CAROLE MORTIMER is one of Mills & Boons’s® most popular and prolific authors. Since her first novel, published in 1979, this British writer has shown no signs of slowing her pace. In fact, she has published more than 170 novels!

Her strong, traditional romances, with their distinct style, brilliantly developed characters and romantic plot twists, have earned her an enthusiastic audience worldwide.

Carole was born in a village in England that she claims was so small that “if you blinked as you drove through it you could miss seeing it completely!” She adds that her parents still live in the house where she first came into the world, and her two brothers live very close by.

Carole’s early ambition to become a nurse came to an abrupt end after only one year of training due to a weakness in her back, suffered in the aftermath of a fall. Instead, she went on to work in the computer department of a well-known stationery company.

During her time there, Carole made her first attempt at writing a novel for Mills & Boon®. “The manuscript was far too short and the plotline not up to standard, so I naturally received a rejection slip,” she says. “Not taking rejection well, I went off in a sulk for two years before deciding to ‘have another go.’” Her second manuscript was accepted, beginning a long and fruitful career. She says she has “enjoyed every moment of it!”

Carole lives “in a most beautiful part of Britain” with her husband and children.

A Night in the Palace

Carole Mortimer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘THIS is an urgent announcement for Ms Giselle Barton, travelling on the thirteen-thirty flight to Rome. Please come immediately to desk number six in the departure terminal. Ms Giselle Barton—go immediately to desk number six.’

Lily Barton—no one but her dearly missed mother had ever called her Giselle!—had struggled all the way through the airport terminal, dragging her wayward case behind her to desk number fifty-two to join the long queue of people waiting to book in for the flight to Rome. She now gave a disbelieving groan at the realisation that desk number six had to be all the way back where she had originally started from.

So far on this cold December morning, only two days before Christmas, Lily’s taxi had been late picking her up from her apartment, and the freezing temperatures and the snow that had been falling for most of the night had made the journey to the airport both slow and treacherous—ensuring that Lily was likely to be the very last passenger to join the queue checking in for Rome. As a consequence she would probably be allocated a lousy seat on the plane. No doubt squashed between two overweight businessmen who would spend the whole flight trying to look down the scooped neckline of her blue sweater once she had removed the heavy jacket she had worn against the freezing English weather outside!

To add to her misery, one of the wheels had decided to drop off her suitcase—an old and battered one of her mother’s—as the taxi driver pulled it out of the boot of the car outside the airport. It had then refused to be fixed back into place, meaning that Lily now carried a superfluous wheel in her over-large shoulder bag—which had already weighed a ton even before the addition of the metal wheel—and the suitcase now had a tendency to veer off to the left as she attempted to drag it along behind her.

If, for some reason, she was now going to be bumped off the flight to Rome—which was highly likely considering how late she had booked her ticket and the fact that most flights tended to be overbooked at this time of year—she was just going to sit down and howl! It really would be the last straw in an already disastrous day.

‘Ms Giselle Barton—please come immediately to desk number six in the departure terminal.’

‘All right, all right, all right!’ Lily muttered as the announcement was repeated, grabbing the handle of her suitcase to walk back to where she had started. The announcement had sounded more imperious this time, she noted, which probably meant she was definitely going to get bumped off the flight. No doubt with an offer to rebook her onto one leaving after Christmas.

Damn, damn, damn.

It had been a last-minute decision to spend Christmas in Rome with her brother—Felix had moved over there to work as PA to Count Dmitri Scarletti three months ago—when Lily’s original plans for the holidays had fallen through. She should have known better than to think that Danny, the man she had been dating for the past couple of months, would abandon his divorced mother—with whom he still lived—in order to spend Christmas with her after Miriam had made it clear she had no intention of inviting Lily to join them. The perfect time, Lily had decided ruefully, to end that particular going-nowhere relationship.

Thank goodness her emotions hadn’t been seriously involved; Danny, a fellow teacher at the secondary school where they both worked, had been fun to go out to the cinema or dinner with, but his domineering and demanding mother was a definite turn off!

Once her decision to go to Rome for Christmas had been made, Lily had felt her excitement start to grow. She had never been to Rome—or anywhere out of England, as it happened—and it would be lovely to see her brother again after all these months apart. Their parents had both died eight years ago, bringing brother and sister closer than ever, and emails and phone calls just weren’t the same as actually spending time with the irrepressible Felix.

Well...it would have been exciting to spend Christmas in Rome with her brother, after Danny had proved to be such a disappointment, but as Lily was about to be bumped off the flight she might just have to settle for a turkey meal for one in front of the television in England. Wonderful. She didn’t think!

The heating in the terminal seemed to be on full, ensuring that Lily was hot as well as bothered by the time she reached the other end of the building—only to stand in the middle of the cavernous and crowded terminal for several disorientated minutes as she endeavoured to locate desk six.

There didn’t appear to be a desk six. Desk five, yes. And a desk seven. But no desk six—

‘Miss Barton?’

Lily turned abruptly, almost falling over her own suitcase as it remained solidly in place behind her without the benefit of that second wheel. Lily blew several tendrils of platinum blond hair out of her eyes before focusing on the beautiful dark-haired flight attendant who stood up from behind an unmarked desk and towered over Lily’s five feet two inches in height as she moved to join her. ‘I’m Lily Barton, yes...’

The other woman eyed her uncertainly. ‘Lily? But—’

‘Don’t worry about it—it’s a family thing.’ Lily had absolutely no interest in explaining that as a young child her brother, unable to get his tongue around the name Giselle, had instead called her Lelly, which had eventually become Lily. And stuck fast. Thank goodness; Giselle sounded like someone’s elderly aunt. And whilst she might one day become exactly that, at only twenty-six she preferred to stick with Lily! ‘See.’ She fished her passport out of the zip pocket of her bag and held it in front of the other woman’s beautifully straight nose.

Not the most flattering photograph ever taken of her, Lily acknowledged ruefully. Oh, her long and completely straight—and completely natural—platinum-blond hair was tidy enough, but her blue eyes had widened as soon as the flash went off, giving her a slightly startled appearance. As she hadn’t been allowed to smile her face looked slightly woebegone, and her neck appeared almost too slender to support that heavy mane of hair.

‘If you’re about to tell me that I can’t fly to Rome today after all—’ she started, stashing the passport back in the pocket of her shoulder bag, ‘then I think I should first warn you that if anything else goes wrong today I’m likely to start screaming hysterically.’

The other woman’s cool demeanour softened slightly. ‘Tough morning?’

Lily raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘Let’s not even go there.’

The flight attendant’s brisk, businesslike air left her completely as she chuckled softly. ‘Then I’m glad I’m not about to make it any more difficult for you.’

‘You aren’t?’ Now it was Lily’s turn to look uncertain. As well as hopeful.

‘Not at all. Here—let me take that for you.’ The other woman took possession of the handle of Lily’s suitcase before turning to walk away, somehow managing to pull the damaged suitcase smoothly along behind her as she did so. Of course!

‘Hey!’ Lily quickly caught up with the other woman and grasped her by the arm. ‘Where are you going with my case?’

She smiled patiently. ‘I’ll check it in for you, and then take you through to the private lounge.’

Lily looked taken aback, then shook her head. ‘I think there’s been some sort of mistake.’ Although it was hard to believe there could possibly be two women called Giselle Barton—let alone both booked on today’s flight to Rome! ‘I’m booked into an economy seat, which I think entitles me—if I’m lucky—to find a seat in the crowded main departure lounge.’ She smiled ruefully.

The ebony-haired beauty returned that smile. ‘I believe your booking was changed earlier this morning.’

‘Changed?’ Lily eyed her pleadingly. ‘Please don’t tell me I’m now flying to Norway, or somewhere else guaranteed to be even colder than England is right now?’

The flight attendant gave another chuckle. ‘No, you aren’t flying to Norway.’

‘Iceland? Or perhaps Siberia?’ She gave a pained grimace. December had been a particularly cold month in England this year, and although Lily appreciated the temperatures wouldn’t be in the twenties in Rome, it should at least be warmer than snow-covered England.

‘You aren’t flying to either of those two places.’ She grinned openly now. ‘You’re still booked on the flight to Rome due to depart in two hours’ time.’

‘Thank goodness for that!’ Lily frowned. ‘Look, I realise I must seem like a country bumpkin, what with the wonky suitcase and my hot and bothered appearance, but I’m really not in need of special assistance. It’s just the first time that I’ve ever flown—and I’m obviously making a complete mess of organising myself.’

The flight attendant chewed on her bottom lip in an obvious effort to stop herself from laughing again. ‘Which is why I intend checking in for you.’

‘Before taking me to a private lounge?’ Lily repeated slowly.

‘Yes. If you would just like to come this way...?’

Lily shook her head as she stood her ground. ‘I really think there’s been some sort of a mix-up. I am Giselle Barton, yes. And I’m booked on the flight to Rome. But I have an economy seat—’

‘Not any more,’ the other woman assured her briskly. ‘Count Scarletti called the airline himself this morning and changed your booking to a first class seat, as well as giving instructions that you are to be given every personal care and consideration—before and during the flight.’

Count Scarletti?

Count Dmitri Scarletti?

The same wealthy and influential man, of mixed Russian/Italian ancestry, for whom Felix was currently working in Rome? Well, there couldn’t possibly be two of them, could there? So it must be!

‘I believe there will also be a car waiting to meet you at Leonardo da Vinci airport,’ the flight attendant added enviously.

Felix was supposed to be meeting Lily at Rome airport...

Unless Count Scarletti had needed Felix to remain in his office today, rather than meeting Lily as planned, and this was the other man’s way of making up for that change in their plans?

No doubt Felix would explain everything once she arrived at the apartment he rented in the city...

* * *

Lily was feeling slightly dazed from all the ‘care and consideration’ she had received ‘before and during the flight’ by the time she disembarked the plane at Leonardo da Vinci airport several hours later.

Sonia, the original flight attendant, had duly booked in Lily’s suitcase, before escorting her to a completely private lounge set aside for VIPs. Which—upgraded or not—Lily certainly wasn’t!

Once in the lounge she’d been plied with drinks and food by yet more attendants, before being personally escorted onto the plane by one of them only minutes before the flight was due to take off. She’d been shown to her first class seat—with not an overweight businessman in sight!—and then given champagne and canapés until she couldn’t eat or drink any more. The result being that she had dropped off to sleep after her third glass of champagne, and hadn’t woken up again until the plane had landed.

And if she had thought her personal—and, she admitted, slightly embarrassing—service to be over once she was outside, then she was sadly mistaken. As soon as she stepped out into the arrivals terminal she saw her name written on a card being held up by a tall and heavily muscled man dressed in a chauffeur’s uniform—a man who looked more like a bodyguard than a chauffeur!

After introducing himself only as Marco, and ensuring that she was indeed Giselle Barton, he then proceeded to lift her heavy and broken suitcase as if it weighed nothing at all, before carrying it outside to a limousine parked in the ‘No Parking’ zone, leaving Lily with no choice but to follow him.

Her attempts to ask him questions, in a mixture of very bad Italian and English, didn’t go well. Only the mention of Felix’s name and Count Scarletti’s received a terse ‘si’ of response as Marco ensured Lily was comfortably seated in the back of the limousine before slamming the door firmly behind her and moving to place her case in the cavernous boot of the car.

All of this was being watched by several dozen pairs of curious eyes, as people obviously wondered if the woman with the long silver-coloured hair, dressed in faded blue denims and a heavy black jacket, was some sort of celebrity. Obviously a celebrity who bought her clothes from a thrift shop!

By the time Marco slid in behind the wheel of the long black car to drive smoothly away from the kerb and enter the stream of traffic, Lily was flushed with embarrassment, and the glass partition separating the front and the back of the limousine wasn’t conducive to any further attempts to question the chauffeur, either.

Left with no other choice, Lily chose to sit back in her leather seat and enjoy the scenery outside as the car sped towards the centre of Rome; if she was going to wake up from this Cinderella-like transformation any time soon then she might as well enjoy what was left of it!

She had been right about the temperature: it wasn’t exactly T-shirt weather outside, but it was definitely ten or so degrees warmer than England, with no snow in sight. And the sun was shining too, which made everything look so much brighter and warmer. Lily was so enthralled by the city of Rome that after the first couple of near misses with other cars, as drivers honked and gesticulated, only to be completely ignored by the stoic Marco, she decided it might be best to return her attention to the amazing scenery outside the window.

Every street corner seemed to have statuary, a fountain or a nativity scene—it was almost Christmas, after all—along with imposing museums that easily rivalled the history of the sludge-covered London Lily had left behind her only hours ago. Many of the outside cafés were open for business too—even if the patrons had to wear coats and scarves in order to keep warm.

No wonder Felix had so obviously fallen in love with the city. And not only the city, apparently; he had informed Lily weeks ago that he was going out with a young Italian girl named Dee, whom he wanted to introduce to her at the earliest opportunity.

Rome appeared to be a city where it would be all too easy to fall in love...

* * *

Lily frowned her confusion when, half an hour or so after leaving the airport, Marco didn’t stop the car outside an apartment building at all, but instead parked outside two imposing wooden doors, at least fifteen foot high. They slowly opened, and Marco then drove the car into the courtyard of a magnificent building that must surely once have been a royal palace.

The tall wooden doors had closed firmly behind them by the time Marco got out of the car and opened the back door for Lily.

Despite the teeming rush and bustle of the city outside, it was strangely silent inside these four walls as she slowly stepped out into the shadowed courtyard. Silent and intimidating. Eerily so.

Lily pulled her jacket more tightly about her as she turned to the chauffeur. ‘Mi scusi, signor—parla inglese?’

‘No,’ he answered abruptly, before moving to the back of the car to remove her case from the boot.

Obviously not the talkative type, she acknowledged ruefully. Which was of absolutely no help to her at all!

She realised that all the attention at the airport in England, and on the plane earlier, had lulled her into a false sense of security. She had, in fact, left Leonardo da Vinci airport with a man she didn’t know and who had hardly spoken a word to her after telling her his name. And it was she who’d mentioned Felix and the Count’s names, not Marco! Added to which, Lily had now been delivered to a building that looked as if it might once have been a palace but could just as easily have been a brothel! An expensive and exclusive brothel, obviously, but a brothel nonetheless.

Pictures flashed inside Lily’s mind of newspaper articles she had read over the years on the lucrative slave trade in blond-haired, blue-eyed young women. Women who to all intents and purposes had simply disappeared into the ether, but who had actually been whisked off somewhere and kept locked behind closed doors, their bodies used and abused, until they were no longer young enough to attract the attention of the wealthy customers. When they were either disposed of or placed in yet another brothel—one whose customers weren’t so fastidious regarding the age of the women they paid to bed.

She really was the country bumpkin she had described herself as being earlier! Shouldn’t be allowed out on her own... Certainly shouldn’t have attempted to fly to Rome on her own...

Slightly frightened now, she turned back to the chauffeur as he placed her suitcase on the cobbled stones of the courtyard. ‘Signor, I really must—’

‘That will be all, thank you, Marco.’

Lily froze for the fraction of a second it took for an icy shiver to run down the length of her spine just at the sound of that husky and yet authoritative voice, before turning sharply to look up at the gallery above. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw there was a man standing in the shadows, looking down into the courtyard from the first floor. Even squinting hard into the depths of those shadows, Lily couldn’t make out the man’s features—was aware only of an impression of height and leashed power.

The brothel master, maybe?

Oh, good grief, Lily, she instantly admonished herself. Of course he wasn’t the brothel master—because this wasn’t a brothel. There would be a perfectly sensible explanation for her having been brought here. One the man on the gallery above could obviously give her, considering that just now he had spoken in perfect, and only slightly accented English.

She turned back to thank Marco for his assistance—only for her apprehension to return with a vengeance when she realised that the chauffeur had disappeared silently into the bowels of the house while she’d stared up, mesmerised by the presence of the man in the gallery.

Which had perhaps been the intention all along? Distracting her attention, allowing Marco to disappear, and so leaving her completely alone and at the mercy of this other man?

She turned to glare up at the man on the gallery. Damn it, she was twenty-six years old, a British citizen and a teacher, with a mortgage on her small London flat and all the responsibilities that went along with those things; she certainly wasn’t going to allow herself to be intimidated by a man who was too afraid even to show his face.

‘Oh. My. Lord!’ Lily gasped softly as the man, as if sensing at least some of her tumultuous thoughts, finally stepped out of the shadows to stand against the balustrade, looking down at her.

She had been correct about the height: the man stood at least a foot taller than her own five feet two inches. And about the leashed power—even wearing an expensive designer label suit over a pristine white shirt and meticulously knotted grey silk tie, the man managed to exude an aura of barely restrained strength. His shoulders were incredibly wide beneath the jacket of that suit, his waist tapered and his long, long legs were encased in perfectly tailored trousers.

But it was the face beneath that midnight black haircut, quite frankly, in a Roman style—that held Lily completely mesmerised. It was a harshly hewn olive-skinned face, dominated by light coloured eyes above a straight slash of a nose and sculptured unsmiling lips. His chin was square and starkly masculine in those arrogantly chiselled features.

He looked like something from one of Lily’s wilder fantasies—the sort of man every woman wanted to tame and claim for her own.

He raised one black and perfectly etched brow, and those sculptured lips curved in hard amusement as he responded to her earlier gasped exclamation. ‘Not even close, I am afraid, Miss Barton.’

He knew her name! ‘I’m afraid you have the advantage over me, signor.’

He gave a terse inclination of his head before walking towards the staircase leading down from the gallery into the courtyard. ‘If you will just wait there, I will come down and introduce myself—’

‘No!’

He came to an abrupt halt at the top of the stairs, that dark and arrogant brow arched higher than before. ‘No?’

‘No.’ Lily stood her ground, shoulders tensed, booted feet braced slightly apart on the cobbles. She refused to back down by so much as the flicker of an eyelid as she met that pale gaze in open challenge. ‘You can tell me exactly who and what you are from right there.’

‘Exactly who and what I am?’ he repeated, in a soft and yet slightly menacing voice.

‘Exactly.’ Lily nodded stubbornly.

He tilted his head to one side as his eyes—blue, maybe? Or green? Or possibly grey?—raked over her mercilessly, from the top of her silver head to her small booted feet, amusement glinting as he slowly moved his gaze back up to her now slightly blushing face. ‘Who do you think I am?’ he finally murmured slowly. ‘Exactly?’

Lily was glad that this man couldn’t possibly hear her heart beating twice as fast as normal from where he stood. It was bad enough that she knew how nervous she was, without him being aware of it too. Her mouth firmed. ‘Well, if I knew that I wouldn’t have needed to ask!’

The man appeared completely relaxed as he continued to stand at the top of the staircase. ‘Let me see... At the airport you climbed into a car with a man you did not know, allowing him to drive you to an unknown destination before abandoning you there—and you did all this without any knowledge as to what or who would be waiting for you at the end of that journey?’ Those pale eyes had taken on contemptuous gleam now.

Lily felt the burn of increased warmth in her cheeks; she had already realised exactly what she had done, and certainly didn’t need some arrogant and dangerously attractive—emphasis on the dangerous—Italian pointing it out to her so succinctly!

She scowled. ‘I assumed the driver was taking me to my brother’s apartment. Obviously I should have behaved with a little more caution—’

‘A little more?’ he replied disapprovingly, those dark brows low over narrowed eyes, those sculptured lips a thin and uncompromising line. ‘If you do not mind my saying so, you have been naïve in the extreme.’

‘As a matter of fact I do mind you saying so.’ Lily glared her annoyance at him. ‘And if you’ve brought me here with some idea of asking my family to pay a ransom before releasing me, then I think I should tell you that my brother—my only living relative—is as poor as I am!’

‘Indeed?’ Those sculptured features had taken on a harsh and intimidating expression.

‘Yes,’ Lily said with satisfaction. ‘Now, just tell me who you are, and what it is you want.’

He gave a slow, disbelieving shake of his head. ‘You really do not have any idea, do you?’

‘I know one thing—which is that I’m becoming increasingly irritated at your delaying tactics.’ Her hands were tightly clenched at her sides. ‘I also know I have every intention of going to the police and reporting this incident as soon as I’m released from here.’

His eyebrows quirked. ‘Then it would seem not to be in my best interests to release you, wouldn’t it?’

Lily had realised that as soon as the threat left her lips! ‘I don’t think my request for you to tell me who you are and where I am is unreasonable.’

‘Not at all,’ he drawled. ‘I am Count Dmitri Scarletti, Miss Barton.’ The darkness of his hair shone blue-black as he gave a terse nod of greeting. ‘And you are currently standing in the courtyard of the Palazzo Scarletti.’

Oh.

Her brother’s employer.

The same man who’d arranged for her to be looked after so well up until now.

And Lily had just repaid him by hurling accusations of kidnap and threats of arrest at him!

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.

‘You obviously know what’s going on—otherwise you wouldn’t have taken the trouble to upgrade my seat on the plane, or sent your car to collect me from the airport!’

Intelligent as well as beautiful, Dmitri acknowledged, recalling his relief when he had received the telephone call informing him that Giselle Barton was at the airport in England and was booked onto the flight to Rome. For several hours before that Dmitri had been afraid that Felix might have contacted his sister and warned her not to come here.

As it was...

‘No, I would not,’ he accepted abruptly as he moved to stand beside the fireplace. ‘As to where your brother is at this precise moment— I have absolutely no idea.’ If he knew that then he would not be wasting his time talking to the man’s less than helpful sister. But, as things now stood, unfortunately she was Dmitri’s only possible means of locating Felix. ‘But I assure you that when I do know, I have every intention of ensuring that your brother leaves Italy immediately and is never allowed to return.’

Lily became suddenly still, her confusion of emotions nothing in comparison to the frightening chill of anger she could feel coming off Dmitri Scarletti in waves. Towards her as well as Felix.

What on earth had her brother done to incur this man’s cold and no doubt deadly wrath?

Whatever it was, she had no intention of standing meekly by while this man attacked her brother—

either verbally or physically. ‘You don’t scare me, Count Scarletti,’ she informed him, grinding her teeth

together as amusement glittered briefly in the pale green gaze sweeping over her obvious slenderness and lack of height. ‘Don’t be fooled by appearances. I’m very proficient in kick-boxing—and I’m not afraid to use it!’

Grudging respect briefly lit his eyes and he nodded. ‘When this is all over I would be happy for you to demonstrate your skill. However,’ he continued ruthlessly when Lily would have spoken, ‘at this moment I am more concerned in locating your brother and returning my sister to her home and family without scandal than I am in any threats you may care to make!’

Lily was totally confused now. What did Claudia Scarletti have to do with all this?

‘Your sister?’

Dmitri eyed her scathingly. ‘I wish I could be sure you are as innocent in this matter as you sound, Miss Barton,’ he rasped harshly.

‘But I am innocent! At least...if you count ignorance as innocence.’ She frowned. ‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘I am talking of my sister and your brother’s elopement earlier today!’ he thundered, his patience obviously completely at an end.

Lily blinked.

Elopement?

Felix?

And Claudia Scarletti?

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