Love Play by Rosemary Rogers Read online

  SWEET ENCHANTRESS!

  There was a depth to the greenness of her eyes in which lay a fine shower of gold, barely escaping from making her eyes appear hazel. Sun-flushed cheekbones high enough to shadow her face, especially in the leaping orange and gold candle flame. And a mouth … Dio! he swore at himself in his mind. Why must he always look at her mouth and want to capture it and crush it with his again...

  With love and thanks to all those people without whose support and understanding I might never have finished it - and particularly to my son Adam who guarded my long nights, my friend Martha who made sure I got enough sleep, and my own particular 'Duca' who taught me the Italian love words.

  Love Play by Rosemary Rogers

  Chapter1

  The singer's voice, husky and accented, breathed through the headphones that Sara had stubbornly worn from the beginning of the flight. Besume, besame mucho . . .

  With her eyes closed, she grimaced slightly. Love songs! All she needed. And especially in Spanish, reminding her too vividly of Eduardo, his mournful dark eyes fixed on her, pleading with her. 'But, tesoro, I want to marry you! How can your father object to that? Also, you know that I have enough money, so that is no object, si? We can live anywhere you want to live ..."

  No, no, Eduardol Poor Eduardo! She should have been honest with him, instead of hiding behind excuses. Her father. Her education. But how to tell a man that she simply couldn't stand to have him touch her because his hands always felt so clammy?

  The captain's voice cut through the music, reminding everyone that they would be landing at Kennedy Airport in fifteen minutes. And anyone who wished to listen to the pilots' communication with the traffic controllers could switch to channel —

  Sara got rid of the headphones and smoothed her hair by running her fingers through it. Scanning her face in the small mirror she had produced from her purse, she grimaced again. Bad habit she'd have to stop.

  'Darling child, you simply have got to stop making facesl You don't want to have lines and wrinkles later on, do you? Look at me . . .'

  Well, Mama was easy to look at anyhow! Especially if one judged by the millions of filmgoers all over the world who adored Mona Charles.

  Everyone said that Sara took after her mother. But people never recognised her — or thought they did — in spite of the fact that she and Mona had the same colouring.

  The tiny mirror gave back an uncompromising image of a face that was too pale except for spots of colour on the cheekbones. Dark mahogany-coloured hair swinging straight and smooth to her shoulders, lashes just as dark and just as long as Mona's, over the same emerald-green eyes. But nobody asked her if she was Mona Charles -- and maybe it had to do with the slim, almost girlish figure and her height. Mama-Mona had breasts, and she wasn't over five three. She was still gorgeous — five children and four husbands later.

  'And I,' Sara told herself severely, snapping the compact shut, 'will probably have all the lines and wrinkles Mona warned me about before I'm thirty.'

  Thanks to Daddy, she was the daughter that hardly anyone knew about. Mona had been married for a short time to Sir Eric Colville —one of her 'settling down' periods when she had decided, publicly, to give everything up for love and an English title. When she'd left Sir Eric for a Shakespearean actor, their daughter Sara had been left behind too, along with Nanny Staggs and an Afghan called Goldie.

  But that hadn't meant that Mona didn't love her daughter Sara. There were always The Visits -- perfumed embraces and afternoons at the zoo. Expensive toys and intro¬ductions to new people. It was almost like being part of strangely parallel worlds until Daddy had insisted on the private schools and no publicity. But that was after Sara had been introduced to her half sister, Delight, who was, as Mona always said on a sigh, a love child.

  Delight was only eighteen months younger than Sara, and yet, after the few summers they had spent together, Sara always felt younger. Delight had been everywhere and knew everyone. And Delight had done practically every¬thing. She was physical, where Sara was cerebral. Above all, Delight was excitement, and a whole different world. A world Daddy didn't necessarily approve of, but Sara was over twenty-one now and could do as she pleased.

  The runway lights winked below her, and she took a deep breath as she settled back for the landing. New York! And Delight would be there to meet her. A whole week in New York before she had to fly to Los Angeles to settle down to studying. But with her sharing a Brentwood apartment with Delight, postgraduate classes at UCLA could never be boring, to say the least!

  'Darling! Sara, darling!'

  She had not recognised her sister until she waved and burst through the clustering crowd that waited for disembarking passengers. Delight was wearing an Afro and enormous sunglasses that shaded her eyes and most of her face as well. The last time they had met, Delight's hair had been worn long and straight and almost down to her waist, and she had worn no make-up at all, but tonight she had on shiny red lip gloss and faint colour along her cheekbones. She was slimmer and had acquired a glorious tan.

  'Hey, Sis!' They hugged, both talking almost at once as they began to catch up on the past three years.

  'I'd never have known you if you hadn't called out!'

  'You need to soak up lots and lots of sun — haven't you been playing any tennis recently?'

  'Only indoors, I'm afraid! And you . . .?'

  'Wait till I tell you! Oh, wow! And I've got a part in a movie - only a small one this time but in a straight film, you know?'

  Her sister's giggle reminded Sara of the time that Delight, to Mama's horror, had appeared in a couple of very sexually explicit X-rated movies. 'What one might do in private is one thing, but for all the world to see . . .!' Poor Mona! It wasn't often that she came over 'all proper', as Nanny Staggs would have put it.

  'Do you have a lot of luggage? For God's sake, let's get out of this madhouse!'

  People looked curiously at the two young women who were such a contrast — Sara Colville in her smart Givenchy suit and Delight Adams in tight-fitting Levis tucked into boots - a tiny cotton tank top that clung almost too tightly to her firm young curves. They didn't even look like sisters now, with Delight's green eyes hidden; and yet when they had dressed alike and worn their hair the same way people used to take them for twins.

  'Do you remember the confusion we used to cause? Poor Pietro - he was always my favourite of Mona's husbands because I felt he really liked kids.'

  'Oh, yes, I liked Pietro too, but I hated Virgil! All that hair on the back of his hands and those smelly cigars - I used to wonder how she could let him near her!'

  'He was a monster in bed! He used to make her do the most outrageous things - and love doing them!' Delight giggled at the look on her sister's face. 'I watched them! You never knew that, did you? I was afraid you'd tell on me, and besides it was my secret. I used to hide in the closet. It sure taught me a lot!'

  'I'm sure it did!' Sara said dryly, but she was still horrified, although Delight would only laugh if she knew that. Delight would probably laugh even harder if she knew that Sara, who was older, had not yet slept with a man.

  A bloody virgin at twenty-one! I ought to find a man —. any man, and get it over with! She'd tell herself that over and over - and not do anything about it. Few of the men she had met had really turned her on, and of those, none of them had passed what she, called to herself Test Number Two, which was meeting — and resisting — the still-gorgeous Mona.

  An hour and fifteen minutes later as they sat on floor cushions in Delight's little studio apartment, Sara watched her sister's animated face and hands and wondered how it must feel to be Delight who'd done everything - or practically everything - before she was eighteen! Life
never stood still for long enough to become dull around Delight. 'More wine?' Without waiting for Sara's reply Delight was already pouring it. 'You still need to loosen up a little, big Sis!' she said, only half kidding, and then, sitting back on her haunches she lifted her wine-glass in a toast. 'Here's to me and the one thing I haven't tried yet - marriage!'

  'Marriage!' That was a shocker, and Sara sat up straight, her winged dark brows questioning. 'Why didn't you tell me before? And who is he - or are you teasing again?'

  Delight shook her head vigorously, her eyes shining with mischief and the big gold hoops she wore in her ears flying.

  'Nope! I'm not teasing this time. But you know me - I always save the best news until the last. We've been living together, but he's had to go back to California to meet his big brother, who's flying in from Rome. He's Italian, and . . .' Delight paused long enough to take a deep breath before kissing her fingers in a very Italian gesture. 'He's a fantastic lover, and he's - God, wait until you see him, he's beautiful! He's even old-fashioned enough to want kids -can you imagine that? We're going to honeymoon in India -I've always wanted to see the Taj Mahal by moonlight! So what do you think?'

  'Well, I must say I'm surprised The last time we met I remember your telling me you'd never get married! You said - '

  Delight waved her hand impatiently, silver bangles jangling. 'Oh, yes, I remember very well! I said I believed in variety, and that I wanted to try everything ... and I have -or almost everything, you don't have to look so shocked! But - people change, you know that yourself, look at you! Who would have thought, three years ago, that you'd actually run away from home and come to UCLA instead of some stuffy old school like Oxford or Cambridge? I'll bet that's what your daddy wanted you to do, wasn't it?'

  The slight flush that rose in Sara's pale English complexion gave Delight her answer, making her add quickly and contritely, 'Darling, I didn't really mean to sound like a snot! All I meant was . . . was, well, you know what I mean! Three years ago I was a different girl, I really was. I was wild - well, I still am, a little bit - and I enjoyed every minute of living and experiencing life. And after Mama-Mona - wouldn't that turn you off marriage? Remember when we'd both swear that we'd never, ever get married? I didn't even believe in love, just making love, or ... or screwing, as the case may have been, depending on the circumstances and who I was with. And then I met Carlo, and suddenly ... I don't quite know how it happened or exactly when it happened, but I was in love! And the magical part of it was that he was too! Oh, Sara! Haven't you been in love? Or had a crush on somebody?'

  'Oh, lots of crushes, but I think I'd much rather avoid falling in love, thank you! Look how many times Mama-Mona's been in and out!' Sara's voice was light, and she hoped her eyes didn't show her slight uneasiness. Delight sounded happy, and Sara was happy for her, but her sister was such a volatile, changeable creature, it was hard to conceive of her actually settling down - if that was what she planned.

  Tactfully, Sara said: 'Do tell me more about this Carlo of yours, though. Is he kind to you? What does he do for a living? And what will you two do after the moonlight and the Taj Mahal?'

  For the first time she saw Delight frown slightly before turning away with a muttered: 'Do you mind if I light up a joint first? It's a long story, and you - well, if I didn't explain it all, give you the background, you really wouldn't understand. And I do want you to understand, Sara! You're the level-headed one of us two, and you were always getting me out of scrapes, remember? Anyway...'She turned back, offering Sara a thick, expertly rolled joint; grinning when Sara shook her head. 'Don't tell me you've never tried one yet? Oh, come on, everyone has in this day and age! Look, this is all you have to do . . .' Sucking acrid-smelling smoke deeply into her lungs, she held it there with her eyes closed, seeming, under Sara's fascinated eyes, to swallow it deeper and deeper inside until there was no smoke left to be exhaled. The strange thing was that Delight seemed quite unaffected by it— Sara had almost expected her to keel over immediately!

  'Come on, try it! Just one toke, it'll relax you, I guarantee it! And you might as well practise some under my expert supervision before you get to UCLA and try it there. And you will, Sis, you will. Don't look at me like that! Because if you don't they'll think you're some kind of weirdo!'

  'I could say I'm allergic?' Sara said hopefully, wrinkling her nose at the bittersweet odour.

  'Then they'd expect you to be into something else, like coke. Ever snorted?'

  'No! And I don't intend to either!'

  'Oh, Jesus Christ, Sara, you've got to stop being so... so damned straight! Why don't you learn to relax and have some fun for a change? I don't mean like me, I know my type of fun isn't yours, but you don't want to stay on the outside looking in forever, do you? You've got to try a few things, ' take a few risks, live a little, you know?'

  Other words floated into Sara's mind as she returned her sister's teasing, slightly mocking gaze. 'Such a good child, Miss Sara. Never a moment's trouble, she gives me. Always no well behaved . . .' Nanny Staggs, dear old Nanny!

  And her father, after one of Delight's rare visits, saying approvingly, 'I'm glad you're such an obedient, quiet child, Sara. Never let others influence you or change you.'

  But now, looking back, she saw with sudden clarity that what he'd really meant was that she mustn't deviate from the rules and regulations he'd hedged her about with. Not that Daddy hadn't meant well, but. . . damn it, she was an adult now, and she had to learn to coexist with other young adults. She didn't want to be an outsider, looking in, as Delight had pointed out.

  'Here, watch me again - and try not to choke. It's easy, really and it won't hurt you, I promise. This is good stuff, it'll just make you feel real mellow and kind of laid back, you know?'

  She didn't know, Sara thought defiantly, but she intended to find out! After all, she'd read enough to know that marijuana, in small doses, wasn't harmful - not as bad for one as cigarettes or alcohol.'

  She coughed after the first drag and managed to hold the next one quite creditably. Nothing happened. Delight had refilled their wineglasses and Sara sipped the chilled Chablis, wondering if she was disappointed or relieved.

  Braver now, she took another drag before Delight, producing a silver roach clip shaped like a crocodile, finished it off.

  'Feel a buzz yet? Oh, well, you will real soon. Let me turn the music up a little, it always sounds better after you've done grass.'

  There was a whole new vocabulary she'd have to learn, Sara thought, settling back more comfortably on the big cushion as Delight began, at last, to tell her all about Carlo, how they'd met, and how impossible his older brother was. The wine sparkled enchantingly in her crystal glass, and the music was wonderful — soothing, with an undertone of-fierceness at the same time - a swelling and a diminishing of sound. Wagner had never sounded so beautiful before, nor had she, Sara, ever felt so relaxed.

  'What's his name?' she demanded suddenly, wanting Delight to know she was really paying attention.

  'Whose?'

  'Big brother's . . . what did you say his name was?'

  'Oh, him! The overbearing, arrogant - Giovanni. Big bad John!' Delight giggled. 'Only don't ever let Carlo know I called him that. Carlo really looks up to him, I think he's even a little bit scared of him. It's Giovanni Marco Riccardo Marcantoni - can you imagine a name like that? Carlo has two other names too, I guess it's a custom or something, but no one ever calls him anything but Carlo, and it suits him. It's a beautiful name and he's a beautiful person, unlike his brother who lords it over everyone just because he happened to be the firstborn and a conte or a duke or something equally silly — I mean who gives a damn about titles any more? And everyone knows that Italian titles are a dime a dozen, some stupid society woman is always marrying one and I mean . . . what was I saying?'

  'You were saying that this ... big bad Marco or whoeverhad to approve of you before he gives Carlo permission to..." Sara sat up straight, brushing her hair away from her eyes, w
hich had begun to flash angrily. 'Why does Carlo have to have his brother's permission for anything? How old is he anyway? Isn't he man enough to stand up for what he wants?'

  'I was just telling you, they're Italian, and Giovanni Marco - they call him Marco within the family, how'd you guess? - as the head of the family runs the whole show. He's the one who made most of the money, you see, and he controls everything. He's into automobiles and shipping and... you name a pie and he has a finger in it! He's rich, and Carlo works for him. He's also quite ruthless . . .' Delight gave an exaggerated shiver as she lowered her voice dramatically. 'In fact, I wouldn't be at all surprised if he's even mixed up with the . . . you-know-who. The mob.'

  'You mean the Mafia? Oh, no, Delight, surely not!'

  'I'm not sure at all... and of course Carlo would never say anything, and it's the one thing I'd never dare ask him about. But I have my suspicions ... and he did tell me once that his brother would stop at nothing to gain his ends. So you see what we're up against, and why you've just got to help? Sara, I'm afraid he's going to try and break us up, and I'd just kill myself if that happened, and so would Carlo!' Delight's huge emerald eyes that were so like Mona's filled with tears.

  'But why would he want to break you up, even if he could?'

  'Because . . . because he's a straitlaced prigl' Delight wailed. 'They're strict Catholics, of course, the whole family, and Marco's the type who believes in work, work, work and no play, and when the time comes around - and that'll be when he says so, of course - then Carlo will be expected to marry some stupid cow of a girl his brother will choose for him from one of the right families, with money, of course, and without - ' her voice quivered over an incipient sob - 'without my lurid past! Everything I've done - all that stuff in those nasty rags and the gossip columns She coughed after the first drag and managed to hold the next one quite creditably. Nothing happened. Delight had refilled their wineglasses and Sara sipped the chilled Chablis, wondering if she was disappointed or relieved.