Italian Tycoon, Secret Son. Lucy GordonЧитать онлайн книгу.
returned to her side, saying, ‘They say he’s in great demand.’
‘Because of his mountaineering skills, you mean?’ Mandy asked ironically.
‘I think it has more to with the Wow! factor,’ Joan mused, studying Renzo’s tall, athletic figure.
‘I can’t say I noticed it.’
Joan chuckled. ‘You would have done if you weren’t miffed with him.’
Mandy laughed and conceded the point. While she might not have taken to Renzo, honesty forced her to admit that he had the Wow! factor in spades.
If asked to describe his attractions, she would have shrugged and said, Par for the course, which would have been true without doing him complete justice.
He looked like a vibrant, healthy animal who’d spent his life in the open. Without being muscle-bound, he was powerful enough for the demands he obviously made on his lithe body. Even his dark hair and eyes fitted her picture of the conventional Italian male.
‘A professional Lothario,’ she said cynically, remembering the night before.
‘So who’s complaining?’ Joan asked. ‘I’m not.’
‘He’s all yours.’
At last the formalities were finished and Renzo called for their attention so that he could outline the plan for the next few days.
‘We’ll spend the nights in the huts we’ll find up there,’ he said. ‘Some are like good hotels, some are more basic, but I take it you’re all ready to rough it.’
There was a murmur of agreement and Mandy couldn’t resist calling, ‘Even those of us who are delicate.’
Renzo grinned. ‘I guess I’m not going to be allowed to forget that. Right, let’s go.’
As the others made their way out of the door, he drew her aside, murmuring, ‘I really am grateful. You’re not mad at me, are you?’
‘I can’t think what you’re talking about. I remember nothing.’
‘You’re probably right. Let’s be off.’
The first day was relatively easy, moving slowly up the lower slopes, linked by ropes.
Mandy had done just enough climbing to be able to cope fairly easily. The hardest moment was when Joan, roped to her, missed her footing. Briefly Mandy found herself supporting the young woman’s weight, and hung on grimly, but Joan recovered quickly and the moment passed. Looking up, she found Renzo watching her and had the satisfaction of seeing him nod in a way that suggested she’d done well.
There was also the ironic pleasure of discovering that she was far from being the worst of the party of twelve. That honour was reserved for Henry, a hulking, loutish young man. Though superficially good-natured, he wanted to do everything his own way and didn’t take kindly to instructions. Several times Renzo had to be very firm with him, and Mandy had to admit that he managed it without trouble.
As the light faded they came to the hut where they would spend the first night. It was small and when they had all crowded in the place was bursting at the seams, but the food was filling, the beds narrow but adequate and there was an air of jollity that carried them through the evening.
It amused her to see that as soon as they arrived Renzo became the target of attention again. The women gazed at him with pleasure, the men with jealousy. He accepted it all as his due, and Mandy had to admit that he had plenty of what the Italians called bella figura. More than mere good looks, it implied confidence, style, charisma, panache.
He was never at a loss. When someone produced a battered guitar he led the singalong with all the aplomb of a natural showman.
Now and then Henry butted in, making a noise—as someone observed—like a terrified monkey. But he was shouted down and vanished, scowling. After that nobody thought of him until bed time, when the sound of a slap followed by a yell showed that he’d had no luck there, either.
The next day they climbed up nearly three thousand metres and ended in a larger hut, perched on the edge of a ridge, staring down into the valley where the lights of Chamonix were just visible, like winking signals from another planet.
Mandy slipped outside to catch the last of the light, which had an unearthly quality here, in the heart of the snowy peaks. In the distant sky she could see a blaze of glorious scarlet, such as she’d never expected in February, and held her breath, longing for it to last.
A door behind her opened and she glanced back to see Renzo emerge. To her relief, he didn’t speak but stood in silence while they both watched the blazing colour fade swiftly into darkness.
At last she heard him sigh.
‘It’s breathtaking, isn’t it? I always come out to watch.’
‘And yet you must have seen it so often,’ she ventured.
‘It doesn’t matter how often. It’s always like the first time.’ He looked at her wryly. ‘I guess that surprises you, seeing as you have me down as an unrelieved jerk, totally insensitive and incapable of appreciating a moment of beauty. Don’t deny that that’s your opinion of me.’
‘I wasn’t going to deny it—’ she chuckled ‘—why should I?’
He looked aggrieved. ‘It might have been polite.’
‘I don’t do polite.’
‘Very wise. You save a lot of time that way.’ He came and sat beside her. ‘Are you coping all right?’
‘I’m fine, thanks. I’m really pleased with myself for not collapsing when Joan lost her footing. I just supported her until she was ready, you have to admit that.’
‘True, but with me above, supporting the two of you. All right, all right, don’t eat me.’
From inside came a burst of laughter, making him wince.
‘Shouldn’t you be getting back to your guests?’ she asked.
‘They’re not my guests, they’re my responsibility, and sometimes it’s one I’d much rather do without. I swear, this is the last time I take over a party where I haven’t been able to vet everyone first. And no, I don’t mean you.’
‘I know,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Henry. Do you know which one of the girls slapped him last night?’
He grinned. ‘They’re lining up to lay claim. Poor Henry. I saw him trying to attach himself to you earlier today. Is he giving you trouble?’
She glared. ‘You’re not chivalrously offering to take care of him for me, I hope.’
‘No way,’ Renzo said hastily. ‘You deal with him any way you like, and er—’ he gave her a significant glance ‘—I’ll dispose of the body.’
‘All right,’ she said, laughing. ‘Enough said. Actually, Henry really wanted to have a moan about you.’
‘Because I had to keep him in line?’
‘I think it’s more that you’re everything he wants to be and never will. He reckons you don’t get your face slapped, and that makes him want to kill you.’
‘What does he think I’m up to? Those bunk beds are only about two feet wide.’
‘Well,’ Mandy mused, ‘I suppose two feet might just be enough if—’ She left the implication hanging.
‘You’re making me blush, do you know that?’
‘I should really like to know what could make you blush,’ she said ironically. ‘Nothing I could think of.’
It was too dark for her to see much of his face, but his eyes seemed to gleam at her with unholy glee.
‘How