his voice. "I have enough with me for my needs," she

told him defensively, adding with angry dignity, "And

there are such things as laundries, you know." She

wasn’t going to tell him that she had chosen her small

trolley case specifically because it was light enough

for her to lift, and that the last thing she had felt like

when she was packing had been bringing with her all

the pretty things she had bought for her honeymoon.

She felt the increase in weight of the car as Lorenzo

got back into the driver’s seat. There was a disconcerting

intimacy about being in a machine like this

one with a man who was so very much a man.

The scent of expensive leather reminded her poignantly

of an afternoon she had spent with John,

when he had gone to buy a new car and taken her

with him. They had visited showroom after showroom

as he admiringly inspected their top-of-the-range vehicles.

But none of them, no matter how expensive,

had come anywhere near being as luxurious as this

car, she thought now, her senses suddenly picking up

on the cool, subtle woody scent of male cologne

mixed with the very sensual smell of living, breathing

male flesh.

By the time she had finished absorbing the messages

with which her senses were bombarding her,

Lorenzo had reversed the Ferrari and turned it round.

"Where are we going?" she demanded uncertainly.

"To the Castillo."

The Castillo. It sounded impossibly grand. But five

minutes later, when she saw its steep escarpments rising

sharply up out of the rock face, she decided that

it was more barbaric than grand — like something left

over from another less civilised age. An age where

might was more valued than right; an age where a

man could take what he wanted simply because he

chose to do so. An age surely well suited to the man

seated next to her, she decided a little sourly.

They drove into the Castillo through a narrow

arched entrance, so evocative of the Middle Ages that

Jodie had to blink to dismiss her mental images of

chainmailed men at arms and heralds announcing

their arrival.

The empty courtyard was lit by the flames from

large metal sconces that threw moving shadows

against the imposing stone walls with their watching

narrow slit windows.

"What an extraordinary place," Jodie heard herself

saying apprehensively.

"The Castillo is a relic left over from a time when

men built fortresses rather than homes. I warn you, it

is every bit as inhospitable inside as it is out."

"You live here?" She couldn’t keep the dismay out

of her voice.

"I Don’t, but my grandmother did."

"So where…?" Jodie began, and then stopped uncertainly

as she saw the way his mouth was compressing.

It was obvious that he did not like her asking

so many questions. He had opened the door of

the car and she wrinkled her nose as she caught the

pungent smell of something burning. "Something’s on

fire," she told him.

Lorenzo shook his head. "It is merely the mixture

of wood and pitch that is used in the sconces. After

a while you will grow so accustomed to it that you

won’t even notice it," he added in a matter-of-fact

voice.

After a while? Did that mean that she was to live

here? Without electricity?

As though he had read her mind, Lorenzo informed

her, "My grandmother preferred the old-fashioned

way of life. Fortunately I was able to persuade her to

have a generator installed to provide electricity inside

the Castillo."

When one thought of an Italian castle one thought

of something out of a fairy tale, but this place was

nothing like that. Bleak and brooding, it made her

shudder just to look up at the granite walls.

"Come…"

Sitting in the Ferrari had caused her weak leg to

stiffen and seize up. Jodie could feel her face burning

as Lorenzo waited impatiently for her to get out of

her seat whilst he held the door open for her. The

agonising pain that shot through her leg as she finally

managed to do so made her bite down hard on her

bottom lip to stop herself from betraying what she

was feeling. John had hated anything that drew attention

to her infirmity, insisting that she always wore

jeans or trousers to hide the thinness of her leg with

its tell-tale scars.

"If you wear trousers no one is going to know that

there’s anything wrong with you," he had told her

more than once. Jodie could feel her throat closing

with painful tears. She had wanted so desperately to

hear him say to her that he didn’t care what she wore,

because he loved her so very much that every part of

her was equally precious to him. But, of course, men

were not like that. Louise had said as much when she

had explained to Jodie just why John preferred her.

"The trouble is, sweetie, that men Don’t like all that

disfigurement stuff. It makes them feel uncomfortable.

Plus, they want a woman they can show off—

not one they’ve got to apologise for."

"You mean some men Don’t," Jodie had corrected

her, with as much dignity as she could muster.

"Most men," Louise had insisted, before adding

bluntly, "After all, how many men besides John have

actually wanted so much as a date with you, Jodie?

Think about it. And let’s not forget," she had added,

pressing home her advantage, "any man is bound to

worry about what he’s going to have to face in the

future, with a wife who’s got health problems, from

a financial point of view alone."

"I haven’t got health problems," Jodie had objected.

"The hospital has given me a complete all-clear—"

"Because they can’t do any more for you. You told

me that yourself. Your leg is never going to be as it

was, is it? You get tired if you have to walk any

distance now — imagine how awful it would be for

poor John if in, say, ten years you needed to be in a

wheelchair. How would he cope? With the business

booming the way it is, John needs a wife who is a

social asset to him, not one who is going to be a

handicap. You really mustn’t be so selfish, Jodie.

John and I are trying to make this as easy for you as

we can."

It was the "John and I" that had done it, igniting

Jodie’s temper so that she had exploded and told her

one-time friend in no uncertain terms exactly what

she thought of both her and of John, ending up with,

"And, personally, the last kind of man I would want

to commit to is one so shallow that all he sees is what

lies on the surface. To be honest with you, Louise,

you’ve done me a big favour. If it hadn’t been for

you I might have gone ahead and married John with

out knowing how weak and unreliable he is. You obviously

aren’t as fussy in that regard as I am." She

had finished pointedly, "But I should be careful, if I

were you. After all, you won’t be young and glamorous

for ever, will you? And, since you’ve said yourself

that looks are so immensely important to John,

You’re going to have to live with the knowledge that

ultimately he may dump you for someone younger

and prettier."

She had been shaking from head to foot as she

walked away from Louise. And when John had turned

up on her doorstep less than an hour later, accusing

her of upsetting Louise, she hadn’t known whether to

laugh or to cry. In the end she had laughed. Somehow

it had seemed the better option.

It was then she had gone out and bought herself