by Sara Craven
newspaper gossip. But she felt strangely stung just the same. Which was why she’d gambled that Raf would accept the
offered annulment as a quick way out of his marital dilemma.
Only Raf, as he’d made only too clear last night, had not seen it that way.
Maybe he doesn’t wish to give his future wife any impression that he is less than the master in his own house, she thought,
grimacing.
But if he really loves her and wants to marry her one day, why is he here with me How can he betray her by having sex
with someone else, even if it is only his wife
That’s what I should have asked him, she told herself. After all, I’d stupidly let slip that I knew all about his extra-marital
exploits.
But somehow accepting that Raf was an incorrigible womaniser, involved in a string of casualaffaires , was easier than
recognising him as a man capable of being deeply in love with just one woman.
Yet, in spite of that, he’d come here looking for revenge because she’d made him look a fool. But surely he could have
achieved his aim without hurting the woman he loved
On the other hand, lovers who were married to other people probably had to allow a certain sexual leeway in their
relationships—were forced to be realistic about their partners’ marital obligations.
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 wasin 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
&
nbsp; 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’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But coping with a corpse wouldn’t be practical.’ She hesitated again. ‘We could have poached eggs on
toast, perhaps.’ She added stiltedly, ‘I—I thought I’d roast the chicken this evening—if that’s all right with you.’
‘But of course.’ He paused. ‘So we have an empty afternoon before us,’ he went on softly. ‘How can we occupy it, I
wonder.’
‘You could always start by putting some clothes on,’ Emily suggested tautly.
‘Perhaps.’ He paused. ‘Or maybe I might persuade you to take yours off instead.’
Her breath quickened. ‘No!’
He leaned against the archway. ‘That is a very definite negative,carissima .’ He sounded faintly amused. ‘I can see why
you scared my lawyers, especially poor Pietro.’
She glared at him. ‘This is not a joke. I have no intention of performing some kind of striptease in broad daylight in order
to please you.’ Her voice was ragged. ‘And, if you push it, I’ll walk out of here and to hell with the snow. I’d rather
freeze in a drift than be degraded like that.’
‘My sympathies are with the drift,’ he returned coolly. He studied her for a moment. ‘I am surprised that you find the idea
of undressing in front of a man to be degrading, Emilia.’ He added sardonically, ‘I remember a time when you seemed
eager to do so.’
Oh, God, she thought, you would remind me of that awful night. But you’re still wrong. Because I never felt like
that—never wanted to—not even with Simon…
Aloud, she said frigidly, ‘That was with the man I loved,signore . Not you. Besides, it was the middle of the night.’
‘Daylight, lamplight, starlight,’ he said reflectively. ‘Does it really make such a difference’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It does.’ She looked at him, lifting her chin. ‘I realise that I can’t prevent you—helping yourself to me at
night, but my days are going to be my own and I want that understood.’
There was a loaded silence, then Raf gave a brief shrug. ‘Very well. You may have them, if they are so important to you.’
He paused. ‘But your nights will belong to me. Is it agreed’
She gave a small jerky nod.
‘Then maybe you too could make a concession,carissima ,’ he said softly. ‘And, tonight, show me a little of the kindness
you spoke of so eloquently a few moments ago.’
He turned away. ‘Now, to demonstrate my good faith, I will get dressed.’ He ran a musing hand over his chin. ‘But I shall
wait to shave, I think, until later.’
Digesting the implication in his words, Emily’s throat tightened. She said in a falsely bright voice, ‘Then I’ll hold breakfast
for you.’
‘Grazie.’ He inclined his head to her with a touch of mockery. ‘You are becoming a wonderful wife,carissima mia ,’ he
added softly. And went.
Emily leaned against the sink. He had allowed her to win, she thought shakily. But she was not deceived. Because it was
only a very minor triumph in the war of attrition between them.
Besides, he’d made it clear that he expected ultimate victory. That nothing else would do for him.
She said under her breath, But I won’t let that happen. I—I can’t…Because it would change my life for ever. Whereas,
once I cease to be a novelty, he—he will just walk away.
She stared through the window at the bleak and dazzling whiteness outside.
But wasn’t that what she really wanted—for him to go she asked herself desperately. And somehow could find no
answer.
It was a strange afternoon. In spite of Raf’s assurance, Emily still felt tense and on edge. After all, he’d broken his word
before, she told herself. What was to stop him doing so again
Besides, the other promise he’d made to her last night still lingered uneasily in her mind.
When she carried the tray of poached eggs and coffee into the living room she discovered that the fire was crackling
briskly in the grate and Raf, soberly clad in khaki trousers and a black woollen long-sleeved shirt, was kneeling on the
hearthrug, adding more coal to the blaze.