Free One Hot Summer by Norrey Ford Page A

out with her captured leg, kicking him fair and square in the chest. While he gasped to recover the breath she had knocked out of him, she scrambled to her feet and flew barefooted across the sand to the ladder, began to climb rung over rung at top speed. The steepness and height were forgotten now.
    A lion, a tiger, a bear. Yes, he was all of those. But what she had foolishly overlooked in her baiting of him was that Marco Cellini was also a man. And such men are dangerous.
    At the top of the ladder, she paused, gasping for breath, and glanced down. He had stopped to put on his sandals. Prudent Marco ! Had he done that to protect his feet, or was he genuinely unwilling to catch her?
    No, he was really coming after her. He belted his towelling wrap tightly, then started across the sand. Wise, then. In sandals he would make better speed on the rock staircase. She began to climb again, pulling herself up by clumps of shrub, taking risks as she leapt from narrow stair to narrow stair. When she reached the top and came out through the gate to the level terrace, her feet were scratched, bleeding, and bruised. But Marco was still coming up fast and she dared not stop.
    She raced across the garden, swung round the pool, took a flying jump across a bed of rare ferns. The long louvres which kept Bianca’s room cool through the long hot days were closed. Her fingers scrabbled at the fastening. Then she was through, as Marco leapt over the ferns, taking the same short cut as she had used but a minute before.
    Across the sitting room and into the bedroom, slamming the door shut. Surely he would not pursue her into here? While she still clung, panting, to the long curved satin-brass handle, something went thump ! on the door.
    Silence! Eaten with curiosity to know what Marco had thrown, she opened the door a crack and peered out. Her sandal. She squatted on her heels, reached out a cautious hand to draw it in, when thump ! came the second one.
    Then there really was silence. Jan waited a long time, till her heart stopped thudding and she began to shiver in the cool room. Then she opened the door. The sitting room was empty, the louvres shut. But her second sandal lay pathetically upside down in a little sandy patch on the shining white marble floor.
    She showered, and rinsed the salt out of her hair, then pinned it into place and blew it dry with Bianca’s drier.
    Of one thing she could be sure. Lion, tiger, or bear; or an angry man bent on vengeance, Marco Cellini would appear at his mother’s dinner table suave, charming, exquisitely dressed and perfectly mannered.
    So tonight she would wear the most beautiful dress in his sister’s wardrobe. Just to show him that two could play at that game !

 
    CHAPTER IV
    On the journey to Rome, Marco was taciturn. Jan had the impression that his silence had nothing to do with the events of the previous day. He was preoccupied with his own affairs. Last night after dinner he had excused himself immediately with a plea of work to do and telephone calls to make, and had not reappeared.
    He took the fast motorway route from Naples to Rome. The flowering broom and acacia made the road a river of gold and perfume.
    ‘ Thank you for bringing me,’ she said when Marco had parked and switched off the engine. ‘ You’ve saved me hours of travelling. I don’t want to be a nuisance, as I know you have business in Rome. I’ll manage fine on my own. Here, at least, I know my way about.’
    There had been no difficulty in finding parking space. Like everyone else, he had parked on the sidewalk. ‘ If you knew your way about, as you put it, you’d never have met me or come to Barini. I shall accompany you to the bank, but first you will need your passport and travel documents. Come along.’
    Keeping up with his long strides was not easy when one had to dodge in and out of the racing traffic. Jan felt like a pet poodle on the end of a lead. Marco never looked back to see if she was following, taking it