Free The Questing Heart by Elizabeth Ashton Page A

reconcile his present appearance with that of the immaculate figure she had seen last night. He wore a singlet with short sleeves edged with blue and open at the neck, and a pair of denim pants, a very dissimilar costume to the white suit, so that she wondered again if she had perhaps been mistaken. She noticed that he was pale beneath his tan and had dark smudges under his eyes, evidence of a dissipated night. She recalled the redhead and with the naivete of innocence concluded that he had spent the night with her, if he were indeed that other man. She hoped fervently it would turn out he was not.
    His transaction completed, he turned to her with a slight frown, the gold-green eyes inimical under the pent brows like those of a falcon seeking its prey. A shiver ran down Clare's spine at her extravagant fancy, but she did not think she was the prey he sought.
    'I'm glad to see you're punctual,' he observed ungraciously. 'Come along and don't loiter, we've a long way to go.'
    Clare had merely paused to say goodbye to the staff and tip the doorman. Chris was obviously in a bad temper and she wisely decided not to try to make conversation as they drove away through the busy streets. He had added to his informal ensemble a panama hat to shield his eyes from the strong sun, jamming it on his head at a rakish angle.
    For all I know you may well be a rake, Clare thought, and wondered at her temerity in entrusting her fate into his hands. -
    A glimpse of a portable typewriter reposing on the back seat had been reassuring, indicating that he did intend to work and that this was not some crazy expedition into the unknown.
    Chris took to the autoroute after Monaco running above the sunlit coast of France, interspersed with tunnels through the mountains. They had travelled so far in silence, but now to her discomfiture he suddenly asked:
    'Who was the stout party you were with last night?'
    This was confirmation of all her fears. Chris had been the man she had seen with the redhead and his hawk's eye had recognised her in the crowd.
    'A Mr Preston from Lancashire,' she told him.
    'An old friend?'
    'Well, a compatriot, as you might say,' she hedged, unwilling to reveal the circumstances in which he had rescued her. 'It was nice to hear a Lancashire voice after so much French.'
    'Which you don't speak very well,' he said cuttingly. 'That's another thing we must do something about. I hope he isn't another applicant for your services?'
    'Why should he be? Not all my acquaintances are itching to employ me,' she returned, annoyed by his tone. 'I also saw you, all dressed up. Who was the redhaired lady?'
    'Signora Violetta Albanesi,' he informed her glibly. 'Beautiful, isn't she?' He said it with pride—the pride of possession?
    Clare said she was lovely. 'Italian, of course?'
    'Naturally, with that name. Actually it is her castello we're going to. She's leased it to me.'
    'Then she's an old fla ... friend?'
    'Both.'
    'I didn't quite say it.'
    'It's a conclusion any woman would leap to after seeing us together, so I hasten to confirm your conjectures.-Satisfied?'
    'Oh, quite.' His confirmation of her suspicions depressed her. She longed to ask what was their exact relationship, but that would be impertinence, instead she said loftily: 'That part of your life is nothing to do with me.'
    'I'm glad you've the sense to know that.' His voice was very cold.
    They reached the frontier and stopped behind the lane of cars waiting for inspection. Chris turned in his seat to look at her with a mocking gleam in his eyes.
    'Do you wish to cancel your engagement now that you've found out I have an Italian mistress?'
    'I repeat it's nothing to do with me,' she reiterated dully.
    'Then why are you looking so downcast?'
    'I wasn't ... the heat is affecting me a little,' she said mendaciously. He was correct in stating that his love life was no concern of hers, but his blunt admission had wounded her. He belonged to another woman, however irregular the union, and