скачать книгу бесплатно
She was simply not one of those women who looked good in any circumstances, she decided, turning away from the mirror. Her features were acceptable, it was true, but she needed make-up or she looked washed out. Another consequence of having such violently coloured hair, she thought impatiently. Still, in her own world, and her own time, she managed quite successfully, and there had been one or two men over the years who had seemed to find the combination of a mobile mouth and a bubbling sense of humour sufficient compensation. Not men like Alessandro Conti, she had to admit. But then, men like Alessandro Conti didn’t look for their women among career-minded individuals who didn’t regard sex as the be-all and end-all of existence, Camilla reminded herself defensively.
Half an hour later she emerged from the bathroom wearing the towelling bathrobe she had found on the back of the door, and feeling a little better. With reckless abandon she had taken both a bath and a shower, using the latter to wash her hair and cleanse her body of the expensive gel that had created a storm of bubbles in the jacuzzi. It was only afterwards she had realised that she probably shouldn’t have used the bubble-bath in conjunction with the jets, but by then it was too late. Besides, she thought defiantly, Alessandro Conti could afford to have it repaired if she had caused some damage. Clearly, a shortage of material assets was not the reason Virginia had decided to leave home. If hers was just an example of a guest-room at the house Camilla could imagine what the master suite must be like.
Padding, barefoot, across the velvet carpet, she switched on the television set that resided on a bureau opposite the bed, and then padded back to sit on the satin coverlet. She had at least half an hour to fill before she needed to start getting ready, and watching television would take her mind from the chaotic jumble of her thoughts. Time enough later to consider what she was going to do, she decided, settling herself back against the pillows. For the time being she was not going to worry. In spite of her claims to the contrary, Virginia had proved she was not a prisoner, and until Camilla heard differently she would have to assume she could take care of herself.
CHAPTER THREE (#ud298bcb1-932c-536c-a945-1eb1cfaf61cb)
CAMILLA awoke to unfamiliar sounds—the call of doves from the nearby trees, the shrill cry of a sea-bird, the muted roar of the ocean. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was, or how she came to be here, and she came up on her elbows, blinking as she looked about her.
And then recollection returned to her—or a selective part of it did anyway. She was in Hawaii; on the island of Oahu; and in Alessandro Conti’s house, Kumaru, to be precise. She had arrived there the previous afternoon, only to find Virginia wasn’t here; but she had been shown in to this room, to relax and refresh herself before supper.
She frowned then. For that was as far as her recollection took her. She clearly remembered being shown into this room, and she also remembered taking a bath and washing her hair.
She put up a wary hand to her hair, but apart from a faint slickness, which could have been caused by sweating as she slept, it felt quite dry. But—and it was at this point that a wave of embarrassment swept over her—she was naked beneath the sheet, which was all that covered her. And that simply wasn’t usual. She never slept in the nude. Indeed, she invariably wore old, baggy cotton T-shirts to sleep in, but for this trip she had bought herself two rather glamorous nightgowns from Janet Reger. She had not known if Virginia might still want to indulge in bedtime confidences, and, guessing the kind of nightwear she would favour, Camilla had invested in something she need not feel ashamed of. That was why she felt so uneasy now. She was sure that on this occasion particularly she would not have put herself to bed without her nightgown.
Which meant …
A flush stained her cheeks. The conclusion was obvious. She must have fallen asleep watching the television, and someone else—Mama Lu, probably—had decided not to disturb her. Instead, the bathrobe had been whisked away, she had been covered with the sheet, and her hair left to dry on the pillow.
So what?
Refusing to allow herself to continue down this avenue of thought, Camilla threw back the sheet and slid her legs over the side of the bed. Her nakedness disturbed her, but a swift rummage in one of the suitcases still residing at the foot of the bed produced the satin dressing-gown that matched one of the nightdresses. Wrapping the robe about her, she immediately felt more in control of her destiny, but the memories still rankled.
God, she thought, pushing back the weight of her hair with a frustrated hand, as if the situation hadn’t been complicated enough, without her behaving like some first-time traveller. For heaven’s sake, it was bad enough that she had arrived here unexpected and unannounced, without falling asleep at a time when she was supposed to be having supper with Virginia’s husband!
She sighed. Well, he didn’t have a particularly flattering opinion of her anyway, she consoled herself. It was obvious he had originally believed that Virginia had sent her here to intercede on her behalf, and when she had finally convinced him that this wasn’t so he had still regarded her with some suspicion. With some suspicion! Camilla shook her head disbelievingly. As if he had any reason to be suspicious of her! She was a solicitor, for God’s sake. She was paid to deal with other people’s transgressions, not to be accused of transgressions of her own.
Still, he had seemed to accept her story—or at least an edited version of it—by the time the housekeeper was summoned to show her to this room. Indeed, he had been unexpectedly courteous once he had satisfied himself that she was not actually lying to him. She hadn’t been given the impression that he totally trusted her story, but he certainly hadn’t rejected it.
But now she had undone all the good work she had achieved the night before. Alessandro Conti was hardly likely to remain convinced of her professed concern for Virginia’s whereabouts if she could drop off to sleep as if she hadn’t a care in the world. He might even see it as proof of her complicity, and her heart sank at the probable outcome. If he insisted that she left here now she might never find out what had happened to Virginia, and, for all her helpless loss of consciousness, she was worried.
However, there was nothing she could do about it. Virginia’s husband would decide what course her stay in Oahu was going to take, and for the present she could only prepare herself for the worst.
But the sun was shining, filtering in through the printed silk curtains that someone had drawn over her windows, and Camilla would not have been human if she hadn’t felt a sense of curiosity about her surroundings. Stepping down on to the lower level, she crossed the delicately patterned rug, and drew the drapes aside.
She startled a brightly coloured bird that had been breakfasting from the tumbling branches of an azalea, whose rose and lilac-coloured blossoms spilled over the balcony; but Camilla scarcely noticed. Her widening eyes were drawn to the brilliant waters of the Pacific surging on to a stretch of almost pure white sand just a short distance away. From a creamy whiteness, caused by the reflection of the sand through the water, to the deepest blue on the horizon, the water shaded from lime to jade, from robin’s-egg pale to sapphire, an ever-changing carpet of shifting colours.
Camilla caught her breath. She had never seen such a delightful sight before, and for a moment she forgot everything in the sheer pleasure of just looking. It was so unbelievably beautiful, and the isolated prison of Virginia’s letter seemed far from this enchanted place.
Fumbling with the catch that secured the sliding glass doors, she eventually discovered how to open them, and stepped out on to the iron-railed terrace. The air was surprisingly cool, but only cool by Hawaiian standards, she reflected dreamily. Even at this hour of the morning, the inherent warmth, which would invade the atmosphere later in the day, was already a sensuous promise against her legs. The playful breeze had parted the skirt of her robe, and was exposing her long slim legs to the strengthening rays of the sun, and because she was alone with the morning she let it do its worst.
What time was it? she wondered. She had removed her watch before her bath, and now, reluctantly, she turned back into the room and climbed the steps again to the sleeping-deck. She found her watch on the table beside the bed, and discovered it was only half-past six. Evidently, the time-change had worked to her advantage this morning. The household wasn’t yet stirring, but she was wide awake.
She discovered, when she went to take her shower, that fresh towels had been placed on the rack in the bathroom, and new phials of bath gel and shampoo had replaced the ones she had used the night before. She shook her head in wonder. It was like staying at the very swishest hotel, she thought, remembering an article she had read about a chain of hotels in New York that actually employed somebody to anticipate the guests’ every whim. She had the feeling that if she had arrived without her suitcases that would have been taken care of as well! Alessandro Conti probably left nothing to chance.
But then, she reflected as she dropped her robe on to the laundry basket and stepped into the shower, she was obviously not the usual sort of guest he entertained. She could imagine politicians coming here with their wives; congressmen, or senators, perhaps; people well known in the arts and education; scientists; maybe even a judge. And also, perhaps, some people who operated outside the law. Alessandro Conti was clearly of Italian descent. He might even belong to the Mafia.
Deciding she was allowing her imagination to run away with her, Camilla abandoned this train of thought and concentrated on what she was doing. The shower was strong and invigorating, pummelling her scalp and the tender skin of her breasts, flowing in rivulets down the lower contours of her body. Watching the water disappear through the grill at the bottom of the shower, she was reminded of the scene in the film Psycho, when the erstwhile heroine of the piece was invaded by the deranged owner of the motel. She remembered the shadow through the curtain, the knife blade raised and then falling with such horrible intent——
‘Aloha! Miss Richards!’
Camilla nearly jumped out of her skin. The shadowy bulk beyond the shower screen was much too close to what she had been thinking, and she dropped the shampoo, and had to scrabble about in the bottom of the shower to find it again.
Then, realising it was only the housekeeper, she straightened. ‘Y … yes?’ she called, annoyed to find her voice betraying the shock she had had. ‘Wh … what do you want?’
‘I have left a tray of coffee in the bedroom,’ Mama Lu replied imperviously, and Camilla could see her reflection through the glass, moving round the bathroom, picking up her robe and folding it over her arm. ‘I guessed you might wake early this morning. If you would like me to bring breakfast to your room I will, or you might wish to take it outdoors.’
Camilla swallowed her resentment that the housekeeper should come into her room without knocking, and cleared her throat. ‘Um … I think I’d like to have breakfast outdoors,’ she said, wondering if Alessandro Conti would like to join her. ‘Er—thank you for the coffee. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.’
‘You’re welcome.’
The housekeeper drifted out again, and, expelling a trembling breath, Camilla completed her toilet. She had washed her hair again, deciding it would be easier to style damp than dry, and after drying her body she put on the fresh towelling bathrobe Mama Lu had left in place of her own.
It would have been easy to feel some impatience with the housekeeper for taking her own robe away, but she supposed Mama Lu was only being helpful. Camilla simply wasn’t used to having servants lay out her clothes for her, or provide her with her own pot of coffee that tasted just as delicious as it smelt.
Abandoning any hope of remaining businesslike in these surroundings, Camilla dressed in cream cotton Bermuda shorts and a collarless silk blouse. The elbow-sleeved blouse was patterned in shades of cream and green, and was cool without looking too holidayish. The last thing she wanted Alessandro Conti to think was that she was regarding the present situation as a holiday. She might have told him she had come here with that intent, but obviously now that was not the way it was. On the contrary, in the clear light of day Virginia’s disappearance was no less disturbing. Camilla couldn’t understand why she should have done it. She must have expected her friend to respond to her summons, and, as soon as she had received Virginia’s letter, Camilla had made arrangements to do so. She hadn’t sent a cable, for obvious reasons. But there had been no reason for Virginia to lose hope so quickly.
Perhaps she hadn’t run away. As Camilla plaited her hair down the back of her head and finished with a short braid that nudged her shoulder she wondered if it was at all possible that Virginia had simply decided to take a trip without telling anyone. It was irresponsible, of course, but when they had been at school together Virginia had been irresponsible sometimes. Looking back, Camilla had to admit that her friend hadn’t always done what was expected of her. So why shouldn’t she have arranged this trip and taken her daughter with her?
Deciding it was at least something she could suggest to Alessandro Conti, Camilla finished her coffee, took one last, rather resigned glance at her reflection, and left the bedroom.
The hall outside was bathed in sunshine. Long windows that overlooked the lawns at the side of the house had not yet had their blinds slatted, and the floor was striped in bands of gold. As in the lower half of her room, the floor itself was made of wood, polished around the heavy fringed rugs that were laid at intervals along the corridor. Camilla looked to left and right, and then started in what she hoped was the direction of the wide arching vestibule she had entered the night before.
The house was huge, but she had known that before she had started out. Arriving yesterday afternoon, she had had some intimation of its size from the windows of the taxi that had brought her from the airport, but inside it was even more daunting. Halls and passages led off in all directions, and, while initially she had the side of the house to guide her, when she turned a corner even that reference was denied her.
The corridor ahead of her now ended in a pair of double-panelled doors, and, although she gazed at them with some expectation, Camilla was almost sure she hadn’t come this way the night before. She was lost, and she decided to make her way back to her own room and start again.
But as she turned away she heard the sound of a door behind her opening, and when she cast a hopeful glance over her shoulder she saw Alessandro Conti striding towards her. Immediately her heart sank. For heaven’s sake, she thought irritably, he would probably think she was searching the house, and she briefly closed her eyes against a fate that decreed she should meet this man again in difficult circumstances.
However, there was nothing she could do about it now. He had seen her, and, watching him come towards her, Camilla was again struck by his disturbing personality. Wearing a pearl-grey suit of some fine material that moulded the powerful lines of his strong body like a glove, he looked every bit as compelling as he had done the night before. And, although she didn’t want to notice how the close-fitting trousers accentuated his physicality, she couldn’t help it.
‘Lost?’ he enquired, after wishing her good morning, and Camilla mentally smoothed her ruffled senses and glanced up at him.
‘I … Yes,’ she answered, obliged to fall into step beside him. ‘I’m afraid I must have come the wrong way.’
‘It’s easily done,’ he assured her, his tone not half as brusque as she had expected. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Very well.’ Camilla swallowed. ‘Which reminds me, I must apologise about last night. Falling asleep like that. I expect Mama Lu told you.’
‘Mama Lu?’ Alessandro arched an enquiring eyebrow. ‘Oh—yes.’ He inclined his head. ‘You were obviously tired.’
‘Even so——’ Camilla caught her lower lip between her teeth ‘—it was unfortunate. I … don’t suppose there’s any … news?’
‘About Virginia?’ A perceptible hardness entered his tone as he spoke his wife’s name. ‘No. No, I’m afraid not.’
Camilla shook her head. ‘I don’t understand it.’
‘No.’ The look he gave her was enigmatic. ‘No, I don’t suppose you do.’
They had reached the main hall, and Camilla looked about her in some surprise. They seemed to have bypassed her room altogether, and were now in the enormous vestibule with its exquisite crystal chandelier suspended above a mosaic-tiled floor. The marble tiles were in direct contrast to the maplewood floor of the corridor and the velvet carpet that had cushioned her feet in the parlour, she thought. Yet they all blended together beautifully, creating an attractive asymmetry of styles. That was one thing Camilla had noticed the night before: the elegant mingling of opposites.
‘Have you had breakfast?’ her host asked briefly as he led the way through an arched doorway at the back of the hall, and down a half-spiral staircase. The staircase could only lead to the lower level of the house, Camilla realised, following him, and as she did so another figure appeared below them.
‘Padrone!’ he exclaimed politely, spreading his arms in obvious welcome. ‘Everything is ready, signore.’
‘Thanks, Lee.’ Alessandro descended the final few steps of the staircase, and turned to wait for Camilla to join him. ‘This is Wong Lee,’ he added, as she stepped down into what appeared to be a kind of indoor garden. ‘He and Mama Lu take care of us—me!’ The amendment was almost savage. ‘Lee, this is Miss Richards. She’s from England.’
No mention of the fact that she was his wife’s friend, Camilla noticed ruefully as she smiled at the little Chinese man. Well, perhaps that wasn’t so surprising in the circumstances, she thought. Virginia’s friends were rather thin on the ground around here.
‘So pleased to meet you, Miss Richards,’ Wong Lee greeted her, bowing from the waist. ‘Welcome to Hawaii.’
Camilla smiled in return, and then looked around the room. The scent of perfume from the various exotic shrubs that grew in planters around the walls was overpowering, and Camilla used her interest in the plants to relieve her nervousness.
‘I’ve never seen so many different varieties of flowers!’ she exclaimed, addressing her remarks equally to Alessandro and his servant, and Wong Lee’s expression grew animated.
‘The signore’s mother is a keen gardener,’ he said, spreading his arms as he had done before. ‘She loves creating beauty.’ He shook his head. ‘But I hear there are many beautiful gardens in England. Do you have a garden, Miss Richards?’
‘Oh …’ Camilla cast a diffident look in Alessandro’s direction, and then made a negative gesture ‘… no. No, I’m afraid not. I … live in a flat, you see. A window-box is the best that I can do.’
‘Aflat?’
Wong Lee seemed quite prepared to stand and debate Camilla’s circumstances, but his employer was growing restless. ‘She lives in an apartment, Lee,’ he told the little man rather testily. ‘The English call them flats, for some reason best known to themselves. Probably because they’re all on one level. No stairs, you see.’
‘Ah!’ Enlightenment dawned, and Wong Lee smiled again. But then, seeing that the other man was gazing at him with a decided lack of tolerance, he quickly stepped back and gestured towards long windows that opened out on to a sunlit patio. ‘Please, signore, sit. I will tell Mama Lu you are … both … here.’
‘Do that.’
Alessandro offered a tight smile, and then indicated that Camilla should precede him outside. She did so a little unwillingly, supremely conscious of him behind her, observing the sway of her hips, the pale legs, emerging from her shorts, that never tanned, no matter how long she sat in the sun.
In an effort to maintain an appearance of composure, however, she didn’t hurry. Instead, as she sauntered ahead of him, she made a leisurely appraisal of the pretty garden-room, admiring the basketwork furniture that was set at intervals between trellises of trailing vines, the bright cushions that covered them adding generous splashes of colour to the greenery.
She emerged on to a flagged terrace that spread in both directions and was liberally shaded by a frangipani-hung pergola. Bees buzzed among the fragrant blossoms, and the air was much gentler now, brushing her skin like warm silk. A table was waiting on the terrace, spread with a crisp white cloth and set for two. A jug of freshly squeezed orange juice, a steaming pot of coffee, and a plate of blueberry pancakes already resided on the table, together with butter on ice, a trio of preserves, and sweet maple syrup.
Camilla caught her breath and looked round at her host, but he was showing no particular interest in the waiting breakfast, and she quickly averted her head again. Obviously this was just a normal day for him, or at least as normal as it could be with his wife and daughter missing, but for Camilla it was all new and exciting. Even in the present situation there was an irresistible sense of anticipation to the day, and she didn’t need to look at the ocean surging on to the beach only yards away to feel the blood quickening in her veins.
Alessandro Conti waited beside the table, and, realising he expected her to sit down so that he could take his own seat, she subsided on to one of the cushioned plastic chairs. It was superbly comfortable, but now was not the time to say so. Instead, she accepted the jug of orange juice he proffered, and made a creditable job of pouring some into the stemmed glass that stood by her plate.
‘This … this is lovely,’ she said at last, wiping a film of juice from her upper lip. ‘Just like … just like …’
She had been going to say ‘being on holiday’, but the inappropriate words stuck in her throat, and instead she brought her glass to her lips again, trying desperately to think of an alternative.
‘Like … being on holiday?’ Alessandro suggested, a certain dryness to his tone, and Camilla managed to control her colour with a distinct effort.
‘Well … yes,’ she said, deciding there was no point in lying to him. ‘This is a … heavenly spot.’
Alessandro inclined his head. ‘I like it.’
‘Oh, but surely, Virginia——’ Camilla realised she had put her foot in it once again, and finished somewhat lamely, ‘Virginia must, too.’
‘No.’ He was very definite about that. ‘My … wife … finds Kumaru boring.’
‘Kumaru.’ Camilla liked the way he said it. Until then it had just been an address, but suddenly it had assumed an identity all its own.
‘Yes, Kumaru,’ replied Alessandro shortly, and she realised she must have spoken her thoughts aloud.
Mama Lu’s arrival precluded any further discussion, and for once Camilla was relieved to see the housekeeper. In a long flowing gown that was patterned in exotic island colours, she came across the terrace towards them, her dark face split by a white-toothed smile. Camilla couldn’t help wondering if she was remembering how she had had to put their guest to bed the night before, and whether she was comparing Camilla’s skimpy body with her own generous curves. After all, there was no denying that, for all her size, Mama Lu swelled in all the right places. Fat she might be, but unshapely she was not.
‘Is everything OK here?’ she asked, and Alessandro glanced up at her, his expression gentling amazingly. If he had been attractive before the smile that tilted his rather thin lips now gave his face a startling sensitivity, and for all her staunch resistance Camilla felt an instinctive response.
Then he looked at her, and she pressed her palms down on her knees, under the level of the table, feeling their dampness against her legs. ‘What do you want for breakfast, Miss Richards?’ he enquired politely. ‘Just say what you’d like, and Mama Lu will do the rest.’
‘Oh …’ Camilla surveyed the table, and then lifted her slim shoulders. ‘I … generally just have coffee at home. This is fine, really. I’m not very hungry.’
Which wasn’t strictly true. It was almost twenty-four hours since she had had a decent meal, and, although she didn’t look as though she did, she had a fairly healthy appetite.
‘Not hungry?’ exclaimed Mama Lu now, clearly not believing her. ‘But you had no supper!’
‘I know.’ Camilla gave her a rueful smile, hoping she was not going to make a big thing of that, and Mama Lu snorted.
‘Don’t you like pancakes?’ she asked, a frown drawing her dark brows together, and, although Camilla was sure Alessandro Conti didn’t allow the housekeeper to browbeat all his guests like this, she wasn’t a normal visitor.
‘I … love pancakes,’ she replied defensively, and then caught her breath when the housekeeper picked up her plate and ladled a generous helping of the blueberry pancakes on to it. She smothered these with maple syrup, and then set the plate back in front of Camilla.
‘Enjoy,’ she said, pouring both her employer and his guest some coffee. ‘And you let me know if you want any more.’
She ambled away again, and, while Camilla didn’t expect her host to make any comment, he surprised her yet again. ‘Leave them if you don’t want them,’ he said, eyeing her with mild amusement. ‘Mama Lu thinks everyone should eat generously. It’s her way of justifying her appearance.’
‘Hmm.’ Camilla acknowledged his explanation with a rueful grimace, but the smell of the pancakes was so delicious that she couldn’t resist taking up her fork and trying them.
‘So …’ he said, after pouring himself more coffee, ‘d’you want to tell me why you really came here?’
Camilla’s mouth was full, and she had to empty it before she could speak. But his words were so disturbing that it was difficult to swallow the sticky pudding, and her eyes were watering by the time she was able to answer him.
‘Why?’ she squeaked, and then, clearing her throat, ‘You know why. Virginia … Virginia invited me.’
‘Yes. But why did she invite you?’ Alessandro asked steadily. ‘Why now? And why hasn’t she mentioned you to me before?’
That hurt. It really did. She would have expected Virginia to have mentioned their friendship to Alessandro. If it had meant as much to Virginia as she had always said then she should have talked about her to her husband.
‘I … don’t know,’ she said now, taking another mouthful of the pancake almost automatically. ‘I really don’t.’
‘No.’ Alessandro seemed to believe her, and she breathed a little more easily. But then he spoiled it by adding, ‘And you didn’t know she wouldn’t be here when you arrived?’
‘No.’ Camilla swallowed again, and forked another mouthful of pancake into her mouth. ‘Why would I?’ she demanded, her voice muffled by the food. ‘I thought she was happy here.’
‘How do you know she wasn’t?’ he shot back at her, and Camilla felt indignation at his attitude taking hold of her.
‘You said she was bored,’ she reminded him in the clear, concise tones she used in court, and now it was his turn to look discomfited.
