Сара Крейвен – It Happened In Rome: The Forced Bride / The Italian's Rags-to-Riches Wife / The Italian's Passionate Revenge (страница 17)

Maybe Valentina Colona was that kind of realist, although she must surely know that Raf’s marriage had only existed on paper until last night.

But maybe she didn’t care—as long as she won in the end.

Emily suddenly felt intensely dispirited and was conscious of the heated bitterness of tears rising in her throat. But she fought them back fiercely as she lifted herself out of the bath and reached for a towel.

Whatever Raf might have threatened, she told herself strongly, he wouldn’t want their marriage to drag on. It would prove far too costly.

Because he needed to concentrate on making yet more millions. At the same time, he couldn’t afford to neglect his mistress either.

Dried and dressed, she combed her hair severely back from her face and plaited it into a braid, trying to ignore the bruised eyes that stared back at her from the mirror.

She’d brought only a few cosmetics with her, just moisturiser, a lipstick and mascara, when what she really needed was a mask to shelter behind.

Because, sooner or later, Raf would wake up and come downstairs in search of her. And it was going to take every scrap of courage she possessed to face him—to start pretending all over again that she didn’t care what he’d done to her. That, somehow, this small cottage and the intimacy it inevitably imposed didn’t matter either. That she would get through the days and find some way to endure the nights without surrendering her integrity.

But how long could she feasibly remain focused? Last night it had taken every scrap of will-power she possessed to ignore her bewildered, starving senses and continue her inimical stance against him. However hard she tried to distract herself, she’d already realised that it was almost impossible to separate herself completely from what he was doing to her.

Especially when he seemed equally determined to arouse her.

Suddenly she found herself wondering—actually imagining how Raf would make love when he was in love. How tender he would be—whether there would be a difference in his kisses—in the touch of his hands. What he might say to his woman when they finally lay together, all passion spent. Whether he would simply hold her close in adoring silence, his lips against her hair?

And stopped herself right there, her mouth dry. Because there was no point in that kind of speculation. On the contrary, she told herself, it was positively dangerous.

She shivered as she turned away from the mirror and went slowly downstairs to begin the first day of her unwanted marriage.

CHAPTER SIX

DOWNSTAIRS, Emily discovered, there was the unexpected lifeline of housework to rescue her from any further risky introspection.

Cleaning a house had never been her sole responsibility before, she thought ruefully as she cleaned the grate and laid the fire before tidying and dusting the living room. She’d always looked after her own room at school and at the Manor, of course, and pitched in to help elsewhere when necessary, but there’d always been the back-up of efficient staff.

And, even after her marriage to Simon, nothing much would have changed. She’d assumed at first that Simon would want to live in London again and that they’d start out in a small flat like other young couples but, to her surprise, this hadn’t been his idea at all.

‘I like working from home,’ he’d told her. ‘And there’s endless room at the Manor to set up a proper office for me.’ He’d smiled at her. ‘And you’d hate to live anywhere else, darling. Admit it.’

‘But don’t you want us to have a home of our own?’ she’d asked, vaguely troubled.

‘But we have,’ he’d said. ‘And it’s beautiful. Besides, what would you do all day in some grotty flat? You’re hardly one of nature’s housewives.’

No, she thought wincing at the memory. He could have been right about that, although she realised now that his wish to live at the Manor had not been prompted by any consideration for her.

But she’d wanted so badly to believe he was in love with her and that, this time, everything would be wonderful. She’d needed to think it. Had clutched at it desperately, as if it was a life-belt and not a straw.

Had never asked herself seriously whether, as her father’s heiress, it was the lifestyle he wanted more than herself. The big house, with its paid staff to do his bidding.

Perhaps I didn’t dare ask too many questions, she thought. In case I didn’t like the answers.

She shook herself out of her depressing reverie. She had work to do and there was no hired help at Braeside Cottage. It was all down to her here and she was determined that, whatever her private failings as a wife, Raf would have nothing to complain of in her domestic abilities.

She looked at her watch. It was nearly midday already, so she would cook the chicken for supper. But, for now, she would make some coffee, she thought, glancing restively towards the stairs. And maybe some toast. However, if Raf wanted some, he could fetch it. Even if he did consider he was on honeymoon, and the thought made her writhe inwardly, there would be no bedside delivery service.

She filled the kettle and was just getting out the mugs, when there was a loud knock at the front door.

She opened it to find Angus McEwen standing on the doorstep. He was wearing a thick jacket and what appeared to be fisherman’s waders over his trousers.

‘Hello, there,’ he greeted her, grinning broadly. ‘I came to make sure you were all right. See if you needed help lighting the fire or anything.’

‘You mean you’ve walked up in all this?’ Emily forced a smile of her own. ‘That’s incredibly kind of you.’

‘Och, it’s no so bad.’ He indicated the waders. ‘These belonged to my late uncle. He was great on the fishing and Auntie Maggie always said they’d come in handy.’ He paused. ‘Did you know someone’s left a vehicle here? I don’t remember seeing it last night.’

‘I drove it here from the airport,’ Raf’s voice said from behind her.

Emily hadn’t heard a sound from the stairs, but she saw Angus glance past her, his face changing to an expression of astonishment that was almost comical. Except she didn’t feel like laughing.

Instead, she tensed as Raf came to stand beside her, his arm encircling her and his hand resting on her hip in a gesture of deliberate possession.

He was not dressed, unless she counted the robe he was casually holding around him as clothing, and she was never likely to do that.

‘Buon giorno,’ he drawled. ‘May we help you in some way?’

Angus opened his mouth, tried to speak, failed and began again. ‘I—I’m sorry. I—I don’t mean to intrude, but I thought—I understood that Miss Blake was here alone.’

‘That is indeed what she planned originally,’ Raf said softly. He drew Emily slightly closer to him. ‘But I decided to surprise her.’

Angus’s ears suddenly went pink, indicating that the probable nature of the surprise was not lost on him.

Emily, realising the floor was not about to open and swallow her as she’d prayed it might, found her own voice, ‘Angus, this is my husband, the Count Di Salis.’ She paused, allowing him to assimilate this, then continued, ‘Rafaele—Mr McEwen’s aunt looks after the cottage for—for your friends. He was—concerned that I was here by myself in this weather.’

‘So I heard as I came downstairs, and I am glad that I can reassure him that you are perfectly safe, mi amore.’ Raf was smiling. ‘You have had a long walk, my friend,’ he added pleasantly. ‘Believe that I shall be sure to inform Signora Albero, when I see her next, how well you look after her tenants.’

‘Aye, well—thanks,’ Angus managed as he turned away. Then paused, his hand going into an inside pocket. ‘I thought you might like a Sunday paper, Miss—er, Mrs…’

‘Contessa,’ Raf supplied.

Angus nodded, gulped and handed over the folded broadsheet. ‘And it said on the radio just now that the weather’s going to get worse before it gets better,’ he added glumly. ‘I thought mebbe I should mention that too.’

For a moment they watched him trudge off, then Raf drew Emily back into the cottage, firmly closing the door.

‘So what was that all about?’ She turned on him hotly. ‘Why not have a banner made with SHE’S MINE in huge letters?’

‘It will not be necessary. He got the message. I regret his disappointment,’ he added lightly. ‘But the exercise will do him good.’

‘He came here to help,’ she protested. She shook her head. ‘You can’t believe, can you, that someone might actually go out of their way—just to do a kindness?’

‘I think it unlikely, yes.’ Raf followed her into the kitchen. ‘For a man to walk so far in these conditions to see a beautiful girl with no hope of reward? Never.’

‘Perhaps you shouldn’t judge other men by your own dubious standards, signore.’

‘You do not think I can be kind?’ He shrugged. ‘On the other hand, you have not granted me much opportunity to prove otherwise, carissima.’

‘If you’d wanted to be kind, you’d have stayed away.’ Emily spooned coffee into the cafetière with fierce precision. Then paused. ‘Would you like something to eat?’

Raf burst out laughing. ‘You are a girl of contradictions, cara. Would you not prefer to let me starve?’