Tempted By Desire. Кэрол Мортимер

had me worried for a moment.’ She couldn’t hold back a grin. Wow! When he smiled at her like that…! ‘I’m nineteen—just,’ she supplied.

      ‘You have been on your own since you were sixteen?’

      ‘Just about. But I was on my own long before that really. Daddy and my stepmother lived out of the country most of the time, and so I was left in boarding school.’

      ‘At least I cannot say that. Cesare always cared for me when I was a child. I was fifteen when our father died and Cesare was forced to take up the responsibilities of being the head of the family. I am afraid I was not always a well-behaved child, far from it in fact.’

      ‘I can believe it.’ And she could too. He still had the look of an impish child when he teased her and she felt sure the Conte Cesare Martino must have had his patience sorely tried. ‘And how did his wife feel about that.’

      This question seemed to cause him a certain amount of amusement, and Suzanne could only wonder why. Until he told her. ‘Cesare is not married. Many have tried and many have failed, but as I have told you, it is hard to love a rock, and believe me, Cesare is pure granite. One day I think a woman will come along and knock him completely off balance. It must be so, I am sure of it. He is a Venetian, and we are a warm passionate race. Cesare cannot be so different,’ he smiled with relish. ‘I hope I am around when it happens, I think I would like to see him bowed by love for a woman.’

      ‘That isn’t a very nice thing to say,’ she scolded.

      ‘You are right, but I find I have many of these thoughts about my austere brother. You would know why if you were ever to meet him.’

      Suzanne gave a little laugh, a soft gentle sound that riveted her companion’s eyes on her glowing face. ‘I don’t think there’s any chance of that!’

      The smile faded from her face as she saw the scowl on Vidal Martino’s face, and following his gaze she saw the reason why. A man had just entered the lounge, a tall aristocratic man with a dark look of disapproval in his rigidly held features. Suzanne was instantly aware of his air of arrogance and she wasn’t surprised when the manager of the hotel began bowing subserviently to him, only to be waved imperiously away again. Icy grey eyes settled on the two of them sitting in the corner of the room and Suzanne felt herself stiffen as the newcomer strode towards them with long easy strides.

      ‘You are about to be proved wrong,’ muttered Vidal, rising slowly to his feet.

      Suzanne’s startled gaze swung to the man now standing beside their table, her eyes widening with shock. Surely this couldn’t be the Conte Cesare Martino! This man was too young and he didn’t fit her picture of him at all. That over-long blond almost silver-coloured hair, and those steel grey eyes couldn’t possibly belong to a Venetian. And yet his skin was a dark swarthy colour. The whole effect was very startling and very attractive, much too attractive for any woman’s peace of mind.

      ‘Cesare,’ Vidal Martino said firmly, confirming Suzanne’s suspicions. ‘I did not expect to see you tonight.’

      The Conte’s eyes flickered momentarily over Suzanne as she remained seated, and if anything his look became even more contemptuous. ‘So it would appear,’ he said coldly, his voice only slightly accented, much less so than his brother’s, a deep slightly husky sound that commanded attention.

      ‘And what do you mean by that?’ Vidal’s face became flushed with anger.

      Suzanne compared the two men and could find little resemblance, except perhaps in their physique. Both looked powerful men, although she would hazard a guess that any battle these two entered opposed to each other, be it verbal or physical, the Conte would always emerge the winner. As brothers, half-brothers, they bore no resemblance to each other. One was so dark in colouring, and the other so fair and yet with that dark contrasting skin. There couldn’t be more than six or seven years difference in their ages and yet the Conte had such a distinguished air that he appeared older. And no wonder, if he had had to take over his duties as the Conte Martino at such an early age.

      ‘I merely meant that as you are already occupied then of course you could hot have been expecting me,’ the Conte answered his brother’s rather heated question. ‘Are you not going to introduce us, Vidal?’ As he said this the Conte lowered his tall frame to sit on the other side of Suzanne, and Vidal had perforce to join them.

      ‘Suzanne, my brother the Conte Cesare Martino,’ he gave in sulkily. Suzanne was again reminded of a little boy and her resentment towards his brother grew for interrupting what should have been a perfect evening spent with Vidal. ‘Cesare, this is Signorina Hammond, Signorina Suzanne Hammond.’

      She felt her hand taken into a firm grip and at last looked up as the Conte’s silver-blond head neared her hand, kissing her suddenly warm flesh with those cold firm impassioned lips. Grey eyes widened slightly as they met the sparkle in her green ones and Suzanne felt strangely unreal for a moment before he calmly broke that gaze.

      ‘Signorina Hammond?’ he queried softly.

      ‘Yes,’ she replied breathlessly, feeling curiously as if she had run for miles and miles and now felt winded.

      ‘I only ask because I was informed that a Signora Hammond was staying here.’

      ‘That would be Suzanne’s stepmother,’ Vidal put in resentfully. ‘And what, may I ask, have you been doing this evening, Cesare?’

      ‘The same as you, no doubt, visiting my stubborn and wilful grandmother. When she informed me of your visit to her I thought it only polite to see you before I retired. As you only arrived this afternoon I thought perhaps you would be alone. I can see I have wasted my time.’ Again those grey eyes flickered over Suzanne’s still form.

      Usually rudeness didn’t bother her, but she was perfectly well aware that coming from this arrogant man it was a gross insult. He certainly wouldn’t talk about one of his own countrywomen with such ill-disguised contempt, and definitely not in front of them. ‘If you are referring to me, signore, then you are quite wrong. I’m not detaining your brother,’ she said icily.

      ‘Whether you are or whether you are not is not Cesare’s concern,’ Vidal cut in. ‘I am no longer a child, Cesare, but a grown man. You would do well to remember it.’

      The Conte stood up in unhurried movements. ‘And you would have done well to remember, Vidal, that the Grant contract was an important part of my plan for greater expansion into America,’ the words rang out with contempt. ‘And if you had contacted me immediately on your arrival this afternoon instead of—instead of flirting with this child—we may have still been able to salvage something from the mess. As it is, Leroy Grant has cancelled any further business with us.’ He bowed stiffly to Suzanne. ‘Miss Hammond. I will see you in your office tomorrow, Vidal.’

      There was no mistaking the anger in his voice and Suzanne watched him nervously as he walked out of the lounge. The hand that lifted her glass shook with delayed reaction and she sipped the fiery liquid gratefully. So that was the Conte Martino! Vidal was right, that man was pure granite. She looked at Vidal and was shocked by his appearance. His face was paled somewhat and he was glaring after the Conte with undisguised dislike.

      She put out her hand and touched his arm tentatively. ‘Vidal?’ she said questioningly. ‘You mustn’t let his anger bother you so much. I’m sure he’ll have forgotten it by tomorrow.’

      Vidal seemed to visibly drag his attention back to her, smiling slightly at her concerned face. He patted her hand reassuringly. ‘Cesare forgets nothing. But I am unconcerned with his anger. Grant had already decided not to sell to us before we even made our offer. It was his rudeness to you that I find unforgivable. And do not say it does not matter, because I can see it did. He annoyed and upset you.’

      ‘Perhaps,’ Suzanne admitted. ‘At the time. But it isn’t important, at least, not important enough to ruin our evening.’

      ‘To me it is. He would not have spoken to one of our own nationality in that way. Cesare dislikes