how much harder would it be to face Domenico at lunch-time?
She snatched up her handbag, stuffing a lipstick into its empty spaces alongside her purse and a spare handkerchief, and raced for the stairs, giving herself no time to change her mind and cower in her room after all. Her high-heeled shoes sounded on the marble of the stairs and gave her something else to think about. She was unaccustomed to the sound of her footsteps echoing through such majestic spaces.
Gianetta heard her coming and smiled up at her. 'What a super dress! Did you choose it, or did that brother of mine?'
Deborah's expression froze. 'Does it matter?'
'Not a bit! You look a million dollars in it, whoever chose it!'
Deborah clutched the banister, discovering too late that its generous width forbade her stretching her hand across it. She lurched forward, retrieved her step with only a slight loss of dignity, and sailed down the rest of the stairs with her head held high.
'Domenico chose it! Naturally!'
'Naturally,' Gianetta agreed on a sigh. 'He has very good taste.'
Domenico had heard the exchange and was standing waiting for them in the dining room. He had his head on one side and his eyes were bright as he watched the two girls come into the room.
'I'm glad you approve my choice,' he said dryly to his sister. 'She looks charming, as I knew she would, but I think when we go on our sightseeing expedition she had better wear a hat.' His eyes met Deborah's. 'You will be able to hide behind the brim,' he added with a slight smile.
'Hide from whom?' she asked in creditably steady tones.
'From the men in your life?' he suggested, openly laughing at her.
She gave him a startled glance. Did he mean Michael ? Belatedly, she remembered that she was his prisoner and that of course he didn't want to have her recognised by any of her friends.
'Two of them are girls,' she said foolishly.
'Ah, but you have no need to hide from them! Only from one man—one determined to be the only man in your life, and you will not hide from him for long!'
'Michael?' Her eyes darkened dramatically at the thought. She didn't want it to be Michael. Michael Doyle, who was he? She was beginning to think she had never known him at all, not in the way she had caught a glimpse of knowing Domenico, if only he were not otherwise engaged.
'No, not Michael. Michael is the crutch you refuse to throw away because you won't admit that if you were to lean on him he would let you down. Where was he yesterday when you needed him?'
She had a vivid picture of Michael standing beside the airport bus with her suitcase in his hand, his mouth open with dismay, and making no effort to help her When she had needed it.
'He's smaller than you are!' She cast an uneasy glance at Gianetta, but the Italian girl seemed quite unsurprised by anything her brother might say to his involuntary guest. 'I didn't want to be taken away from my friends!' Deborah added loudly. 'Your brother practically kidnapped me!'
Gianetta laughed, comfortable in her belief that Deborah was joking. 'How romantic! I wish Cesare would kidnap me! I am tired of waiting for us to be married. There are so many relations to be considered and ancient traditions to be adhered to! I ask you, who wants to be married by a bishop in church, when they could be married in a register office tomorrow!'
Domenico put his hands on Deborah's shoulders and impelled her down on to her chair. 'I have ordered an English breakfast for you to make you feel at home, piccina. Have you any more complaints while I'm in the mood to set things right for you?'
She had a sudden urge to tell him to be rid of Alessandra, but of course that was impossible! She shook her head in silence. 'I have everything I want, thank you,' she muttered.
He released her reluctantly. 'I wish I had!' he riposted as he straightened up.
She wondered what he could possibly want that he didn't already have. And that reminded her of the ransom he hoped to get from her father
She snatched up her handbag, stuffing a lipstick into its empty spaces alongside her purse and a spare handkerchief, and raced for the stairs, giving herself no time to change her mind and cower in her room after all. Her high-heeled shoes sounded on the marble of the stairs and gave her something else to think about. She was unaccustomed to the sound of her footsteps echoing through such majestic spaces.
Gianetta heard her coming and smiled up at her. 'What a super dress! Did you choose it, or did that brother of mine?'
Deborah's expression froze. 'Does it matter?'
'Not a bit! You look a million dollars in it, whoever chose it!'
Deborah clutched the banister, discovering too late that its generous width forbade her stretching her hand across it. She lurched forward, retrieved her step with only a slight loss of dignity, and sailed down the rest of the stairs with her head held high.
'Domenico chose it! Naturally!'
'Naturally,' Gianetta agreed on a sigh. 'He has very good taste.'
Domenico had heard the exchange and was standing waiting for them in the dining room. He had his head on one side and his eyes were bright as he watched the two girls come into the room.
'I'm glad you approve my choice,' he said dryly to his sister. 'She looks charming, as I knew she would, but I think when we go on our sightseeing expedition she had better wear a hat.' His eyes met Deborah's. 'You will be able to hide behind the brim,' he added with a slight smile.
'Hide from whom?' she asked in creditably steady tones.
'From the men in your life?' he suggested, openly laughing at her.
She gave him a startled glance. Did he mean Michael ? Belatedly, she remembered that she was his prisoner and that of course he didn't want to have her recognised by any of her friends.
'Two of them are girls,' she said foolishly.
'Ah, but you have no need to hide from them! Only from one man—one determined to be the only man in your life, and you will not hide from him for long!'
'Michael?' Her eyes darkened dramatically at the thought. She didn't want it to be Michael. Michael Doyle, who was he? She was beginning to think she had never known him at all, not in the way she had caught a glimpse of knowing Domenico, if only he were not otherwise engaged.
'No, not Michael. Michael is the crutch you refuse to throw away because you won't admit that if you were to lean on him he would let you down. Where was he yesterday when you needed him?'
She had a vivid picture of Michael standing beside the airport bus with her suitcase in his hand, his mouth open with dismay, and making no effort to help her When she had needed it.
'He's smaller than you are!' She cast an uneasy glance at Gianetta, but the Italian girl seemed quite unsurprised by anything her brother might say to his involuntary guest. 'I didn't want to be taken away from my friends!' Deborah added loudly. 'Your brother practically kidnapped me!'
Gianetta laughed, comfortable in her belief that Deborah was joking. 'How romantic! I wish Cesare would kidnap me! I am tired of waiting for us to be married. There are so many relations to be considered and ancient traditions to be adhered to! I ask you, who wants to be married by a bishop in church, when they could be married in a register office tomorrow!'
Domenico put his hands on Deborah's shoulders and impelled her down on to her chair. 'I have ordered an English breakfast for you to make you feel at home, piccina. Have you any more complaints while I'm in the mood to set things right for you?'
She had a sudden urge to tell him to be rid of Alessandra, but of course that was impossible! She shook her head in silence. 'I have everything I want, thank you,' she muttered.
He released her reluctantly. 'I wish I had!' he riposted as he straightened up.
She wondered what he could possibly want that he didn't already have. And that reminded her of the ransom he hoped to get from her father
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