Kitabı oku: «Sweet Revenge», sayfa 7

CHAPTER NINE

SHANNAY WOKE to the muted sound of the shower running, registered the large bed, the rumpled sheets … and closed her eyes in automatic reflex as memory provided a vivid image of what had transpired through the night and with whom.

If there was the slightest edge of doubt, her body bore numerous signs to disprove it. Not the least of which was the need to shower and retreat to her room to dress.

Nicki.

She reached out and checked her discarded watch, then let out her indrawn breath. Six. It was only six o’clock. Nicki rarely stirred before seven.

The shower ceased, and she hurriedly tossed back the covers and slid from the bed.

Where was her T-shirt? A hasty glance over the floor revealed nothing. Had Marcello picked it up?

Oh, hell, surely not Maria? At this early hour, the likelihood was so remote it was immediately dismissed.

So where the devil was it? She required something to cover her nudity, and she crossed to Marcello’s walk-in wardrobe, selected the first shirt her fingers touched, slid an arm into each sleeve, then re-emerged into the bedroom at the same time Marcello emerged from the en suite with a towel hitched at his hips.

Broad shoulders, expanse of naked chest, the fluid flex of muscle as he towelled his hair dry, powerful thighs.

There was no chance she could escape before he saw her, and almost as if he sensed her presence he lowered his arms.

A slow smile curved his generous mouth as he caught her drinking in the sight of him, and his lips curved as her gaze slithered to a point near the vicinity of his left shoulder.

‘Buenos dias.’ His voice was a husky, intimate drawl as he crossed to stand within touching distance, and she was powerless to prevent the descent of his head as he covered her mouth with his own in a slow, evocative kiss.

Her eyes dilated with a conflicting mix of emotions as he lifted his mouth fractionally from her own, and he had no trouble determining each and every one of them.

‘Marcello—’

He cut off the tumble of words by the simple expediency of brushing his lips over hers … and sensed rather than heard her soft moan in protest as it remained locked in her throat.

Her eyelids drifted down, only to spring open again seconds later as his hand cupped her breast and teased the tender peak before slipping down over her abdomen to the soft curls at the apex of her thighs.

His touch was incredibly gentle as he stroked the sensitive bud still acutely responsive from his attention, and he absorbed the slight hitch in her breath as he sent her spiralling to climax, then he held her until the spasms diminished.

For a moment the past didn’t exist as he brushed his lips to each closed eyelid in turn before releasing her.

‘Great fashion accessory, mi mujer.’ He ran a finger down the shirt’s open edge, his gleaming gaze locking with hers. ‘Although I prefer you without it.’

Shannay dragged the edges together in a delayed sense of modesty as she turned away from him.

He waited until she reached the door, then cautioned quietly, ‘From now on you sleep here with me.’

She didn’t answer, for she was unable to find the words in acquiescence or argument as she turned the door-handle and walked from the room.

It was a relief to discover Nicki still fast asleep, and she quickly showered, then dressed in a gypsy-style skirt in shades of brown and a fashionable top, dried her hair, caught it in a casual twist and anchored it with a wide hinged clip, added lipgloss, then heard her daughter begin to stir.

Breakfast was a convivial meal eaten out on the glass-enclosed terrace, and Shannay endeavoured to focus on Nicki’s excited conversation with Marcello on learning they were to experience the Aquopolis theme park after their morning visit with Ramon.

Something she achieved with difficulty, given the distraction provided by Marcello’s presence directly opposite.

If she looked at him, her eyes betrayed her as they settled briefly on his mouth, and recalled vividly its erotic tasting. How his hands had explored her body and gifted untold pleasure. And, ultimately, the sex.

Mind-blowing electrifying passion that liquefied her bones and made her his more thoroughly than any words he might offer.

It shouldn’t have happened.

She should have done more than utter a weak-willed protest, then given in to the provocative power of his touch and its pagan promise to banish her restraint.

Worse, allow him to lead her through intoxicating desire to join him again and again in mesmeric primitive climax.

His possession had made her acutely aware of sensitive tissues, and she could still feel the slight throb deep within resulting from his sexual presence.

It was … entrancing, consuming, and made her supremely conscious of what they’d shared. And would again.

Unless she chose to deny him.

Except denying him meant also denying herself, and she hated the disruptive annihilating need he generated in her with such ease.

‘Mummy, you’re not listening.’

Shannay summoned a smile and avoided meeting Marcello’s gaze as she gave Nicki her whole attention.

She knew what he would see, and she refused to allow him the benefit of reading her mind, for he managed to divine her innermost thoughts despite her efforts to the contrary.

‘We need to pack swimming gear for the visit to Aquopolis?’ She hazarded the guess, and heard his faint chuckle at Nicki’s audible sigh.

‘Daddy says we can take a picnic to another park. Not tomorrow, but the day after.’

‘That sounds lovely, darling.’ She noticed her daughter’s empty cereal bowl. ‘What would you like on your toast?’

A return to the prosaic might have fooled Nicki, but she doubted the man seated opposite was under any such illusion, and it was a relief to temporarily escape when the meal concluded.

Ramon appeared to have faded slightly, his air of fragility a little more pronounced, yet his smile was warm and his eyes displayed delight as Nicki greeted him with affection.

Their visit was brief, on medical advice, for he seemed to tire more easily with each passing day.

Aquopolis proved to be a wonderful attraction, with plenty of fun to keep Nicki enthralled for several hours, for there were slides and numerous water features. Add a picnic lunch, and their daughter pronounced it heaven.

It was late when they left, and Nicki barely made it through her bath and a light evening meal before falling asleep within seconds of her head touching the pillow.

Shannay retreated to her suite to shower and change for dinner … only to discover her clothes reposing in the capacious wardrobe were no longer there.

The few drawers into which she’d stowed some personal items were now empty, and when she examined the adjoining en suite, all of her toiletries and make-up had been removed.

Marcello?

Or Maria, acting on his instructions?

Whatever … transferring her and her belongings to the master suite wasn’t going to happen.

One night’s transgression was enough.

There wasn’t going to be a repeat.

With that in mind, she walked the gallery to his suite and entered without bothering to knock.

The shower was running, and she quickly crossed to the second walk-in wardrobe, retrieved her clothing and tossed it onto the bed, then she gathered up her personal items and transferred them to her room further along the gallery before returning to clear what remained.

Drawers she’d utilised in the past held everything she needed, and she was in the process of scooping them out when a deep, drawling voice momentarily arrested the movement of her hands.

‘Looking for something?’

She took a few seconds to draw a deep breath, then she turned to face him, hating the sudden traitorous curl unfurling deep inside at the sight of his near-naked frame.

‘I’m not moving into your room.’

Marcello slanted an eyebrow. ‘You’d prefer me to move into yours?’

Shannay wasn’t deceived by his even tone. ‘No.’

‘Then we have a problem.’

‘No, we don’t.’

‘You intend to slink in here in the dead of night and leave at dawn?’

She tilted her chin and sent him a steady look. ‘Last night was—’

‘An aberration? A mistake?’ The dangerous silkiness in his voice took hold of her nerve-ends and tugged a little.

‘We each became carried away and indulged ourselves with sex?’

A sudden lump rose in her throat, and she attempted to swallow it in order to speak. ‘Yes.’

‘Justify the night however you choose. It doesn’t change where you’ll sleep.’

He watched the colour leave her cheeks, and hardened his heart. ‘The bed’s large, and sex,’ he gave the word a faint emphasis, ‘won’t be on the menu unless you choose for it to be.’

Share the same bed, lie within touching distance … ‘You have to be joking!’

‘No.’ He turned and moved towards his walk-in wardrobe. ‘I’m going to dress for dinner.’ He paused fractionally.

‘Transfer everything to your room, if that’s what you want. But if you go to bed there, you’ll wake up in mine.’

Shannay merely glared at him and marched into the en suite, where she stripped off her clothes and took a long, hot shower in the hope it might help diminish her anger.

OK, so it was war, she declared silently as she dried off with a towel, then she wound it sarong-style around her body, secured it above her breasts and re-entered the bedroom.

Marcello caught the heat of battle apparent, and veiled his eyes against a faint gleam of humour as he rolled back his shirt-cuffs, then slid his feet into comfortable leather loafers.

‘Did anyone tell you you’re impossible?’

He had the satisfaction of offering—’Touché.’

She bore the look of someone much younger than her years with unbrushed hair and features free of make-up.

He restrained the desire to cross the room, dispense with the towel and kiss her senseless.

The fact he could provided a degree of satisfaction.

‘Maria has dinner waiting.’

Shannay almost told him precisely what he could do with dinner, except she didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead she extracted fresh underwear from a drawer, caught up a dress, then disappeared into the en suite again.

In an act of defiance she took longer than necessary, and emerged to discover he was conversing in French on his cellphone.

She selected a pair of heeled sandals and secured the straps.

‘Problems?’ she queried sweetly as he closed the connection.

‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

‘How … eminently satisfying to be the epitome of professionalism.’

He almost laughed, for she was unlike any woman he knew. ‘Shall we adjourn downstairs?’

‘Oh, by all means, let’s adjourn.’

Sassy, definitely sassy. He wondered if she’d be quite so brave when they returned upstairs to retire for the night.

Maria had excelled herself, providing a rice pilaf to die for, a fresh salad, with a fruit flan for dessert.

‘I’d like to take Nicki into the city tomorrow afternoon,’ Shannay declared as she poured coffee, and made tea for herself.

‘A shop-till-you-drop mission?’

She shook her head. ‘Some small gifts to take home for a few of her friends. Something special for Anna.’

‘On the condition both Carlo and I accompany you.’

‘We could take the metro.’

‘No.’

‘A limousine and a bodyguard?’ she queried with intentional mockery, and met his studied gaze.

‘A necessary precaution.’

The Martinez billions were tied up in numerous corporations throughout the world. It was a given Marcello’s personal fortune had escalated dramatically over the past four years.

So many assets. Yet only a few knew the extent of the Martinez benevolence to various charities, the hospitals they’d funded in third world countries.

It made the family a target. At risk from the insurgents who hated wealth and all it represented. The beautiful people who appeared to have everything while the less fortunate lived in tenements and fought for food.

During the two years of her marriage she’d given tirelessly of her time to help Penè organise events for charity, frequently suffering the older woman’s acerbic tongue and endless criticism as they worked together.

Possibly Ramon’s daughter saw it as a necessity to figuratively strengthen the spine of her nephew’s wife, and her manner had achieved that, not without some resentment and restrained anger on Shannay’s part at the time.

‘If you insist,’ Shannay conceded, aware that to argue with him over the protection issue was a waste of time. ‘On the condition you allow me to judge what purchases are bought. I won’t have Nicki acquire an inflated sense of her own importance and become a spoilt little madam.’

Marcello inclined his head. ‘We’ll drive into the city after visiting with Ramon.’

‘Thank you.’

She finished her tea, then she transferred everything from the table onto a mobile trolley and wheeled it into the kitchen. It took only minutes to stow food into the refrigerator and stack the dishwasher.

‘I need to make a few international calls, send some emails,’ Marcello informed as she returned to the dining room.

Good. With luck she’d be asleep in her room by the time he came upstairs.

As a plan, it worked very well. Except she failed to take into consideration he’d carry through with his threat.

For she came sharply awake as her room was flooded with light, followed seconds later by firm hands lifting her effortlessly against a hard male chest as Marcello calmly carried her along the gallery to the master suite.

‘You fiend.’ The accusation came out as a strangled whisper as she clenched a fist and thumped it against his shoulder.

An action which had no effect whatsoever, and she angled her head, then sank her teeth into hard muscle, heard his indrawn breath and then yelped as he closed the door behind him with one hand and released her to stand on the floor.

‘Get into bed.’ His voice was a silken drawl. ‘And shut that sassy mouth, before I’m tempted to shut it for you.’

She cast him a furious look that should have withered him on the spot. ‘Go to hell.’

Without a further word he hefted her over one shoulder and crossed to the bed, then he slid between the covers, placed her struggling body firmly to one side and curved his own around her.

A simple movement and the light was extinguished, and she lay there fuming, desperately wanting to fight, but aware precisely what it would lead to if she did.

‘Go to sleep.’

Sure. That was likely!

Held close against him, absorbing his body heat, and attempting to ignore the intense sensuality apparent?

As if sleep was going to happen any time soon!

Yet the day’s events coupled with the previous night finally caught up with her, and the last thing she remembered was feeling … safe.

CHAPTER TEN

THE ENSUING FEW DAYS followed a similar pattern with morning visits with Ramon, followed by an outing for Nicki’s benefit with Carlo in attendance.

Together they spent hours at the Warner Bros Park at San Martin de la Vega, and, perhaps the most exciting of all, the Parque de Atracciones.

A magical time for a child, Shannay accorded indulgently as Nicki fell asleep each night before the first page was turned of her bedtime story.

As to the nights … Attempting to sleep in her own suite, only to find herself waking in Marcello’s bed, became an exercise in futility. Accepting she was no match for her husband irked unbearably.

Eventually she admitted defeat and slid into his bed at the end of another tiring day.

Where she stayed. Not, she assured herself, because she wanted to … merely to prove she could lie within touching distance and sleep … eventually.

She just wickedly hoped he suffered.

As she did, when he gathered her close … yet made no further move. A hand that slid to her breast … and remained still. Or rested on her hip, and stayed there.

Was he deliberately testing her?

Maybe she should respond in kind and test him.

Except such a move could be tricky. What if he divined it as an indicative sanction for sex?

Then she would not only lose the battle, she’d also lose the war.

And that would never do.

The weekend brought Marcello’s obligatory attendance at a gala event lauded by the city’s scions.

Invitation only, black tie, and Shannay was apprised of the need to wear something stunning by Penè, who had stopped by the mansion to visit Nicki.

The unspoken message was very clear, and racked up Shannay’s nervous tension to unbelievable heights during a shopping expedition the day before with Marcello’s aunt in attendance for the gown, stilettos and accessories.

It was an indisputable fact that Penè knew fashion as they progressed from one boutique to another, and they eventually settled on a dream of a gown by Armani in pale peach and apricot silk chiffon. Full-length, the skirt was cut on the bias and bore a clever bias-cut overlay in peach over apricot. A silk chiffon stole added an extra elegance, and Shannay could only applaud Penè’s selection.

Exquisite evening sandals and matching evening bag were added to the growing collection Carlo stowed in the back of the Porsche.

Penè was in her element, clearly revelling in playing the grande dame with the various vendeuses, and enjoying their obsequious attention.

Shannay found it all a bit much as the evening closing hours drew near.

‘Minimum jewellery,’ Marcello’s aunt stated. ‘The gown requires little enhancement. Your hair should be confined in a sleek style, definitely not loose. Understated make-up with emphasis on the eyes and mouth.’

‘I agree.’

‘You look peaky.’ Penè eyes were piercing above her patrician nose. ‘Is my nephew keeping you awake nights?’

Oh, my. A yes or no would be an equally incriminating response.

The look sharpened. ‘Are you pregnant?’

Now that was a definite negative. ‘No.’

‘You should have another child,’ Penè said bluntly. ‘Marcello needs a son to take the Martinez name into the next generation.’

She couldn’t help herself. ‘He already has a daughter.’

‘A son,’ Penè insisted imperiously. ‘Named Ramon, in honour of my father.’

‘What if I were to consider filing for divorce?’ She chose not to reveal she’d already set the legalities in motion.

‘Divorce for a Martinez isn’t an option. Marcello would refuse to countenance such a thing.’ She looked suitably astonished. ‘Foolish girl. What are you thinking? He can give you everything you desire.’

Except the one thing I want.

His heart.

I gave him mine, unconditionally … only to discover he didn’t value it.

‘I think we’re done,’ Shannay said aloud. She even managed a faint smile as Carlo added another emblem-emblazoned designer bag to their mounting collection.

Carlo delivered Penè to Ramon’s residence, then continued to La Moraleja.

Nicki was tucked in bed with Marcello seated on its edge as he read from a storybook when Shannay entered the bedroom.

Attired in black jeans and a black chambray shirt, he looked totally at ease, and she tamped down the emotional reaction stirring deep within at the mere sight of him.

Pheronomes, intense sexual awareness … it was attraction at its most dangerous, and need, basic and earthy, pulsed through her body.

She remembered only too well when she had only to look at him to witness the secret promise in those dark eyes, and know how the night would end … as it almost always did.

A time when they couldn’t get enough of each other.

Until the doubts crept in, and everything began to change.

‘Mummy!’

There was time out for a mutual kiss and a hug before Nicki settled back against the pillow.

‘Daddy and me went swimming in the pool. And I’ve had dinner and a bath.’ Brown eyes widened. ‘And I cleaned my teeth.’

‘Well done,’ Shannay said with warmth, including both man and child, and incurred a studied appraisal. ‘Thanks,’ she added quietly.

‘No problem.’ He glimpsed the faint edge of pain, the aftermath of several hours in Penè’s company. ‘A productive afternoon?’

‘I’m sure we maxed your credit card.’

A faint smile tugged the edges of his mouth. ‘Doubtful.’

Yes, she supposed it was, and she added— ‘Thank you. Penè’s help was invaluable.’

But tiring, he deduced, all too aware of his aunt’s incessant need to constantly verbalise with an opinion on everything in an often uncompromising manner.

‘Can I see what you bought?’

Marcello leant forward and lightly touched Nicki’s cheek. ‘In the morning, pequena. Now let’s find out what happens to Cinderella, shall we?’

‘She goes to the ball and comes home in a pumpkin,’ Nicki relayed solemnly, and Marcello smiled.

‘I think you’ve heard this story before.’

‘It’s my favourite.’

One of many, Shannay reflected as she sat down on the opposite side of the bed while Marcello finished reading, by which time Nicki had fallen asleep, and Shannay turned down the light and preceded him from the room.

‘I’ll go change, then meet you downstairs.’ The thought of food held little appeal. Given a choice she’d prefer to eat at the time of the late-afternoon merienda, as Nicki did.

A quick shower proved refreshing, and she slipped into dress jeans, pulled on a short-sleeved rib-knit top in a deep coral, twisted her hair into a loose knot, then added lipgloss.

Dinner comprised a light omelette with salad, followed by fresh fruit, during the eating of which they caught up on their individual afternoon activities.

‘Penè was suitably restrained?’

Shannay took a careful sip of water and replaced the glass down onto the table before directing Marcello a pensive look.

‘You want polite?’

He pushed his plate to one side and viewed her with speculative interest. ‘I’m very familiar with my aunt’s penchant for plain speaking.’

‘In essence, I’m peaky … the cause of which must be you keeping me awake nights, or I’m pregnant. Preferably the latter, as it’s my duty to provide you with another child. A son.’

Marcello sank back in his chair. ‘I’m intrigued to hear your response.’

‘Let’s just say it invoked the reminder a Martinez would never countenance divorce.’

His eyes seared her own. ‘You can have whatever you want, Shannay … with one exception. A divorce.’

A sudden lump rose in her throat, and she swallowed it carefully. ‘I don’t want gifts, haute couture or a high-profile social life. They mean nothing to me. They never did.’

‘Yet we share the gift of a child.’

‘The one thing I won’t let you take away from me,’ Shannay vowed with renewed fervour, and something flickered in the depths of his eyes before it was successfully masked.

‘It was never my intention to do so.’

‘Yet you’d consign us both to a convenient marriage where we maintain a façade in public?’ Her eyes darkened, and pain curled deep inside. ‘For what purpose, Marcello?’ She drew in a slightly ragged breath. ‘Revenge … because I didn’t inform you of Nicki’s existence?’

‘Is that what you think?’

‘I think you’re playing a game,’ she flung, sorely tried as she rose to her feet.

Dignity and pride. She possessed both, and she walked away from him without a further glance, uncaring whether he followed or not.

Sleep proved elusive, and she tossed and turned, only to slip out of bed and take something to ease a tension headache.

Eventually she must have slept, for she came awake aware she was no longer in her own bed, but held in strong masculine arms as Marcello traversed the dimly lit gallery en route to his own suite.

‘Put me down!’ Her voice was little more than a sibilant hiss as she struggled against him.

Without success, and she balled a fist and lashed out uncaring as to where it landed.

In a matter of seconds he entered the suite, closed the door behind him, then released her down to stand in front of him.

Shannay glared at him in open defiance, hating him in that instant as she ignored the darkness evident in his eyes and the bunched muscle at the edge of his jaw.

‘This is ridiculous. You’re impossible!’ She released a growl of frustration.

‘That’s the best you can do?’

She ignored his indolent drawl, the waiting, watching quality in his stance … and launched into a barely restrained diatribe that used every emotive adjective she could recall.

One eyebrow slanted as she came to a halt, and he posed silkily, ‘You’re done?’

‘Yes, dammit!’

‘Good.’

He captured her shoulders and drew her in, then he closed his mouth over her own, took all the fiery heat and tamed it, ignoring her flailing fists as they faltered and fell to her sides.

He wanted her unbidden response, and deliberately sought it, sensing the low groan deep in her throat as she fought against capitulation. Followed soon after by the involuntary slide of her tongue against his own, the sudden hitch in her breath as she angled her head and allowed him free access.

One hand slid to her nape, while the other moved down her back, bunched the oversized T-shirt and slipped beneath the cotton fabric to cup and gently squeeze her bottom.

His body tightened unbearably and he lifted her, eased her thighs apart, then positioned her to accept his fully aroused length as he eased into the slick, welcoming heat, heard her faint sigh … and surged in to the hilt.

Then it was his turn to bite back a guttural sound as her vaginal muscles enclosed him, and he began to move, creating a rhythm that sent them both high until they reached the brink, then soared together in a shattering climax.

At some stage Marcello had dispensed with her T-shirt, although she had no recollection of when, only that she was naked in his arms and his lips were tantalising hers, nibbling and teasing until she held fast his head and kissed him with such exquisite eroticism he was hard-pressed not to take her again.

Instead he crossed to the bed, eased down onto his back with her sitting astride him.

Her mouth was softly swollen, and his eyes darkened as she lifted both hands and tucked her hair behind each ear. The movement lifted her breasts, and he traced their soft curves, teased the tender peaks … and watched her eyes glaze over.

They were both at each other’s mercy, and she shifted deliberately, glimpsed the increasing darkness apparent in his gleaming gaze, then she gave a startled cry as he brought her down and took one tender peak into his mouth.

Intense pleasure spiralled through her body as he suckled, and a warning hiss escaped from her lips as he caught the swollen bud between his teeth and rolled it to the point beyond pleasure to the imminent edge of pain.

It made her acutely vulnerable, and she opened her mouth to plead with him, only for the pressure to ease as he soothed the tender peak.

Then he wrapped his arms around her slender frame and rolled until she lay beneath him. For a moment he drank in the sight of her, the wildness of her hair, the sensual glow warming her skin, and the magical passion they shared.

She moistened her lips, and he drove into her only to almost withdraw before repeating the action again and again, increasing the intensity of the rhythm until she joined him in a climax more shattering than the first.

Afterwards he gathered her close and rested his lips against her temple in the lazy afterglow of spent passion.

Shannay was close to sleep when he manoeuvred her onto her tummy and began a wonderfully soothing massage of her neck and shoulders, easing out the kinks there before slipping down to knead her calf muscles and finally her feet.

His lips pressed a trail of light kisses over her leg, bit gently into the globe of her bottom, then eased up to her nape.

She turned into him and rested her mouth into the curve at the base of his throat, murmured something indistinct, then drifted into deep sleep.

The gala event held in one of the city’s splendid theatres appeared to be a sell-out, with numerous fashionistas vying for supremacy in designer gowns and exquisite jewellery.

The crème de la crème of Madrid society, patrons of the arts, who paid an exorbitant ticket price to attend the evening’s classical production.

In pairs, small groups, they gathered in the large foyer, and Shannay stood at Marcello’s side with a ready smile in place as guests mixed and mingled.

Tall, dark, impeccably groomed, his evening suit a perfect tailored fit, pristine white shirt and black bow-tie, he looked the epitome of the powerful, sophisticated male.

He stood out from the rest. Not so much for his attractive features or his clothing, but for the primitive aura he projected beneath the hard-muscled frame … a disruptive sensuality that threatened much and promised to deliver.

It drew women to him like bees to a honeypot, and there were those who simply adored to flirt, while a few made moves, subtle and not so subtle, to attract his attention.

In the early days of their marriage she’d hugged to her heart the knowledge he was hers, believing nothing and no one could harm what they shared.

How naive she had been!

‘Ah, there you are.’

Shannay turned and met Penè’s encompassing appraisal, caught the brief nod of approval and leant forward to bestow the obligatory air-kiss to each cheek.

‘How is Ramon?’

‘Fading. The physician expects him to lapse into a coma within the next few days. Sandro and Luisa are with him.’

Such an incredibly sad end for a man who had once headed the Martinez empire.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Shannay’s empathy was genuine, and Marcello’s aunt inclined her head in acknowledgment.

‘Tonight may well be the last public engagement at which the family appear. The usual mourning period will understandably be observed.’