The Forced Bride. Sara Craven

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      Strange, Emily thought, shifting uneasily in the big chair, that even after the passage of three years, she should have this—instant recall, as if it had all happened yesterday. But maybe unpleasant memories stayed longer in the mind than the cheerful variety.

      Not that there’d ever been any really joyous moments to glean from any part of her strange relationship with Raf Di Salis.

      The celebration would come when he signed the papers to set her free. And allow her, at last, to marry her first love and put all the pain of separation and misunderstanding behind them.

      Her mouth tightened as she remembered how, in the aftermath of that disastrous night, she’d waited in mounting desperation to hear from Simon. But forty-eight endless hours had passed without a word and, as the time lengthened, her pride would not allow her to contact him and demand to know what the hell was going on.

      She’d been in the village, parking her bicycle outside the general stores, when Jilly Aubrey had emerged.

      ‘Well, hi,’ she drawled, giving Emily the usual disparaging once-over. ‘Where’s that gorgeous Italian who was staying with you? I want to invite him to our New Year bash, if he’s going to be around.’

      Emily gave her a cool look. ‘I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. He’s gone, and he won’t be coming back for New Year, or any other time.’ If my prayers are answered…

      Jilly shrugged. ‘Don’t sound so pleased, honey, because you’re in the same boat. Simon’s staying on in London, according to Mother.’

      ‘London,’ Emily repeated before she could stop herself.

      ‘You mean you don’t know?’ Jilly’s eyes glinted with malice. She lowered her voice confidentially. ‘Dad found out over Christmas that he’d been borrowing money from Ma again, and there was a massive explosion, chez nous. Fall-out everywhere, my dear. So pretty Cousin Simon’s been sent off to seek his fortune, or find a job that will enable him to pay a few of his debts, anyway. If such a thing exists,’ she added with a faint sneer. ‘Whatever, he won’t be allowed back until he’s gainfully employed, so I’d look around for another boyfriend if I were you.’

      ‘But I’m not you,’ Emily said quietly. ‘I believe in Simon and I’m prepared to wait.’

      The other girl shrugged again. ‘More fool you,’ she retorted. ‘Don’t say you weren’t warned.’ And she walked down the street to her car and drove away.

      Simon could have told me, Emily thought forlornly as she queued for her stamps at the post office counter. In fact, he should have told me.

      And we didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye because of that bloody Rafaele Di Salis.

      Even the slightest mention of his name seemed to have the power to make her burn with rage and humiliation, although she’d done her damnedest to put him out of her mind.

      But she was still haunted by the way he’d looked at her that awful night, and it was galling beyond belief that he should be the first man to see her even semi-naked.

      One of her first acts after his departure had been to wrap that horrible underwear in newspaper and add it to the incinerator in the garden where the last of the dead leaves were burning.

      Gone, she’d told herself. Over and done with. Only, somehow, it didn’t seem to be that simple, and she didn’t know why.

      She tried to give her thoughts a more positive turn as she cycled back to the house, telling herself that it was a good thing that Simon was looking for work—the first step towards the future they were planning. Although it didn’t mean, of course, that her father would fall over himself to give them his blessing. But it was a start.

      And as for Jilly’s remarks—well, Emily decided, she shouldn’t give them credence. Simon’s cousin had been spiteful over their relationship from the start. And her disappointment over Raf Di Salis hadn’t sweetened her disposition either.

      Over dinner that evening, she said, ‘We aren’t having visitors for New Year, by any chance, are we?’

      ‘No one. Why, is there someone you wish to invite?’ her father asked.

      ‘No,’ Emily said too vehemently. ‘Absolutely not. I was just—checking, that’s all.’

      Sir Travers examined the wine in his glass. ‘Did you hope, perhaps, that Rafaele might be joining us?’

      ‘On the contrary,’ Emily denied quickly.

      He gave her a long, steady look. ‘Why do you dislike him?’

      ‘Does there have to be a reason?’ Her tone was defensive.

      ‘I suppose not,’ he said. ‘But I would prefer it if you were friends.’ There was a quiet, almost stern note in his voice that Emily knew of old. ‘I expect him to be a regular guest here, and as his hostess, my dear, you will make him welcome.’

      Emily’s heart sank, but she managed a neutral, ‘Yes, of course.’

      At the same, she surreptitiously crossed her fingers that there would be no return visit from the Count until she was safely back at school.

      And it seemed her luck was in, because Raf Di Salis continued to stay away and Emily found the latter СКАЧАТЬ