A Fever In The Blood Read online

  'What's wrong?' Ben demanded now, his thick lashes narrowing eyes that were already dark with passion. 'Did I hurt you?'

  'Yes. I mean, no! That is—' Cass shook her head helplessly. 'I can't explain.'

  'You don't want me to touch you?'

  'Yes.' Cass closed her eyes to hide the desperation she was feeling. 'Yes, I do.'

  'Then open your mouth,' said Ben thickly, stroking her lips with his tongue.

  'What? Oh, I—are you sure?'

  It was with some misgivings that she obeyed his re­quest, but when his tongue plunged into her mouth her legs went weak. The impact of his kiss tore deep into her stomach, igniting every nerve in her body, and flood­ing her loins with warmth. Whenever Roger had tried to kiss her this way, she had felt only distaste and revul­sion, but with Ben it was a shattering experience. It showed her a little of what had been lacking in her life for so long, and hinted at other desires she had thought were beyond her reach.

  He kissed her many times, long, drugging kisses that left her limp and clinging to him, but always eager for more. His hands caressed her arms, sliding beneath the folds of chiffon, and caressing the skin that ached for his touch. He stroked her breasts, his thumbs finding the delicate nipples that swelled beneath his hands. And then he cupped her small buttocks and brought her fully against him. The unmistakable thrust of his own arousal didn't disgust her, as Roger's had done. It excited her. And the moist pulse between her legs throbbed with a life of its own.

  'Oh, Ben,' she moaned, aroused now in a way she had never dreamed she could be. 'Ben, make love to me!'

  Ben's hands abruptly stilled. 'I can't,' he muttered hoarsely, burying his face in the scented hollow of her shoulder. 'Don't ask me that, Cass, because I can't!' - Cass shook her head, her brain struggling to escape the soporific effects of passion. 'Why not?' she pro­tested, grasping handfuls of his hair and forcing him to lift his head and look at her. 'Why not?' She blinked, trying to remember exactly what he had told her earlier. 'When—when I asked you about—about our relation­ship, you said—'

  'I lied!' Ben interrupted her harshly, gripping her shoulders now and propelling her away from him. 'It was contemptible, I know, and I'm sorry, but the devil makes his own rules.' His hands dropped to his sides, and Cass swayed a little unsteadily in front of him. 'I suppose you hate me now. Well, that makes a change, doesn't it?'

  Cass stared at him unbelievingly, a sick little pain making itself felt in the pit of her stomach. It couldn't be true. What had just happened couldn't be wrong. It had felt so good, so right. For the first time in her life she had begun to understand how it could be between a man and a woman, and her senses utterly rejected what he was implying. And yet—and yet, it had felt good before, on the beach at Calvado, and all that had brought her was a lifetime of marriage to a man she didn't love, and who only wanted her for her father's money…

  Cass was sick twice: once immediately after Ben had walked out of the kitchen, and the second time in the early hours of the following morning. On the second occasion, as she was shivering over the basin, she heard a knock at the bathroom door and Ben asking, somewhat anxiously, if she was all right, but she didn't answer him. Instead, she stumbled across the floor, a paper tissue pressed against her lips, and slipped the bolt into place. It ensured there was no way Ben could walk in and witness her humiliation, and the distinctive click as it slid into place was an audible indication of her inten­tions. All the same, she waited some time before coming out. She was half afraid he might be waiting for her in the bedroom.

  She was up again at first light, throwing all the clothes she had unpacked into the suitcase, and checking she had left no incriminating evidence in the bathroom. Then, dressed in a coffee-coloured silk jumpsuit, she car­ried her case through to the living-room, and carefully lifted the receiver of the phone off its rest.

  'What the hell do you think you're doing?'

  The harsh question almost scared her out of her wits, and she dropped the phone. The dangling receiver butted the scarred wood of the desk, and before she could res­cue it Ben crossed the room and lifted it grimly back on to the rest. He was dressed, too, in the dark shirt and trousers he had been wearing the night before, and she wondered for a moment if he had been to bed.

  'I said, what the hell do you think you're doing?' he repeated, infinitely more intimidating now that he was only an arm's length away from her, and Cass had to steel herself to face him.

  'I heard you,' she replied, unable to prevent the shiver of apprehension that feathered her skin. 'I—as a matter of fact, I was phoning for a cab. I imagine there will be cabs about at this time of the morning, won't there? I mean, people do have to catch early flights, don't they?'

  'And why should you want a cab?' enquired Ben coldly. 'I've said I'll drive you to Calvado, and I will.'

  'I'm not going to Calvado.'

  The words came out in a rush, and she watched as his expression darkened ominously. 'Like hell you're not!'

  'I'm not.' Cass gathered a little confidence from the relief of having said it. 'I—I'm going back to London.'

  'No, you're not.'

  'Yes, I am.' She swallowed convulsively. 'You can't stop me.'

  'Can't I?' His smile held no trace of humour. 'I shouldn't be too sure of that if I were you.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'I mean, I have no intention of allowing you to make a fool of me—or my mother.'

  'I've not made a fool of anyone!' Cass was tremulous. 'Except, perhaps, myself.'

  'Nevertheless, you are not going back to London.'

  'How are you going to stop me?' She gulped. 'Rape me?'

  A spasm of some emotion she couldn't identify crossed his lean, dark face. 'Don't be so stupid!' he mut­tered, and when she reached for the phone again his hand came down, imprisoning her fingers against the receiver. 'If that had been my intention, don't you think I would have had a willing accomplice last night?' he grated sav­agely. 'Now, stop behaving like a schoolgirl, and accept your responsibilities!'

  Cass was able to tug her hand away from the phone, but only because he let her, and a terrible sense of wea­riness seemed to be invading all her bones. 'You can't make me go to Calvado,' she repeated, twisting her hands together. 'Not—not unless you want me to tell your mother what happened. I will, you know. You can't silence me altogether. Not unless you decide to kill me, and throw my body into the Arno.'

  Ben closed his eyes for a moment. 'Oh, Cass,' he groaned, turning away from her as he spoke, 'stop talk­ing such drivel! What do you want me to say? I've said I'm sorry. I've said I've behaved abominably. It was all my fault. I take full responsibility.' He sighed. 'And if it's any consolation to you, I promise it won't happen again. But,' he turned back to look at her again, 'I want you to go to Calvado. It's what you need, and my mother is expecting you. How am I supposed to explain that you're not coming, when I had the devil's own job per­suading her to invite you in the first place?'

  Cass shook her head. 'I can't.'

  'Why can't you?'

  'Because—oh, because I can't. Not—not after what happened.'

  'What did happen?' Ben's mouth twisted bitterly. 'I kissed you, and you kissed me back. Big deal!'

  'It wasn't like that, and you know it.'

  'I know you're making far too much out of it.' Ben breathed heavily. 'For heaven's sake, Cass, I'd had too much to drink and so had you! That's why you were sick. Because you ate too little, and drank too much.'

  'No.' Cass wouldn't accept that, appalled that he had known what she was doing. 'I felt sick—sick to my stomach! You lied to me, Ben. I'll never forgive you for that.'

  'I'm not asking for your forgiveness,' he retorted flatly. 'I just want you to forget what happened last night, and go to Calvado this morning as planned, and relax. That's what you came here for, isn't it? Or has the idea of going back to Roger lost its abhorrence?'

  She knew it hadn't. Indeed, the idea of seeing Roger again filled her with alarm. Even
now, even after what had happened, she couldn't face the thought of going home, and Ben could tell from her expression that she had not thought about the consequences.

  'Well?' he prompted, gripping the sides of his neck with his hands, and flexing his shoulder muscles wearily. 'Can we come to some decision here?'

  Cass held up her head. 'And if I still refuse to come to Calvado?'

  Ben expelled his breath on a sigh. 'Don't make me say it.'

  'Say what?'

  'Cass!'

  'No. Say what?' She insisted.

  Ben stared at her. 'I could be just as destructive as Fielding, if I chose.'

  Cass pressed her lips together to prevent them from quivering. 'You mean—you mean—you're threatening to tell Daddy about—about Roger and me?'

  'If that's what it takes to bring you to your senses, yes.'

  Cass caught her breath. 'You—you bastard!'

  'Yes, well…' Ben turned away as he spoke, so that she had to strain her ears to hear his next words. 'That's what I am, aren't I? And you'd better believe it.'

  * * *

  It was barely eleven o'clock when they drove down the widening track to the Villa Andrea. The journey from Florence had been accomplished in record time, but Cass had been only superficially aware of the speeds the Porsche was achieving. Ben had had the windows open, and the breeze coming in off the ocean had torn her concentration to shreds. Even so, there had been a won­derful feeling of catharsis in the mindless ferment of the wind, and for a while at least she had been able to lose herself in a purely physical liberation.

  However, with the tiled roof of the villa visible below them, Cass made a determined effort to recover her equi­librium. It would be foolish to think she could confront Ben's mother in a less than composed frame of mind. Sophia would see through any subterfuge at once, and she had always had the uncanny knack of knowing when something was wrong.

  In consequence, Cass felt compelled to reveal her fears to Ben. Although they had scarcely exchanged two words since early that morning, she could not enter his mother's house without at least making an attempt to restore a semblance of civility between them.

  'I think—I think we should try and put what has hap­pened behind us,' she ventured tentatively, but the look Ben cast in her direction was not encouraging.

  'Do you?'

  'Yes.' Cass took a breath. 'As—as you've forced me to come here, I should have thought the least you could do is meet me half-way.'

  Ben's hands tightened on the wheel. 'Might I remind you that that was what I suggested in the first place?'

  'Yes—well—' Cass's tongue circled her lower lip. 'I—agree with you. We can't meet your mother now— not talking to one another.'

  Ben lifted his shoulders. 'Aren't we talking to one another now?'

  'You know what I mean.'

  'Do I?'

  'Yes.' Cass bent her head. 'You haven't said a word since we left the apartment.'

  'Have you?'

  'No.' Cass sighed. 'That's what I'm saying. I think— I think we should.'

  Ben's lips twisted. 'It's a little late now, isn't it? We're here.' He drew the car into the shade of the lemon trees. 'Fait accompli.'

  Cass looked at him uneasily. 'You won't—you won't phone Daddy, will you?'

  Ben's mouth hardened. 'Why should I?'

  'I don't know.' Cass was confused. 'I just don't want…'

  'Your secret's safe with me,' retorted Ben flatly. 'It always was. You should have known that.'

  Cass's eyes widened. 'You mean—if I had refused to come here—'

  'Short of kidnapping you, there was nothing I could do.'

  Cass felt a ridiculous lump in her throat. 'Oh, Ben—'

  'Don't!' he said sharply. 'Here comes Mamma!I hope you're ready.'

  Sophia Scorcese looked just as formidable as ever and, even though she had made a tenuous peace with Ben, Cass still felt ill prepared to deal with her. Tall and imposing, her floral silk dress complimenting a figure that was still elegant, despite a certain thickening about the waist, Ben's mother had always intimidated her as a child, and although she was a woman now Cass still felt a lingering sense of inadequacy. But she had to squash feelings of that kind, and, giving Ben an unknowingly entreating look, she thrust open her door and got out.

  'Good morning, signora,' she murmured as Sophia reached them, dredging up the schoolgirl Italian she had once used quite fluently. 'It's good to see you again.'

  Sophia's lips moved in the semblance of a smile, but her gaze moved to her son, getting out of the car behind the girl. Then, speaking in English as if to emphasise the fact that she spoke Cass's language much better than Cass spoke hers, she said, 'I hope you had a good jour­ney.'

  'Uneventful,' replied Ben drily, and only Cass under­stood the irony of that remark.

  'Well, you certainly made good time,' commented Sophia in return, and Cass wondered if she was as trans­parent as Ben's mother made her feel.

  'You—er—you're looking very well, signora,' she ventured, eager to change the subject. 'And—and I'd like to say how much I—appreciate your inviting me.'

  Sophia's lips twitched. 'Thank Benvenuto,' she ad­vised her tersely. 'It was he who insisted I could do no other. Bene, shall we go inside?'

  Cass looked back at Ben as his mother started towards the villa, and he lifted his shoulders in a resigned ges­ture. 'Give her time,' he murmured in a low voice as she came to help him get her belongings out of the back of the car. 'What did you expect? That she'd roll out the red carpet?'

  'No, but—'

  'Are you coming, Benvenuto?'

  There was a definite edge to Sophia's voice now, and with a grimace Ben slammed the car door and locked it.

  'No sweat,' he called, pocketing the keys, and Cass saw his mother wince at his deliberate use of the English slang.

  CHAPTER SIX

  BEN left four days later.

  Even though Cass had expected him to stick to his original intention to leave almost immediately, he suc­cumbed to his mother's invitation to spend at least one night at the villa.

  'I see so little of you, Benvenuto,' she reminded him reproachfully, pre-empting his words of apology. 'Is one night in your mother's house so much for me to ask? Surely, now that Cassandra is here, you cannot intend to ignore us.'

  Cass held her breath at this announcement, but no caustic comment was forthcoming. 'Of course not, Mother,' he replied without heat. 'Naturally, I'm hoping to spend some time with—both of you. But, at the mo­ment, I have work to do.'

  Sophia sighed. 'Your book, I suppose.'

  'My book,' he agreed.

  'But don't you earn enough money at the university?' she protested. 'Must you work every free moment you get?'

  Ben shrugged. 'Perhaps I regard it as a pleasure,' he remarked mildly, evidently used to this argument. 'In any event, I've got quite a lot of catching up to do. I've been away for over two months, remember? Victor prob­ably thinks I'm suffering from a severe case of jet lag. I've hardly been into my office since I got back.'

  Sophia grumbled on a little longer, but it was obvious she was inordinately proud of her clever son. She always had been. Cass remembered thinking, when she was younger, that half the reason Sophia resented her staying at the villa was because she was jealous of the time Ben spent with her. At the time, she had dismissed the thought as being unworthy of her, but now she was not so sure. Particularly after what had happened last night, she reminded herself painfully. What was wrong with her? What was wrong with all of them? And why, even now, was she dreading him going away?

  The suite of rooms that had been put at her disposal were disturbingly familiar. Maria Alvaro, Sophia's housekeeper, showed her where she was going to stay before they had lunch, and as she bustled about, throw­ing open windows and twitching curtains into place, the little Italian woman expressed her delight at seeing Signorina 'Sandra again.

  'It has been too long, signorina—no, signora,' she ex­claimed, opening Cass'
s case and expressing her dismay at the jumble of its contents. 'Dio mio, che confusione! Did you pack this, signora?'

  'I'm afraid so.' Cass was rueful. 'Um—just leave it. I'll deal with it later.'

  'Ma no!' Maria shook her head, tutting at the dress Cass had worn the night before. 'I will come back later and unpack for you, signora. For now, you must refresh yourself for lunch. Ciao!'

  Left to herself, Cass kicked off her shoes and padded barefoot across to the long windows. Maria had left them ajar, and on impulse Cass stepped out on to the balcony, catching her breath at the beauty of the view. It was another perfect day, and the waters of the bay were smooth and inviting. She would have liked nothing bet­ter than to change into her bikini and go down to the beach, but she knew that was impossible; for today, at least. She and Sophia had still to discuss the reasons for her being here, and until that was out of the way she was unlikely to relax. On top of which, she had the be­ginnings of a headache, which in the circumstances she didn't think was so extraordinary. It had been a traumatic twenty-four hours.

  Looking over the rail of the balcony, she discovered that Ben had come to stand on the terrace downstairs. He and Sophia were apparently sharing a pre-lunch aper­itif and, realising that if she was seen they might think she was spying on them, she turned and went back in­side.

  The guest-suite consisted of a small sitting-room, a dressing-room and bathroom, and a generously propor­tioned bedroom, with an enormous iron-posted bed. At fourteen years of age, she remembered, it had seemed much more impressive than it did now. Of course, in those days she had still been at boarding-school, and when she was at home she had slept in the nursery-suite. Now, however, she had her own house in Knightsbridge, and the Villa Andrea no longer seemed so imposing.