experience it had been exciting. But she hadn't done any snorkellin
g since she was eighteen years old. Ben had taught her how to snorkel, and because of that, and the associations it provoked, she had always refused to par­ticipate whenever anyone else had invited her to try it. It had reminded her too strongly of that day at Calvado, and, although if she had tried it again it might have helped her to expunge the memories, she had never put it to the test.

  She sighed now and, reaching for her watch, she looked at the time. It was barely six-thirty, far too early to get up, and yet she instinctively knew she would not go back to sleep again. The vividness of her dream had destroyed any hopes she might have had of drifting off again. Instead, all the haunting memories of that summer came flooding over her, and for once she didn't try to stem their flow…

  At eighteen, Cass was tall and reasonably slim, and she wore her long pale hair in a single chunky braid. She was still a little shy, except with people she knew well, and although she attracted male eyes she had so far shown little interest in the opposite sex. She had been introduced to several eligible young men—Roger Fielding among them—whom her father considered suit­able escorts, but her interest in them was negligible. She much preferred books and music to personal relation­ships, and, if her parents were disappointed at her lack of enthusiasm, they had only themselves to blame. For years, except when she was at boarding-school, she had been pretty much left to her own devices, expected to entertain herself, while Diana and Guido pursued their social ambitions. They had shown little regard for their daughter's needs as she was growing up, and it was un­reasonable of them to expect her to behave like an ex­trovert when for most of her life she had lived an intro­verted existence. Cass was sweet-natured and generous with her affections, but she couldn't pretend to be some­thing she was not, not even to please her father.

  The only time she felt she really came alive was dur­ing the holidays she spent in Italy. In spite of Sophia Scorcese's attitude towards her, nothing could mar the excitement she felt at spending day after day in Ben's company, and sometimes, at the end of a holiday, she wondered how she would ever survive until the next year.