His Reluctant Bride

by Sara Craven

  Laura groaned. ‘I don’t think I shall ever be able to face them again.’

  He grinned at her. ‘Ah, but you will, Madonna. Now go back to sleep and dream about me, and I will return very soon.’ At the door he turned. ‘And then we must talk.’ He blew her another kiss, and was gone.

  She lay quietly for a while. She had never thought much about her body, except as something to be fed and clothed. Had found the physical facts of passion and consummation faintly ludicrous, and the prospect of actually finding herself in bed with a man—submitting to him—as both awkward and embarrassing.

  And she’d never imagined herself as anyone’s sex object either. She’d always supposed she was too thin, and her breasts were too small, to make her the focus of a man’s desire.

  And yet in one terrifying, rapturous night all her ideas had been overturned, and her principles swept aside.

  She belonged body and soul to Alessio Ramontella. And every nerve ending she possessed, each muscle, and inch of skin, was providing her with a potent reminder of his total mastery. And of how much he had, indeed, desired her.

  She realised she was blushing and pushed the sheet away, swinging her legs to the floor. Too late for blushes now—or even to remember her own careful taboos about casual sex. Although those hours of lovemaking could hardly be described as casual.

  And, she thought, she didn’t regret a thing. How could she?

  She quickly straightened the bed, plumping the crumpled pillows and smoothing the covers flat, then wandered into the bathroom to take a long, luxurious shower. As she soaped herself she recalled other hands touching her, sometimes tantalising, sometimes almost reverent, and felt her heartbeat quicken uncontrollably.

  I want him here, she thought, pressing a clenched fist against the tiled wall. I want him now.

  As she emerged from the shower and reached for a towel she glimpsed herself in one of the many mirrors and paused, all her earlier doubts about her lack of glamour confirmed.

  She turned away, sighing. She still had nothing to wear, and frankly she didn’t fancy traversing the house to collect a change of clothing from her room, so she borrowed Alessio’s black silk robe instead, rolling up the sleeves and tying the sash in a secure double bow round her slender waist.

  The faint fragrance of the cologne he used still lingered in the fabric, she discovered with ridiculous pleasure as she stretched out on top of the bed to wait. She could almost pretend that he was here with her, his arms around her.

  And the fantasy became even more real if she closed her eyes. She hadn’t meant to doze, but the room was warm, the bed soft, and the shower had relaxed her, so the temptation was irresistible.

  As she pillowed her cheek on her hand she remembered how Alessio had kissed her awake only a few hours before, and exactly what it had led to. And she wriggled further into the mattress, smiling a little as her eyelids drooped.

  It was the sound of the dog barking excitedly that woke her.

  Laura propped herself up on an elbow, and stared around her, momentarily disorientated. Caio, she thought, trying to clear her head. Caio in the courtyard outside her room, wanting her to come out and join him. Except he wasn’t here—he was at Lake Trasimeno with the Signora. And—this wasn’t her room either. It belonged to Alessio.

  Just, she thought slowly, just as she did herself.

  And, with that nosedive into reality, she suddenly became aware of something else. The sound of women’s voices arguing, not far away. One of them was Emilia’s. But the other…

  Oh, God, Laura thought, transfixed with horror. It’s the Signora. She’s back. I have to get out of here.

  But she was too late. The door was flung wide, and the Signora came stalking into the room, brushing away the volubly protesting Emilia as if she were a troublesome insect.

  ‘So.’ She stared at Laura, still huddled on the bed, and her smile was gloating. ‘Just as I expected.’ She turned. ‘Paolo, my poor son, I grieve for you, but you must come and see this slut you brought here. This puttana you thought to honour with our name, and who has become yet another of your cousin’s whores.’

  Paolo followed her into the room, his expression sullen and inimical. The look he sent Laura was enough to freeze the blood. ‘Fool,’ it said plainly.

  ‘Sì, Mammina,’ he said curtly. ‘You were right about her and I was wrong. She has totally betrayed me, and now I cannot bear the sight of her.’ He spat the words. ‘So, get rid of her. Make her go.’

  I’m still asleep, thought Laura. And this is a nightmare. A bad one. He couldn’t still intend to keep up this ludicrous pretence, surely?

  The situation was fast slipping out of control, and somehow she had to drag it back to reality. It was hard to be dignified when wearing nothing but a man’s robe, several sizes too large, but she had to try, she thought, scrambling off the bed and facing them both, her head held high.

  She said coldly and clearly, ‘Paolo, I do not appreciate having my privacy invaded, or being insulted like this. So, please stop this nonsense, and tell your mother the truth.’

  ‘And what truth is that, pray?’ the Signora enquired.

  Laura sent Paolo an equally fulminating glance. ‘That your son and I are not involved with each other—and never have been.’

  ‘And nor will we ever be,’ he flung back at her. ‘You faithless bitch. Do you think I would want my cousin’s leavings?’

  Laura felt as if she’d been punched in the midriff. She said, ‘But that’s insane—and you know it.’

  ‘I know only that I want you thrown out of this house.’ He turned to his mother. ‘Arrange it, Mammina. I wish never to see her again.’

  He stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him. Leaving Laura and the Signora looking at each other.

  The older woman sent her a grim smile. ‘You hear my son. Pack your things, and go. As the matter is urgent, my car will take you to the airport at Rome.’

  Laura swallowed. ‘This is not your house, signora. You do not give orders here. And I am going nowhere until Alessio returns.’

  ‘You are over-familiar, signorina.’ The Signora’s tone was ice. ‘Or do you imagine some sordid romp gives you the right—a nobody from nowhere—to refer to the Count Ramontella by his given name?’

  She paused derisively. ‘You mentioned the truth just now. So, hear it. I arranged this little comedy, and I am now ending it. Because I have achieved what I set out to do. I have separated you from my son. With the assistance, of course, of my dear nephew.’

  There was a silence, then Laura said slowly, ‘What—what are you talking about?’

  ‘I am talking about you—and your host.’ She snorted. ‘You think my nephew would have laid a finger on you of his own free will? No, and no. I simply made it necessary for him to—oblige me. And he has done so.’

  Laura was very still. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  The Signora laughed. ‘But of course not. You did not know—how could you?—that my nephew has been conducting a disreputable affair with a married woman—the worthless wife, unfortunately, of an old friend’s son.’ She sighed. ‘So sad—and potentially so scandalous. But I agreed not to make this shameful episode public if Alessio would, in his turn, use his powers of seduction to win you away from my son.

  ‘At first, he was reluctant. You are not the type to whom he would naturally be drawn, and very much his social inferior. But he decided that his mistress’s dubious honour must be protected at all costs.’ She picked up Laura’s torn dress from the floor, and studied it. ‘And it seems that, in the end, he—warmed to his task.’

  Her malicious smile raked like rusty nails over Laura’s quivering senses. ‘He promised me he would send you home with a beautiful memory, signorina. I gather that his ability to do so is almost legendary, so I hope he has kept his word.’

  ‘You mean I was—set up?’ Even to her own ears, Laura’s voice sounded husky—uncertain. ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘Ask him,’ s
aid the Signora. ‘If you are still here when he returns.’ She gave a delicate yawn. ‘I advise you go quickly and spare him the obvious recriminations. They will do no good. Alessio is, and will always be, a law unto himself.

  ‘Besides,’ she added, shrugging, ‘it is clear he wishes to avoid a confrontation. As you see, when he learned I was returning, he immediately contrived to be absent. He may feel it is wiser to stay away until you have finally departed.’

  ‘He—knew?’ The words stuck in her throat.

  ‘But of course. I telephoned earlier.’ The older woman sounded mildly surprised. ‘I needed him to make sure you would be found in his bed. That was our agreement.’

  She nodded. ‘Alessio has fulfilled his part of the bargain, and can now resume his liaison with that pretty idiot Vittoria Montecorvo in perfect safety, as long as he is discreet.’ She smiled again. ‘As you have found, signorina, he prefers fools. And variety.’

  She added more brusquely, ‘Your services are no longer required, signorina. You have amused my nephew for a short time, but anything else is only in your imagination.’

  Did I imagine it? Laura asked herself numbly. Did I imagine the murmurs and laughter? The peace and sense of belonging? Was it really—just sex all along?

  The Signora turned and opened the door. ‘So, please go quietly without embarrassing scenes.’

  Laura said quietly, ‘Do you really think I’d want to stay?’ She brushed past the older woman, and walked quickly away down the passage towards her room, stumbling a little on the hem of the robe.

  In the courtyard, the goddess Diana still smiled with that chill serenity. But then, thought Laura as the first slash of pain cut into her, she was accustomed to having love torn to pieces in front of her. So this was the place where she truly belonged.

  She ran the rest of the way, just making it into the bathroom before she was violently sick, retching into the toilet bowl until the muscles of her empty stomach were screaming at her, and the world was revolving dizzily round her aching head.

  Eventually, she managed to drag herself back to her feet, to rinse her mouth and wash her face somehow. The light golden tan she’d acquired had turned sallow, she thought, wincing at her reflection, and her eyes looked like hollow pits.

  While beating like a drum in her tired brain were the words, ‘I have to get out of here. I have to go. Before he comes back. I have to go.’

  Alessio parked the Jeep in front of the villa and sprang out, humming to himself. He had assured himself that Fredo was going to make a full recovery, then made his excuses and left, intent on returning as fast as possible to his warm, beautiful girl.

  He had felt totally relaxed and serene on the homeward journey, but his mind was clear and sharp as crystal, visualising the whole shape of his future life laid out in front of him like a golden map.

  He strode into the house and went straight to his room, but it was empty. He shrugged off his faint disappointment that Laura was not there, waiting for him, and went in search of her.

  As he walked through the hallway Caio advanced out of the salotto barking aggressively, halting Alessio in his stride. His brows snapped together as he realised with sharp dismay the implications of the dog’s presence, and, as if on cue, his aunt appeared in the doorway of the drawing room.

  ‘Caro,’ she purred. ‘I did not expect you back so soon.’

  ‘And I did not expect you at all, Zia Lucrezia.’ His tone was guarded. ‘The road has only just opened again.’

  ‘So Guillermo informed me when I telephoned. He seemed to feel I should not take the risk, but my driver is a good, safe man.’

  She paused. ‘You will be pleased to hear that our little conspiracy was entirely successful. Paolo was cured of his foolish infatuation as soon as he saw the English girl sprawling half naked on your bed.’ She added brightly, ‘And soon, she will be on her way to the airport and out of our lives for ever. Bravo, nephew. You have done well.’

  Alessio had a curious sensation that it was suddenly impossible to breathe.

  He said hoarsely, ‘What have you done? What have you said to my Laura?’

  She shrugged a shoulder. ‘I simply—enlightened her as to the real reason for her presence here—and for being honoured with your attentions. Did I do wrong?’ She smiled maliciously, adding, ‘She seemed to accept the situation quite well. No weeping or hysteria. I was—surprised.’

  He said on a groan, ‘Santa madonna,’ and began to run.

  Laura had taken out the clothes to wear to the airport, and put them on the bed. She went back into the bedroom to fetch her toothbrush and wash-bag, and when she emerged Alessio was standing there.

  She recoiled instantly, with a little incoherent cry, and saw him flinch.

  He said with shaken urgency, ‘Laura, carissima. You must let me talk to you. Explain.’

  ‘There’s really no need, signore.’ There was a terrible brightness in her voice. ‘Your aunt has already told me everything.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not everything.’

  ‘Then at least all I needed to know,’ she flashed. ‘Which is—I got screwed. Several times and in several different senses of the word.’

  His head went back. He said icily, ‘How dare you describe what happened between us in those terms?’

  ‘Too vulgar for you, my lord?’ She dropped a curtsy. ‘I do apologise. Blame my social inferiority.’

  He drew a deep breath. ‘We shall get nowhere like this.’

  ‘I shall get somewhere,’ she said. ‘Rome airport, to be precise. After which I shall never have to see anyone from your lying, treacherous family again. And that includes you—you utter bastard.’

  There was a tingling silence, then Alessio said quietly, ‘I do not blame you for being angry with me.’

  ‘Thanks for the gracious admission,’ she said. ‘And now perhaps you’ll go. I have to finish up here, and your aunt’s driver is waiting.’

  He said curtly, ‘My aunt will need her driver herself. She and Paolo are leaving.’

  She lifted her chin. ‘Your aunt didn’t mention it.’

  ‘She does not yet know. If you wish to go to the airport, I will drive you.’

  ‘No.’ She almost shouted the word. ‘No, you won’t, damn you. Can’t you understand? I wouldn’t go five yards with you. In fact, I don’t want to breathe the same air.’

  He looked at her wearily. ‘Dio, Laura. You cannot believe what you are saying.’

  ‘Oh, but I do,’ she said. ‘And I also believe your aunt. Or are you going to deny that you had me brought here so that you could seduce me?’

  He bent his head, wretchedly. ‘Mia cara, it may have begun like that, but—’

  ‘But that’s how it ended as well,’ she cut across him. ‘If memory serves. Now, will you please get out of this room?’

  ‘Not until we have talked. Until I can get you to understand…’

  ‘But I do. It’s all perfectly clear. You have a mistress who is married. Your aunt threatened to make the affair public. You took me to bed to keep her quiet.’ Her glance dropped scorn. ‘You really didn’t have to go to those lengths, signore. If you thought I was dating your loathsome cousin, then you only had to ask me to stop.’

  ‘Laura—listen to me. I—I wanted you.’

  ‘Please don’t expect me to be flattered. What was I—your practice round? Keeping you in shape for your married lady?’

  ‘Your memory does not serve you very well,’ he said. ‘You know it was not like that.’

  ‘My most recent recollection,’ she said, ‘is being found by that unholy pair in your bedroom, and having to listen to their insults. Because you set me up. Your aunt telephoned you and said she was on her way.’

  ‘I received no such call,’ he said. ‘And if I had, then you would have left with me.’ He paused. ‘If you still insist on going to Rome, then Guillermo will take you. But stay with me, bella mia, I beg you. Let me try and make amends.’

  ‘There is nothing you
can say, or do.’ Her throat ached uncontrollably. ‘You tricked me, and I shall always hate you for it. I just want to leave—and never see you again.’

  There was another dreadful silence, then he said, slowly and carefully, ‘Unfortunately, it may not be that simple for either of us. Last night, I failed to protect you as I should have done, a piece of criminal stupidity for which I must ask your forgiveness. However, it is a fact that you could be carrying my child.’

  ‘Well, don’t worry too much, signore.’ Her voice bit. ‘If I am, I’ll take appropriate action to deal with it—and it won’t cost you a red cent. So you can return to your mistress without a backward glance.’

  ‘Vittoria is not my mistress.’ His voice rose in exasperation. ‘She never was. It was wrong, and I admit that, but it was only a one-night stand—nothing more.’

  ‘And so was I,’ she hit back at him. ‘They seem to be your speciality, signore.’ She saw his head jerk back as if she had struck him, and took a steadying breath. ‘Now, if you have nothing more to say—no more lame and meaningless excuses—then, perhaps, you’ll finally get out of this room, and leave me alone.’

  She could feel his anger like a force field, and braced herself for the explosion, but it did not come.

  Instead, he looked her over. ‘There is one thing.’ His tone was almost conversational. ‘My robe. I would like it back, if you please.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll leave it—’

  He held out a hand. ‘Now.’

  There was a silence. At last she said quietly, ‘Please—don’t do this.’

  His brows lifted. ‘What is your objection, signorina?’ His tone mocked her. ‘I am asking for nothing but the return of my property. Or do you wish me to take it from you?’

  Her lips silently formed the word ‘no’. She undid the double bow, fumbling a little, then took off the robe, which she rolled into a ball and threw at him. It landed at his feet. She stood her ground, making no attempt to cover herself with her hands. Trying to tell herself that it did not matter. That he already knew everything there was to know about her.