now with the emotions and sensations she had felt

when she had first met John. The two reactions had

nothing in common, and therefore this feeling she had

now was not a sign that she was in any way attracted

to Lorenzo.

"I saw Caterina speaking with you earlier. Tell me

what she was saying."

It was typical of him, of course, that he should not

only make such a demand but actually expect it to be

met — as though he had the right to question her, and

also to be answered.

Jodie answered him as bluntly. "She told me that

you were lovers."

"And what else?" he demanded, refusing to react.

Jodie shrugged her shoulders. "Only that you would

do anything to gain possession of the Castillo — but

then I already knew that. And that your mother deserted

you and your father when you were a small

child — which of course I did not."

Now she had the reaction she had not had before.

Immediately Lorenzo’s expression hardened. "My

childhood is in the past and has no bearing on either

the present or the future."

He was wrong about that, Jodie decided. It was

obvious from the way he was reacting that his childhood

held painful issues which had never been resolved.

"How is your leg? I noticed that you were rubbing

it earlier, when Alfredo was here."

What had motivated that comment? Concern for

her? Or a deliberate attempt to change the subject?

Jodie knew which she believed was the more likely

reason, but that wasn’t enough to stop her answering

him.

"that’s just a…a habit I have. It doesn’t mean…

My leg’s fine." She was behaving in as flustered a

manner as though he had paid her some kind of unexpected

compliment, she realised angrily. John’s rejection

might have battered her self-esteem, but it certainly

hadn’t reduced her to the pathetic state where

she was grateful to a man for asking after her health!

But Lorenzo’s comment had reminded her of something

she knew she had to do.

And now was probably a good time to do it, she

thought, since the fading light meant that Lorenzo

wouldn’t be able to see her red face.

"I–I owe you an apology," she told him abruptly.

"I realise from what Alfredo said that I was wrong to

suggest that you knew nothing about the horrors

of war."

"You are apologising to me for an error of judgement?"

Jodie risked a quick glance up at him through the

indigo-tinted evening air, and discovered that the

downward curve of his mouth was revealing the same

cynical disbelief she could hear in his voice.

"Yes, I am," she said. "But if you’d told me about

your aid work in the first place, I wouldn’t have

needed to, would I?"

"Ah, I thought so. I’ve yet to meet any woman who

will genuinely admit that she could be to blame for

anything."

"that’s the most ridiculous exaggeration I have

ever heard!" Jodie objected immediately. "It’s like

saying that—"

"That You’re never going to trust another man because

one man has let you down?" Lorenzo suggested

silkily.

"No! that’s a personal decision I’ve made about

my own future. It doesn’t mean — and I have never

said — that all men can’t be trusted. Maybe you should

look more closely at why you think the way you do,

instead of making unfounded accusations against my

sex!" she told him recklessly.

"That was an apology?" Lorenzo said derisively.

She felt so tempted to tell him that she had changed

her mind, and he would have to find someone else to

help him to secure his wretched Castillo. But her determination

to salve her pride with the possession of

a husband to replace the one she had so humiliatingly

lost was stubbornly refusing to let her do so. She

would withstand whatever she had to in order to enjoy

the sweet satisfaction of seeing John and Louise’s expression

when she introduced them to her "husband".

She didn’t want revenge, or money — such negative

aspirations were empty and worthless — but she so

badly did want the ego-boosting experience of seeing

everyone’s faces when she turned up at the wedding

with Lorenzo.

With a handsome, multi-millionaire, titled husband

at her side, no one was going to pity her, or glance

at her leg when they thought she wasn’t looking, or

whisper about her, explaining who she was and what

had happened. Yes, it was shallow. Yes, it was foolish.

Yes, a part of her felt ashamed that she should

give in to such a need. But she was still going to do

it. And if it turned out that she ended up upstaging

the bride? Tough!

A small shiver of shocked awareness of her own

growing strength tingled over her skin. Two months

ago she had been so low she couldn’t even have contemplated

feeling like this. Who knew what she could

achieve once the wedding was behind her? She could

begin a whole new life, a life doing the things she

wanted to do, without having to worry about pleasing

any man ever again.

"What are you hoping for? That he will turn round

at the altar, see you and leave her?" Lorenzo demanded

harshly.

Jodie stared at him and blurted out, "How did you

know I was thinking about John?"

"There is a certain look in your eyes when you do

so."

"Well, You’re wrong," she fibbed. "I wasn’t thinking

about him. I was thinking about what I am going to

do in the future. I wasn’t well enough to go to university,

or to train to do anything after the accident,

but there is nothing to stop me doing so now."

"Most admirable," Lorenzo said, making it clear

that he found her mission statement for the future anything

but. "Now, if we Don’t go in soon Maria will

be coming to warn us that it is time for dinner. I hope

you like pasta, because that is all you are likely to

get. Her cooking is of the plain and simple variety,

but at least it might add some flesh to your bones."

Perhaps she was a little bit on the thin side — emotional

pain did that to a person, after all — but there

was no need for him to keep on pointing it out to her,

was there? Jodie decided crossly as she turned away

from him.

"Be careful," he warned her sharply. "There is a step

here—"

But it was already too late, and Jodie gave a small

cry as she missed it in the darkness and stumbled

forward.

Powerful hands seized her waist, and, as he had

done before, Lorenzo caught her before she hit the

ground, lifting her back onto her feet and steadying

her there.

When was it that her instincts registered and recognised

the subtle shift in the way those hands were

holding her? The movement that took their hold on

her body and turned it from the impersonal dig of his

fingers into the curve of her waist as he supported her

into an explorative search for the femaleness of that

curve? Was it really after it was too late to check or

reject his instinctive male reaction? Had he really

drawn her closer? Or had she been the one to move

towards him?

In the shadowy darkness it was impossible for her

to see his face, or to judge which of them had promoted

the body-to-body intimacy they were now

sharing, and she hoped it was equally impossible for

him to read her expression.

He bent his head towards her and took her mouth

in a shockingly intimate kiss of hard passion that was

over almost as soon as it had begun. Then, without a

word of either apology or explanation, he released