The Sin of Cynara Read Online Free PDF

into a bronze tray. 'You are not, brutally speaking, the type of woman my brother usually went for,' he said. 'He had a liking for the sensual, not the sensitive ... you are an old-fashioned girl, are you not?'
      Carol looked at him then, daring those eyes that penetrated her defences like golden knives. 'What makes you say that, signore baróne?'
      His eyes dwelt on her hair, braided at the crown of her head so that her neck had a vulnerable look in the white collar of her sedate grey dress.
      'Need I elaborate, signora?' He gave her that title of a married woman, even though they both knew it to be false on account of that Italian girl with the passionate mouth, who had assured Carol that the baróne would kill her for coming here and re-opening old wounds.
      'Appearances can be deceptive,' she rejoined. 'You shouldn't be so certain of your own judgments.'
      'Ah, but in this instance I am fairly sure. Your hair — can you sit on it when you release it from the plaits?'
      'Just about.' A warmth stole into her skin and Carol realised that she was blushing ... it struck her as incredibly erotic to be talking of her hair and its length to this man ... hair that was only let down in the privacy of her bedroom. Was he of the same disposition as Vincenzo? Did his wife have to endure his partiality for other Women?
      'Most unusual in this day and age.' His eyes held a certain curiosity as they ran over her hair, his black lashes half shading their golden irises. 'Young women with modern ideas of liberation would regard such long hair as a burden. Can you truly sit on it?'
      'I've just told you I can, signore.'
      'And what if I choose to disbelieve you?'
      'I would then assume that you consider me a liar.'
      'Are you a liar? You arrive here out of the blue, holding a child by the hand, and you tell me that my brother married you.'
      'I have my so-called marriage lines, signore, if you care to examine them.'
      'Why, I wonder, did he marry you? Or, at least, go through a form of marriage with you?'
      'Oh, he told me why.' Carol tilted her chin and remembered that bitter row with Vincenzo. 'He said I was the type who had to have a wedding ring before the wedding night.'
      'Ah yes, they would be his sort of words. And so from this corte e amore there came a son?'
      'Yes, Vincenzo's son.' Her heart twisted, for this man had asked if she was a liar, and what could be a greater lie than for her to pretend that her union with Vincenzo had been real and she had borne the little boy whom she had carried into church and had christened with the Roman name of Terence.
      'There is no need to assure me that the boy is a Falcone.' That twist of a smile came and went on the scarred lips. 'My brother lives again in that small piece of humanity—'
      'I pray that he won't have his father's ways,' she broke in. 'I hope that all Teri has inherited of Vincenzo is that look of good breeding.'
      'And for the rest, signora, he must take after you, his mother?' The falcon eyes raked her face. 'Are you such an angelic creature, then, with no faults to pass on to your son? Have you no pride, no temper, no dark and secret desires that trouble your sleep at night? Do you never lose patience with other people, and are you always scrupulously honest?'
      'I - I try to be as honest as possible.' Her heart thudded and she sensed that this man who had known Vincenzo so well had doubts about her, and he meant to pursue them in his own devious way. 'I'm no angel - I would never pretend to be. White lies are some-times necessary in order to protect someone who matters.'
      'What about black lies, madam?' Now his eyes had a merciless look in them and Carol knew for certain that he was grilling her, and with a certain finesse, leading up to it with a dark velvet interest in her long blonde hair. 'Have you never resorted to one of those?'
      'Not about my hair.' She forced a note of flippancy into her voice, needing desperately to