Desire's Captive

For a moment she floundered, and then blurted out with a gaucheness that infuriated her, 'Well, she is your ... your woman, isn't she?'

'Is she?' He looked at her again, and then to her surprise stopped, turned round, and guided her back into the foyer.

Outside, the brilliance of the sunshine after the cool dimness of the hotel blinded her momentarily and she stumbled, fingers clutching at the sinewy strength of his forearm. It was like grasping iron, completely unyielding or giving.

'Where are we going?' She thought Nico must have changed his mind and decided against running the risk of staying in town overnight, but he didn't answer, and she was forced to increase her pace to keep up with his long strides, the pressure of his fingers round her arm in what looked like a casual hold but in reality was anything but, closing over her bones like a vice.

He walked past the Land Rover, and into a part of the town she had not seen before. Monteveno was a town she had never visited on previous trips to the villa. Because it lay inland she had dismissed it as being unworthy of a visit, but now she realised the ancient piazza with its church and medieval buildings was worthy of closer inspection. Nico didn't pause to study the architecture, but headed instead for a small arcade of shops in a shady cloister, stopping outside one of them.

In the window was a plain linen dress, starkly cut and discreetly expensive. To Saffron's surprise Nico marched her into the boutique, speaking to the girl who came to serve them, and gazed at him in appreciatively, in English. To her amazement Saffron heard them described as holidaymakers, who had come across the town by accident.

'My wife has had a slight accident and needs to replace her ... blouse,' he explained, and Saffron watched in stupefied silence as several attractive garments were produced for Nico's inspection. His taste was excellent, she admitted grudgingly when he had selected two cotton blouses, one in emerald and the other in a rich lavender, both of which complemented her colouring.

'There is a skirt to match this blouse,' the girl told him, producing a tiered lavender skirt, with a shirred waist designed to fit several sizes.

'We'll take it,' Nico told her, producing a handful of lire notes and the same smile which had once turned Saffron's heart over.

When the girl rang up the cost Saffron moved towards her, but as though he s

ensed what she was about to do, Nico grasped her arm, his eyes boring warningly into hers as he tapped his breast pocket lightly, and then they were outside on the hot pavement, the moment gone and her resentment burning bright spots of colour along her cheekbones.

Their return to the hotel was accomplished swiftly and effectively. Inside their room Nico produced a paper and the same miniature tape-recorder he had used before,

'Read,' he commanded Saffron expressionlessly, handing her the paper.

For a moment she contemplated refusing, but the futility of it washed over her in depressing waves.

She read for ten minutes before Nico stopped her, playing the tape back before removing it and sealing it in an envelope.

'Good. Perhaps this will encourage your father to make haste. The others are growing impatient.'

'While of course nothing ruffles your patience,' Saffron goaded. 'I'm surprised you didn't want me to make a few realistic screams for added effect.'

She was amazed to see a thin film of brick red colour creep up under his skin. So he was vulnerable after all. She opened her mouth to drive her point home further, when he tossed the blouses and skirt towards her gesturing towards the small bathroom.

'When you are ready call me and I will apply the salve we got from the doctor.'

Saffron stared at him, a curious heat flickering over her skin. The cut was just below her breast, curving through her tender flesh, and something quivered inside her at the thought of having Nico's hands on her body.

'I can do it myself,' she managed jerkily, but his eyebrows lifted contemptuously, his voice edged with malice as he said softly, 'Of course you can, but will you? I wouldn't put it past you to conveniently "forget" and deliberately allow yourself to fall ill and so escape us.'

Her eyes gave her away, and Saffron couldn't deny that the thought had crossed her mind. If she were to fall ill and die and her father were to demand further proof that she was live, she might at least be able to prevent them getting the money.

'So, since I cannot trust you, I shall have to make sure the task is completed myself.'

She was inside the bathroom when he added softly, 'Wear the lavender skirt and blouse. I seem to remember you have particularly attractive legs, as well as other ... enticing attractions.'

Saffron fully intended to ignore him and dress in the clothes she had just discarded, but when she emerged from the luxury of a warm shower and picked up his shirt, as well as being stained with her blood, the disturbingly male scent of his body still impregnated the cloth, and she dropped the shirt as though it burned, turning instead to the lavender blouse. It was a wrap-round style with a plunging neckline and tight sleeves, complementing the flounced skirt. The wound showed rawly against her tanned skin, the damp fronds of her butchered hair clinging softly to her face, adding to her fragile appearance, her eyes huge in the delicate oval of her face.

When she stepped into the bedroom, she was trembling with the onset of an emotion she found it hard to decipher. Nico was lounging on one of the beds, reading the paper. He stood up when she walked in, his eyes scrutinising the soft femininity of her body in the lavender shirt and blouse.

'It suits you,' he said at last, 'but I think we can dispense with this if I am to attend to your cut.' He reached deftly for the ties of her blouse, releasing them before Saffron could stop him. Her face flamed and she moved backwards automatically.

Nico ignored the small movement, grasping her shoulder and holding her still while he spread the cream on the throbbing cut. The fingers which had so far merely punished were strangely comforting as they spread the soothing balm against her heated flesh. Strange sensations curled dangerously through her stomach, an odd lassitude enveloped her.

'Saffron?' She caught the hard edge underlining her name, but the room seemed to be tilting oddly, Nico's fingers against her skin the only reality, his eyes dark, and almost concerned as she looked up at him and tried to articulate her concern at the dizzying sickness enveloping her, then Nico and everything else was blotted out as a whirling pool of blackness opened in front of her and she tumbled helplessly into it, sinking drowning ... floating deliciously on something warm and safe.

The first thing Saffron was aware of when she opened her eyes was her unfamiliar surroundings. She blinked in the strong sunlight streaming in through the uncurtained windows, and glanced slowly round the room. That awful nightmare that she had been kidnapped must have been just that, and yet it had been so real. She frowned as she heard the sound of running water from the bathroom, then her glance fell on to the skirt and blouse she had worn the night before, now neatly folded on a chair, and realisation swept over her and her body tensed beneath the thin sheet.