The Forced Bride (19 page)

her completely—endlessly, making her achingly aware of every heated, throbbing inch of him.

Instinctively, she found she was lifting her slender legs to fasten round his waist, her hands clamping on his shoulders as he

began moving inside her with slow fierce thrusts. Realised, too, that she was discovering her first real response to him,

feeding in turn her own sexual appetite. Learning his rhythm—matching it equally in urgency without a thought of denial.

Aware of nothing except his mouth on hers and the deep sensual play of his tongue against hers, and, there—there—at

the joining of their bodies, the drive of his hard flesh into her own slick inner wetness, creating sensations deep within her

she had never dreamed could exist.

It was heaven. It was hell. It was agony and torment and pleasure beyond belief. A shifting kaleidoscope of feeling where

her mind was no longer capable of controlling her body.

Because he musn’t stop, she thought as the last semblance of rationality reeled into chaos.He must never stop . For, if he

did, she would die.

And yet there would be an end. She was aware of it, building up inside from some faint stirrings in the hidden depths of

her. Knew, somehow, that it was closing on her, gathering force and pace.

And, as if at some unspoken signal, Raf began to move faster, each stroke even deeper in intensity than the last. Urging

her on…

So that, suddenly, it was there, taking her, carrying her away like a great wave rolling in to the shore, and she was clinging

to him, her nails scoring his sweat-dampened shoulders, moaning in her throat like an animal in pain as she crashed,

shuddering, drowning, into spasm after spasm of pure ecstasy.

As her tightness convulsed gloriously, endlessly around him, Raf’s control snapped too and he cried out hoarsely as his

body exploded into hers.

When the last, wrenching shiver of pleasure was over and her body had found a kind of peace, Emily slumped forward,

sobbing helplessly as she buried her face against his throat. And he held her, murmuring to her in his own language.

Time passed. At some moment, she realised she was being carried across the room and lowered gently, until she felt the

softness of the fur rug against her damp skin. Became aware that he was lying beside her, propped on an elbow, his hand

gently stroking her body, making her feel as boneless and contented as a purring cat.

Eventually she made herself look at him directly. Tried to read something from the dark, enigmatic face. Attempted to

think of something she could say, but failed.

Making him the first one to speak, his fingertips still tracing delicate patterns across her flat stomach. He said quietly, ‘So,

now we both know, do we not’

He allowed a significant pause, then added flatly, ‘And in future you will never again pretend either to me, or to yourself,

that you do not want me. From now on, you share my bed when I wish and you do whatever I desire.Capisci ’

Shock lanced through her. He was telling her he’d won, she realised numbly, and, for him, that was all that mattered. Not

the rapture she thought they’d shared, which for him would be nothing new. After all, he was probably accustomed to

women left mindless and weeping in his arms after lovemaking.

‘Yes, I—understand.’ Her voice was husky.I understand only too well . ‘Is that—all you have to say’

He shrugged a shoulder. ‘What do you want to hear That I knew always there was fire beneath the ice, even if you

chose to deny it And that you were worth waiting for It is all true.’ There was a tinge of mockery in his voice. ‘You

exceeded my sweetest dreams,carissima .’

She didn’t really know what she’d hoped he might say. She only knew that he hadn’t said it and that there was a small

hard pain where her heart should have been.

She said evenly, ‘You left out—“for as long as I want”.’

‘How careless of me.’ His tone was light. ‘But perhaps I felt the reminder was unnecessary.’

In spite of the fire’s warmth, she suddenly felt very cold, so her shiver was involuntary.

She said in a low voice, ‘May I get dressed now, please’

‘When you owe me for all the lost pleasure of these past three years’ Raf shook his head almost in derision. ‘You have a

serious debt to pay,mia bella .’ His caressing hand moved. Became exquisitely specific. He saw her eyes widening,

darkening to emerald, and smiled ironically. ‘And, now that we have both recovered a little, I shall expect the next

instalment very soon,’ he added softly, and bent, taking one dusky rose nipple gently between his lips and bringing it to

throbbing arousal with the delicate flicker of his tongue.

She’d have given all she possessed to turn away from him. To revert to her former indifference. But it was far too late for

that. And, it seemed, he hadn’t been fooled anyway.

Besides, deep inside her, impossibly, incredibly, she already felt the inexorable tug of renewed desire.

Raf raised his head and looked at her. He said quite gently, ‘Precisamente. And I think, don’t you,cara , that we would

both be more comfortable if we pursued this matter in bed.’

He got lithely to his feet and extended his hand to her. She allowed his fingers to clasp hers, to draw her upwards. For a

moment, he stood looking down at her and Emily lowered her lashes, letting them veil the welter of confusion in her eyes.

She thought he was going to speak, but he said nothing. Instead, he simply led her to the stairs and she went without

protest, feeling her heartbeat quicken in an excitement and need that she was unable to control.

Wanting to die of shame, yet knowing, at the same time, that she was already far beyond it.

Because her body was now his, irrevocably, and for all time. And there was nothing she could do to change that, even

though she knew the time would inevitably come when he would want her no longer.

Then, as the bed received them and Raf took her in his arms, whispering her name against her eager mouth, all thinking

stopped.

The bath water was warm and deep and Emily sank into it gratefully. She felt drained and hollow, but, then, why wouldn’t

she after such a prolonged and intense lesson in the physical aspects of lovemaking she asked herself wryly.

Even now the merest recall of what had happened during the past few hours brought the blood soaring to her face.

She’d never imagined she could be capable of such abandonment, or that she could be brought over and over again to

such a pitch of frantic, exquisite delight.

Even to someone of her inexperience, it was clear that Raf had been incredibly generous and unselfish with her,

deliberately restraining his own satisfaction until hers had been achieved.

As, she realised, he would have done from the beginning—if she’d allowed it.

But that, of course, was the secret of his success with women, Emily thought, flinching. And something she needed to

keep at the forefront of her mind—the knowledge that she was far from the first to experience the sublime magic of his

hands and mouth on her skin, or the controlled male power of him sheathed inside her as he took her to the next

rapturous pinnacle.

And as she’d floated slowly back to reality, she’d heard him praising her softly, telling her how wonderful she was and

how beautiful. How she was his one desire.

Which, of course, was not the truth—not any of it, and she would be a fool to believe it—or even hope that it could be

so.

But what was one more folly amongst so many others

She’d left Raf sleeping, because, in spite of her own exhaustion, her mind was too restless to let her claim any kind of

oblivion beside him.

She’d paused for a moment at the side of the bed, looking down at him, his long lashes dark on his cheek, the firmness of

his mouth relaxed into a half-smile.

How could she ever have thought she didn’t want him she wondered sadly.

The temptation to bend and kiss him was almost overwhelming, but she controlled it, telling herself that he deserved his

rest, and, instead, slipped quietly away to bathe and wash her hair.

To make herself beautiful again for her lover, she thought ironically, as if she’d ever been more than reasonably attractive.

She had no illusions. She’d seen the thinly veiled surprise in people’s faces when she’d been introduced as his wife. Had

heard the unspoken question What does he see in her

Well, a challenge was the answer to that, she thought. But a challenge that didn’t exist any more, leaving her nowhere to

hide—not now she’d given herself in total surrender.

Yet wasn’t that what she’d always feared she asked herself, her throat tightening. Why she’d tried so desperately to

keep him at a distance Because she’d feared from the first that she would lose herself—her identity—any vestige of

independence—in so total a belonging

Not that he saw it that way.A serious debt …His words.

And when that debt was paid, what then

She submerged abruptly and came up gasping. Well, she knew the answer to that. She’d be ‘let go’ in the classic phrase

that meant she’d become redundant—surplus to requirements. Unnecessary in the cruelest way.

She’d been warned, of course. Raf had told her that he would make her want him, but that he’d show her no mercy when

it happened.

And I was so sure, she thought, that I could prove him wrong.

She got out of the bath and dried herself, then rubbed the worst of the moisture from her hair and brushed it on to her

shoulders.

Raf’s robe was hanging on the back of the bathroom door and, acting on impulse, she put it on. The scent of his cologne

still lingered in the folds of silk and she drew a deep breath, allowing herself a moment of sensuous reminiscence as she

secured the sash round her slender waist.

At the foot of the stairs she halted, looking round the living room, which was far from its usual pristine state. The fire had

died long ago and there were sofa cushions scattered on the floor, along with their discarded clothing.

And a strange sound in the quietness too. The noise, she realized, of raindrops beating against the window. The promised

thaw was here. And had been for hours, judging from the way the banks of snow were rapidly turning to slush.

I never realised, she thought, and her mouth curved into a reluctant grin. But, in Raf’s arms, I probably wouldn’t have

noticed if one of these mountains had turned into Mount Etna on a bad day.

And we can leave. If we want to. Yet perhaps I’d rather stay. Let the honeymoon go on.

She wandered into the kitchen and filled the kettle. She’d just put it on the stove when she heard the sound of an

approaching vehicle and saw Angus’s Jeep coming up the track, melting snow spraying from its tyres.

‘Oh, hell,’ Emily muttered and flew into the living room, snatching up sweaters, jeans, underwear and her skirt and

pushing them behind the sofa, before replacing its cushions. Giving the place at least a façade of respectability.

By the time Angus reached the door she had it open and was smiling brightly if breathlessly. ‘Oh, hi.’

His own expression was dour. Raf’s robe covered her from throat to ankles, but she still sensed disapproval. He was

carrying her discarded wellingtons.

‘I found these outside.’

‘Oh.’ She took them from him. ‘Well, thank you.’

‘Are you not feeling well’

Clearly, only being stricken by a passing virus could account for being in a dressing gown at this time of day.

‘I’m fine.’ Emily shrugged. ‘Just thought I’d—wash my hair.’

Clearly such eccentric behaviour was beyond him. He produced a sheaf of papers from an inside pocket of his parka.

‘Auntie asked me to bring these up to your man. They’re the answers to the emails he sent this morning. He usually

comes down for them in the afternoon, so she was a wee bit concerned.’

‘You mean there’s a computer at the shop’

‘Well, you should know,’ Angus said. ‘You must have made your booking on it.’

Emily bit her lip. ‘Why, yes, of course. I was forgetting.’ She paused. ‘But surely it belongs to your aunt. It can’t be for

general use.’

‘Your husband’s a friend of Mrs Albero, and she was a Lomax before she got married, it seems, so Auntie Maggie was

prepared to make a concession. Besides, he pays well enough for the privilege. And she says he must have money to

burn, the time he spends on the phone to Italy.’ He looked past her into the cottage. ‘Is he not around’

‘He’s not available at the moment,’ she said evasively, trying not to blush and praying that Raf would not make a liar of

her by suddenly appearing stark naked and all too available.

‘Then I’d best give them to you.’ He handed her the papers. ‘They’re mostly in Italian, you’ll find.’ He produced a

separate sheet. ‘And here are his phone messages. He’s been waiting for these.’

As Emily took the sheet, she glanced casually down at the list of names and froze as one seemed to leap out at her. And

not once, but three times.Valentina .

There was a sudden roaring in her ears and she felt the world recede to some far distance as a small despairing voice in

her head whispered silently, Oh, no—please. Surely not…

Yet what else had she expected she asked herself numbly. She’d had sex with Raf—nothing more. He’d required

recompense for her insult to his masculinity and had taken it in full measure. But he’d made no promises. Had offered no

long-term commitment or guarantees of fidelity. On the contrary.

He still planned to live his life on his own terms, and she was a fool if she imagined otherwise.

Angus’s voice reached her on a note of impatience. ‘I said—I suppose you’ll be leaving soon.’