Forced Bride Page 3

  expressionless.

  And she’d already turned away before she remembered she’d intended to stare back.

  She was on edge for the rest of the evening. Someone—some stranger outside herself—moved through the groups of

  people, smiling and talking, but was unable to recollect a single word that had been said.

  However there was nothing wrong with her eyesight. And it seemed that Simon had been perfectly correct about Rafaele

  Di Salis’s ability to attract the women in the room. In particular, Jilly Aubrey seemed so attached to his side that it would

  probably need a surgical operation to remove her. Which proved, Emily told herself waspishly, that there was no

  accounting for taste.

  It seemed to have been a good party, however. Everyone was saying so as they reluctantly departed. In the hallway,

  someone produced a sprig of mistletoe and kisses were freely exchanged amid laughter and cheering. Emily had to submit

  to her fair share, smiling with spurious brightness as she did so. But Simon was not among the claimants.

  ‘I didn’t see the Aubreys leave.’ She tried to speak casually as the door closed behind their last guests.

  ‘They went nearly an hour ago,’ Sir Travers returned. ‘Apart from the girl Jillian,’ he added disapprovingly. ‘She stayed

  on, having persuaded to Rafaele to drive her home later.’

  Now why does that not surprise me Emily thought ironically.

  The clearing up after the party was accomplished swiftly and efficiently by Mrs Penistone and the extra staff hired for the

  evening, and eventually Emily was able to go up to her room, but not before she’d slipped unobtrusively through the

  dining room to the conservatory beyond and unlocked the door.

  She could only hope that the housekeeper would not decide to carry out a last-minute double-check.

  Or was that really what she was hoping for Because, if she was honest, she felt almost sick with apprehension as she

  undressed and took a quick shower.

  Reluctantly, she put on the bra and thong and took a wincing look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look or feel in the

  least sexy, she thought wretchedly. Just uncomfortable and—in-credibly stupid. But if this was how Simon wanted her…

  All the same, she was glad to cover up by zipping herself into her dark green velour robe.

  Why was she hesitating she wondered, as she brushed her hair into a silken cloud on her shoulders. Tonight was a

  turning point in her life—the magic time when she would belong at last to Simon—the man she loved—and it would be

  beautiful—wonderful, because he would make it so for her.

  And, drawing a deep breath, she slipped out of her room, closing the door behind her with immense care, and went

  silently down the shadowed stairs to keep her rendezvous.

  CHAPTER TWO

  EVENnow, three years later, Emily could remember every detail of that short journey. Could recall the brush of the stair

  carpet under her bare feet, the way the shadows had seemed to distort even the most familiar objects and the soft

  creaking and groaning as the old house settled for the night.

  With every step she’d expected lights to blaze on and her father’s voice demanding to know what she was doing.

  She supposed she’d have to say that she couldn’t sleep and was going to the kitchen to heat some milk. He’d believe her,

  because she’d never given him cause to do otherwise. Or not until now, she’d thought, her throat closing.

  More than once she’d been tempted to turn back. To take refuge in her room and find some excuse that would placate

  Simon for her failure to show.

  But I love him, she’d reminded herself almost feverishly. I should be wanting to make him happy, not pacify him.

  When she was in his arms, she would feel differently. She was sure of it. Convinced that this little knot of coldness in the

  pit of her stomach would dissolve into something altogether warmer and more receptive.

  And yet…

  She’d have been lying to herself if she hadn’t hoped that her first time with Simon would have been moremeaningful in

  some way. More romantic than these hasty and covert moments ahead of her.

  Although, as she’d gathered from the conversation of her more sophisticated school friends, usually the first time was no

  big deal. Merely something that needed to be got out of the way, so that more pleasurable experiences could follow.

  There was also the vexed question of birth control. Emily reckoned uneasily that she was the only girl in the sixth form not

  to be on the pill. But would Simon have guessed this and made his own arrangements, or would she have to pretend

  everything was all right—and risk the consequences

  She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. Her father would be angry and disappointed with her, of course, but as

  she and Simon were planning to be married anyway, would it really be so awful if the wedding date had to be moved

  forward because she was pregnant

  Well, the short answer to that was yes. Because it was the last thing she wanted to happen.

  The situation would be much easier to handle if Simon’s career wasn’t currently on hold, she thought forlornly. How

  could he cope with a wife and baby without a regular salary or a home of his own

  Her father might offer him something, she supposed, but she wouldn’t count on it. Not if he had Simon foisted on him as a

  son-in-law before they’d even had a chance to become properly acquainted, let alone friends.

  Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to the conservatory and slipped inside like a small, quiet ghost.

  It was one of her favourite places in the house, its warmth like a blanket, enveloping her in comfort. She stood still for a

  moment, eyes closed, breathing the raw earthy smells and listening to the familiar muted hum of the heating system.

  There was no other sound. No movement either. And Emily realised with something very like relief that Simon wasn’t

  there.

  But perhaps she should allow him a few minutes’ grace, she thought reluctantly. After all, she couldn’t go to bed leaving

  the outside door unsecured, yet she certainly didn’t want him arriving late either, rattling at the lock and wakening the

  entire household in a frustrated attempt to gain access.

  Oh God, I should never—never—have agreed to any of this, she groaned inwardly, sinking down on a bench next to the

  miniature palms and peering at the face of her watch in the gloom. I’m not the stuff conspirators are made of.

  She sat tensely, hands clasped in her lap, willing the moments to pass more quickly.

  When she saw Simon next, she would pretend it had never happened, she told herself. She’d tell him her father had been

  on the prowl, and she hadn’t dared leave her room. Hope that he hadn’t had a wasted journey.

  She was just getting to her feet when she realised that the door to the garden was opening silently to admit the dark figure

  of a man.

  For a brief second she froze in the realisation that it was too late to slip away.

  This is Simon, she reminded herself urgently. This is the man you love and want. And it’s time to commit yourself to that

  love, once and for always.

  She drew a breath, then went to him, running, flinging herself into the arms that instantly closed about her as she lifted her

  face for his kiss.

  But, instead of the passionate demand she’d expected, he was almost restrained, keeping his ardour well in check, and

  Emily was grateful for it.

  Eyes shut, she gave herself up to the pleasure of the cool, gentle brush of his lips against hers, his
exploration of the soft

  contours of her mouth as if this was strange, uncharted territory to him.

  As if…

  And in that same moment, she knew with total clarity that this was wrong—all wrong. That the hard male body she’d

  pressed herself against so ardently was taller, leaner than Simon’s, and altogether more muscular. That she was not being

  held and kissed as Simon held and kissed her. And that this man even smelled differently, Simon’s familiar brand of

  aftershave having been replaced by something infinitely more subtle and expensive.

  But only too recognisable, just the same…

  Oh, God, she whimpered in silent horror, as realisation dawned. Oh, God, it’s—him.

  Gasping, she tore her lips from his and pushed at him violently.

  ‘Let go of me.’ Her voice was shaking. ‘Let go of me at once, damn you.’

  ‘You mean this entrancing welcome is not intended for me, after all’ Rafaele Di Salis asked mockingly. ‘I am desolate.’

  But he relaxed his clasp sufficiently for Emily to take an uneven step backwards, out of range. At the same time, he

  clicked the switch by the door and the overhead light went on, catching her in the act of scrubbing violently at her mouth

  with her hand in an attempt to remove any lingering traces of his kiss.

  To cover her confusion, Emily went into attack mode. ‘What do you think you’re doing—creeping into the place like a

  burglar’

  His brows lifted sardonically. ‘Are you saying that you mistook me for a thief—and not Simon Aubrey’

  ‘Simon,’ she said curtly, ‘need not concern you.’

  ‘Ah, but he does, Emilia. Because I fear that he will not be able to keep his appointment with you tonight, after all.’

  She stiffened. ‘He told—you that’

  ‘No.’ Rafaele Di Salis shrugged. ‘I told him so, when I encountered him in the garden a short while ago.’

  She gasped. ‘You were spying on us’

  ‘I had just returned from driving Signorina Aubrey home and heard him crashing through the shrubbery as I walked back

  to the house. He is fortunate there are no dogs on the premises, or he would have woken the whole household—including

  your father.’ He allowed a significant pause. ‘I persuaded him that his visit was—inappropriate and he left.’

  She said chokingly, ‘And what gives you the right to interfere in my affairs’

  ‘You mean there have been others’ He tutted. ‘And I would have sworn that Simon Aubrey was the first.’ He glanced

  round. ‘And I must tell you,cara , that this is hardly the most comfortable setting for so momentous an event as losing your

  virginity.’

  For a long moment Emily was incapable of speech, aware that every inch of her skin was burning with embarrassment.

  At last she said hoarsely, ‘You are—disgusting.’

  He laughed. ‘No, merely practical. Besides, your would-be lover seemed in no mood for a tender seduction when I met

  him just now. Frankly, he appeared ill-tempered. And, when I arrived at his uncle’s house earlier, it was clear there had

  been a family disagreement of some magnitude in which he was involved.’

  ‘That is none of your business!’

  ‘I agree,’ Rafaele told her cordially. ‘Which is why I made an excuse and left at once, without the coffee I had been

  promised.’

  She glared at him. ‘Or anything else, presumably. Is that why you decided to ruin my time with Simon,signore —because

  you’d missed out with Jilly’

  He said gently, ‘That,mia cara , is a vulgarity not worthy of you.’ He paused. ‘I look on your father as my friend, Emilia,

  and I would try to prevent anything that would distress him. And the discovery that you had agreed to a secret liaison

  under his own roof would be a serious blow to him. You must know that. Your young man should have more regard for

  your honour.’

  Emily flung back her head. ‘It so happens,signore , that Simon and I are engaged to be married. We were meeting tonight

  to—to discuss our plans for the future, and not for the sordid reason you imagine.’

  His stride towards her was so quick and purposeful that she didn’t have a chance to step backwards. And, before she

  could defend herself, his hand had snaked out and pulled down the zip on her robe almost to the waist. The edges fell

  apart, revealing to his gaze the flimsy black triangles that barely concealed her nipples.

  He said contemptuously, ‘It seems I am not the only one with a sordid imagination,signorina . Let me tell you that you are

  too young and far too lovely to require such tawdry adornment. You disappoint me.’

  ‘How dare you’ Her voice was a strangled croak as she struggled to cover herself again, her fingers made clumsy by

  haste and shame. ‘Oh, God, how dare you—touch me Insult me You call yourself Daddy’s friend He’ll throw you out

  of the house when I tell him…’

  ‘When you tell him—precisely what’ Rafaele Di Salis cut impatiently across her stumbling words. ‘What you were doing

  here Why you were dressed as you are’ He shook his head. ‘No, Emilia, I recommend that you hold your peace about

  tonight, as I shall. Now, go to your room,’ he added almost wearily. ‘And I will lock up here.’

  She did not wait to argue, but fled. In the quiet of her room, she threw herself across the bed, burying her face in the

  covers, as shock and misery overwhelmed her.

  I want to die, she told herself passionately, a sob rising in her throat. Just to die. Because then I’ll never have to see

  Rafaele Di Salis again.

  But, for the time being, she had to go on living—enduring the terrible memory of his condemnatory gaze and the harsh

  dismissal of his words.

  And, somewhere among all of that, was the realisation that Simon had tamely given up and gone home, which, she

  discovered wretchedly, didn’t seem nearly as bad.

  She spent a miserable and restless night, with the covers pulled over her head, and it was a pale, hollow-eyed Emily who

  went reluctantly down to breakfast the next morning to confront her tormentor the best she could. She’d rehearsed a

  number of dignified and cutting speeches in case he should make some ill-chosen reference to the night’s events, but they

  proved unnecessary.

  Because he wasn’t there, and when she forced herself to ask her father about their guest’s non-appearance, she was

  breezily informed that Rafaele Di Salis had left first thing that morning to catch a flight to New York.

  ‘Isn’t that rather sudden’ She managed to pour her coffee with a reasonably steady hand.

  Sir Travers looked surprised. ‘No, my dear. Raf always planned to leave immediately after Boxing Day. Didn’t I mention

  that’

  ‘Actually, no,’ said Emily.

  ‘Well, he’s gone, anyway.’ Her father paused, then smiled. ‘And he asked me to pass on his good wishes for your future

  happiness.’

  ‘How kind,’ Emily said woodenly, and applied herself to her scrambled eggs.

  Strange, Emily thought, shifting uneasily in the big chair, that even after the passage of three years, she should have

  this—instant recall, as if it had all happened yesterday. But maybe unpleasant memories stayed longer in the mind than the

  cheerful variety.

  Not that there’d ever been any really joyous moments to glean from any part of her strange relationship with Raf Di Salis.

  The celebration would come when he signed the papers to set her free. And allow her, at last, to marry her first love and