Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [68]
India screamed.
“What is it?” he cried in alarm. “What’s happened?”
“Oh, oh, it’s all right, it’s just a cat. It rubbed against my legs in the dark and scared the hell out of me.” The cat purred at her feet and India bent and picked him up. His warmth felt comforting. “Beautiful puss, you’ll stay with me, won’t you? You know this house better than I do.”
Sitting on the edge of the sink she wriggled to the floor and stood uncertainly, trying to get her bearings.
“I don’t suppose you remember where the light switch is?” she called.
“Try next to the door.”
Fabrizio’s voice sounded fainter and she glared back at the small rectangle of light framed by the window.
“Damn it, puss, what am I doing here?” she whispered as the cat levered itself onto her shoulder, purring happily. “I could be in some warm, cheery trattoria with warm, cheerful friends drinking warming and cheering red wine and eating my favorite pasta—I didn’t have to come all this way to get laid!”
With one hand holding the cat and the other held out in front of her, she made her way cautiously across the room, using the window as a guide. The opposite wall came sooner than she thought, and she banged her hand sharply on the wooden door. He might have told me it was a very small room, she grumbled, rubbing her knuckles. She ran her hand down the wall on the right and felt the cold metal plate of the light switch. There it was! Thankfully, India pressed the small button, flooding the room with light, grinning as she heard a faint cheer from Fabrizio outside.
She glanced at the cat, still clinging to her shoulder. He was as black as the night outside, his fur shiny and gleaming—unlike hers! She stared with horror at her sodden fox jacket. And her new “country tweeds,” bought especially for the occasion—nobody had told her that when tweed got wet it drooped!
Sighing, India put down the cat and opened the door. She couldn’t see a light switch, but there was sufficient glow from the open pantry door to negotiate the terracotta-tiled corridor. The cat skipped ahead of her, waiting while she struggled with the lock and lifted the heavy wooden bar that served as a bolt.
“Got it,” she announced triumphantly, flinging open the door.
The cat shot into the night as Fabrizio marched into the house, water dripping from his hair and his coat.
They stared at each other in silence for a minute, and despite herself India began to laugh again. “I’m sorry, Fabrizio, but you look so funny—like someone who fell into a pond.”
“You should take a look at yourself,” he retorted with a grin. “You look like a drowned poodle. For God’s sake, take off that jacket.”
Clutching their wet coats they made their way back down the corridor and through a door at the far end.
“Wait here,” he called. “I’ll turn on the lights.”
The hall felt chilly as she waited, and India shivered. What wouldn’t she give for a hot bath right now! The room appeared first in a muted glow and then brighter as Fabrizio turned up the dimmers. India glanced up to the frescoed ceiling, where naked nymphs floated on fluffy clouds in a bright blue sky.
“Those nymphs must be freezing,” she called. “It feels below zero in here.”
“Wait a minute.” Fabrizio disappeared through a doorway, emerging a few moments later clutching a bottle of brandy and two glasses. “Come on,” he said, “we’re going upstairs.”
“How about a touch of central heating?” India’s teeth were chattering as she followed him up the broad curving staircase that at any other time she would have paused to admire.
“This is your central heating,” called Fabrizio, waving the bottle. “Don’t worry, you’ll soon be warm.”
“Here we are.” He flung open a door and pressed the switch that turned on the peach-shaded lamps.
It was, thought India, the most perfect cozy cave of a room. The walls were hung