by Sara Craven
She was shaken to the core by her own reaction. Bitterly ashamed of her own weakness. And surprised too that Raf had
actually kept his word, had not taken further advantage of her.
Yet Emily knew she had by no means escaped unscathed. That there was an even more worrying aspect of the situation
that she somehow had to confront.
That long ago night…
Those were the words that were now coming back to haunt her. His unfounded but still disturbing suggestion that she
might have gone into his arms knowing full well that he was not Simon.
Indicating that her female instinct should have stopped her before she’d got within a yard of him, let alone thrown herself
at him.
But that’s nonsense, she told herself. It was dark, and I was very young and very stressed—nervous as hell—not thinking
straight. Besides, it was Simon I was expecting. No one else. Because Raf was with Jilly. I—I knew that. Knew that, if
she had her way, there was no reason to expect him back before breakfast.
And, anyway, as soon as I realised my mistake, I pushed him away instantly—immediately, she thought defensively. Of
course I did. Although I admit that it should not have got to that stage. That obviously I should have known as soon as he
first touched me. And that it should never—ever—have gone as far as it did.
But it was an honest error. And Raf has no right and no reason to imply anything different. As if I’dwanted to find out
what being in his arms—being kissed by him—might feel like.
Which, she told herself hotly, is a shameful inference to draw from an—an innocent blunder.
Yet suddenly Emily found she was shivering, wrapping her arms round her body in an involuntary gesture of
self-protection.
Because she was bitterly aware that she’d never been able to forget that brief moment in time, no matter how hard she’d
tried. That she’d seen it as a warning not to allow him anywhere near her again.
But was that because she could not trust him, as Raf himself had proved only last night, justifying all her worst fears Or
was it—could it be—because she was afraid she might not be able to trust herself
Could it be possible that there’d been one second—one infinitesimal moment on that long ago night when she hadn’t
wanted to step back When, incredibly, she’d wanted to press herself closer to the hardening danger of his body and
offer her parted lips for his deeper exploration
She hadn’t been unfaithful to Simon—of course not. But instinct had told her she’d approached some danger zone that
she hadn’t known existed till then. So she’d buried all the doubts—the unanswered questions far, far down in her psyche.
But now Raf’s mocking challenge had brought them all raging back to the surface to torment her, testing the validity of her
claim of ‘an honest error’.
Yes, it was still a terrible mistake to have made, but whether it was ‘honest’ or ‘innocent’ was now wide open to
question.
Because she’d never managed to completely erase the memory of that barely discernible flicker of physical excitement.
And, if she was being truly honest, it wasn’t the only time that she’d reacted in that particular way.
My wedding night in Italy, she thought, swallowing. When I saw him walk into the bedroom and felt myself start to
tremble inside. Yes, I was scared, at first anyway, but that wasn’t all of it, and I—I knew it.
Because I suddenly found myself remembering that other night and his arms holding me—the touch—the taste of his
mouth. And wondered…
And, for a moment, I almost forgot that he’d married me solely out of a sense of obligation to my father. Although Rafaele
soon reminded me, of course. Spelled out chapter and verse, then walked away.
While I told myself I should be relieved that he didn’t want me and even more thankful that I hadn’t made a fool of myself
by smiling at him, or giving any other indication that he might be welcome to stay.
And yet there’d been times during that first year of marriage when Raf’s constant visits had been difficult to bear. Dreams,
too, that she’d burned to remember.
But, eventually, as he’d begun to stay away and the rumours that he’d resumed his bachelor lifestyle had begun to
circulate, Emily had been able to convince herself that it had all been a temporary aberration on her part, with no
connection to the future she was planning for herself.
And when Simon came back and told me he’d never stopped loving me, she thought, I felt justified somehow. I was glad
I could tell him that there’d never been—anyone else for me, and that we could start again—together. That I’d belong to
him—and him alone.
Fine words, yet, so far, I haven’t shed a single tear for him. Is it possible that I always suspected, deep down, that I was
just a means to an end My father’s credulous heiress, looking for love in increasingly hopeless places
Because I haven’t been very lucky in either of my suitors. One of them sold me out and the other used me to repay an old
debt.
Which doesn’t leave me with many illusions about myself and maybe I will be able to cry about that one day. Before I
begin to sort out exactly who I am and what I really want. But not yet.
Because I have to get through this somehow and I can’t afford tears or self-pity. I need to survive.
She closed her eyes resolutely, then opened them again.
That long ago night…
It occurred to her suddenly that this was the first time Raf had ever mentioned it. Up to now, he’d always behaved as if it
had never happened. But then, she thought, he’d never required her to kiss him before either.
Not that it meant anything, she added hastily. It was just another way of asserting his male dominance. Another ploy to
humiliate her, as she’d embarrassed him over the annulment issue.
But she would never let him see that it mattered. Not that—or anything else he might do to her. She would shore up the
control she’d so painfully acquired. And there would be no more moments of weakness or inappropriate curiosity about
how it might be if she ever surrendered herself completely to his lovemaking, she told herself fiercely.
Because, one day soon, he would become tired of this fruitless battle of wills and decide to let her go and she wanted to
be able to walk away, her head held high.
And now, she thought, swallowing past the tightness in her throat, I have to stop thinking about him and try to sleep.
She dozed eventually, but it was no peaceful rest. She was assailed by snatches of dreams peopled by shadowed figures
with faces she did not recognise, who turned away as she struggled to reach them across bleak and barren landscapes.
In the end she was never sure what woke her. But as she opened her eyes to the pale grey light filtering through the
curtains, she had a overwhelming impression of being warm, relaxed and deliciously comfortable. All this, she thought
drowsily, in total contrast to her miserable night with its fragmented dreams.
Yet, as her awareness increased, several disturbing facts made themselves evident. For one, she was no longer lying on
the far side of the bed, clinging to its edge as if stranded on the north face of the Eiger.
Somehow, in the night, she had moved back across the broad expanse of the mattress to where Raf was lying.
But she wasn’t just next to him, for heaven’s sake, but right up against him as if she’d been glued to his spine. Her legs
had somehow become entangled with
his and her body had adapted every inch of itself to fit the long, lean curve of his
back, her breasts crushed against its hard muscularity, and her arm draped round his waist. Moreover, her face was
pressed between his shoulder blades, so that her nose and mouth were filled with the warm, clean scent of his skin.
Emily lay for a moment, hardly daring to breathe, intensely conscious of the violent, erratic beat of her heart. Out of one
nightmare into another, she thought with horror. Dear God, I’m practicallyinside him.
But how could it possibly have happened It had to be her own doing, because Raf clearly hadn’t moved an inch and,
fortunately, was still sleeping deeply and peacefully.
Slowly, her bottom lip caught in her teeth, she began to detach herself from him, little by little, before edging stealthily
backwards, every nerve-ending attuned to the possibility that he might wake up, and then…
But she wouldn’t consider that. She’d just concentrate on freeing herself. All the same, it seemed an eternity before she
could slide out from under the covers altogether and she stifled a gasp as her warm skin encountered the icy air in the
room.
Tiptoeing about, trying to avoid any sound, she found her nightdress and pulled it on. It might not be picturesque, and it
certainly wasn’t sexy, but it provided a much-needed layer of insulation, she thought, topping it with a quilted gilet for
good measure.
Noiselessly, she drew back the curtains and looked out. It had snowed again in the night, she saw without pleasure, and
there were still a few flakes whirling past the window from the slate-grey sky.
And small wonder that it was freezing, she thought, testing the radiator with a cautious finger. The heating wasn’t on,
which meant there was probably something wrong with the boiler.
She groaned silently. This was all she needed.
She went softly out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen. Coffee was the priority, she told herself as she filled
the kettle and set it to boil. Strong and very hot.
She wandered into the living room, opening the curtains, shaking up the sofa cushions and collecting the glasses from the
previous evening.
The kettle should have been boiling by the time she returned to the kitchen, but there was no cheerful sound of seething
water or any trace of steam from the spout and it was stone-cold to her cautious touch.
She suddenly remembered Angus’s casual warning about power failures and the way the lights had flickered the night
before and said aloud, ‘Oh,no …’
She tried the light switch by the door, again with no result, then returned to the sink and turned on the hot tap, willing
there to be at least some hot water left in the tank, but it was like putting her hand into the ice of a mountain stream and
she bowed her head defeatedly.
‘You are feeling the cold,carissima ’
The softly spoken words made her turn quickly to see Raf lounging in the archway, his dark face alight with amusement as
he studied how she was dressed.
‘Isn’t it obvious’ she snapped defensively, observing that, by contrast and in spite of the temperature, he was wearing
nothing but a towel knotted loosely round his hips.
His grin widened. He strolled across, sliding both arms round her waist, his lips nuzzling her neck. ‘Then you should have
stayed in bed with me,’ he whispered. ‘I find I am in a much better mood this morning.’
‘Then I hope it continues,’ Emily said bitterly, trying to free herself from his clasp. ‘Especially when I tell you we have no
electricity.’
‘Davvero’ He sounded more interested than perturbed. ‘Well, it is not the end of the world.’
‘No’ She wrenched herself away and stepped backwards. ‘You enjoy being without heat or light, do you I don’t think
so.’
‘We have a fire, candles and a stove to cook on.’ He shrugged. ‘Life goes on.’
‘But there’s no hot water. I can’t even have a bloody bath.’ She raised two clenched fists. ‘Oh, God, why did I ever
come to this hellish place’
‘I think, Emiliamia ,’ he drawled, ‘that is a question you should answer for yourself rather than troublingIl Signore .’ He
paused. ‘Your father told me once he feared he had over-indulged you. I have often thought since that he was right.’
‘Don’t you dare mention my father,’ she flared. ‘What do you imagine he’d think of you, if he knew you’d broken your
word about this marriage’
‘He asked me to give you time,’ he said. ‘He did not expect me to wait for ever. So he would assume we had reached
some accommodation with each other at last and already have begun to look forward to his grandchildren.’ His tone was
brusque. ‘Now, let us leave your flights of fancy and be practical.’ He opened a cupboard and extracted several large
saucepans, along with a huge preserving pan.
‘If you wish to bathe, you may do so. It will not be luxurious,naturalmente , but it is the best that can be managed.’
Emily’s nose wrinkled doubtfully. ‘You mean we’re going to carry hot water—all the way upstairs—in pans’
‘No,’ he said wearily. ‘I am going to do it for you, so you will not be inconvenienced in any way, Contessa.’ He took out
a much smaller pan. ‘And before you ask, this is to boil water for coffee. I think I may need it.’
She bit her lip. ‘That’s why I came downstairs to—to make coffee…’
‘I think not.’ His smile was swift and ironic. ‘You came down,cara mia , because you realised you had spent the night
nestling against me in a way it took all my self-control to resist and you found the discovery an embarrassment.’
He walked past her to the sink and began to fill the preserving pan with water.
‘I suggest you wait upstairs,’ he added over his shoulder. ‘And be sure to put some cold water in the bath first. I would
not wish you to be scalded.’
She was scalded already, Emily thought furiously, as she marched out of the kitchen. Burning from head to foot. And not
just because he clearly believed she was running scared after last night’s gaffe. The claim that she was some kind of
spoiled brat rankled even more, implying that he and her father had calmly discussed her faults and failings before the
marriage.
I’m surprised he didn’t ask to see my school reports or examine my teeth, she fumed under her breath as she climbed the
stairs, trying not to trip on the trailing nightgown.
And if he has some idea that finding my arm round him in the night meant anything, he can think again—and fast.
But she took his advice about the cold water before retiring to the bedroom and assembling her clothing for the day. As
many layers as possible, she thought. Warm tights under her cords and a long-sleeved T-shirt under her thickest sweater.
And dismissed the sly inner voice which suggested that she could be wrapping herself against more than the weather.
She had just finished making the bed when Raf appeared in the doorway.
‘Your bath awaits,signora .’ He paused. ‘It reminds me that I must instruct Gaspare to engage a personal maid for you. A
girl with muscles.’
‘That,’ said Emily coldly, ‘is entirely unnecessary.’
‘I disagree.’ He gave her nightgown another long look. ‘She will also conduct a complete review of your wardrobe and
list what is required.’ He added softly, ‘I shall choose your lingerie myself—and it will not be black.’
He doesn’t forget a thing, Emily thought bitterly. She
lifted her chin. ‘Thank you, but my existing clothes are perfectly