It Happened In Rome: The Forced Bride / The Italian's Rags-to-Riches Wife / The Italian's Passionate Revenge

She would continue to be polite and pleasant when she saw him, play the part required of her when necessary, and try not to think about him at all when he was absent.

Besides, if she said anything, it might seem as if she cared. As if his infidelity actually mattered to her. And that wasn’t true. It wasn’t true at all.

So she would ignore the whole sordid situation and simply live for the time when she would no longer be his unwanted wife. When she would be free of him.

And that time, thought Emily, staring through the train window at the flying countryside, that time is now.

My marriage is over and there’s nothing on this earth that Raf Di Salis can do about it.

CHAPTER FOUR

IT WAS dark when Emily got to Glasgow, and pitch black when she arrived at last at Kilrossan. But her journey, though lengthy, had run like clockwork and she’d had no trouble making her connection.

As she descended on to the cold and windy platform and stood for a moment ruefully easing her spine, a rangy young man approached out of the gloom.

‘You’ll be Miss Blake, I’m thinking.’ Voice and smile were cheerful. ‘I have the Jeep waiting.’

He took the suitcase crammed with warm clothing and the bag of books from her and set off towards the exit.

‘I’m Angus McEwen, by the way,’ he added. ‘It’s my auntie who looks after the cottage for the owners, although there aren’t many visitors at this time of year.’

‘I wanted to find somewhere quiet and remote,’ Emily told him, huddling gratefully into her fleece.

He laughed. ‘Well, it’s that all right.’

‘It’s also absolutely freezing!’

‘There’s snow expected.’ He stowed her bags in the back of the Jeep and they set off.

She said stiltedly, ‘It’s very good of you to come and collect me at this time in the evening.’

‘All part of the service. I’m home on leave and like to keep occupied.’ He paused. ‘How did you hear about the cottage?’

‘Through a friend.’

‘It’s a shame it’s so dark because the scenery around here’s something grand,’ he told her. ‘Mind you, they say the desert’s beautiful too, but I can’t see it myself.’

‘Is that where you work?’

He nodded. ‘I started on the oil rigs but now I’m on a contract in Saudi.’ He paused again. ‘Are you a walker, Miss Blake? Because, if you’re planning to head into the hills at some point, you’ll need to leave a message with Auntie at the shop about where you’re going and when you reckon to be back. Snow or not, the weather can still be treacherous at this time of year and getting the mountain rescue team out is expensive.’

Emily smiled. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’ve come to relax.’ Or try to…‘I’m not tackling more than the odd gentle stroll.’

‘Then I’d better give you a bit of peace now,’ Angus commented ruefully. ‘The family always say I could talk the hind leg off a donkey.’

If she was truthful, Emily was glad of the silence. She still couldn’t believe her escape had been so simple. The only query had come from the ticket office clerk at the station. ‘A first class single to London, madam? Not a return?’

She’d smiled demurely. ‘I’ll probably be coming back by car,’ she fibbed. She wouldn’t, of course, but if Raf made enquiries that was what he’d be told. And from London she could have gone anywhere.

She didn’t even want to contemplate what his reaction would be when he arrived at the Manor and discovered she was missing. But she wouldn’t worry about that now. She had two weeks of solitary bliss in which to make her contingency plans. And when she returned she’d be ready for anything.

They seemed to have been driving for ever but at last the Jeep turned off and Emily found they were bumping over a rutted uphill track.

Her companion pointed to a light ahead of them. ‘That’s Braeside Cottage. Auntie’ll have been up with a welcome pack—bread, milk, porridge oats and the like. And I’m to show you where everything is and light the living room fire for you.

‘The water and heating work off oil,’ he went on as Emily murmured appreciatively. ‘And the cooker uses bottled gas, because the electricity goes off sometimes in bad weather. But Auntie Maggie makes sure there’s always a good stock of candles.’ He paused doubtfully. ‘You’re certain you won’t mind being up here on your own?’

‘Believe me,’ Emily said truthfully, ‘I can hardly wait.’

The cottage was certainly worth waiting for, she thought, as she was ushered straight in through a front door which, Angus told her, was rarely, if ever, locked.

Well, it was the back of beyond, just as she’d hoped, she reminded herself. Her Scottish sanctuary, hundreds of miles from irate Italian millionaires.

It was a large room, comfortably furnished but not flash. Two big sofas upholstered in blue flowered chintz flanked the fireplace and there was a small dining table and two chairs under the window. None of the furniture was new, but it gleamed and there was a pleasing scent of polish in the air.

A curtained archway led to a small but well-equipped kitchen at the rear, with the promised welcome pack standing on one of the counter tops.

In addition, there was a flight of wooden stairs to the upper floor and a door in the corner which Angus said led down to the cellar, where the boiler and the coal bunker were both located.

He took her case upstairs and deposited it in the large front bedroom. Emily saw that there was a thick quilt in a green and white striped cover on the double bed and that the lace-edged pillows were crisply laundered. It looked so inviting that she almost ached.

There were sheepskin rugs on the wooden floor and plain curtains in the same green at the windows. There was also an elderly chest of drawers with a mirror above it and a walk-in cupboard with a hanging rail.

Opposite was a single room, chastely furnished in white, and at the end of the narrow landing was a small but serviceable bathroom with a deep old-fashioned tub and a hand shower.

It was all immaculately clean and shining, which made Angus’s Aunt Maggie a treasure. Pity she can’t sort out High Gables for Simon, she thought, and wondered if he was missing her, at the same time disturbingly aware that she’d hardly spared him a thought. That she’d been preoccupied with Raf instead, and to an absurd degree. Well, that would stop right now.

When she rejoined Angus downstairs, the fire was already crackling in the grate.

‘The kindling’s kept in the cellar, too, for dryness,’ he mentioned. ‘And the log store’s in a lean-to at the side of the house. There was a load delivered before Christmas, so don’t stint yourself. And it draws well, this fire, so it’s easy to light.

‘You’ll have no trouble finding the village, either,’ he continued. ‘Just keep walking downhill. Auntie’s shop is only open for papers tomorrow, because of the Sabbath. But, if you look in the fridge, you’ll find she’s left you a Sunday dinner, so you won’t starve. I’m afraid that’s extra,’ he added a touch awkwardly. ‘Is that all right?’

‘I’m truly grateful,’ Emily assured him. ‘Your aunt’s gone to a lot of trouble to make me welcome, and so have you.’

‘Och, think nothing of it.’ Angus stood up, dusting his hands. ‘Make sure you use the spark guard before you go to bed and you’ll be fine.’

‘I’m sure I will. I’ll just have a quick supper, then sleep off the journey.’

His smile warmed her again. ‘Then I’ll see you around.’

And he was gone, and she heard the Jeep disappearing down the track.

At last, there was nothing but silence. Emily stood for a moment, looking round her new domain with profound satisfaction.

It was settling in time. She would unpack, make her first meal, take her first bath, then let the stresses and strains of the past week slide away in that big, comfortable bed upstairs.

It felt chilly in the bedroom. She felt the radiator, but it was cold, as was the one in the bathroom. Presumably the heating worked on a timer and had switched itself off, she thought, putting away her clothes in double-quick time.