The Forced Bride (24 page)

speculative glances following her, whispers that stilled at her approach. Perhaps there was pity too, but she couldn’t bear

to look too closely.

She rose from her dressing stool and walked across to the bed that she’d now occupied alone for two endless weeks.

Her dress was waiting there, a heavy silk sheath in sapphire blue that fitted her like a second skin, its boned strapless

bodice cupping her breasts like the petals of a flower. A glamorous, sophisticated gown for an important party at the

house of one of Rome’s most prominent bankers. A big occasion, and maybe the last one she would attend as Raf’s wife.

And she would go looking good. She was determined about that, she thought, as Apollonia made one of her silent

appearances from nowhere to assist her into the dress.

Emily felt self-conscious as she slipped off the charmingeaude-nil satin robe that had been among the lingerie Raf had

bought for her in some different lifetime, standing for a moment in a pair of delicate high-legged briefs, and lace-topped

stockings.

She’d grown accustomed to Apollonia’s continuing ungraciousness, but she still disliked appearing even semi-nude in

front of her.

Although she’d finally grown accustomed to undressing in front of Raf, she thought sadly. Had even learned to enjoy

uncovering herself for his pleasure and watching his eyes cloud with desire.

But that, of course, was once upon a time. No longer. Now he simply—stayed away, without offering any excuse or

explanation. And she couldn’t bring herself to ask, because she already knew the answer.

And it was an additional humiliation to realise that Apollonia, of all people, must know exactly when the Count had

ceased to visit his wife’s bed. And might even extract a sour triumph from her knowledge.

Which meant that the rest of the household were also aware that, after less than two months, their Contessa’s days in

Italy were surely numbered. Nothing was said, of course. There wasn’t a hint that anything might be amiss.

Unlike the wider world, where, she guessed, it would not be entirely unexpected when the axe publicly fell on this

ill-matched marriage.

Their friends, of course, would grieve at the outcome and she would miss them, too. Just for a while, she thought, she’d

been allowed a glimpse of the kind of life she’d always dreamed about. Where, alongside her passionate relationship with

Raf, there was fun and camaraderie to enjoy, too, in a larger circle.

It would not be easy to return to England and begin another life in isolation.

Apollonia said her usual nothing as she eased the dress over Emily’s head and pulled it into place. But fastening the long

zip turned into an unexpected struggle and Emily could hear her muttering under her breath.

Well, it can’t be because I’ve put on weight, she thought wearily. Because her appetite had failed completely in the past

weeks. Raf rarely dined at home these days and she ate mainly to avoid upsetting Rosanna. But she no longer enjoyed

her food. In fact, since she’d been sleeping alone, she’d felt permanently tense, nervous and out of sorts.

She’d begun, too, to refuse invitations on her own account, even excusing herself from engagements with Fiona, simply

because she didn’t want to face anyone.

However, Raf had insisted that they attend tonight’s party together. When she’d protested that she did not feel up to it

and would rather remain at home, he had said curtly, ‘If you are ill, Emilia, you should see a doctor.’ And paused. ‘Shall I

summon one’

But I’m not sick, she’d wanted to cry out. If you’d just—just—take me in your arms again, I’d be fine. I know it.

Instead, she’d said quietly, ‘That won’t be necessary. I’ll go to the party, if that’s what you want.’

He was already waiting for her in the wide reception hall below, devastating in formal evening dress as he stood, staring

into space with eyes that seemed to see nothing. And Emily, quietly descending the stairs, saw with a pang how weary he

looked. How wretched, and almost defeated.

Darling, she whispered silently. Oh, my love—my love…

For a moment it occurred to her that maybe he wasn’t finding her impending banishment as easy to command as he’d

supposed. But she knew she was being foolish. Rafaele was as ruthless in his private life as in the business world. And he

would do whatever was necessary, just as he always had.

So she fought back her overwhelming, ludicrous impulse to run down the remaining stairs to him, fling her arms around

him as she kissed away the sadness from his face. Because any such action would achieve nothing, except to embarrass

them both.

And little else mattered now but her pride and her dignity.

At that moment he looked up and saw her walking down to him, her slender body swaying in its dark blue sheath, her

bare shoulders glowing like ivory against the rich colour, with her auburn hair drawn back from her face and confined at

the nape of her neck by a broad gold clip, ornamented by sapphires. And, for a second, she thought she saw something

flicker momentarily in his eyes that might almost have been desire.

But all he said was a coldly formal, ‘You look very beautiful tonight, Emilia. The dress is a great success. Shall we go’

One of the massive bedrooms in the house had been made available for the women to leave their wraps and freshen their

make-up.

As Emily turned away from the mirror, the small crowd in front of her parted, the laughter and chatter dying away as a

woman came towards her. She was tall and poised, her dark hair rippling round her shoulders, her voluptuous body

frankly displayed in a revealing black satin gown. Curved lips smiled, showing perfect teeth.

‘Contessa’ she said. ‘This is a pleasure too long deferred. I am Valentina Colona.’ She held out a hand and Emily, dazed,

allowed her own fingers to touch it.

Almond shaped eyes, black as sloes, looked her over. The smile did not waver. ‘Your gown is charming,’ she said, the

words musically clear in the listening silence around them. ‘But in future you should come to me. I know so well what

Rafaele likes.’

‘Thank you.’ Emily found her own voice from somewhere. ‘But you have been away, I think, and perhaps you will find

his tastes have changed in your absence.’

And, as she walked across to the door and went out, she heard the gasp that followed her.

‘Emilia.’ Bianca Vantani, wife of another of Raf’s friends, came running after her, white-faced with anger. ‘How dare she

come here, dregs of the gutter as she is, where she is not invited Because she has not been, I know it.’ She hugged

Emily fiercely. ‘Let my Giorgio find Rafaele,cara . Make him take you home.’

‘By no means.’ Emily lifted her chin. ‘I came to a party, and I intend to enjoy it. Let’s find some champagne instead.’

Bianca’s eyes were like saucers. ‘But is that wise’

‘Infinitely wiser than going home, believe me,’ Emily said crisply.

Because I have no home. Just an empty house far away in England.

The party was large and crowded, spreading throughout the palatial rooms on the ground floor, so it was nearly

three-quarters of an hour before Raf tracked her down. Emily was in a side room flirting determinedly with a very junior

member of the British Embassy staff, when she saw him coming towards her. The young man took one look at the

Count’s face, realised his luck had changed for the worse and discreetly faded away, as Raf took her glass from her

hand.

‘How many of these have you had’ he asked harshly.

She lifted her chin defiantly. ‘Not nearly enough,signore .’

His mouth tightened. ‘Get your wrap. We are leaving.’

‘But we only just got here,’ she protested. ‘And there are so manylovely people still to meet.’

‘They will have to wait for another occasion.’ His voice was grim. He paused. ‘Emilia, I do not wish to carry you to the

door, but I will if I must.’

‘You’d make a scene in public’ Emily challenged. She shook her head and wished she hadn’t when the room swam a

little. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘No scene. I would explain that the heat of the rooms had made you feel faint—and I would be believed.’ His hand

closed on her arm. ‘Now come with me.’

Not a word was spoken on the journey back to the house, and Raf’s profile was pure granite as he stared out of the car

window.

I don’t know what you have to be so sore about, Emily addressed him in silent bravado. I think you’ll find I’m the injured

party here.

Unless you’ve heard what I said to your Valentina, and you’re annoyed about that. But what was I supposed to do—just

take it Think again,signore .

Once in the house, she went straight upstairs without even bothering to offer him a formal goodnight. But, by the time she

reached her room, her mood had begun to change, hurt and anger giving way to a feeling of defiance.

Is that it she asked herself. She walks back into our lives and reclaims him and I meekly fade out of the picture Is that

what they think—what they hope

She began to pace backward and forward, the silk of her gown rustling in the quiet of the room.

I looked good tonight, she thought, swinging round to look at herself in the mirror. Everyone said so, and I don’t think

that was just a sympathy vote.

Nor can I believe, in spite of everything, that Raf’s desire for me is stone dead. That he could want me so badly one

night, only to cut me out of his life the next.

Iwon’t believe it.

But I’ve allowed this estrangement between us to happen. I’ve never challenged him or gone to him of my own accord.

Instead, I’ve been fool enough to let my ridiculous pride stand in the way, when I need him so badly. Not just as my

lover, either, but as the husband who teases me and laughs with me. Who smiles when our eyes meet across a room.

Who holds me in his arms while I sleep and takes my hand when I’m nervous.

Surely—surely out of all this there must be something left for me.

Dear God, I’d settle for so little. So very little.

If only—only I can make him want me again…

She waited tensely until at last she heard him go into his room and saw the light come on. Then, taking a deep breath, she

walked across to the communicating door and knocked.

He opened it at once, his face drawn and remote in the lamplight.

‘It is late,’ he said quietly. ‘I thought you were asleep. You need your rest.’

She smiled at him. ‘Not much rest if I have to sleep in this dress,signore .’ She turned her back. ‘The zip. Do you mind’

He was silent for a moment. ‘Where is Apollonia’ he asked harshly. ‘This is what she is paid for.’

‘You barred her at night-time, remember’ She looked at him over her shoulder. ‘Please help me, Rafaele.’ She tried to

smile. ‘You never objected before.’

His fingers felt icy against her bare skin and they trembled as he undid the tiny hook, then tugged at the zip. Emily felt it

give way at last as the dress fell away from her body, baring her to the waist. Slowly, she pushed the folds of fabric down

over her hips to the floor and stepped out of them. Then she turned to face him, lifting her hands to release the jewelled

clip at the nape of her neck, allowing her hair to tumble over her shoulders.

She saw a hunger he could not disguise flare suddenly in his eyes as he looked at her half-naked body in its wisps of

underwear and she felt an answering surge of hope deep inside her as she said his name, softly and huskily, and waited

for him to reach for her.

Only to see him stepping backwards, away from her, his face and voice expressionless as he said, ‘I wish you goodnight,

Emilia. Sleep well.’

And then the door closed between them with a kind of terrible finality. Shutting her out before she could speak again.

Before she could ask why.

Deliberately inflicting, she realised, stunned, the ultimate in rejection. In humiliation. Letting her know that her body had

nothing more to offer him. That everything between them was truly and irrevocably over.

What was it he’d once said to her—what he’d promisedI swear that there will come a time…when you will desire me as

much as I want you now. And then, may God help you.

That time, it seemed, had come, and the pain of it was an agony that nothing could cure. That she would carry with her

always.

Real life, she thought numbly. With no second chance.

And she walked, stumbling, to the bed where once he’d taught her such exquisite delight and lay there like a stone as the

shocked and hopeless tears poured down her stricken face at last.

CHAPTER TWELVE

AT SOMEpoint, Emily fell asleep, but woke around dawn, shivering and nauseous. She dragged herself from the bed and

ran to the bathroom, where she was achingly, horribly sick.

So much for champagne, she thought, leaning back against the tiled wall and waiting for the world to steady itself. But she

couldn’t blame the champagne for everything that was wrong in her life. Nor could she say she’d been drunk when she’d

committed the appalling folly of stripping in front of a man who didn’t want her.

I knew exactly what I was doing, she told herself wearily, rinsing her face with cold water. I gambled and I lost. Now I

have to live with the shame of it. If that’s possible.

She felt her stomach lurch again and groaned silently. Perhaps her symptoms had nothing to do with champagne. Maybe

they’d been induced by the misery of having her worst fears confirmed. Of being forced to come to terms with the hell of

loneliness that awaited her.

She closed her eyes. Had she really been stupid enough to think that loving him might be enough she wondered