The Forced Bride (10 page)

‘They say revenge is sweet.’ He shrugged a shoulder. ‘Perhaps, tonight, we will both discover if that is true.’

‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t do this. You—you don’t really want me. You know that. And you’ve punished

me enough already. So just—let me go.’

‘Without having tasted the pleasures of marriage’ Raf said mockingly. ‘I don’t think so, my sweet wife. There are so few

novelties in life, after all.’

She drew an uneven breath. ‘You’ll make me hate you.’

‘But I thought you already did,mia cara ,’ he said. ‘So what have I to lose’ He paused, fingering the collar of her

nightgown. ‘Now, which of us is it to be’ he questioned softly.

‘I’m not taking it off!’ she flared.

‘As you wish.’ As he began to unfasten the buttons, Emily made a grab for his hand, intending to sink her teeth into it.

But he was too quick for her. ‘Wildcat,’ he accused, laughing, as he captured both her wrists with one lean hand and

raised them above her head so that she was helpless. ‘If you wish to bite me, Emiliamia , then I will gladly show you how

and—where. But later. For now, my attention is fully occupied with these buttons, as I refuse to make love to you in

this—tent.’

She stared up at him, her eyes enormous in her pale face. She said unevenly, ‘How dare you use the word “love”’

‘What would you prefer’ Raf asked, as the last button gave way.

‘Some Anglo-Saxon crudity’ His shrug was cynical. ‘You will find it all means much the same thing.’

‘You are vile,’ she said passionately.

‘You would naturally think so.’

He released her wrists, but only so that he could whip her nightgown over her head with a speed and deftness that

appalled her and toss it to the floor beside the bed.

She tried to pull the duvet up to her chin, but Raf forestalled her.

He said quietly, ‘No,mi amore , I wish to look at you,’ and threw back the covers so that she too was naked in the

lamplight.

Emily turned her head away blindly, digging her nails into the palms of her hands.

If I don’t look at him, she thought with a kind of desperation, if I don’t see him looking at me, I can pretend that this—this

isn’t happening.

And I can bear it—somehow, especially if I think about something else.

She began to count in her head and had reached twenty before he spoke again.

‘Your body is like moonlight,carissima . Lovelier even than my dreams of you.’

‘Am I supposed to be flattered’ She still didn’t look at him.

‘You don’t wish to be told you are desirable’ He captured her chin, turning her to face him in spite of her resistance.

‘Only by the man I love,’ she said defiantly.

The dark brows lifted. ‘Dio, you still care about him, after what he has done You astonish me.’

‘He must have been truly desperate,’ she said. ‘You—you have no idea what it’s like to be without money. You’ve

always led this pampered life, with everyone dancing to your tune.’

‘You except yourself, do you, from this ludicrous generalisation’ The note in his voice was almost one of disdain.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Because I danced too—when I was fool enough to marry you—and to think I could trust you when you

said you wouldn’t touch me unless I—wished it.’

His smile was wry. ‘Perhaps I thought that, in time, you might change your mind.’

‘Then you were wrong.’ She was agonisingly conscious that he was propped on an elbow, his hazel eyes still intent on her

exposed body, and that she felt not only horribly embarrassed by his continued scrutiny, butvulnerable . ‘May I cover

myself’ she requested curtly.

‘No,mia bella , not yet.’

‘But it’s cold.’

He smiled at her. ‘Then move closer,’ he invited.

She bit her lip. ‘Well—at least turn out the light.’

‘Later,’ he said. ‘When it is time for us to sleep. But for now…’

He bent and found her mouth with his.

It was the first time their lips had met since that night at the Manor, when she’d gone into his arms believing he was

Simon.

Now the familiarity of his kiss shocked her. Scared her too. Even after all this time she suddenly found herself

remembering the taste of him—the warm subtle scent of his skin.

Above all, his gentleness.

And it seemed that nothing had changed.

His lips were light but sensuous as they caressed hers, teasing the soft contours with unhurried persuasion. At the same

time, his fingertips were stroking her neck, exploring the hollow beneath her ear and lingering at the base of her throat

where the pulse leapt at his touch.

Emily was aware of a strange languor starting to permeate her senses while, deep within her, she felt a faint stirring, like

the flutter of a butterfly wing or the slow unfurling of a rosebud.

She heard a small cold voice in her head whisper, So this is seduction.

And knew she was in real danger here.

Because Raf was a master of the game. He’d come here for her surrender and he would be satisfied with nothing less. At

the same time, he would consider this initiation of his virgin bride no real contest for him. A foregone conclusion for

someone of his experience. And that, before the night was over, she would be clinging to him, begging for more.

But she would make him think again, she told herself fiercely. Because she would fight him with every weapon she

possessed—using her pride, her anger and her stubborn will to subdue her emotions—and especially that first kindling of

unwanted sexual awareness that she’d just encountered.

She knew she would not prevent his physical possession of her. To struggle would be useless and demeaning. But she

would make sure that his was a sterile victory—devoid of the response he would regard as his right. She had boasted to

herself that she was immune to him. Now she would prove it by any means available. Retreat to some part of her mind

where he could not reach her.

And she began to count to twenty all over again…

Raf allowed his kiss to deepen fractionally, took his mouth from hers for a heartbeat, then kissed her again, running the tip

of his tongue delicately along the line of her lips, coaxing them to part for him. But they remained closed and unyielding.

He raised his head and looked down at her. ‘No’ he asked on a note of mild curiosity.

She said nothing, just stared back with hostile defiant eyes.

His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘Definitely—no,’ he murmured and drew her more closely into his arms.

Phase Two, thought Emily, and was tempted to say so aloud.

Only then his hand moved down to her breast, cupping its softness in his palm while his fingers played with her nipple in

an enticement as pleasurable as it was calculated.

And for one blind, greedy moment she lost the power of speech along with the ability to think rationally. Her brain was in

free fall, her body startled—pierced by a need she’d never known before—or even suspected could exist.

Then he bent and took one swollen rosy peak between his lips, stroking it delicately with his tongue, and as delight lanced

through her she felt him smile against her skin.

And, with that, sanity returned, stifling the tiny moan in her throat. Oh, God, he was so sure of her, she thought with

shock. So convinced that her inexperienced body would respond with gratitude and joy to this cynical exercise in sexual

control.

Oh, why couldn’t he have assuaged his anger with some hasty, meaningless coupling, roughly accomplished, that would

have fed her own resentment

But he would never do that. Not when he knew so well how to tantalise and arouse, an ability he’d undoubtedly learned

with so many other women, in so many other beds.

But not hers, she told herself with renewed and savage resolve. Never in hers.

Because she did not have to be at the mercy of her senses. She did not have to allow him to win.

Deliberately, she sank her teeth into her lower lip until she tasted blood, using the sharpness of the pain to distract her

from the sensual drift of his mouth and hands over her body, the unexpected incitement of his aroused nakedness against

her skin.

It would be so easy to yield, she realised, staring up at the ceiling over his shoulder and making herself count the beams.

So easy and so fatal.

Because of him, all her dreams of a happy future life had been wrecked. Therefore she would deny him too.

Although she could not so easily control her own physicality, she realised with dismay, as the aching, melting sensation

between her legs could attest.

Not even Simon, whom she’d loved, had ever induced this kind of reaction from her—made her feel as if she was about

to vanish over the edge of the world.

Nor would she be able to hide it from Raf for much longer, because his knee was between hers, gently coaxing them

apart, so that his sensuously exploring hands could gain the intimate access to her body that they sought.

As he began, softly and rhythmically, to caress the secret places of her womanhood, Emily tensed into rigidity, closing her

eyes so tightly that coloured sparks danced behind her lids. But when he found the tiniest, most sensitive spot and started

to circle it gently with a fingertip, she almost cried out under the force of the sensations he was creating. Realised that her

iron determination was almost ready to collapse.

Frantically, she began to recite her twelve times table, verses of poetry she’d learned at school, even her Christmas card

list—anything—anything—that would help her withstand the witchcraft of his touch and break the web of sensual promise

he was weaving round her. Concentrating with such fierceness that she almost stopped breathing.

‘Emilia.’ His voice seemed to reach her from a great distance and she opened unwilling eyes and looked at him.

The caressing hand had stilled. Indeed, he wasn’t touching her at all, but was propped up on a elbow, studying her, the

hazel eyes hooded.

He said unsmilingly, ‘I feel I am boring you,carissima . If it is true, do not hesitate to say so, or tell me if there is some

other way I might please you more.’

‘I just want you to leave me alone,’ she said raggedly. ‘Nothing else. Can’t you understand that’’

He shrugged. ‘Your body does not seem to agree. Continue your passive resistance, if you must, but I still intend to make

you my wife. However, it would be easier for both of us if you were to—co-operate a little.’ He paused. ‘Would it be so

impossible to return my kisses—perhaps even to touch me’

‘Anything you want from me,signore , you will have to take.’ Her voice was quiet and clear. ‘I’ll give you nothing. Not

now—not ever.

‘Nor will I forgive you for breaking the promise you made on our wedding night,’ she added huskily.

He moved then, taking her by the shoulders and jerking her towards him, crushing her breasts against his chest as his

mouth took hers in a bruising kiss that was in total contrast to his earlier consideration.

She was gasping for breath, when he released her, allowing her to fall back against the pillows.

‘This is our wedding night,’ he said softly. ‘Here and now. And I will mark it with another promise to you,mia cara .

‘I swear that there will come a time—some day, some night soon—when you will desire me as much as I want you now.

‘And then, may God help you.’

He turned away, stretching down for his robe on the floor beside the bed. And, for a moment, with an odd jump of her

heart, Emily thought he was leaving.

But as he straightened, she realised that he’d only been reaching for the protection he intended to use.

He saw her eyes widen and said icily, ‘Our marriage has no permanent basis, Emilia. It follows, therefore, that there can

be no risk of a child.’

He positioned himself so that she could feel the hardness and strength of him pressing against the junction of her thighs.

And the breath caught in her throat.

‘Relax a little,’ he directed. ‘Or I may hurt you.’

‘Hurt me then,’ she flung at him. ‘Do you think I care’

As his mouth tightened in frustration and his eyes glittered with sudden anger, she knew a brief, almost savage satisfaction.

Then he moved fractionally and entered her.

He paused, drawing a deep breath. He said quietly, ‘Bend your knees.’ And it suddenly seemed wiser to obey.

He took her slowly, easing his way into her, his eyes never leaving her face. She lay very still, staring past him, her

clenched fist pressed against her mouth, bracing herself mentally. But there was no pain. And, instead, out of nowhere,

she found she wanted very badly to cry. But did not.

Because there was nothing to cry about. She’d endured—hadn’t she—the worst he could do to her and it would soon be

over.

She began repeating, Soon—over soon, inside her head like a mantra.

For a moment he too was motionless, as if he were waiting for something, then he said huskily, ‘I would have given you

the world, Emilia,’ and began to thrust his way to climax in long, powerful strokes.

Yet, in spite of everything, as she lay beneath him, waiting for him to finish with her, Emily became aware of one

infinitesimal, bewildered moment when the stark driving force of his body seemed to trigger a tiny echo of response that

flickered uncertainly somewhere in the depths of her being, but was immediately extinguished.

And, even as her throat tightened in shock, she felt his movements quicken almost to frenzy until, at the last, he cried out

and was still.

Emily remained where she was too, because she had no other choice with Raf slumped on top of her, the dark

dishevelled head pillowed on her small breasts.