The Count's Blackmail Bargain by Sara Craven Read Free Book Online Page A

She hadn’t brought nearly enough, she thought, viewing the results with disfavour, and very little that was smart or formal enough for someone who found herself staying with a count at his private villa.
    The outfit that had survived with the fewest creases was a wrap-around dress in a silver-grey silky material, and she decided to try and create a good impression by wearing it for dinner that night.
    She had a solitary credit card, kept for emergencies, and maybe she could persuade Paolo to risk the road from hell on a trip to Perugia, so that she could supplement her wardrobe a little.
    Whatever she wore, the Signora would sneer, and she accepted that. But for reasons she could not explain, or even admit to, she did not want Count Ramontella looking at her with equal disdain.
    She wanted him to accept the fiction that she and Paolo were an item. Perhaps to acknowledge, in some way she hadn’t worked out yet, that she was an eligible bride for his cousin, and welcome her as such.
    And pigs might fly, she thought morosely.
    In the meantime, she wasn’t sure what to do next. The whole villa seemed enveloped in sleepy heat. There was even silence from the adjoining room, the only sound being the faint soothing splash of the fountain.
    Laura felt she could hardly blunder about exploring her new surroundings, alone and uninvited, in case she committed some kind of social faux pas.
    So, she decided, she was probably better off remaining where she was until summoned.
    She was just about to stretch out on the bed with her book when there was a knock at the door.
    Paolo, she thought instantly, wishing she were wearing something more reliable than a big towel. But when she cautiously opened the door, and peeped round it, she found Emilia waiting with a tray.
    Beaming, the older woman informed her in halting English that His Excellency thought the signorina might need some refreshment after her journey, then placed the tray in her hands and departed.
    Laura carried the tray over to the bed and set it down with care. It held a teapot, with a dish of lemon slices, a plate of tiny crustless sandwiches containing some kind of pâté, and a bowl of golden cherries faintly flushed with crimson.
    It was a kindness she had not anticipated, she thought with faint bewilderment. In fact the Count Ramontella seemed positively full of surprises.
    But perhaps she was reading too much into this. Clearly his hospitality was primarily aimed at his aunt, and she’d been included as an afterthought.
    Because her host didn’t seem like a man who went in for random acts of kindness, Laura thought, remembering uneasily the faint curl of that beautifully moulded mouth.
    So, she might as well make the most of this one, while it was on offer.
    She ate every scrap of the delicious sandwiches with two cups of tea, then lay back with a contented sigh, savouring the cherries as she read. Later, she dozed for a while.
    When she eventually awoke, the sun was much lower in the sky, and shadows were beginning to creep across the courtyard outside.
    She donned a lacy bra and briefs, then sat down to make up her face with rather more care than usual, before giving her glossy fall of russet hair a vigorous brushing and fastening silver hoops in her ears. Finally, she sprayed her skin with the fresh, light scent she used, then slipped into the chosen dress, winding its sash round her slender waist and fastening it in a bow.
    She’d brought one pair of flattish evening sandals in a neutral pewter shade—light years away from the glamorous shoes with their dizzyingly high heels that Italy was famous for. But even if she’d possessed such a pair, she wouldn’t have been able to wear them, she conceded regretfully, because that would have made her slightly taller than Paolo, who was sensitive about his height.
    Count Ramontella, of course, had no such concerns, she thought.
    The highest heels in the world would only have raised her to a level with his chin. And God