The Forced Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

‘You are—disgusting.’
    He laughed. ‘No, merely practical. Besides, your would-be lover seemed in no mood for a tender seduction when I met
    him just now. Frankly, he appeared ill-tempered. And, when I arrived at his uncle’s house earlier, it was clear there had
    been a family disagreement of some magnitude in which he was involved.’
    ‘That is none of your business!’
    ‘I agree,’ Rafaele told her cordially. ‘Which is why I made an excuse and left at once, without the coffee I had been
    promised.’
    She glared at him. ‘Or anything else, presumably. Is that why you decided to ruin my time with Simon,signore —because
    you’d missed out with Jilly’
    He said gently, ‘That,mia cara , is a vulgarity not worthy of you.’ He paused. ‘I look on your father as my friend, Emilia,
    and I would try to prevent anything that would distress him. And the discovery that you had agreed to a secret liaison
    under his own roof would be a serious blow to him. You must know that. Your young man should have more regard for
    your honour.’
    Emily flung back her head. ‘It so happens,signore , that Simon and I are engaged to be married. We were meeting tonight
    to—to discuss our plans for the future, and not for the sordid reason you imagine.’
    His stride towards her was so quick and purposeful that she didn’t have a chance to step backwards. And, before she
    could defend herself, his hand had snaked out and pulled down the zip on her robe almost to the waist. The edges fell
    apart, revealing to his gaze the flimsy black triangles that barely concealed her nipples.
    He said contemptuously, ‘It seems I am not the only one with a sordid imagination,signorina . Let me tell you that you are
    too young and far too lovely to require such tawdry adornment. You disappoint me.’
    ‘How dare you’ Her voice was a strangled croak as she struggled to cover herself again, her fingers made clumsy by
    haste and shame. ‘Oh, God, how dare you—touch me Insult me You call yourself Daddy’s friend He’ll throw you out
    of the house when I tell him…’
    ‘When you tell him—precisely what’ Rafaele Di Salis cut impatiently across her stumbling words. ‘What you were doing
    here Why you were dressed as you are’ He shook his head. ‘No, Emilia, I recommend that you hold your peace about
    tonight, as I shall. Now, go to your room,’ he added almost wearily. ‘And I will lock up here.’
    She did not wait to argue, but fled. In the quiet of her room, she threw herself across the bed, burying her face in the
    covers, as shock and misery overwhelmed her.
    I want to die, she told herself passionately, a sob rising in her throat. Just to die. Because then I’ll never have to see
    Rafaele Di Salis again.
    But, for the time being, she had to go on living—enduring the terrible memory of his condemnatory gaze and the harsh
    dismissal of his words.
    And, somewhere among all of that, was the realisation that Simon had tamely given up and gone home, which, she
    discovered wretchedly, didn’t seem nearly as bad.
    She spent a miserable and restless night, with the covers pulled over her head, and it was a pale, hollow-eyed Emily who
    went reluctantly down to breakfast the next morning to confront her tormentor the best she could. She’d rehearsed a
    number of dignified and cutting speeches in case he should make some ill-chosen reference to the night’s events, but they
    proved unnecessary.
    Because he wasn’t there, and when she forced herself to ask her father about their guest’s non-appearance, she was
    breezily informed that Rafaele Di Salis had left first thing that morning to catch a flight to New York.
    ‘Isn’t that rather sudden’ She managed to pour her coffee with a reasonably steady hand.
    Sir Travers looked surprised. ‘No, my dear. Raf always planned to leave immediately after Boxing Day. Didn’t I mention
    that’
    ‘Actually, no,’ said Emily.
    ‘Well, he’s gone, anyway.’ Her father paused,