Read Online Moth to the Flame by Sara Craven - Free Book Online

sardonic laugh.
    'It is hardly believable,' he said, half to himself. 'The face and body
    of a Botticelli angel concealing the soul of a cheap little
    gold-digger. I pity you, mia. You are doomed to unhappiness, I
    think.'
    She stared down at the tablecloth, veiling her eyes with her lashes,
    unwilling to let him see her very real indignation. Jan, she
    supposed, would have laughed and made some lazy retorts .
    She saw him glance at his watch and sensed his growing
    impatience.
    'Come, Janina,' he said at last. 'You cannot pretend that you did not
    accompany me here tonight in order to strike a bargain. Or are you
    vain enough to believe that it is sufficient for me to spend the'
    evening admiring your beauty? You fill the eye, certainly, cara, and
    you appeal to the senses, but my heart you leave cold. My offer
    stands. Take it or leave it.'
    As if in a dream she heard him repeat the amount of money he was
    offering Jan. It was in lira, of course, and she was not too
    experienced at converting large sums back into their English
    equivalent, but even her fairly haphazard calculations were enough
    to set her brain reeling. It was like learning you had won a major
    prize in a premium bond draw, she thought dazedly, and it was
    incredible that he should offer such a sum to anyone for purely
    personal reasons. But as her initial amazement began to fade, a cold
    anger took its place. What was this money, after all, but a
    calculated insult to Jan?
    'Well, what do you say?' His voice was incisive, cutting across her
    thoughts.
    She made herself utter a little laugh. 'Nothing, signore. Niente ',' she
    added for good measure. 'Nothing that you can say or do will make
    me give up Mario. You see, I love him.'
    'Love?' he questioned, and she felt seared by the blaze of contempt
    in his eyes. 'I doubt you even know the meaning of the word. I
    certainly wouldn't dignify any relationship you have ever had with
    Mario or anyone else with such a word. Mario is a fool—but rest
    assured, signorina, I shall not allow him to suffer for the rest of his
    life for his folly.'
    Somehow she had to maintain her self-control when every impulse
    was screaming at her to fling the remains of her brandy in that dark
    contemptuous face.
    She said coolly, 'Exaggeration seems to be another Southern
    quality. I doubt if Mario sees our—relationship as you put it in
    quite that light.'
    'Oh, but he will.' He spoke quite softly, but there was a note in his
    voice that made her shiver in spite of the balmy warmth of the
    evening. As if moved by strings, her hand fluttered up and touched
    the rose that lay like a splash of blood against the whiteness of her
    skin.
    He watched the nervous gesture and his smile widened
    unpleasantly.
    His voice sank almost to a whisper. 'I shall show him—
    demonstrate beyond all doubt the truth about you, cara, and he will
    believe it. Take the money while you can. I shall not offer it again.'
    'Go to hell,' she said steadily. 'And take your money with you.'
    He shook his head, and his eyes held hers. There was no visible
    emotion in them now, but she sensed a determination and a resolve
    so strong that it frightened her.
    'If I go to hell, cara ,' he said gently, 'I shall take you with me, be
    very sure of that.'
    Her hands were shaking, but she made herself reach for the coffee
    pot and pour more coffee into her cup. Miraculously, she managed
    it without spilling any or otherwise making a fool of herself, and
    then something fluttered past her face and she recoiled with a little
    cry, setting the pot back on the little stove with a jerk.
    'Oh, what was that?'
    'Merely a moth,' he said impatiently. 'The candles attract them.'
    She could see now that that was all it was, a large grey moth, its
    wings whirring helplessly as it flew again and again against the
    glass globe which protected the candle flame. As she watched, the
    moth edged perilously near to the opening at the top of the globe.
    'Oh, do something,' she appealed