Flame Of Desire. Carole Mortimer

look forward to seeing you again, Mr Vittorio,’ she said tauntingly.

      ‘I am sure you will,’ he returned mockingly.

      ‘Just tell me this, why did you agree to paint me?’ Her curiosity had got the better of her.

      He raised a dark eyebrow as he slowly studied her from head to foot. ‘Why should I not? You will make an interesting study. There is a coolness outside belied by the heated passion inside. I will enjoy trying to capture this elusiveness of yours.’

      Sophie’s face was fiery red by this time. ‘I’m sure you’re reading things into my character that simply aren’t there.’

      ‘I do not think so.’ He crossed one well-shod foot over the other.

      They were seated together on one of the sofas, Sophie slightly unnerved by his closeness. He was clothed in a cream suit and brown shirt open at the neck to reveal the start of the thick mat of hair that she felt sure covered most of his body, and if anything he looked even more attractive than he had the previous evening. He would be leaving shortly which probably accounted for his less formal attire.

      ‘I do,’ she disagreed. ‘It isn’t’ heated passion you can detect, it’s burning anger.’

      ‘We shall see.’

      ‘We most certainly will not!’ She sat forward in her agitation.

      Luke laughted softly. ‘How you delight in jumping to conclusions! You seem to do it often where I am concerned. One of these days you will realise how foolish your thoughts are concerning myself.’ He stood up. ‘But not yet. That will come with time.’

      ‘Time is something I don’t intend to give you too much of,’ she glared up at him.

      ‘You will give me all the time I want,’ he told her haughtily. ‘It could lead to some awkward questions from your father if you do not—and I am sure you would not want that. Would you?’

      ‘No, I wouldn’t, damn you! Is this portrait so important to you that you’ll go to these lengths?’ she demanded disgustedly.

      He shrugged. ‘I will not know that until I actually begin. I look forward to seeing you again soon,’ he bowed arrogantly.

      ‘I’ll make sure it’s a memorable meeting!’

      His teeth flashed whitely in his swarthy face. ‘I am sure you will.’

      Sophie didn’t feel quite so confident as she travelled up to London for her first sitting four weeks later. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing him again, for all her bravado at their last meeting. As it had turned out she hadn’t been the one to talk to him on the telephone when he finally rang to arrange this sitting, she had been at Nicholas’s, having at last given in to his persuadings to visit his house for tea.

      As she had expected, Mrs Sedgwick-Jones hadn’t stopped listing her son’s virtues all the time she was there, virtues that to Sophie seemed to make him even more unsuitable as a husband for her. She was disappointed therefore when she returned home to find Luke Vittorio had telephoned in her absence, disappointed because she would have enjoyed another of their verbal clashes.

      But now she was going to London and would see him face to face, and she found the prospect a little daunting. Today she would be meeting him on his home ground, and she was very aware of the fact that she would be at a disadvantage. As a guest in her parents’ home he had not been as forthright as she suspected he could have been, but any rudeness from her here would not go unpunished.

      But first she had to face her stepmother. The two of them had seen little of each other the last four weeks and Sophie could feel herself tensing for their meeting as she travelled in the taxi from the station.

      As it turned out she needn’t have worried; Rosemary was out when she reached the apartment, and a solitary lunch was served to her by Bernard the butler. He was a silent individual, revealing only that her stepmother had gone shopping and was meeting friends for lunch. She hadn’t expected Rosemany to be overjoyed to see her, but she hadn’t expected her to be out altogether either.

      She had no idea what she was supposed to wear for this painting; Luke Vittorio hadn’t said and she hadn’t thought to ask. Her stepmother could probably have advised her, but she hadn’t been very approachable lately, in fact she had rarely been home. Consequently Sophie had brought a couple of dresses with her, hoping to consult her stepmother when she reached London. She had travelled down in denims and a purple sun-top, having decided to have a refreshing shower before changing for her meeting with Luke Vittorio.