The Forced Bride (25 page)

despairingly. That her need might somehow reach out to him and draw him closer Make him love her in return

If so, she knew better now. And he had never pretended there would be any permanency in their relationship—not from

the first.

And if she’d simply accepted his request for a divorce when it had been made, she would not be facing this intensity of

heartbreak now.

But then she would never have tasted the complete fulfilment of passion either. Would never have known what it was to

lose herself totally to a man’s lips and hands, and the primal driving power of his body sheathed in hers.

Her heart told her with sad honesty that, given the same choice again, she would not change a thing.

That, however badly they were ending, these past six weeks would always be hers to cherish and remember. And no

one, not even Valentina Colona with her all her sensual glamour, could take them away from her.

She went back slowly into the bedroom. Soon the house would be waking up and she had no wish to be caught, least of

all by Raf, still wearing the wisps of underwear from last night. She discarded them, reaching into a dressing room

cupboard for one of the nightgowns that Raf had also chosen for her. It was an exquisite thing, white and filmy,

embroidered with tiny silver flowers, but its Empire line style was also intrinsically modest.

At the time, she’d looked at him with a certain irony. ‘I thought you didn’t approve of nightgowns.’

‘They have their uses,’ he’d said quietly, after a pause. ‘On occasion.’

It was only afterwards that she’d realised, with faint embarrassment, that they were probably intended to signal discreetly

those days of the month when her body would not be available to him.

However, what occurred to her now with heart-stopping force was that this was the first time she’d felt the need to put

one of them on. And that it had nothing—nothing at allto do with her female cycle.

Which seemed, she realised numbly, to have gone into total abeyance.

For a moment she was still, a slender white-clad statue, staring at herself in the mirror with eyes that burned.

Then, slowly, she lifted a hand, pressing it against her abdomen.

No, she thought.No! It can’t be true. I’m just—late, that’s all. And, because of everything else that’s been happening in

my life, I—I simply didn’t realise how time was passing.

I’ve never been that regular, anyway, she reminded herself, swallowing. And stress can play havoc with your system.

Everyone knows that.

Besides we—he’s always been so careful…

Except once, she thought, drawing a sharp uneven breath. That day at the cottage when she’d gone into his arms, for the

first time giving herself to him totally and without reserve. When nothing had mattered to either of them but the passionate

joining of their bodies and its fulfilment.

Just that once…

She went back into the other room and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her trembling body until she was almost

buried in their shelter. Whispering‘It can’t be true’ over and over again as she hid her face in the comfort of the pillow.

Knowing, at the same time, that it could be true and probably was.

And wondering how she could tell him. What she could possibly say when he’d made it abundantly clear that she had no

further part to play in his life. Knowing that this was the last thing he could ever have intended.

A harsh sob broke from her and she crushed a fist fiercely against her mouth. She couldn’t afford to make a sound in

case it somehow attracted his attention. Because, in practical terms, only the wooden panels of a door lay between them.

In every other way they were divided by an abyss as wide and deep as the Grand Canyon.

And she couldn’t face him—not yet. She needed to be alone to think.

To decide, somehow, what to do.

And, at that very moment, she heard a faint creak and realised, dismayed, that the communicating door was, in fact,

opening.

Oh, God, she thought, he must have heard me after all.

She closed her eyes and lay still, forcing herself to breathe deeply and evenly. But at the same time she was fully aware of

his approach across the room.

Knew when he paused beside the bed. Could feel his eyes looking down at her, searching for her under the shrouding

covers.

He said her name softly, but she made no response, not even the flutter of an eyelash, maintaining her breathing, carrying

on the pretence, and eventually she heard him sigh, then retreat back the way he had come.

Later, when she was sure he’d left for the day, she dozed a little again and was eventually woken by Apollonia’s voice

saying, ‘Your breakfast,signora .’

She struggled upright, pushing her hair back from her face, biting her lip as the smell of the coffee reached her, reviving

her nausea.

She said, ‘Take it away, please. I’m not hungry. Just draw my bath, please, Apollonia.’

The girl shrugged with her usual indifference, but for a second her eyes were alive with curiosity and malice and Emily

found herself almost shrinking away.

I don’t like her, she thought. And I was a fool to let her stay.

But Apollonia was the least of her concerns. When Emily arrived downstairs, she found a stack of messages awaiting her.

Fiona and Bianca had both rung twice, but Emily didn’t have the energy to return their calls. Besides, they’d be wanting

to make sure she’d survived last night’s encounter with Valentina Colona, and there was no assurance she could give

about that.

In fact, there was nothing much she could say at all, she thought. Nothing that would not be some form of self-betrayal.

She told Gaspare that her late night had left her with a headache and she was going to rest quietly in thesalotto for the rest

of the morning.

His face was all concern. ‘May I fetch you something for the pain, my lady’ he asked in his careful English.

She forced a smile. ‘No, thank you, Gaspare.’The analgesic to cure the way I hurt hasn’t been invented yet. ‘I think sleep

is the best thing.’

He nodded. ‘I will make sure the staff keep to the other end of the house, my lady. You will not be disturbed.’ He gave

her a look of commiseration and departed.

I must look as hellish as I feel, Emily thought wryly, as she stretched out on the sofa. She certainly wasn’t intending to

sleep. She needed to confront her problems, but she soon found her own weariness coupled with the dancing flames in

the fireplace were having a soporific effect.

Perhaps when she woke up her mind would be clearer.

But, when she did sleep, she found no rest. Instead, she was tormented by the mass of small unhappy images chasing

endlessly through her brain. And knowing that they were only dreams made them no easier to bear. Especially when the

face that swam in and out of her consciousness was a woman’s. A beautiful face with slanting dark eyes and full lips

curved in triumph. A husky voice saying ‘Contessa!’—and making it sound like a taunt.

A face and a voice that she needed to escape, she thought, coming back to herself with a sudden start.

Only to find, horrified, that there was no refuge from this particular nightmare. That, incredibly, it was right there in the

room with her. Valentina Colona, resplendent in a dark red suit, her mouth and nails coloured to match, long, shapely legs

negligently crossed as she sat on the sofa opposite.

‘So you are awake at last,’ she said. ‘But at least you do not snore, which Rafaele must have found a mercy.’

Emily stared at her, lips parting in shocked disbelief. When she spoke, she did not recognise her own voice. ‘What the

hell are you doing here’

‘I felt it was time we talked, Contessa.’ Signora Colona settled herself more comfortably against her cushions. ‘A little,

very private chat—woman to woman. There are things that need to be said, and, like most men, Rafaele hates scenes.

So—I have come to speak for him.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Emily got to her feet. ‘I don’t know how you got in here, but I’d like you to leave—now.’

‘I came in through a door.’ The older woman sounded bored. ‘Some of your staff, Contessa, recognise who will be the

real authority in this house before long.

‘Not that I plan to live here,’ she added, looking round, her expression disparaging. ‘Rafaele has done his best to make it

more acceptable to me, but it is still too old—too depressing. I prefer the city, and I shall get my way.’

She looked back at Emily. ‘Sit down, Contessa, and try to relax. That is what women in your condition should do, I

understand.’

‘My condition’ Emily managed. ‘What do you mean’

Valentina Colona sighed irritably. ‘I mean that you are carrying Rafaele’s child. Do not try to deny it.’

Emily said numbly, ‘Did—he tell you that’

‘It was hardly something he could keep from me.’ She shrugged. ‘I, of course, cannot have children, which has been a

great sadness to us both. But you have solved our problem.’ She smiled brilliantly. ‘Give Rafaele the heir he needs, my

dear Emilia—that is what he calls you, is it not—and I assure you that you will find him more than grateful.’

She paused. ‘In fact, I see no reason why you should not continue to live here when the baby is born. It could,alla fine ,

become part of the divorce settlement. Although that is for the future,naturalmente , once I am free to remarry. Which will

not be soon, as my husband’s health has improved.

‘But I know that Rafaele will wish you to have every comfort. Also, as his son’s mother, you will always be treated with

respect. By us both.’

Comfort thought Emily, anguish tearing at her. Respect When I know I’ll never again sit on the edge of the bath and

talk to him while he’s shaving—never feel him take my hand in his before we enter a room—never sleep with his lips

against my hair. When he’s with—you!

Aloud, she said, coldly and clearly, ‘And if it’s a daughter’

Signora Colona examined her immaculate nails. ‘That is not an insuperable difficulty. You are young and healthy, after all,

and you do not find Rafaele’s attentions disagreeable. Some—accommodation could be reached, I am sure. The perfect

answer if there is a difficulty.’

Emily drew a sharp breath. ‘You disgust me,’ she said thickly.

Another elegant shrug. ‘But Rafaele clearly does not, which is all that matters in sex.’

‘All that matters’ Emily echoed with contempt. ‘And you’re supposed to love him’

‘But how conventional you are,’ the other woman drawled. ‘No wonder you bored him so quickly.’ She smiled lazily. ‘It

is not the first time I have shared him, you little fool, and it will not be the last.

‘He likes variety in his bed, as I do myself, and he is attractive—and very rich, so we suit each other well.

‘But forget any romantic dreams, my little Contessa. He does not understand—love—as you mean the word. He never

has. He cares only about pleasure, which is why he is so fascinating as a lover.’

Her smile widened. ‘However, I hope you have not allowed yourself to fall in love with him,cara . It would only

embarrass him.

‘And I forgive you last night’s little jibe,’ she added softly. ‘Because I knew, even as you spoke, that you were deluding

yourself. That Rafaele has tastes that your bourgeois naïveté could never comprehend, or satisfy. But that I can.’

She rose to her feet. ‘Please believe that I have spoken only for your good, and to explain the situation that now exists.’

She sounded almost casual. ‘I hope we understand each other better and that, in time, we may become friends.’

Emily lifted her chin. ‘And please believe, in turn, that I would as soon make friends with a rattlesnake.’

Valentina Colona took a step towards her. ‘You are being stupid,’ she said softly as Emily instinctively recoiled. ‘Now,

take my warning. Adapt—accept and you will survive. Fight, and you will lose everything, including your right to your

child. Rafaele is irritated by opposition and he can be ruthless.’

She smiled again, this time almost blandly. ‘And now I must take my leave.’ She walked across to the tall glass doors that

led to the terrace and paused.‘Arrivederci , Contessa. I am sure we shall meet again soon. And I wish you good health. I

am told these early weeks of pregnancy can be so very trying.’

Emily watched the door open, then close again. Saw the dark red suit crossing the terrace and disappearing into the

grounds beyond.

Then her legs gave way and she sank down on to her knees and stayed there for a long time, staring blindly into space.

Listening to the desperate, desolate thudding of her heart. Beyond tears, beyond hope.

Simply thinking—thinking…

Until, at last, she knew what she had to do. And how to do it.

White-faced but composed, she rang the bell. ‘Gaspare,’ she said, when he appeared. ‘Will you tell Stefano to bring the

car round in ten minutes, please’ She paused. ‘My headache’s better now and I’m going into the city to have lunch with

Signora Albero.’ And hated herself for lying.

‘Emily, my dear.’ Leonard Henshaw rose to greet her as she was shown into his panelled office. ‘What a delightful

surprise. When I spoke to Rafaele three days ago, he didn’t tell me you were planning a visit.’

Because he didn’t know, thought Emily. Not when she’d simply walked out of his house, with a change of underwear and

her passport stuffed into her largest handbag. She hadn’t even left a note. There was no need, when Valentina Colona

would be delighted to explain everything to him.

And while the ever-patient Stefano had settled down with his newspaper to wait at the front of her favourite restaurant,