It Happened In Rome: The Forced Bride / The Italian's Rags-to-Riches Wife / The Italian's Passionate Revenge. Julia James
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were like nails being driven into her coffin. She said tonelessly, ‘If it’s—really what you wish…’
‘It is.’ He patted her hand. ‘Go to him, my dear. He’s waiting for you in the drawing room.’
Raf was standing by the window when she entered. He looked at her, his face expressionless.
‘Your father has told you what I wish to ask?’
‘Yes.’
‘So—will you be my wife, Emilia?’
‘Yes,’ she said again.
She thought he was going to come towards her and was suddenly assailed by a vivid memory of his arms holding her, his lips caressing hers. She froze and immediately felt foolish, because he hadn’t moved at all. In fact, it was almost as if he’d taken a step backwards, she thought in confusion.
His tone was wintry. ‘Then it is settled. You have given your word to me and to your father, which I think is more important.’
She lifted her chin. ‘Yes.’
‘And he explained the terms of the contract between us? Just nod or shake your head.’ His voice bit. ‘Spare me another monosyllable.’
Her eyes flashed angrily, but she gave a reluctant nod.
‘You clearly expect to be obeyed,’ she said coldly. ‘I hope you don’t require to be loved and honoured too.’
‘I am no believer in miracles.’ He walked across the room to the door. His faint smile was ironic. ‘Now, shall we go to your father and share our good news?’
Remembering, Emily bit her lip. It was the marriage, she thought, that had finally sealed the impenetrable barrier between them.
She had tried to play the minor role in his life assigned to her quietly and dutifully, but it had never been easy—had made her tongue-tied and wary when he was around. And oddly resentful when he wasn’t.
And, although he’d adhered strictly to the terms of their arrangement, she’d always been aware of a strange tension between them and felt nervous and on edge whenever she was obliged to be alone with him.
So—I have no intention of ever being alone with him again, she thought, staring at the bare trees outside. And very soon now I won’t even have to think about him.
And she wouldn’t be looking back at the past now, she told herself, if Raf hadn’t forced himself back into her consciousness like this.
She glanced down at her watch, wondering what on earth was keeping Simon all this time. Maybe the cottage wasn’t available after all, but there would be others.
And maybe she was wrong to involve him. After all, he’d had one run in with Raf Di Salis already and could well be targeted again, when her husband came looking for her. Perhaps it was the thought of that which was making him so morose—and odd.
She was on her way to the door to say she’d changed her mind when he returned.
‘The booking’s all made, starting from the day after tomorrow. The caretaker in the village will be informed and have the place ready for you.’ He gave her a sheet of paper printed with a detailed description of the cottage and how it could be reached. ‘The nearest station is Kilrossan,’ he said. ‘Let Mrs McEwen know the time of your train and you’ll be met.’ He paused. ‘I made the reservation in your maiden name. I hope that’s all right.’
‘Entirely appropriate,’ she said. ‘Under the circumstances.’
She was half-expecting him to offer to go with her. She would refuse, of course. Her marriage vows might be totally meaningless, but, unlike Raf Di Salis, she intended to keep them, even for the short time that was left. And, to give Simon his due, he seemed to accept this, even if he didn’t completely understand.
But then, she thought, I’m not sure I understand myself.
She said, ‘I’d better go home and start packing. Although I’ll have to be careful or Penny will get suspicious.’
‘Tell her what she wants to hear,’ he said. ‘Let her think you’re going off to meet your husband, but that it’s all to be a huge surprise.’
‘Now why didn’t I think of that?’ She went to him, lifting her face for his kiss. ‘Will you be all right—if Raf comes asking questions?’
‘He won’t,’ he said. ‘His pride would never stand for it.’
‘I’ll miss you. Let me know as soon as the coast’s clear and I’ll come back.’
‘And I’ll miss you too.’ His mouth was suddenly hot and passionate on hers. It was the first real sign of emotion he’d shown that morning and Emily tried to respond with equal ardour. But it wasn’t easy when she felt so apprehensive, and eventually she freed herself gently.
‘I’m sorry, darling. I can’t seem to think of much beyond getting away from here.’
As they walked to the door, his arm round her shoulders, she said, ‘By the way, what’s happened to the candlesticks?’
‘Candlesticks?’
She pointed at the fireplace. ‘The lovely silver ones that used to stand right there.’
Simon shrugged indifferently. ‘Aunt Celia probably put them away before she left. They’ll turn up.’
She looked sideways at him. ‘You sound miserable again.’
He looked past her. ‘Scotland’s a long way and two weeks can seem like for ever.’
‘They’ll soon pass,’ she said. ‘Then we’ll be together again. And for always this time.’
As her car moved down the drive she turned to wave, but there was no one there and she realised that Simon had gone back in the house, closing the door behind him.
As if, she thought, he could not bear to see her go. Yet, instead of being pleased, she found suddenly that she was shivering. And wondered why.
So far, so good, thought Emily as the express train ate up the miles between London and Glasgow.
Getting away from the Manor had been altogether easier than she’d expected. Penny had swallowed her ludicrous story about meeting Raf in London and beamed at Emily’s blush, even though it was inspired by guilt rather than anticipation of a blissful marital reunion.
And yet the housekeeper knew that Emily and Raf had never so much as shared a room when he stayed at the Manor.
Unless she thinks he pays me secret visits when the lights are out, Emily thought, grimacing inwardly.
In fact, the only time Raf had ever entered her bedroom at all had been on their wedding night. And that for the briefest possible time.
Her father had died, quite peacefully, only a week after she’d become engaged. And the wedding had taken place just over a month later, a quiet register office ceremony with Leonard Henshaw and his wife as the only witnesses.
Afterwards, they had flown to Italy for what was supposed to be their honeymoon.
‘It is the convention,’ Raf said simply when she tried to protest. ‘And anyway, I would like to show you my home.’ He paused. ‘Is that—agreeable to you?’
She swallowed. ‘Won’t it be very hot in Rome at this time of year?’
‘There is a pool,’ he said. ‘Do you like to swim?’
She had a sudden vision of the pool at High Gables and Simon splashing her, laughing in the sunlight.
She turned away. ‘I used to. Not any more.’ And thought she heard him sigh.
But she had to admit that the house just outside Rome was beautiful, if a little gloomy, with its marble floors and old-fashioned furniture. It