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

impulsively. 'It's going to get hurt!'
    He gave her a long incredulous look, then he reached forward and
    cupped a hand round the struggling insect.
    'What now?' he demanded. 'Shall I kill it or let it go?'
    'Let it go. What else?'
    He rose and threaded his way through the other tables to the edge
    of the terrace. His hand opened, and he tossed the frightened moth
    away into the gathering darkness.
    'Moths are foolish creatures,' he said almost meditatively as he took
    his seat again opposite her. 'They seem to enjoy living dangerously,
    yet because of this their existences are often cut short. Learn from
    them, mia. Keep away from the candle flame tonight and you too
    could live to play with fire again another day.'
    Her head was aching suddenly with sheer tension and she had to
    resist an impulse to cradle it in her hands. She did not want to think
    too closely about the implications of what he had just said, or she
    might be really frightened. Just how ruthless was this man, and
    what power was, he able to wield in his determination to achieve
    his own way?
    If you're trying to threaten me,' she said wearily, 'it won't work. And
    now I'd like to go home, please. We have nothing else to say to
    each other.'
    She spoke bravely enough, but in reality she felt as if a million
    moths were fluttering with panic deep inside her. Suddenly she
    needed very badly to be alone for a little while to regain her
    composure, and she rose murmuring something idiotic about the
    powder room.
    In the privacy of the luxuriously fitted cloakroom, she dropped on
    to the velvet-covered bench in front of the vanitory unit and stared
    at herself in the mirror. The parallel he had drawn between her
    situation and the moth's had been an unpleasant one. She was very
    much aware that he made her feel that he held her too in the palm of
    his hand and would extend mercy or not as he chose.
    'Oh, stop it,' she told herself angrily. 'You're being much too
    imaginative.' Like the rich food and the wine, Santino Vallone was
    far too heady a mixture for a suburban schoolteacher from England,
    and she was thankful to her heart, she told herself defensively, that
    she would never have to see him again after tonight.
    She looked again more searchingly at her reflection, and after a
    moment added a touch of blusher to her cheeks. What had he said
    about her—'the face and body of a Botticelli angel'. Natural colour
    rose to enhance the artificial. It was a ridiculous tiling to say, she
    thought, an unnecessary and unwanted compliment. And it was
    untrue. Jan was the beautiful one, and always had been. If he saw
    them together, he would know that. It was merely that he did not
    know what Jan was like, either physically or mentally.
    In a way, she felt fiercely glad that she had been there in Rome to
    deal with this onslaught on her sister's behalf. If he had got to Jan
    first, it would have been a sour note on which to start her married
    life.
    What in the world did he have against Jan anyway? He had uttered
    a lot of threats and cryptic remarks, but he had not produced one
    shred of tangible evidence to support his view that she was not a
    suitable bride for his brother. Juliet did not deceive herself that Jan
    had led the life of a recluse since she arrived in Italy, but this was
    the twentieth century after all, and Santino Vallone would have to
    come to the realisation that there could no longer be one moral law
    for men and another for women.
    One thing was certain. Not one word of all this must ever reach
    Mim's ears. She found herself wishing, for no good reason that she
    could pinpoint, that. Santino could meet her mother—visit her home
    and see the kind of background she and Jan had come from. It
    might not have the material wealth of his own family life, but surely
    he couldn't be blind to all that was good in it. He would be forced to
    admit that by denigrating Jan, he had been unjust to all the
    Laurences.
    Yet why was it important that Santino