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

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.

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I meant to do that.’

‘From now on, I will attend to it.’ He gave her a brief smile as he got to his feet, adding lightly, ‘I do not wish you to ruin your hands, cara. Or give your admirer another excuse to call.’

She said between her teeth, ‘Once and for all, he is not my admirer.’

He gave her a dry look. ‘No longer, certainly,’ he agreed, as he sat down at the table.

She was trying to think of a suitably chilly riposte when her attention was suddenly distracted.

‘Oh, God, it’s snowing again.’

‘We were warned that it might.’ Raf poured the coffee. ‘Is it a problem?’

‘Your car,’ she said. ‘I thought we might be able to dig it out—and leave.’

‘To go where?’ He sounded politely interested as he cut into his toast.

‘Does it matter? Just—away from here. After all, we—we both have lives to get back to.’

‘And it would suit you much better if those lives were resumed hundreds of miles apart,’ he murmured. ‘No deal, carissima. The forecast in the newspaper warns that roads in this area may become impassable for a while and only essential journeys should be attempted in the rest of the region. Your reluctance to be alone with me hardly justifies the risk.’

He paused. ‘And you made the decision to come here.’

‘I had no idea it would be like this,’ she said. ‘What’s more, I bet you didn’t realise that we might be marooned here when you set the arrangement up.’ She shook her head. ‘Oh, God, I was so damned stupid. I should have realised it was a trap.’

‘Is that how you see it?’ Raf asked silkily. ‘Yet I find it delightful. Quiet, remote. The ideal place to begin married life. Don’t you think?’

‘You don’t want to know what I think,’ she said bitterly.

‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘If you relaxed a little, Emilia, you might enjoy being here too.’

And he was not simply referring to the environment, Emily thought, biting her lip.

When the meal was over, Raf cleared the table, in spite of her protests, and carried the used cups and plates into the kitchen. Emily followed unwillingly and found him crouched in front of the fridge studying the chicken.

He said, ‘Do you wish to cook it in wine? Shall I fetch some from the cellar?’

‘No, thank you. I’m simply going to roast it.’

‘And these are the vegetables?’ He looked at them with an air of faint disbelief. ‘May I help prepare them?’

‘That won’t be necessary.’ She hesitated. ‘As you can see, this is a very small kitchen, so could it be designated as my space? Please?’

There was a brief silence, then he said too courteously, ‘But of course. Forgive my intrusion.’

He disappeared into the living room and Emily tackled the washing-up. When it was completed, she cleaned all the surfaces until they shone, then wiped them over again. She was tempted to scrub the floor—anything that would delay her from having to join him in the living room—but she didn’t want him to think that she was nervous. Even though she was.

But when she eventually ventured in he barely seemed to notice. He’d discovered a box of chessmen and a board somewhere and seemed absorbed in a problem he’d found in the newspaper.

She sat on the sofa opposite, her legs curled under her, and watched the leaping flames in the grate. But she realised, after a while, that she was also stealing covert looks at Raf. It occurred to her that she’d never before spent such a long time completely alone with him. And that, for at least half of it, she’d been naked. And so, of course, had he…

‘Do you play chess?’ he asked suddenly and she jumped, colour flooding her face, as she realised where her thoughts had been drifting.

‘I know the basic moves,’ she said. ‘Nothing else.’

‘Would you like to learn?’

‘No, thank you. I always preferred backgammon.’