Desire's Captive Read online

  Alone in the grove the thoughts that had been building up all day overwhelmed her. Why hadn't her father been in contact with the gang? Was it simply that he was having trouble raising such a large sum of money, as she had suspected he would, or had Olivia been right, didn't he care if didn't get her back? Tears formed, but she didn't let them fall. Her father loved her, and she would cling to that thought no matter what.

  The lack of communication from her father seemed to affect everyone's nerves, not just her own.

  'He is just toying with us,' Olivia burst out, eyeing Saffron venomously, 'and you are encouraging him, Nico. With every day that passes there is a greater risk of us being discovered. We must leave here.'

  'No!' Guido frowned angrily at Olivia. 'If we leave we draw attention to ourselves. We must see it through now.'

  'But we cannot wait here for ever,' Olivia pointed out. 'We must do something. Sir Richard needs something to remind him of the danger to his daughter's existence.'

  Saffron shrank visibly under the renewed threat of mutilation. Hearing it once had terrified her into making a hopeless bid for freedom, and since then it had not been mentioned.

  'No!' Nico looked and sounded abrupt, his expression grimly withdrawn. Was he angry with Olivia because she kept questioning his orders? 'I have already told you no, once; I do not believe Sir Richard is delaying through any ulterior motive. A million pounds takes some raising even for the wealthy, especially when it must be done with stealth. He has asked for. a little more time, and I am disposed to grant it.'

  'While we kick our heels here, running the risk of being discovered with every day that passes!' Olivia spat.

  'You are not thinking properly,' Nico criticised, apparently uncaring of the vitriolically angry glare Olivia gave him. 'If we were to take the sort of action you suggest now, personally I am convinced that Sir Richard wouldn't hesitate to call in the police. We are not dealing with a fool, Olivia.'

  'And Rome?' she goaded. 'What do they have to say about this? They cannot be pleased with you, Nico.'

  'On the contrary, they have a far more realistic view of life than you, cara mia. They are quite content to leave matters in my hands—but you are perfectly welcome to take the matter up with them if you wish.'

  The uneasy glances exchanged by Olivia and Guido made Saffron wonder if their attack on Nico's leadership had perhaps been preplanned. There had been a shift in loyalties among the members of the gang, with Olivia and Guido markedly turning to one another.

  'I have to go to Rome anyway,' Nico announced, shocking them all. 'While I am gone you will do nothing to prejudice our position. When I return we can discuss the matter again if we have not heard from Sir Richard during that time. If any one of you ignores my orders you will have to face me personally when I return—I hope I make myself clear?'

  It was apparent that he did, and not for the first time Saffron marvelled at his control of them. For a moment she longed to beg him to take her with him, not to leave her alone with the others, but what was the point? She knew he would refuse, and anyway, wasn't he as equally to be abhorred as the others? There was no difference between them except that Nico had the greater control over his emotions and reactions.

  Half an hour later he had gone. Saffron did her usual stint in the fields watched over by Piero and subject to a forceful lecture of the evils of a capitalistic state. She ignored it as she had started to ignore all their tirades. Initially she had listened closely, hoping that by doing so she might come to have a closer understanding of them, but their blindness to the flaws in the doctrines of their organisation made it impossible for her to even discuss the subject with them.

  She had lost weight during her enforced imprisonment; her skin had been tanned even darker by the strong sun, and it was so long since she had worn make-up that she was quite used to the sight of herself without mascara or lipstick. Her butchered hair had grown a little and curled delicately round her face, the elfin locks making her eyes seem huge in her fragilely boned face.

  'You are here to work, not daydream!'

  She hadn't seen Olivia approach and straightened her aching back as the Italian girl strode towards her, one hand resting aggressively on her hip while the other held her gun.

  'You may deceive Nico, but you don't deceive me,' Olivia continued derisively. 'You hope that by sharing your bed with him you will encourage him to be lenient with you, but it won't work. Rome would never tolerate it. Even if Nico wanted to favour you he would never dare. The organisation never forgives treachery from one of its members, and Nico knows that, so you are not as clever as you believe. Oh, he will take what you offer,' she sneered. 'He will enjoy your body, but that is all. When he returns he will see things our way. You may think you can sway him with your body, but you will see. You had better start praying that your father raises that money soon,' she finished threateningly. 'Don't deceive yourself that Nico cares for you as a person. He despises you and your sort, as we all do.'

  'You're saying that because you're jealous,' Saffron retorted.

  She had said the words on impulse, but knew that she had guessed correctly and that against all logic Olivia was jealous of her.

  'You are lying!' Olivia hissed at her. 'Nico takes you simply because your eyes beg him to, and above all else he is very much a man ... but that is all you are to him—a body!'

  Saffron mulled over Olivia's words later in the day, and wondered what the other girl would have done if she had told her the truth—that Nico had rejected her. Nico, Nico ... why must he occupy so many of her thoughts? she asked herself resentfully; thoughts that should be fully occupied in finding a way out of her present situation. She tried to concentrate on her father, on the routine of his day, wondering what he was feeling and thinking at this very moment. Was she in his thoughts? Was he regretting his decision not to go to the police, or was he frightened that by doing so he would be prejudicing her position? How would he raise the money? She knew he did not possess so much cash and to realise it would mean realising many of his assets—the Impressionist paintings he had collected so lovingly over the years, the antiques chosen by her mother, perhaps even selling some shares in the company, and surely none of this could be done quickly or without causing suspicion?

  The storm which had been threatening broke that evening, thunder and lightning filling the sky. Saffron went to bed with a tense headache, glad to escape the atmosphere in the room below. Guido had been giving her hotly lustful glances all evening, and she felt frighteningly vulnerable without Nico to act as a bulwark against the other man's lust for her.

  Dawn came with a fresh clarity after the storm. Saffron could hear Piero whistling downstairs. When eventually Olivia came to release her she had not brought the normal bowl of water. When Saffron commented on it the other girl remarked bitchily, 'What's the matter, don't you think Nico will want you if you aren't all delicately perfumed? Nico is a man,' she told Saffron scornfully, 'and prefers a real woman to some spoiled, pampered Daddy's darling!'

  As the days had gone by, and her captors had grown less concerned about the danger of being discovered, they had become less cautious about allowing Saffron any freedom. 'Where could she go to?' Olivia asked scornfully, when Piero barred her way through the door. 'And how? as Piero himself had the only set of keys for the second Land Rover. 'Let her go,' she told Piero. 'You can watch her from here. If she starts to run, shoot her.'

  Saffron didn't make the mistake of thinking she was merely making an idle threat. The river drew her, although she was unwilling to admit the reason why. She stood watching it for several minutes, and then on a sudden impulse removed her blouse and shabby jeans and paddled into the water, not stopping until it was waist-high. As before, the luxury of feeling clean again was something she revelled in, although this time she was careful to keep an eye on the river bank and did not stay too long in the water. She had no towel to dry herself on, but the sun would soon dry her damp underwear. She could see Piero up at the farmhouse, b
ut her underwear was as respectable as many bikinis—more so, in fact, and this was the time of the day when Guido would have driven down to the village to collect their stores. One of them went into the village every few days, their presence now accepted without any comment.

  When she returned to the farmhouse the Land Rover was parked outside, but there was no sign of Guido. Thinking that he was out with the vines, Saffron stepped unsuspectingly into the dimness of the room.

  A hand shot out to circle her throat choking the breath out of her lungs, garlic-laden breath mingled with the sourness of wine breathed close to her ear, as Guido warned, 'Don't struggle,' and then his free hand was on her body, ripping off the buttons of her blouse in his haste, his touch scorching her skin as she saw the burning lust in his eyes, and knew that he had deliberately lain in wait for her. All the fear she had ever experienced before was as nothing compared with the impending violation of her body. Every muscle screamed its distraught protest, her eyes those of a terrified hunted animal as Guido bent his head and the hot wetness of his mouth closed sickeningly over hers.

  Saffron fought like a trapped creature, fingernails raking his face, but her blows seemed only to amuse him. Her blouse was wrenched from her body, his hand probing the flimsy protection of her bra while she shrank under his touch. Unlike Nico there was no lean male scent to his skin, rather the rank, sour odour of a wild animal. Gagging with nausea, Saffron felt his hands on her body, through the swirling red mist of terror and pain she heard a door slamming and then voices.

  'Guido, let go of her!'

  Nico! She sagged weakly with relief, but Guido, maddened with lust, refused to heed Nico's command.

  'Let her go, I said!'

  'And I am tired of doing what you say!' With a brutal hand Guido thrust Saffron to the floor, his knife appearing like magic, glittering evilly as he advanced on Nico.

  Saffron's fear for herself was submerged beneath her terror for Nico. He was unarmed, while Guido had his knife. She knew beyond logic than neither of the others would help Nico, that was what happening in front of her was the culmination of more than simply Guido's desire for her and Nico's thwarting of it, and she shivered convulsively as the two antagonists converged, Guido's hand describing a swift arc as the knife swept downwards.

  Saffron closed her eyes, the scar on her breast throbbing in memory of how venomous that blade could be. The solid sound of flesh against flesh followed by a painful grunt made her open her eyes, and her heart raced in terror at what she might see.

  Guido was sprawled on the ground at Nico's feet, the knife lying inches away. Nico was breathing heavily, a small cut bleeding along his cheekbone. He wiped the blood away impatiently with the back of his hand before running his fingers through already disordered hair, his voice icy with anger as he said, 'Piero, I told you to watch Guido. And as for you, Guido, I warned you what would happen if...'

  'Nico, look out!' Saffron shouted the warning as she saw Guido's fingers reach out for the knife, but Nico beat him to it, kicking it away with a savage oath, his eyes almost black as he bent to grasp Guido's shirt and dragged him to his feet.

  'I should beat you to a pulp!'

  'It wasn't Guido's fault,' Olivia objected, erupting on to the scene. 'She was taunting him, encouraging him ...'

  'I wasn't! She's lying!' The words formed themselves in Saffron's mind but refused to leave her tongue. The world became a whirling black vortex, devouring her in its midst, obliterating the nightmare engulfing her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Saffron was lying on the narrow bed in her room. Darkness had fallen and she could see the moon through the uncurtained window. She got up, and everything that had happened came rushing back. She started to shake, swallowing hard on the sickness rising up inside her and feeling the pain of her bruised throat. And it was not only her throat that had suffered; there were bruises on her arms, and her blouse hung in shreds round her.

  Dear God! She shuddered to think how close she had come to being raped. If Nico hadn't come in when he had! Nico! Tears started to pour from her eyes. She huddled on the bed, knees drawn up under her chin, arms folded protectively around them, curling her body into the smallest, tightest ball possible. The brief knock which preceded the opening of the door had her tensing every muscle,. She caught a glimpse of Nico's closed, grim face, the dark shadowing of hair in the opening of his shirt, and turned away, shivering with nausea, her feelings reflected in her eyes before she closed them too late to conceal her expression from the man standing in the doorway with a small bowl in one hand and a tube of cream in the other.

  'Saffron.' He said her name as softly as though he were calling some timid woodland creature, his voice perfectly even and soothing as he approached the bed, talking to her all the time. 'It's perfectly all right,' he told her, 'I don't want to hurt you. I just want to look and make sure your wound hasn't opened up again. I'll put some cream on your bruises. See, it doesn't hurt, does it?' he asked quietly, as she allowed him to take her arm and smooth some of the lotion on to it, her body tensed and wary.

  'Saffron…'

  Tears trembled on her lashes, her whole body shaking.

  'Don't touch me.' She said it so quietly he had to bend his head to catch the anguished words. 'Don't come near me. I feel so dirty ... so dirty ...' She had started to rock from side to side, her eyes blank and unseeing. Nico reached for her, but she tensed against him, still trembling.

  'Saffron, it's all right. He won't touch you again, I promise ... It's all right. Come, let me take this blouse, and then you can wash—I'll bring you some water. You'll feel better.' He got up and walked to the door, but Saffron gave no indication of seeing or hearing him, her thin arms still locked round her taut body as she repeated over and over, 'So dirty ... so dirty ...'

  When he came back she was still in the same position. Patiently, just as though she were a child, he unlocked her arms from her knees, straightening out the cramped limbs and removing her torn blouse. Although she flinched from the touch of his hands when he sponged her bruised flesh she didn't try to avoid him, and as his hand stroked softly over her skin some of the tension started to drain out of her. As though he sensed it Nico paused, his eyes searching her face before he said gently,

  'You're all right, Saffron. Nothing happened. He didn't…'

  'Rape me?' She shuddered deeply with the words. 'But he was going to, and there wasn't anything I could do stop him. I .could have died, and all I would have known was that.'

  His voice and hands soothed her as he stroked her body and told her that it was over, holding her like a child in the comfort of his arms, only releasing her when he was sure that she had started to relax.

  'I've brought you some water.' He gestured to the large bowl on the floor. 'I'll leave you to get washed, but I'll be back in half an hour with some supper.'

  When he had gone Saffron got shakily to her feet, washing herself slowly like someone in the grip of a dream. The tattered remnants of her blouse provoked a fresh wave of remembered horror, but she quelled it and pulled on her other blouse. She was just buttoning it when Nico arrived with her supper.

  She didn't want to eat it, but as though he sensed her refusal Nico said quietly, 'I'm not leaving until every bit of it has gone. Olivia tells me you've eaten nothing all day.'

  'What's the point?' To her horror her voice shook, tears welling in her eyes.

  'Come...' A spoonful of meat and pasta was held to her lips, and her mouth opened as obediently as a child's. Once she had taken a mouthful she realised how hungry she was. Nico had also brought her a mug of coffee, although when she tasted it she pulled a face over its strange flavour.

  'Brandy,' Nico explained briefly. 'It will mitigate the shock and help you sleep.'

  Sleep! How could she possibly sleep when every time she closed her eyes she saw Guido's face, felt his hands on her body? Her face worked. She put down the mug with exaggerated care:

  'Nico...'

  'I know, but it will p
ass.'

  'How can you know?' she cried wildly. 'It hasn't happened to you—you haven't had to endure the ... It was loathsome, hateful! I feel so ... so defiled…'

  'Saffron.' He said her name gently, taking hold of her arms and holding her so that she couldn't avoid the penetrating quality of his gaze. 'What happened was not your fault. If it was anyone's it was mine. I knew Guido wanted you; I told myself you were encouraging him, but I knew it wasn't true. No blame attaches to you. You must believe that.'

  'How can I,' she cried painfully, 'when I know if he had raped me no one would have believed me? Every time anyone touches me it will seem like it's him ... I can't...' She shuddered again, not seeing the way Nico's eyes darkened or the grim set of his mouth.

  'Saffron, I...'

  'Don't leave me alone tonight, Nico,' she begged half hysterically. 'Please don't leave me alone ... I couldn't bear it, I....'

  'Hush ... hush!' His arms were round her again, forcing her to relax.

  'It's all right ... Everything's fine. I'll stay. Come, lie down and try to sleep. I promise I'll be here if you need me.'

  Strangely enough she did sleep, but only because Nico shared the narrow bed with her, holding her against the protective warmth of his body so that there was no way for Guido's image to impose itself on her mind.

  There was barely room for them both on the small bed, and she woke some time during the night to find that she was curled against Nico's warmth, her head resting against his chest and her arms locked round his waist.

  'Nico, are you awake?'

  'Yes. Are you frightened?'

  'Not while you're here, Guido…'

  'Forget Guido,' he told her curtly. The old impatience was back in his voice, the sudden removal of his arms a shock of rejection. Pain shafted through her and all at once she started to shiver.