Flame Of Desire
His brown eyes narrowed speculatively, sweeping over her slender figure, violet eyes and long silver-blonde hair with slow insolence. ‘You know who I am?’
She gave a short laugh. ‘It would be hard not to. You’re a celebrity.’
He appeared unimpressed by her attempt at breathless adoration. ‘Nevertheless, I think it would be better if I knew where you live.’
‘There’s really no need.’ She concentrated on checking her cycle over, her hair falling forward in a straight gleaming curtain. ‘There’s really nothing wrong with me.’
‘Perhaps,’ he agreed. ‘Your hair, is it natural?’
Her head shot up at the unexpectedness of his question. ‘Well, it isn’t dyed, if that’s what you mean,’ she said resentfully.
‘And violet eyes,’ he mused.
She was surprised he had noticed her hair, let alone the colour of her eyes. The artist in him again, she supposed. ‘They’re natural too, I’m afraid,’ she answered tauntingly.
‘I did not presume they were not.’
‘But you doubt the naturalness of my hair.’
He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I was merely curious.’
Sophie’s attention was caught by the girl stepping elegantly out of the passenger side of the Mercedes, a girl who was instantly recognisable as Eve Jeffers. This girl was so beautiful, her features so perfect, her hair a black shining cap, her figure faultless, that she almost didn’t look real.
She came to stand next to Luke Vittorio, her lacquered nails resting intimately in the crook of his arm. ‘It’s getting late, Luke darling,’ she purred in a voice that grated on Sophie’s nerve-endings. ‘We should be on our way.’
Sophie bristled angrily. No concern for her health here, not even a polite query. This girl might be beautiful, but there was something about her that Sophie didn’t like; perhaps it was the coldness in her eyes or the faint hardness to her mouth, but whatever it was she didn’t like her.
Luke Vittorio nodded. ‘You go back to the car, I will be with you in a moment.’
‘We wouldn’t want to keep our beautiful hostess waiting.’ Eve arched an eyebrow at him. ‘I’m sure she’s just longing for you to arrive.’
Luke’s mouth tightened. ‘Go back to the car, Eve. I want no more of your innuendoes today,’ he added harshly.
‘I’m sure Rosemary wouldn’t consider them innuendoes,’ she purred. ‘And then there’s that brat of hers to look at,’ she taunted before walking gracefully back to the car.
Sophie’s anger had been increasing by the second. What did this girl mean by these remarks about her stepmother? Of course Rosemary was looking forward to her weekend guests’ arrival, but why should the model imply that she was especially looking forward to Luke Vittorio being there? She didn’t like the implication behind that at all—or the implication that she was a brat.
He turned back to her. ‘So you will not tell me where you live?’
‘There’s no need.’ He would know soon enough! And so would Eve Jeffers, although she felt sure the other girl wouldn’t give a damn.
‘Very well,’ he nodded curtly, before turning and walking away.
Sophie watched the car speed out of sight before making some attempt to straighten the handlebars on her bicycle. They wouldn’t straighten up completely, but at least it was rideable now. She would get Martin to have a look at it when she reached home.
The Mercedes was parked alongside several other cars in the driveway as she pedalled round to the back of the house to enter through the kitchen. Her stepmother would never forgive her if she let any of the guests see her like this.
Joycy was arranging the tea things as she came into the room, but stopped what she was doing to stare at Sophie. ‘What happened to you?’
She put a selfconscious hand up to her hair. ‘Nothing. Why?’
‘Your face is covered in dirt. What have you been doing?’
‘I had a slight accident on my bicycle,’ Sophie admitted sheepishly.
‘Again?’ Joycy shook her head. ‘I’ve told you so many times not to use that contraption. It wobbles terribly and the brakes don’t work properly.’
Sophie knew that, now. If the brakes had been working properly she wouldn’t have come off the damn thing. ‘Perhaps Martin could take a look at it for me.’ Martin was Joycy’s husband, and her father’s chauffeur and butler.
Joycy laughed. ‘If I remember correctly the last time he looked at it he told you it was ready for the scrap heap.’
‘But I have to have transport of some kind.’
‘Martin is the chauffeur.’
‘Transport of my own,’ Sophie said patiently. ‘While you take the tea things into the lounge I think I’ll try and sneak up to my room.’ She ran one of her dusty hands down her denims. ‘I’m not really presentable.’
‘You certainly aren’t! You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?’
‘Only dented my pride a little. Flying over the handlebars of a bike isn’t exactly the height of elegance.’
Joycy frowned. ‘Are you sure you’re all right? You look a little pale.’
Sophie grinned. ‘Well, I wouldn’t mind one or two of your delicious scones to tide me over until dinner.’
‘There can’t be much wrong with you if you still have your appetite.’ Joycy picked up the tray in preparation to leaving. ‘You know where they are.’
Sophie took two of the still warm scones out of the tin, buttering them hurriedly before making her way to her room. She was going to look her very best tonight, show Luke Vittorio exactly what he would be turning down when he refused to paint her. She would show him that it wasn’t only women like Eve Jeffers and her stepmother who could look beautiful. She could look quite attractive herself if she really tried, and tonight she intended trying.
She washed her hair first, drying it before she took a long leisurely bath. She came out of the bathroom smelling deliciously of pine bath-oil, the delicate perfume absorbed into her skin. The next thing to do was curl and style her hair, the natural staightness of it soon taking on a more attractive wave, two wings of hair pulled back at her temples from the centre parting to be secured loosely by two gold slides. The simplicity of the style emphasised her high cheekbones, enlarging her wide violet eyes.
She wasn’t the sort of girl who usually bothered with all the feminine foibles, spending most of her life as a tomboy, but today she was making a special effort. She manicured and painted her nails a light peach colour before applying a light powdering of make-up, the lip gloss she wore exactly matching the nail varnish and the dress she had decided to wear. Her eyelashes were naturally long and dark, but she applied a light dusting of brown eye-shadow to add depth.
The peach dress was one her stepmother had taken her out and bought for her on one of her rare visits up to see her in town. Rosemary had indulged her for once, preening visibly as the saleswoman assumed them to be sisters.
The gown was Grecian in style, with a wide band of silver brocade surrounding her narrow waist. The light tan she had acquired during the last couple of months was shown to advantage against the peach chiffon, a thin delicate gold chain about her throat the only jewellery she wore.
What her stepmother and father would make of this transition she could only guess, but for all her natural poise and confidence it took great effort to go down to dinner that evening.
She smiled politely at several of the people she recognised who were gathered in the lounge, accepting the sherry Martin handed her with a broad wink in his direction. He frowned at her levity before turning away. Dear Martin, how she loved to tease him!
Luke Vittorio was already deeply engrossed in conversation with a group of people on the other side of the room, although perhaps that wasn’t quite the right description. There was a tolerant smile on his dark face, but Sophie felt sure he regarded the woman talking to him with amused contempt. It was there in his eyes, in his very stance, and Sophie felt sorry for the woman as she obviously tried to make an impression on him.
He looked even more attractive than he had this afternoon, the blue velvet jacket fitting tautly across his wide powerful shoulders, the white shirt flamboyantly frilled at the front although not effeminately so. He wore black trousers, his legs long and muscular beneath the fitted material.
‘So we meet again after all.’
She turned sharply at the sound of that huskily accented voice, the man she had been talking to drifting off as he knew himself overshadowed by the other man. As she had been standing with her back towards him she had no idea how Luke Vittorio had known it was her.
She gave him a cool nod. ‘Mr Vittorio.’
‘Please, call me Luke,’ he invited smoothly. ‘And I may call you—–?’
‘You may call me—–’
‘Ah, Luke,’ her stepmother came over to them, extraordinarily beautiful in the flowing red figure-hugging gown. ‘I see you’ve met my little Sophie.’
Sophie cringed, feeling about five years old. But then her stepmother would probably have preferred it if she were, much less ageing to herself. She looked up into the narrowed brown eyes of Luke Vittorio with defiance. ‘Mr Vittorio and I haven’t yet introduced ourselves, Mummy,’ and she gave him a challenging smile.
CHAPTER TWO
SHE had felt sure he was taken aback by her identity, but there was no evidence of it now in his chillingly handsome face. ‘This is your daughter, Rosemary?’ he queried softly.
Her stepmother gave a brittle laugh. ‘This is my stepdaughter, yes.’
Those deep brown eyes were levelled on Sophie again. ‘I did not realise.’
‘Do introduce yourself properly, Sophie,’ Rosemary gave her an angry glare. ‘I have to go and save your father from Monty again. He will insist on talking for hours about horse-racing,’ she explained to Luke, ’and Simon has no interest in it at all.’
‘You did not think it necessary to introduce yourself this afternoon?’ Luke Vittorio asked abruptly once her stepmother had left them in a haze of her cloying perfume.
Sophie placed her empty sherry glass down on the side-table with relaxed calm. ‘Should I have done?’
‘I would have thought it polite, considering you know my reason for being here.’
She arched her eyebrows. ‘Do I?’
‘I would have thought so,’ he said coolly.
Her mouth twisted as she remembered the way her stepmother had said this man was going to ’look her over’. ‘I’m not exactly what you expected, am I?’ she challenged.
His head was held at a haughty angle, his eyes narrowed. ‘And what did I expect?’
‘I believe Miss Jeffers described it as a—brat?’
‘I am not Miss Jeffers.’ His voice was distinctly cool now.
Sophie gave a light laugh. ‘I’m aware of that. But I believe you expected someone a little—younger?’
He nodded distantly, the black sheen of his hair catching the overhead light. ‘Perhaps.’
There was no perhaps about it. She had known as soon as Eve Jeffers had called her a brat that they were expecting a much younger girl, possibly someone of ten or eleven. ‘And what do you think now?’
He shrugged his broad shoulders, muscle rippling beneath his velvet jacket. ‘Your age is irrelevant as to whether I paint you or not. As a matter of interest, how old are you?’
‘I’m not sure my stepmother would want me to tell you that. She’s just old enough to be my real mother.’
He gave a mocking smile. ‘I am sure you are right when you say Rosemary would not like me to know that—she has a way of looking constantly young.’ His admiring eyes followed her stepmother as she flitted about the room talking to her guests.
‘And a stepdaughter of nineteen isn’t very flattering,’ Sophie said abruptly, not liking the way he was looking at Rosemary. It brought back the feeling of uneasiness she had felt at Eve Jeffers’ disparaging remarks about Rosemary this afternoon.
Luke Vittorio smiled fully now, showing his firm even white teeth. ‘I am sure Rosemary would not think so.’
Sophie’s resentment grew, but she was prevented from making any reply by the arrival of Eve Jeffers at Luke Vittorio’s side, the pebble-green eyes flicking over her speculatively. That brief glance was enough to show Sophie that she wasn’t considered a rival.
‘Sorry I’m late down, Luke darling,’ Eve said throatily, her hand in the crook of his arm. ‘I haven’t missed anything, have I?’ she asked maliciously.
Sophie revised her earlier opinion of this woman being beautiful; there was too much hardness about her and a cruel twist to her painted lips for her to merit such a description. Not that she didn’t look pure perfection in the green gypsy-style evening dress, there was just a hardness about her that marred that beauty.
‘You have missed being introduced to Miss Bedford,’ he informed her.
The black eyebrows arched. ‘The brat?’ She looked around. ‘Has she been sent to bed already? Oh well, spoilt kids aren’t amongst my favourite people anyway.’ She looked back at Sophie. ‘Do I know you?’
‘No,’ Sophie said stiffly.
Eve frowned. ‘I’ve seen you before, I’m sure of it. Are you a model too?’
‘You flatter me!’
‘Sophie!’ She looked up as she heard her name called, seeing Nicholas Sedgwick-Jones making his way towards her. She groaned inwardly as he beamed down at her, waiting for his opening line as she always did. ‘You’re looking particularly beautiful tonight,’ he gushed.
This time she did groan. Nicholas always said the same thing, it was only the time of day that changed. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she didn’t suspect his widowed mother of teaching it to him parrot-fashion before he came out every day; there was certainly no sincerity behind his words.
She made the introductions to the other couple, aware that Luke Vittorio regarded Nicholas with as much contempt as she did. Luckily they all started going in to dinner at that moment, although she didn’t think herself so lucky a few seconds later when Luke Vittorio offered her his arm to go in to dinner.
She had no choice but to accept. ‘Shouldn’t you be taking in your girl-friend?’ she said tartly once out of earshot of the other two.
‘I am sure Eve will be suitably entertained by your friend.’
As she could already hear Nicholas launching into an account of his life on his farm Sophie didn’t feel sure of any such thing. Nicholas bored her, so what he would do to the much more sophisticated model she had no idea. He was still enthusing about his favourite subject as they came into the dining-room, and Sophie felt almost sorry for the other girl as she saw her mother had placed them next to each other at dinner.
She didn’t feel so elated when she found herself seated next to Luke Vittorio. Her mother sat at the head of the table, Luke sitting to her left and Sophie next to him. Nicholas and Eve were sitting at the other end of the table.
‘Has Sophie managed to introduce herself yet?’ Rosemary asked Luke.
‘Oh yes,’ he nodded.
‘I think Mr Vittorio was under a mishapprehension, Mummy,’ Sophie said with relish, forking melon into her mouth.
‘About what, Sophie?’ her stepmother frowned.
‘About the age of your stepdaughter, Rosemary,’ Luke cut in. ‘I believed someone as beautiful as yourself could not possibly be the mother of a nineteen-year-old girl. Your stepdaughter seems to find my error amusing.’
‘Sophie is a naughty child.’ Rosemary put her hand intimately on his arm. ‘I hope you’ll consider her worthy of your talent.’
And Sophie hoped he wouldn’t! She had had enough of his arrogance already, let alone having to sit for him for possibly hours on end. ‘I’m sure Mr Vittorio is much too busy to paint me,’ she protested.
His dark eyes mocked her. ‘I have not yet made up my mind.’
She bristled angrily. ‘Well, I have,’ she said crossly. ‘I don’t want to be painted, by you or anyone else.’
‘Sophie!’ there was an angry flush to her stepmother’s smooth creamy skin. ‘You’ll do as you’re told.’
‘I do not paint unwilling subjects,’ Luke Vittorio stated haughtily.
Sophie felt sure that all the women he painted were more than willing, and not just to have their portrait painted. ‘Good,’ she smiled happily. ‘That lets me out.’
‘Sophie!’ once again Rosemary gasped.
‘I’m sure Mr Vittorio understands,’ Sophie said uncaringly.
‘And I’m just as sure he doesn’t,’ her stepmother’s voice was harsh. ‘I’m so sorry, Luke,’ she gave him a glowing smile, ’Sophie isn’t normally this rude.’
Only to people as arrogant and condescending as this man! ’Have I been rude?’ she queried with feigned innocence.
Rosemary’s mouth was set in an angry line. ‘You know very well you have.’
‘Then I apologise,’ she said in the same offhand manner she had carried out the rest of the conversation. ‘But I was only telling Mr Vittorio the way I felt.’
He gave her a cool look. ‘The fact that the portrait is to be a gift to your father is of no consequence to you?’
She blushed at his intended rebuke. ‘I’m sure Daddy will survive without it.’
‘I believe it was to have been a birthday present, an addition to the family record.’
‘And would you like that, Mr Vittorio, to be the painter of one of our family portraits?’
He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘It does not bother me one way or the other. I paint only what I want to paint. What my client does with that painting once it has been completed is none of my concern.’
Rosemary gave a light tinkling laugh. ‘Every portrait you do is highly acclaimed, Luke, and they’re always kept in a place of honour.’
‘I’m sure they are,’ Sophie put in dryly, sipping her wine.
‘If you can’t be civil,’ her stepmother snapped, ’then don’t say anything at all!’
Sophie shrugged. ‘That suits me.’
After that she devoted all her attention to the man sitting to her left, dazzling him with her laughing violet eyes, flattering him outrageously. And all the time she was aware of the soft murmuring of conversation between her stepmother and Luke Vittorio. Not that she could hear what was being said, they were talking too quietly for that.
Her stepmother was the gracious hostess to this sophisticated man, and yet Sophie knew that she would be in for a certain amount of angry reprisal once her stepmother had her alone. She had in fact been more outspoken than she intended, but she didn’t regret it. Her stepmother might like the man, enjoy his company, but. she wasn’t going to become another of the women following him with adoring eyes. She didn’t much like the attention Rosemary paid him either, and she could see her father watching them closely too.
Nicholas managed to be at her side again as they stood in the lounge drinking coffee. His boyish face always looked pink and well scrubbed, his fair hair kept short and brushed away from his forehead. Sophie supposed he could be called good-looking—if only he didn’t have such a boring turn of conversation. He was doing it again now, launching into a lengthy tale about a sick cow he had.
‘Of course I knew the diagnosis before the vet told me,’ he said enthusiastically, ’but you have to call these chaps out just to confirm it.’
‘Yes, of course you do,’ she agreed vaguely, watching as her stepmother continued to stay at Luke Vittorio’s side. He was obviously the guest of honour, a feather in Rosemary’s social cap, but it really wasn’t like her to neglect her other guests like this.
‘I—er—I don’t suppose you would care to come over to tea tomorrow?’ Nicholas looked at her expectantly. ‘My mother would love to see you.’
Sophie didn’t doubt it. Every time she saw Mrs Sedgwick-Jones she extolled the virtues of her only child, hinting broadly at how she would welcome Sophie as a member of the family. The Sedgwick-Joneses might have breeding, but they had very little money to go with it. It wouldn’t be so bad if Rosemary didn’t encourage them, inviting Nicholas over here every chance she had.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think I can, Nicholas, not with all these guests here. It wouldn’t look very good if I just disappeared tomorrow afternoon.’
‘But they aren’t your guests,’ he persisted. ‘And I’m sure your stepmother wouldn’t mind. Besides, these people aren’t even in your age group.’
Neither was he, if the truth were known. He might only be twenty-three, but he acted much older. ‘I don’t think I should,’ she refused. ‘Not when we have guests.’
And one guest in particular. It was a disquieting feeling seeing her stepmother’s head bent towards that dark one so often, and her feelings of unease increased as she saw the frown on her father’s face.
‘He’s a distinguished-looking chap, isn’t he?’ Nicholas remarked at her side, drawing her attention back to him.
‘Mm?’
‘Luke Vittorio,’ he explained. ‘He’s a very noticeable chap.’
He had obviously followed her line of vision and misunderstood her interest. ‘I suppose you could say that,’ she acknowledged ruefully.
‘He’s not what you expect of an artist, though, is he?’
Sophie gave an amused smile. ‘And what did you expect? The classical paint-stained smock, the paintbrush behind each ear?’
A dark hue coloured his cheeks. ‘Now you’re mocking me!’
She put a hand on his arm. ‘Only a little,’ she gave him an apologetic smile. ‘But Mr Vittorio could hardly sit down to dinner in his working clothes. I’m sure he wears denims and tee-shirts when he paints.’ And looked just as distinguished in them as he did his other clothes. The man carried himself with arrogant elegance and would stand out in a crowd no matter what he wore.
‘You seemed to have a lot to say to him at dinner,’ observed Nicholas.
‘I’m surprised you noticed,’ she teased. ‘You seemed pretty well occupied with Eve Jeffers.’ She had seen the other girl trying to stifle a couple of yawns as Nicholas didn’t stop talking throughout the whole meal.
Again he blushed, although she thought he was secretly pleased about her noticing such a thing. He perhaps, mistakenly, thought her to be jealous.
‘Miss Jeffers was very interested in that sick cow I was telling you about.’
She shook her head. Poor Nicholas, he had no idea how boring he was. She looked up to find a pair of deep brown eyes watching her with mocking amusement, and glared resentfully at Luke Vittorio, guessing that Nicholas was the reason for his amusement. Her stepmother seemed to have momentarily left the man’s side, although he wasn’t short of company, surrounded as he was by a group of the female guests.
Sophie put her hand in the crook of Nicholas’ arm, leading him purposefully over to the chattering group. She edged her way in to stand at Luke Vittorio’s side, giving him a dazzling smile as he looked down at her questioningly.
‘Would you care for some more coffee?’ she asked him politely.
He seemed surprised by her friendly attitude after her earlier rudeness, his eyes narrowing. ‘No, thank you. Your stepmother has seen to my needs.’
Sophie’s mouth tightened. Not all of them she hadn’t! ’Nicholas has been longing to talk to you,’ she pulled the shy young man forward. ‘There wasn’t time before dinner.’
‘Oh, but—–’ Nicholas began to protest.
She patted his arm. ‘Now don’t be shy, Nicholas. I’m sure Mr Vittorio would love to hear about your farm. Tell him about that poor sick cow you had.’
Nicholas looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m sure that can be of no interest—–’
‘Of course it would,’ she encouraged, surprised that for once he seemed to have realised someone had no interest in the welfare of his animals. ‘I’ll just go and make sure our other guests have everything they need. I won’t be long.’
‘But—–’
She gave a mischievous smile before walking away. She would teach Luke Vittorio to laugh at her. Let him listen to Nicholas and see how he fared!
He seemed to be faring very well ten minutes later when she looked over at him; the two men were apparently deep in conversation.