One Christmas Night In...: A Night in the Palace / A Christmas Night to Remember / Texas Tycoon's Christmas Fiancée

CHAPTER TWO

IF the circumstances had been any different then Dmitri might have been amused by the stunned dismay on Giselle Barton’s delicately lovely face as she digested what he had just revealed to her. As it was, the present circumstances were such that he couldn’t find any humour in anything a single member of the Barton family did or said. Even one as unexpectedly lovely as Giselle had proved to be …

Dmitri didn’t take his gaze off her as he descended the staircase, sure that he had never seen hair of quite that colour and silky texture before—so pale a blond that it shimmered silver in the sunlight, and of such a length and thickness that it would tempt a man into winding it about his fingers as he pulled her ever closer …

Her eyes, stormy at the moment, were nevertheless the colour of the sky on a clear summer’s day, her nose was small and straight above a perfect bow of a mouth that had surely been designed for a man to kiss and savour, and her chin was small and stubbornly pointed as she frowned at him.

He couldn’t see her figure properly beneath the bulky jacket she wore over a blue sweater, but her legs were slender and yet shapely in the fitted and faded jeans, and her feet appeared small even in those unbecoming boots she was wearing. Yes, Giselle Barton was far lovelier than Dmitri had anticipated. Or particularly wished for.

At thirty-six years of age he knew that over the years he had acquired something of a reputation—both in business and in his personal life. He was a man, in fact, who publicly always had a beautiful woman clinging to his arm. A man who, under different circumstances, would have found this woman’s ethereal beauty and air of independence something of a challenge. As it was, he had far more important things to concern himself with than her surprising and delicate loveliness. Indeed, her undoubted beauty was a complication he could well have done without!

The slenderness of her throat moved as she swallowed before speaking. ‘I— You— It would seem that I owe you an apology, Count Scarletti.’ The blush on her cheeks was obviously caused by embarrassment now. ‘I simply had no idea—your chauffeur gave me no explanation—’

‘He was instructed not to do so,’ Dmitri interjected.

Those sky-blue eyes widened as she looked up at him uncertainly. He stood only feet away from her now, and the top of her silver-blond head didn’t even reach up to his wide shoulders.

‘He was?’

‘Yes,’ he confirmed as bent down to pick up her battered suitcase before straightening and walking towards the palazzo. ‘If you would like to follow me, I have some hot refreshment waiting for you inside.’

No doubt this seriously attractive man could crook a finger and she would follow him anywhere, Lily acknowledged disgustedly. Except he hadn’t even attempted to do that; he just expected—no, demanded—that Lily follow him inside.

Having already made something of a fool of herself today, Lily had no intention of continuing to do so. She made no effort to follow him, but instead made a demand of her own. ‘Where’s Felix?’

Those broad shoulders stiffened beneath that perfectly tailored jacket as the Count came to an abrupt halt in the doorway. He slowly turned to look at her, heavy lids narrowed over the eyes Lily had discovered only seconds ago were, in fact, a pale and unfathomable green. A pale and mesmerising green, actually. As mesmerising, in fact, as the rest of him.

Up close—if not personal!—Lily could see that he was younger than she had first thought—probably aged somewhere in his mid to late thirties—with a ruthless cast to those wickedly handsome features that must make him formidable in the business world, and pretty scary in his personal life too. She certainly wouldn’t like to find herself on the wrong side of him …

He looked down the long length of his aristocratic nose at her. ‘That is an interesting question.’

Lily gave a start. ‘It is?’ A frown appeared between her eyes. ‘Has something happened to him?’ She walked quickly across the courtyard to look questioningly into Count Scarletti’s face. ‘Please don’t say he’s been involved in a accident!’ As she had already discovered, driving in Italy could be seriously hazardous to your health!

Dark brows rose over those cold and narrowed eyes. ‘The answer to your questions would appear to be, I have no idea and not yet,’ he rasped, with a chilling softness that sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine.

‘But—I don’t understand!’ Lily had to take two steps to one of his much longer strides as he stepped into the cool hallway of the palazzo.

She faltered slightly, totally overwhelmed by her surroundings as she took in the magnificence of the marble floor and cut-glass chandelier hanging down from a cavernous ceiling overhead, the antique furnishings and obviously original paintings on the walls adding to the air of wealth and grandeur.

And it was so quiet—not a sound to be heard except the echo of their footsteps as Lily belatedly followed the Count as he walked down the marble hallway before disappearing into a room at the end of the long corridor.

Admittedly this was a huge house—palace!—and as far as Lily knew only Count Scarletti and his sister, Claudia, lived here, but even so surely there should be a feeling of there being other people in the house? Servants to keep such a huge house clean and dust-free? Others preparing this evening’s dinner for their padrone and his young sister? Instead there was just a hollow, eerie silence …

Lily hurried to follow the Count down the hallway, and into the room—only to come to an abrupt halt just inside the door as she found herself in a room so elegantly beautiful it made her gasp softly in awe. The walls were gleaming white, with gold—real gold leaf?—picking out the intricacies of the cornices and scrollwork, and another beautiful glass chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling. A deep blue Aubusson carpet covered most of the marble floor space, and the furniture was obviously from the early nineteenth century—delicate and lovely, with numerous expensive china figurines adorning it. Yet more original paintings were on the walls, and huge, almost floor-length windows looked out onto the magnificence of Rome’s skyline.

And in the midst of all this elegance stood Count Scarletti, very tall and imposing, beside an ornate fireplace in which a fire crackled and flamed, adding a warmth to this beautiful room that Lily felt was singularly lacking in its master.

She huddled into her jacket as she felt another chill run down the length of her spine. ‘You were about to explain why Felix didn’t meet me at the airport as planned.’

He slowly quirked one dark and arrogant brow. ‘Was I?’

Lily looked puzzled. From the little Felix had told her of his employer she’d gained the impression Dmitri Scarletti was a hard taskmaster but a fair one, expecting no more of his employees than he did of himself. In fact, she had got the distinct feeling that her brother’s boss worked as hard as he was reputed to play. Certainly Felix had said nothing about the other man being cold and withdrawn and less than helpful!

She drew in a sharp breath. ‘You—’

‘Perhaps you would care to pour the tea before we continue our conversation?’ He indicated a silver tray on the low, ornate white coffee table on which a teapot and cups had been arranged.

No, Lily would not care to pour the tea; she wanted to know where Felix was, and why he hadn’t met her at the airport—and she wanted to know now! Except good manners—and her brother’s employment by this man—dictated that she not be so obviously rude to him. Especially as the Count had taken the trouble to upgrade her to first class on the flight over here, as well as sending his own chauffeur to meet her at the airport!

Dmitri might almost have smiled at the battle for good manners so obviously going on inside Giselle Barton’s beautiful head. Almost. But until he had ascertained exactly how much she knew about her brother’s present behaviour he intended to treat her with the same suspicion with which he now regarded Felix.

‘I am sure you must be in need of refreshment after your flight, Miss Barton.’

‘Not really. I had more than enough champagne to drink on the plane,’ she admitted ruefully.

‘Indeed?’ Dmitri drawled with obvious distaste.

Colour warmed those pale cheeks as she shifted her shoulders uncomfortably. ‘Courtesy of your kindness in upgrading my seat.’

‘It was the least I could do,’ Dmitri said curtly.

‘Yes. Well. I appreciate the kindness.’

She looked awkward, as if she were unaccustomed to such attentions. Which she probably was; Dmitri knew from his conversations with Felix these past few months that his parents were dead and his only sister lived alone in London.

‘Now, I’m sure I’ve taken up enough of your time, so if you wouldn’t mind arranging for a taxi to take me to Felix’s apartment?’

‘Later, perhaps.’ Dmitri moved with the intention of sitting in one of the wing-backed armchairs beside the fire, and became instantly aware of the way she took a wary step backwards. Perhaps he deserved that; normally a man of cool and rigid self-control, he realised at the moment he was only barely managing to hold his inner feelings of anger in check.

An anger Giselle obviously sensed even if she didn’t know the reason for it …

If indeed she truly didn’t know the reason for it …

At the moment the two of them were playing a cat and mouse game, neither revealing to the other what they knew of this situation, but instead using the dictates of good manners as a shield to what they were really thinking and feeling.

Whatever the outcome of this conversation, she would not be leaving Palazzo Scarletti until Dmitri had decided she would.

He sat down, eyeing her mockingly as he crossed one elegant knee over the other. ‘Even if you would not like one, perhaps you would not mind pouring a cup of tea for me?’

‘I— Yes, of course.’ She dropped her shoulder bag awkwardly to the accompaniment of the muffled sound of a metal clunk as it hit the carpeted floor. ‘The wheel that dropped off my suitcase earlier this morning,’ she explained with an embarrassed grimace.

Dmitri stood up smoothly. ‘If you would care to give it to me … ?’

Lily stared down at that lean and elegant hand for several seconds, imagining how that olive hue to his skin would look against her much paler—

Her cheeks began to burn as she realised exactly what she was doing. This was Count Dmitri Scarletti, for goodness’ sake! A mega-rich and successful man, reputed to escort only beautiful and successful women. Lily—only passably pretty and a mere schoolteacher—would be of no interest to him, so any fantasies she had were a complete waste of her time!

She bent her head to hide her blushes, before sitting down on her haunches beside her bag. ‘It’s completely broken, I’m afraid.’ Nevertheless, she held the wheel out to him; he possessed such a compelling arrogance it was impossible for her not to do so.

It was a compelling arrogance she realised was totally merited as he tilted her suitcase to one side before reattaching the wheel with a mere sideways twist and then a click.

She felt totally inadequate. Damn it, she had struggled all day with that suitcase, and in only a matter of seconds he had fixed it! ‘Thank you,’ she murmured as she moved to pour the tea, at the same time completely aware of his every move as he strolled across the room to resume his seat by the fire.

‘You’re welcome,’ he answered softly.

Lily avoided his penetrating gaze as she handed him the cup of tea she had just poured—careful not to so much as touch his long and elegant fingers as he took the saucer from her. She was already completely aware of this man, without the need to physically touch him.

Although she would think that plenty of women had enjoyed indulging that need …

Those spectacular good-looks aside, there was an aloofness to Dmitri Scarletti—an emotional distance that would challenge women as well as tempt them. Not Lily, of course; she could behave impetuously—as this sudden decision to spend Christmas in Rome with Felix proved—but she wasn’t stupid. Men like this one, indecently rich and dangerously handsome, weren’t attracted to lowly teachers from England. Except maybe as a casual bed partner, of course, and she had always preferred not to involve herself in meaningless physical relationships.

What on earth was she doing?

Lily sat down abruptly in the armchair on the opposite side of the fireplace to Dmitri Scarletti, still avoiding looking at him, slightly dazed by the continuation of her wild imaginings about him.

Best she stayed only long enough find out exactly where Felix was before leaving for her brother’s apartment—with or without Dmitri Scarletti calling her a taxi—and then hopefully there would be no reason for seeing the Count ever again. Lily certainly shouldn’t be allowing herself the indulgence of finding such a totally unattainable man in the least attractive!

She straightened. ‘I really do appreciate your kindness earlier today, Count Scarletti—’

‘Dmitri. I would like for you to call me Dmitri if I may be allowed to call you Giselle?’ he expanded.

Lily looked across at him blankly. ‘No! I mean—’ She waved her hand as she hastened to explain. ‘Everyone calls me Lily.’

‘Indeed?’ Once again those midnight-black brows rose to his hairline. ‘Why?’

‘It’s a long and boring story, and really one not worth wasting your time hearing,’ Lily dismissed.

‘I have no other commitments today,’ he drawled softly. ‘And surely it is for the listener to decide whether or not a story is worth hearing?’

‘By which time they’ve already been bored silly.’ Lily grimaced as she sat forward to pour herself a cup of tea after all; if the Count was in no hurry to finish this conversation—and he obviously wasn’t—then she might just as well drink some tea too. It might also help to stop her hands shaking …

Intimidated was only one way of describing how this compellingly handsome man made her feel. And from a woman used to dealing with a self-opinionated headmaster and condescending male colleagues, that was quite an admission.

But as well as the man’s obvious wealth and confidence there was a—a— The only way Lily could think to describe it was a waiting quality about this man—almost like that of a large and stealthily confident predator watching his small and decidedly vulnerable prey.

Well, she might be small in comparison to him—in comparison to most men, actually—but she certainly wasn’t vulnerable. She was a woman used to keeping a classroom full of sixteen to eighteen-year-old boys and girls in check, and Lily couldn’t allow herself to show any such weakness!

‘Please continue,’ the Count invited smoothly.

‘It really isn’t very interesting,’ Lily insisted.

He shrugged those powerful shoulders. ‘As I said, I have no other commitments today.’

That was hardly the point, now, was it? Lily just wanted to see Felix, so that they could go off and spend Christmas together. Talking of which … There wasn’t a single decoration, let alone a Christmas tree, in this elegantly beautiful room to show that Christmas Day was only two days away. Didn’t they celebrate Christmas in Italy? But of course they did—they just called Father Christmas Babbo Natale instead. So maybe it was Count Dmitri Scarletti who didn’t celebrate Christmas?

And maybe Lily was just allowing her thoughts to wander in this haphazard way because she really had no inclination to share any personal details about herself with this arrogantly aloof man?

‘Fine,’ she bit out tersely, glad she hadn’t bothered to explain the name thing to the flight attendant earlier; twice in one day was just too much! ‘My mother named me Giselle after her favourite ballet, but it soon became obvious that the name was too difficult for Felix to get his tongue around. His version of it came out as Lelly, later shortened to Lily. I’ve been known as Lily ever since. Which is probably just as well, because after only two ballet lessons at the age of six it became perfectly obvious that I have two left feet! All the grace of a charging elephant,’ Lily explained ruefully at the Count’s questioning look.

If Dmitri had met Lily at a dinner party or other social occasion then he knew he would have found himself highly entertained by her conversation. As it was, he was far too preoccupied by other considerations at this moment to allow himself to be in the least amused by her.

‘I find that very hard to believe,’ he said.

‘Oh, I assure you it’s true.’

Dmitri slowly sat forward to place his empty cup back on the silver tray. ‘Might I ask if you have heard from Felix today?’

Lily suddenly felt herself speared—yes, speared definitely described it!—by the intensity of that pale green gaze. Eyes that he must have inherited from his Russian grandmother, along with the sharply sculptured angles of his face and that incredible and imposing height.

Whatever, Lily felt herself pinned into place like that prey she had thought of earlier—a rabbit or a deer, caught in the headlights of an approaching car. ‘I— No. Why should I have done? Our arrangements were for him to meet me at the airport.’

‘Arrangements he obviously did not keep.’ Dmitri coldly stated the obvious.

‘Well … no. But I assumed that was because you had needed him for something else.’ Lily’s earlier feelings of unease returned with a vengeance.

That silent drive from the airport, which had ended in her being brought to Palazzo Scarletti rather than her brother’s apartment … The sudden disappearance of the chauffeur, Marco, once his employer had shown himself on the gallery … Dmitri’s less than helpful answers to her questions … The strange and eerie silence of the palazzo, as if she and Dmitri were the only ones here …

Lily tensed. ‘Have you even seen my brother today?’

His mouth thinned. ‘Unfortunately not.’

There was an unmistakably cold and angry edge to that denial that only increased her wariness. ‘Then where is he?’

‘I wish I knew.’ His mouth was suddenly a thin, uncompromising line, his pale green eyes becoming glacial. ‘You are sure you have not heard from or spoken to Felix today?’

‘Of course I’m sure!’ Lily’s patience was starting to wear a little thin now. ‘I think I would know if I had spoken to my own brother!’

He breathed noisily down his nose, a nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘No text messages? Nothing at all?’

‘Well, of course no—’ Lily became suddenly still. ‘Obviously I haven’t had the chance to check for text message or calls since I arrived in Rome.’

She frowned and stood up once again to root around inside her cavernous shoulder bag for her mobile—not an easy task when it also contained her purse, a couple of paperback books, her make-up, lip salve, a pen, sweeteners and several tubes of mints! ‘If you would just tell me what all this is about,’ She finally found her mobile and took it out of the bag. ‘Perhaps I could—’ She broke off abruptly as Dmitri suddenly surged to his feet to tower over her, before deftly taking the phone from her hand. ‘Hey!’ Lily protested indignantly as she once again allowed her bag to fall to the floor. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘There appear to be two messages,’ he said, ignoring her obvious indignation as he looked intently at the screen of her mobile.

‘Messages that are obviously meant for me!’ Lily swiftly plucked the phone back out of Dmitri’s long and elegant fingers.

That nerve once again pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw as his eyes glittered down at her in warning. ‘You are not helping this situation by being deliberately obstructive.’

‘Maybe if you were to explain what “this situation” is then I wouldn’t feel the need to be obstructive!’ Lily glared up at him challengingly.

Dmitri drew in a deep and controlling breath, aware that he was behaving unlike his normal cool self. His only excuse was that it had already been a long and difficult morning, and consequently he was not in any sort of mood to deal with the stubbornly unhelpful Lily Barton! ‘Listen to your messages and then tell me what they say,’ he instructed harshly.

Blond brows rose in surprise at his tone. ‘If I feel they’re anything you need to know, then perhaps I will!’

Dmitri looked at her coldly as he fought down the inclination he felt to shake this particular young woman until her teeth rattled in her beautiful head. ‘Just check them, please,’ he finally grated, hands clenching at his sides.

Lily swallowed convulsively before dragging her gaze from Dmitri’s to place the mobile to her ear and listen to her messages. ‘The first one is private,’ she informed him resentfully. It was Danny, belatedly wishing her a good time in Rome. No doubt with some idea of the two of them getting together again after Christmas. Some hopes! ‘The second one is …’

Lily’s voice trailed off as she realised the second message was from Felix, and had been left at nine o’clock this morning, English time. Before Lily had even left home for the airport. Except at the time she had been standing outside on the pavement in front of her apartment building, waiting for the late arrival of her taxi, with no thought of checking to see if she had any voicemail messages …

She felt herself start to tremble as she heard the urgency in Felix’s tone as she listened to his message. ‘Don’t come to Rome, after all, sis,’ he warned forcefully. ‘I’ll explain everything when I see you again, but just don’t—don’t!—come to Rome!’

‘What the—?’ Lily looked up dazedly as the broodingly silent Dmitri, standing close beside her, took the phone from her unprotesting hand and listened to this second message for himself. ‘Why didn’t Felix want me to come to Rome after all?’ she breathed softly, uncertainly, as she saw and recognised the dangerous glitter in those pale green eyes as he glowered at her. ‘Where is he?’

Dmitri snapped the mobile shut with a resounding click, his jaw tightly clenched. ‘As I said earlier, that is an interesting question …’

‘Then I demand that this time you answer it!’ Lily insisted, glaring at him accusingly as she snatched the phone back out of his hand.

Dmitri couldn’t help noticing—to his own annoyance—that her blue eyes were now the colour of sapphires. There was a slight flush to the pale delicacy of her cheeks, and the perfect bow of her lips was set in a stubborn line.