Sweet Revenge by Anne Mather Read Free Book Online Page B

courtyard, she was surprised to see a low grey limousine in the parking area. Visitors already? She entered the house by way of the small passage and emerged into the hall. Hearing sounds from the lounge, she walked towards its entrance, wondering if she could see Paul alone now. The lounge was a modern room in most respects, with a stereo-radiogram and a television set, as well as a small cocktail bar. But it was deserted apart from Eduardo, the manservant, who had attended them at dinner the previous evening. He was busy at the cocktail bar, mixing a drink, but as though aware of her presence, he turned, and said: 'Sim, senhorita?
    Toni smiled and shook her head disappointedly. 'It was nothing, Eduardo,' she said. 'I was looking for Senhor Paul.'
    'Com efeito, senhorita, senao porque?' said a voice behind her.
    Toni gasped and swung round to confront a man standing in the doorway, a tall dark man, with a thin livid scar marring the tanned flesh of his cheek. 'You!' she exclaimed, before she could prevent herself. It was the man who had almost knocked her down in Lisbon.
    He gave a slight bow of recognition, but his eyes narrowed. 'Why are you here in my house?' he asked in a cool voice, speaking English now.
    Toni swallowed hard. 'Your house?' she echoed faintly.
    'Yes, senhorita, my house.'
    'Then you are. . . .' Her voice trailed away.
    'The Conde Raoul Felipe Vincente della Maria Estrada, senhorita.' He said the words with arrogant emphasis, and Toni shook her head nervously. This man, this tall, lean, arrogant Portuguese, was Paul's uncle, and Francesca's f ather! Dressed today in a cream lounge suit, his thick hair lying smoothly against his well-shaped head, he was equally as disturbing as that day in Lisbon, and for a few moments Toni found it difficult to gather her scattered wits. She thought back wildly, trying to remember whether she had revealed her name to him and then giving an involuntary shake of her head. Even so. . . .
    'I repeat, why are you in my house?' he said, his voice cold.
    Toni wondered hysterically for a moment whether he thought she had traced him in order to try and extract some kind of retribution from him for her near accident, but seeing the sombre expression on his face she thrust these thoughts aside.
    'I — er - your nephew Paul brought me,' she stammered awkwardly.
    'He did!' His expression hardened still further. 'Why?'
    Toni was self-consciously aware of her bare feet, of her close-fitting slacks, which Francesca had said her father would not approve of, of her bare arms and tangled hair, and most of all of her own insignificance. Her five feet six inches had always seemed to place her on eye-level terms with the men of her acquaintance, but as the Conde della Maria Estrada was easily six feet in height, he seemed to tower over her like some avenging angel. In consequence, she felt immediately at a disadvantage.
    'Paul - is - my fiance,' she said, at last.
    The old manservant Eduardo gave a slight cough, and the Conde looked beyond Toni to the old man. 'Esta bem, Eduardo?'
    'Sim, senhor.'
    'Muito obrigado, Eduardo!'
    The manservant, smiled, bowed, and withdrew, but when Toni would have followed him, the Conde said:
    'A moment, senhorita.'
    Toni swallowed hard. Was she destined to face all these interviews with Paul's family alone? This was the second time due to her curiosity she had landed herself in a difficult situation.
    'Yes, senhor,' she said resignedly, determinedly ignoring the shaky feeling he aroused in the pit of her stomach. She had never met anyone who remotely resembled this man, and until now she had thought she knew most everything there was to know about sexual attraction. Which was in itself ridiculous really. After all, the Conde was considerably older than she was, and from the slightly jaded expression he wore she thought not only in actual age but in experience, too. He was surveying her with a rather cynical glint in his dark eyes, and she moved uncomfortably,