The Forced Bride (9 page)

the sink. Under the circumstances, she thought, the word ‘comfort’, even applied to food, was a sick joke.

She filled the kettle and set it to boil. Tea bags and a small jar of instant coffee had been included in the welcome pack,

although she couldn’t imagine Raf relishing either. But then, he wasn’t a welcome guest, so why should she care

She found a shallow frying pan, added a knob of butter and placed it on the stove to heat gently. She was breaking eggs

into a bowl when Raf came in.

She didn’t look at him. ‘Do you mind This is a very small kitchen.’

‘I came to bring you this.’ He put a package on the worktop beside her.

With chagrin, Emily recognised an expensive brand of freshly ground coffee. She said coolly, ‘You think of

everything,signore .’

‘I need to,carissima , when I have you to deal with.’ He reached a long arm up to a top shelf and took down a box she

hadn’t even noticed, extracting a cafetière. ‘There is no espresso machine, unfortunately, but this will do.’

He rinsed it out and began to spoon in the coffee.

‘Do you want two eggs or three’ Emily asked, adding seasoning.

‘Four,’ he said. ‘I need to keep my strength up, don’t you agree, my lovely wife’

Caught unawares, she turned her head sharply, staring at him. ‘What do you mean’

His mouth twisted mockingly. ‘Merely, that if it continues to snow like this, I might have to dig us out—what else’ He

added laconically, ‘And your butter is about to burn,’ and went back into the living room.

Gritting her teeth, she moved the pan off the heat and slotted wholemeal bread into the toaster. She filled the cafetière and

took china and cutlery through to the living room.

Raf was lounging on a sofa, staring into the newly replenished fire.

She said curtly, ‘You do realise there’s no television here No computer or fax machine either. ‘

‘You feel that is a problem’

She shrugged. ‘It’s hardly the streamlined, high-tech, luxurious environment you’re used to. You can hardly test the

world’s financial pulse from here.’

‘Oh, I think the patient will live without me.’

‘But can you live without the patient’

‘For a while, certainly.’ He stretched indolently. ‘And it will be good for me to relax completely. It does not often

happen.’

‘You’ve forgotten the negotiations.’

‘I have forgotten nothing,’ he said and resumed his scrutiny of the leaping flames, leaving her to retire, baffled.

Emily beat the eggs with a fork and poured them into the hot pan, watching them with an eagle eye to ensure they did not

become leathery. But they looked pretty good, fluffy and golden, she decided with satisfaction, as she divided them up,

giving Raf the lion’s share.

‘This is excellent,’ he commented after his first mouthful. ‘You have hidden talents,mia cara .’

She kept her eyes fixed on her plate. ‘Let’s hear it for Sister Mary Antony.’

She had to force down her own portion against the nervous tightness of her throat, but somehow she managed it.

Because it was important not to show she was on edge in front of Raf. Shock and anger at his unexpected arrival were

permissible—just—but being scared was not.

Cool indifference, she thought, was the thing to aim for.

The meal over, she refused politely his equally courteous offer to assist with the washing-up. The idea of Rafaele Di Salis

with a tea towel in his hand was too ludicrous to contemplate, she decided, her lip curling. More importantly, the kitchen

was indeed far too cramped for easy sharing. Especially with him.

When she went back into the living room, she saw, with surprise, that a bottle of wine and two glasses had appeared on

the small table in front of him.

‘Did you bring that too’ she asked.

‘I did not have to. Marcello keeps a small store in the cellar for his own visits.’ He poured the wine and handed her a

glass. ‘He gave me the key to the cupboard.’

‘The kind of friend to have,’ Emily said with constraint.

She didn’t want to sit drinking with him, yet to refuse might send out the wrong sort of signal. So she took a cautious sip

and put the glass down.

My God, she thought bitterly, this—ambush had been carefully planned. But it was becoming plain that it couldn’t have

succeeded without Simon’s active connivance, and that this was only one of the ugly truths she might have to accept.

In spite of herself, she couldn’t forget the missing items in the drawing room at High Gables and Simon’s casual dismissal

of her query.

If he was short of money, why didn’t he turn to me she asked herself almost despairingly. Why pretend he was a

high-flying entrepreneur working from home, when she was bound to find out the truth eventually

‘You look angry,carissima . Is the wine not to your liking’

‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘However, it doesn’t make your invasion of my privacy here any more acceptable.’

He shrugged. ‘But then you have never made me particularly welcome, Emilia, wherever you happened to be.’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘that hardly matters. I’m sure you’re greeted with open arms everywhere else.’

And could have bitten her tongue out. Because she’d just broken her own cardinal rule and made a reference, however

veiled, to the other women in his life.

But Raf did not pick up on it immediately, as she’d feared. He leaned back against the cushions, drinking his wine, his

glance meditative. ‘It did not occur to you,mia cara , that deliberately running away from me might seem—a form of

enticement That I would be bound to follow’

She stiffened. ‘No.’

‘How little you know of men,’ he murmured.

She tossed back her hair with a fierce gesture. No point in hedging any more and to hell with the consequences. ‘I

certainly know about you,signore ,’ she said bitingly. ‘And I’d have thought you had enough—enticements in your life

already.’

She took a deep breath. ‘So why don’t you say whatever it is you came here for, then get back to your real world And

leave me in peace.’

He looked at her for a long moment, then he got to his feet, picking up his glass and the bottle. ‘I suggest we resume this

conversation tomorrow,’ he said. ‘When perhaps you may be more—amenable. More prepared to listen to reason.’ He

paused. ‘Now, am I permitted to take a bath, perhaps, before I retire’

‘Yes, of course.’ It was only a small respite, but, as things were, she was thankful for anything. ‘You—you’ll find extra

towels in the airing cupboard, I think.’

‘Grazie.’ He inclined his head courteously. ‘I understand that the hot water supply is limited, so I will try not to use it all.’

‘I’m sure it’s fine,’ she returned quickly. ‘And your friends obviously manage.’

‘Ah,’ he said, casually. ‘But then they bathe together.’ He sent her a swift, impersonal smile, then went unhurriedly up the

stairs and out of her sight.

That, thought Emily, furiously aware that she was blushing, was altogether too much information.

Once again, Raf seemed to have caught her on the back foot. And with very little effort on his part.

Why did I think I could ever take him on she asked herself despondently. I should have hired myself a legal team of my

own and let them battle it out.

Only it was too late for that now. He was here, by his own admission, to make her see reason. In other words, to meekly

submit to his particular point of view, she thought, biting her lip.

Well, she was damned if she would. She’d fight him every step of the way.

And if he’d imagined that breaking the news of Simon’s callous betrayal of her would undermine her strength of will, then

he could think again.

When Simon had walked out on her three years ago she’d been devastated, convinced her life was over. Wasn’t that

why she’d yielded to her father’s urgings and agreed to a marriage of convenience with Raf—because she hadn’t really

cared what happened to her Wasn’t it

Now it seemed that Simon had really gone for ever. But, instead of the devastation of pain she might have expected, she

felt numb—hollowed out inside.

I should be weeping, she thought, her mouth twisting in self-mockery. Maybe I’m just too young for a broken heart.

And, after this, I won’t be looking for another man either. Once I’m free of this marriage, I’m going to starting living for

myself.

She picked up her neglected wine. ‘To me,’ she said and drank deeply.

But the fact remained that she was still sharing her living space with Raf, for tonight at least. And, in spite of herself, she

found she was sitting on the edge of the sofa, senses finely tuned to the signs of his presence upstairs. That she was

tensing as she heard the bath water eventually running away. Listening for the opening of the bathroom door and the soft

pad of bare feet going along the passage. Then, at long last, his bedroom door closing.

And that was the most welcome sound of all, she thought, her slim body sagging in relief.

She put the guard in front of the fire and extinguished the lights before going quietly upstairs herself.

She’d expected to find the bathroom a wet-floored shambles, but it was amazingly neat, his damp towel hanging on the

hot rail.

There was a small ramshackle bolt on the door, which was more than could be said for her bedroom, and she slid it into

place before beginning to refill the tub. Just a precaution, she told herself, and she was probably just being paranoid.

Raf was here on a face-saving exercise, that was all. His male pride had been damaged and perhaps, in retrospect, she’d

been unwise to deride it. Maybe it would do no harm to apologise. Explain she’d spoken in the heat of the moment.

Show that she could be reasonable.

All the same, her bath was not the long leisurely affair she’d originally planned. She dried herself quickly and put on one

of the nightgowns she’d brought with her—a relic from her school-days, voluminous in brushed cotton, but warm, which

was all that mattered.

As she went on tiptoe back to her room, she hesitated for a brief moment at the door opposite, but there wasn’t a sound.

So maybe he was already sound asleep.

She closed her own door and leaned against it, suddenly aware that she’d been holding her breath, listening to the

unbroken quiet.

After a moment she went over to the window and drew the curtain aside, wrinkling her nose at the swirl of white flakes

dancing in front of her. It seemed to be snowing harder than ever, she thought, and while a sanctuary, however fragile it

had proved, was one thing, being stranded by snowdrifts was something else completely.

Shivering, she dashed back to the bed and hopped in, pulling the duvet up to her chin as she waited for the first chill to

subside. She stared up at the ceiling, letting thoughts, impressions, snatches of conversation tumble headlong through her

mind.

Which achieved precisely nothing, apart from making her feel more on edge than ever. What she really needed was to

turn off the lamp and go to sleep, she told herself firmly. Because things always looked better in the morning—didn’t

they

And at that moment her door opened with a faint creak and Raf came in. He was wearing a black silk robe, casually

belted at the waist, and the rest of him was tawny skin as he moved towards her with an unhurried purpose that brought

all her worst fears choking to the surface.

Propped on an elbow, Emily stared at him. ‘What—what do you want’

‘We have matters to discuss,’ he said. ‘If you remember.’

‘But tomorrow.’ In spite of herself there was a quiver in her voice. ‘You said we’d talk tomorrow.’

‘It is already tomorrow,’ he said. ‘And have you never heard of pillow talk’

His hands went to the sash of his robe and she shrank.

‘No,’ she said hoarsely. ‘No, Raf, please. You can’t do this. You promised me…’

‘At that time, I was dealing with a terrified child,’ he said softly. ‘But you told my lawyers that you were planning to

remarry, so it seems you have outgrown your virginal fears and are a woman at last.’

‘But there’ll be no other marriage,’ she protested. ‘You—you know that.’

His brows lifted. ‘And you think that makes a difference It does not.’

His voice hardened. ‘I have been astonishingly patient with you, Emilia, but you went too far with your demand for an

annulment. And I intend to make quite certain you will never insult me in that way again.’

He shrugged off the robe and slid, naked, into the bed beside her.

He added softly, ‘I am sure you understand me.’

CHAPTER FIVE

‘MYGOD.’ Emily almost choked as she flung herself away from him across the bed, her heart juddering against her ribs,

like a bird trapped in a cage. She was hideously aware that she’d closed her eyes a split second too late and that a

unwanted image of Rafaele Di Salis without his clothes was now engraved on her memory.

Aware too of the sudden warmth of his body in the intimacy of the bed—his nearness. And felt the breath catch in her

throat.

‘Don’t you dare come near me. And don’t touch me,’ she added wildly, trying to wrench herself free as his hands

descended on her shoulders.

‘Now you are being foolish.’ Calmly but inexorably, Raf pulled her round to face him, his brows lifting as he studied the

high-necked nightgown with its demure row of pearl buttons, the long sleeves and the lace-edged collar and cuffs.

‘I see the nuns’ training has prevailed in the bedroom as well as the kitchen,cara ,’ he murmured, not bothering to hide his

amusement. ‘So—will you remove this grotesque garment, or would you prefer me to do so’

‘This is revenge, isn’t it’ she said shakily. ‘Because I had the bad taste to prefer another man and let you know it.’