Promise Of The Unicorn. Sara Craven

his dinner jacket, and endearingly apprehensive as he glanced towards the door. Sophie went into his arms like a homing bird, lifting her mouth for his kiss.

      ‘God, you look beautiful,’ he said huskily.

      She smiled up at him. ‘We aim to please,’ she whispered teasingly.

      He swallowed. ‘Is he here?’

      She nodded. ‘He arrived about a couple of hours ago,’ she said neutrally.

      ‘Has he said anything?’

      Sophie bit her lip. ‘I—er I haven’t seen him yet,’ she offered rather weakly. ‘I was upstairs when he arrived and …’

      Mark groaned. ‘I suppose you’re avoiding him,’ he accused. ‘Sophie, for heaven’s sake. We need to be nice to the man, and that includes you.’

      ‘Fine,’ she said tautly. ‘Just how nice would you like me to be? I’m sure he’ll meet me more than halfway.’

      ‘Darling,’ he said patiently. ‘You’re very innocent in many ways. Are you sure you didn’t just—misinterpret an avuncular gesture?’

      ‘Perfectly,’ Sophie said. ‘Any uncle who behaved like that could end up in court.’

      He gave her a coaxing smile. ‘My poor love, you sound as if you had quite a shock. But you’re quite safe. I’ll take care of you.’

      It was what she wanted to hear, and as his arms closed round her again, she melted eagerly against him, closing her mind to everything but the realisation that this was Mark who she loved and who loved her …

      From the doorway, Angelo said drily, ‘La disturbo? Am I disturbing you?’

      Mark released her hurriedly, and Sophie stepped back, her face flaming, avoiding Angelo’s ironic gaze as he came slowly across the room towards them.

      He said coolly, ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am Angelo Marchese, and I think you must be the young man Sophie intends to marry.’

      ‘I’m Mark Langton, yes.’ While they shook hands, Sophie sought to recover her composure.

      ‘I must apologise for my thoughtless intrusion,’ Angelo was saying pleasantly. ‘But I did not expect to find the drawing room occupied. Sono molto dispiacente.’

      Mark said eagerly, ‘It really doesn’t matter. After all, the main purpose of my being here is to meet you.’

      Angelo’s eyes rested on his meditatively. ‘As you say,’ he agreed. ‘Perhaps we could further our acquaintance over a drink? Sophie—will you act as hostess for us. I’ll have whisky with ice if you please.’

      ‘And with soda for me,’ Mark put in, and Sophie noted irritably that his tone was almost deferential.

      She said expressionlessly, ‘Of course’ and went off to get the drinks. When she returned Mark was in full spate about Craig Jefferson’s company and the amazing opportunity for investment it presented, while Angelo listened with courteous interest. Mark broke off almost reluctantly to accept the drink she handed him.

      Angelo lifted his glass to her. ‘You are an enchantment to the eyes, mia cara,’ he said softly. He looked at her empty hands. ‘You don’t drink with us. Not even a sherry—or perhaps—a glass of wine?’

      Sophie shook her head, her eyes meeting his unflinchingly. ‘I don’t think alcohol agrees with me,’ she said.

      Angelo’s eyes narrowed mockingly, but he made no reply, and at that moment John and Barbara came into the room, Barbara exclaiming distractedly because they had not been the first downstairs.

      After that, the evening seemed to merge into a blur for Sophie. At the dinner table, she was nowhere near either Mark or Angelo and couldn’t hear what, if anything, they were saying to each other.

      And when the meal was over, she had to do the dutiful rounds of the other guests before she could ask her mother tentatively if she knew where Mark was.

      Barbara frowned. ‘He and Angelo seem to be smoking cigars in the conservatory,’ she said tartly. ‘I hope that young man doesn’t mean to be a nuisance and monopolise Angelo for the remainder of the evening. He seems to be following him about, and as he’s your guest, it’s up to you to see that he behaves. I don’t want Angelo to be annoyed.’

      ‘Oh, God forbid,’ Sophie’s chin lifted. ‘It doesn’t occur to you, Mother, that they might have mutual interests to discuss this evening?’

      Mrs Marchese gave her a dry look. ‘Frankly, no, darling. Now please rescue Angelo. After all, he comes down here to relax.’

      ‘Oh, really?’ Sophie was openly sarcastic. ‘I thought he had Signora Vanni for that.’

      Barbara’s expression was scandalised. ‘Sophie—that is no concern of yours.’

      Sophie shrugged wearily. ‘Of course not. I’m sorry. I’ll—go and break up the smoking party.’

      But as she moved along the covered walk to the conservatory, Mark was already coming to meet her, his face alight, and his eyes gleaming with excitement.

      ‘There you are.’ He grabbed her arm, bruising the flesh. ‘I’ve got to talk to you.’

      Sophie detached herself, rubbing her arm ruefully. ‘Is this private enough?’ she asked, indicating the long cane seat which stood against the wall.

      ‘Yes, of course.’ He said down with her. ‘Sophie, you’re all wrong about Angelo Marchese. He couldn’t have been nicer to me. He thinks, like me, that Craig’s offer is the chance of a lifetime.’ He paused, drawing breath. ‘He says that I have ambition, and he likes that,’ he disclosed with a kind of awe. ‘He wants to get to know me better—discuss my future in more depth—his own words.’ He took both her hands in his. ‘Sophie, he’s invited both of us to stay with him on this private island he has. He wants us to join him there at the end of the month.’ He paused again. ‘What do you think of that?’

      She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘Angelo has invited you—us to Avirenze? I don’t believe it.’

      ‘Why not?’ Mark’s tone held a touch of aggression. ‘I just told you—we got on well together.’ He grinned. ‘And I have the distinct impression he means to make me an offer himself.’

      ‘An offer you can’t refuse?’ Sophie asked with a kind of desperate flippancy, then sobered. ‘Mark—do we have to accept this invitation?’

      ‘Of course we do.’ He stared at her as if she was mad. ‘A millionaire’s hideout near Capri—that’s fantasy stuff, and I’m not missing out. It’s different for you,’ he added a shade peevishly. ‘I suppose you’ve been there a dozen times already.’

      ‘No,’ she said. ‘I never have. My parents go each year, but they were always invited during term time.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘I can understand why, I suppose. I was enough of a brat to have started asking embarrassing questions about why Angelo was there with a different lady each time.’

      ‘Was he?’

      Sophie’s brows lifted. ‘You sound envious,’ she accused with a smile in her voice.

      But Mark didn’t seem to hear the smile. He said flatly, ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Is this why you don’t want to go to Avirenze? Because of some silly childhood embargo?’

      She shook her head. ‘Of course not. But I don’t understand this invitation, and I can’t really believe it’s all as simple and friendly as you seem to think.’ She took a breath. ‘What it boils down to is—I don’t like Angelo, and I don’t trust him either.’

      ‘Oh for God’s sake, you’re letting your prejudices run away with you,’ Mark said irritably. ‘This is important to me, Sophie, and important to my career. Hell, after we’re married,