Free Flood Tide by Stella Whitelaw Page A

amusingly.
    Reah could not help wondering if Ewart was dining in some sophisticated night spot with the elegant Contessa at his side, sipping champagne.
    “Now we will go back to your hotel, yes?” he suggested, finishing the last of the wine.
    “I’ll go back, alone,” said Reah.
    “I will not allow you to walk in the streets. It is not safe. I will see you to your room,” he insisted. “I promise only to your room, cara . And no more.”
    Reah did not believe a word of his promise but she would feel safer if she got as far as the hotel. She would have to deal with him there.
    Once out into the dimly lit street, his arms went swiftly round her. Reah pushed him away, breaking into a determined English stride in the direction of the Palazzo Excelsior.
    He caught up and put her arm through his, holding on to her hand.
    “ Scusi, cara ,” he pleaded. “I am insensible about you. It is a madness. Forgive me.”
    “I don’t like people grabbing me in the street,” said Reah, her nerves raw from the previous evening’s encounter. “I thought I had made it quite clear that I am not looking for a romantic interlude. No lover, no man…understand?”
    “ Si…Si. ” It was all a game to him.
    They went into the hotel foyer, a mask of composure on Reah’s face. His fingers were in a limpet grip, curled round her arm. She did not want a scene in public, but she was embarrassed by his air of proprietorship and intimacy. “The signora’s key,” he said to the reception staff. There was not one raised eyebrow but Reah knew that they were watching intently.
    “Thank you very much for a pleasant evening, Giovanni,” she said loudly, her voice raised for their benefit. “I’ll say good night now.”
    “I promised…to your room,” he said, equally clearly.
    Reah turned her head away, fast losing her composure. She was so distressed at being unable to outwit Giovanni that she did not notice a figure walk into the marbled foyer.
    Ewart was drawn-faced, grim, hardly welcoming, but Reah was relieved to see him. She wrenched herself from Giovanni’s grip and ran to him, her eyes alight.
    “Ewart… Ewart, thank goodness. You’re back.”
    “You didn’t waste much time,” he said coldly.
    “What do you mean? I didn’t know where you’d gone. I was so worried.”
    “Obviously,” he interrupted.
    “I waited all day.”
    “All day?” he repeated ironically. “A whole day? I am touched by the length of your concern.”
    Giovanni strolled over, confident of his youth and charm, Reah’s room key dangling from his fingers.
    “Darling…” he began, putting both feet right in it with one word. “I have your key.”
    “Giovanni…this is my…h-husband,” Reah introduced Ewart awkwardly. Ewart’s eyes narrowed into pools of darkness.
    “Darling is coming with me,” said Ewart dangerously. He took the key from Giovanni’s hand. “She has a bill to pay.”
    “What do you mean?” Reah demanded. She was the one who had been left all day without an explanation or a message. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
    “Oh yes, you are,” he said, pulling her close to him. “Your husband, remember? It’s time you settled your debt.”
    She looked at the cold anger mixed with contempt in his granite hard eyes, and a panic began to rise in her throat. A sense of desolation swept through her…not her Welsh knight whom she had thought so different from other men, not him too?
    A small moan escaped her lips. She knew if Ewart kissed her, she would not be able to resist. The chemistry between them was too strong.
    “Please let me go,” she said in a low voice, hating the huskiness which had invaded it. “I don’t want a scene.”
    “This is quite mild compared to the scene I feel like making,” he flared. “Do you deny you were taking that hotel Romeo to your room?”
    Giovanni was making a discreet retreat. He had no wish to be involved in unpleasantness.
    “Of course I deny it,” said Reah. “I was