Married By Christmas Bundle: Anthology

by Carol Marinelli

  But thankfully this was his final sally, and he allowed her to finish her meal in peace. When they returned to his luxurious bedroom-turned-office, he kept the lights soothing and low as he slipped a CD into the music centre.

  Emily smiled. Brahms, she realised, surprised he had remembered her mother mentioning Miranda’s competition piece.

  He poured champagne and brought two crystal flutes across before settling himself down on the opposite sofa.

  ‘Better?’ he murmured, watching her drink. ‘Do you mind if I take my jacket off?’ he added, loosening a couple more buttons at the neck of his shirt.

  ‘Not at all,’ Emily said, forgetting her pledge to keep champagne celebrations until later as she watched him ease up from the chair to slip off a jacket lined with crimson silk. Freeing a pair of heavy gold cufflinks from his shirt, he dropped them onto the table and rolled up his sleeves to reveal powerful forearms shaded with dark hair. There couldn’t have been a more striking contrast to the type of pasty-faced executive she was accustomed to dealing with.

  ‘So, Emily,’ he challenged, eyes glinting as he caught her staring at him. ‘Do you still think I’m one of those misguided individuals you referred to?’

  For his opinion of cabaret singers, yes; where everything else was concerned—

  ‘I take it from your expression that you do.’

  His smile had vanished.

  ‘Let’s get one thing straight between us before we go any further. I don’t give a damn what people do, as long as they’re not hurting anyone else in the process. But I do care about motives—what makes people tick. What makes you tick, Emily?’

  Racing to put her brain back in gear, the best she could manage was a few mangled sounds.

  ‘Barrister by day,’ he went on smoothly, ‘moonlighting as a cabaret singer by night. There’s no harm in that, if you can cope with the workload. And it’s even more to your credit that you were moonlighting to help your sister out of a fix. What is not to your credit, however, is the fact that you intended to deceive me. Why was that, Emily?’

  ‘I admit things got out of hand—’

  The lame remark was rewarded by a cynical stare.

  ‘You really thought you could pull this off?’ he demanded incredulously. ‘What kind of a fool did you take me for?’

  Emily’s face burned scarlet as she struggled with an apology. ‘I didn’t know you—I’m really sorry. I didn’t think—’

  Alessandro held up his hands, silencing her. ‘As it happens, you’re not the only one who hasn’t been entirely straightforward.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Let’s consider this plan of yours first.’

  ‘My plan?’ It was clear he was on a mission to tease out her motives whilst taking care not to reveal any of his own, Emily realised.

  ‘Amongst your misconceptions is the notion that your sister’s crazy scheme is actually going to work.’

  ‘Will you help her or not?’

  ‘Without my co-operation your sister will never play the instrument she has set her heart upon.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Emily said anxiously, finding it impossible to sit down a moment longer.

  Stretching his arms out across the back of the sofa, Alessandro tipped his head to look at her. ‘Why don’t you sit down again, Emily?’ he suggested calmly. ‘You do want to help your sister, don’t you? You do want her to be able to play that violin she saw in the instrument maker’s shop near the castle in Heidelberg?’

  Emily could feel the blood draining out of her face as she stared at him. ‘How do you know about that?’ she said in a whisper.

  ‘I make it my business to know everything relevant to a case before I enter into any negotiation,’ he said steadily. ‘I never leave anything to chance.’

  Emily’s professional pride might have suffered a direct hit, but the only thing that mattered was Miranda’s future…But what was Alessandro Bussoni really after? Why had he gone to so much trouble? And how did he come to have such a hold over a German violin maker?

  ‘The violin in Heidelberg—’ she began, but her voice faltered as she remembered Miranda playing the beautiful old instrument. ‘What did you mean when you said that my sister might never get to play it?’

  ‘Without my co-operation,’ Alessandro reminded her, his expression masked in shade.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Sit down again, Emily. Please.’

  ‘I think you owe me an explanation first.’

  ‘The particular instrument you refer to is a museum piece almost beyond price. It was being displayed by one of today’s most celebrated instrument makers—’

  ‘Was being displayed?’ Emily asked. ‘Why are you talking about it in the past tense?’

  ‘Because it’s no longer there,’ he said evenly.

  ‘You mean it’s gone back to the museum?’ Relief and regret merged in the question.

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘What, then?’ Her look demanded he answer her fully this time.

  But Alessandro still said nothing, and just stared at some point over her left shoulder.

  Slowly Emily turned around, her eyes widening when she saw what he was looking at. A beautifully upholstered taupe suede viewing seat was angled to face a large entertainment system. Nestled in the corner of the unusual triangular-shaped seat rested a violin, propped up between two cream silk cushions. ‘Should it be out of its case?’ she mumbled foolishly, sinking down on the sofa again.

  ‘I imagine that’s the only way it’s ever going to be played,’ Alessandro said, levelling a long, steady gaze at her.

  Emily’s heart was thundering so fast she could hardly breathe. She had to turn round to take another look, just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming—to prove to herself that she really was in the same room as the violin Miranda had played in Heidelberg.

  ‘But you told me it was a museum piece—beyond price,’ she said, not caring that her battered emotions were now plainly on show. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Everything has its price Emily,’ Alessandro said with a small shrug as he regarded her coolly.

  He was waiting. For what? For her to say something? But how could she when her brain had stalled with shock and her whole body was quivering from some force beyond her control? To make matters worse, Emily couldn’t rid herself of the idea that she too was a prize exhibit—and with a rather large price tag dangling over her nose.

  ‘You bought it?’ she managed finally.

  ‘I bought it,’ Alessandro confirmed.

  ‘But why on earth—?’

  ‘As a bargaining counter.’

  ‘A bargaining counter?’ Emily spluttered incredulously. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Will you allow me to explain?’

  Emily clenched and unclenched her hands. She didn’t like the look on his face one bit. ‘I think you better had,’ she agreed stiffly, feeling as if she was clinging to Miranda’s dream by just her fingertips now.

  ‘It would be far better for your sister if she had enough money to continue her studies without the distraction of working with the band.’

  ‘Well, of course,’ Emily agreed. ‘But—’

  Alessandro’s imperious gesture cut her off. ‘Let me finish, please. It would be better still if she could have the use of that violin behind you—’

  ‘Is this before or after she wins the Lottery?’ Emily demanded, rattled by his composure.

  ‘What if I told you that I am prepared to give the violin to your sister…on permanent loan?’

  A thundering silence took hold of the space between them—until Alessandro’s voice sliced through it like a blade. ‘Well, Emily, what do you say?’

  ‘What would she have to do for that?’ Emily demanded suspiciously.

  ‘Your sister? Nothing at all.’ Alessandro’s mouth firmed as he waited for Emily’s thought processes to crest the shock he had just given her and get back up to speed.

  Emily’s eye
s clouded with apprehension as her brain cells jostled back into some semblance of order. ‘What would I have to do?’

  A smile slowly curled around Alessandro’s lips, then died again. She was so bright…so vulnerable. It was as if he had spied some rare flower, moments too late to prevent his foot crushing the life out of it.

  Standing up, he crossed the room. He needed time to think…but there was none. Opening a door, he reached inside the small cloakroom where he had been keeping the flowers. He had ordered the extravagant bouquet to seal their bargain. As he grabbed hold of them he realised that his hand was shaking. He paused a beat to consider what he should do. He could ram them in the wastebin, where they belonged, or he could keep on with the charade…

  Turning to face Emily, he held out the huge exotic floral arrangement. There was real hope in his eyes, and a sudden tenderness to his hard mouth.

  ‘I’m sorry, Emily, I meant to give these to you earlier.’ She looked so wary, and Alessandro knew he was the cause. What had started out as a straightforward business transaction had developed into something so much more. If Emily Weston accepted his proposal he would be the luckiest man in Ferara…No—the world, he thought, trying to second-guess her reaction.

  ‘For what?’ Emily said, glad to have the opportunity to bury her face deep out of sight amongst the vivid blooms as he handed them to her. ‘I’ve never seen such a fabulous display,’ she admitted, forced to pull her face out again when they began to tickle her nose.

  ‘For agreeing to become my wife,’ Alessandro said softly.

  For a full ten seconds neither of them seemed to breathe, and then Emily whispered tensely, ‘Are you mad?’

  Alessandro’s rational self gave a wry smile, and told him she might be right. But thirty generations of accumulated pride in Ferara insisted that no woman in her right mind would refuse the opportunity to become princess of that land.

  ‘Not as far as I am aware,’ he said coolly.

  ‘I think you must be.’

  ‘I said I had a proposition for you. I made no secret of it.’

  ‘Yes, a recording contract…for my sister—from Prince Records,’ Emily said, thrusting the bouquet away from her as if she felt that by accepting it she was in some way endorsing Alessandro’s plunge into the realms of fantasy.

  ‘I have no connection whatever with any company called Prince Records,’ he said, brushing some imagined lint from the lapel of his jacket.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You assumed I was a recording executive,’ he elaborated. ‘I allowed you to go on believing that…while it suited me.’

  ‘I see,’ Emily said, finding it difficult to breathe. ‘And now?’

  ‘The deception is no longer necessary,’ Alessandro admitted. ‘Because I have something you want and you have something I want. It’s time to cut a deal.’

  Emily felt as if her veins had been infused with ice. She might be twenty-eight and unmarried, but when her prince came along she wanted more than a business deal to seal their union…she wanted love, passion, tenderness and a lifetime’s commitment—not a charter of convenience to close a cold and cynical deal. ‘So, who the hell are you?’ she demanded furiously.

  ‘Crown Prince Alessandro Bussoni di Ferara,’ he said. ‘I know it’s rather a mouthful—Emily?’

  Snapping her mouth shut again, Emily whacked the bouquet into his arms. ‘Take your damn flowers back! My sister might be in a vulnerable position right now, but let me assure you, Alessandro, I’m not.’

  ‘Your sister put herself in this position—’

  ‘How dare you judge her?’ Emily flared, springing to her feet to glare up at him. ‘You don’t have the remotest idea how hard she works!’

  Alessandro felt as if he had been struck by a thunderbolt, and it had nothing to do with the fact that no one—absolutely no one—had ever addressed him in this furious manner in all his life before.

  Just seeing Emily now, her eyes blazing and her hair flung back, her face alive with passion, intelligence and a truckload of determination, he felt a desperate urge to direct that passion into something that would give them both a lot more pleasure than arguing about her sister.

  Was he falling in love? Could it be possible? Or was he already in love? Alessandro forced a lid on the well of joy that threatened to erupt and call him a liar for wearing such a set and stony expression in response to her outburst, when all he wanted to do was to drag her into his arms and kiss the breath out of her body. Had the thunderbolt struck the first moment he saw her, commanding that gaudily decorated stage…putting the harsh spotlights to shame with her luminous beauty—a beauty that had refused to stay hidden even under what had seemed to him at the time to be half a bucket of greasepaint?

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and call my car for you,’ he said steadily, revealing nothing of his thoughts. ‘I can see you’re upset right now. We will discuss this tomorrow, when you are feeling calmer—’

  ‘Don’t waste your time!’ Emily snapped defensively.

  ‘With your permission,’ Alessandro said, swooping to retrieve the discarded bouquet from the floor by her feet, ‘I’ll have these couriered to your mother.’

  ‘Do what the hell you want with them!’

  But as she calmed down in the limousine taking her safely home through the damply glittering streets, Emily was forced to accept that without financial assistance Miranda would never achieve her full potential. A grant might be found to cover her lessons with the Japanese violin professor, but no one was going to stump up the funds necessary to buy her a violin of real quality.

  But how could marriage to a stranger provide the answer? She gave her head an angry shake, then began to frown as she turned Alessandro’s preposterous suggestion over in her mind. With the right controls in place it might be possible…it would certainly secure Miranda’s future.

  The ball was in Alessandro’s court. If he was serious he wouldn’t be put off by her first refusal; he would be back in touch with a firm proposition very soon…Very soon. How long was that? Emily wondered, feeling a thrill of anticipation race through her.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  EMILY’S family sat in a closely knit group on the sofa in front of her, their faces frozen with disbelief.

  ‘And so we’ll all board Alessandro’s private jet and fly out to Ferara for the wedding,’ Emily finished calmly.

  Her mother recovered first. Glancing at the vivid floral display that took up most of the front window, she turned back again to Emily, her face tense with suppressed excitement. ‘Are you quite sure about this?’

  ‘Quite sure, Mother.’

  ‘No,’ Miranda said decisively. ‘I can’t let you do this for me.’

  But as Miranda cradled the precious violin in her arms it appeared to Emily as if the wonderful old instrument had finally come home.

  ‘Believe me, you can,’ she said firmly, turning next to her father. ‘Dad? Don’t you have anything you’d like to say?’

  Her father made a sound of exasperation as he wiped a blunt-fingered hand across his forehead. ‘I’ve never understood this romance business. I just knew your mother was right for me and asked her to marry me. She accepted and that was it.’

  ‘You can’t mean you approve of this, Dad?’ Miranda burst out, distracted from her minute inspection of the violin. ‘Just because it worked for you and Mum doesn’t mean it’s right for Emily. She doesn’t even know this Alessandro Bussoni—’

  ‘Well, I only got to know your father in the first year,’ their mother pointed out. ‘And Alessandro’s a prince.’

  As Miranda groaned and rolled her eyes heavenwards, her father made his excuses.

  ‘I have work to finish if we’re all going off on this jaunt next week.’

  ‘A jaunt?’ Miranda exclaimed, watching him hurry out of the room. ‘Doesn’t Dad know how serious this is?’

  ‘Alessandro has given me a cast-iron contract,’ Emily said calmly. ‘I’ve read it through carefully and ev
en had it double-checked in Chambers.’

  ‘And you’re sure that Miranda’s fees will be paid in full?’

  Miranda flashed a look of dismay at her mother.’ Mother, really!’

  Emily put a restraining hand on her sister’s arm. ‘Fees, as well as a grant, Mother, plus an indefinite loan of the violin.’

  ‘And the only way Alessandro’s elderly father can abdicate is if Alessandro marries you?’

  ‘That’s right, Mother. You see, we need each other.’

  In spite of her bold assurances, Emily wondered if she really was quite sane. She could recall every nuance of Alessandro’s telephone call—the call that had come through almost the moment she’d walked into her apartment after their meeting. He had signed off the deal with a generosity beyond anything she could have anticipated. At least, those were the tactics he had employed to make her change her mind, she amended silently. Tactics. She rolled the cold little word around her mind, wishing there could have been more—wishing she could have detected even the slightest tinge of warmth or enthusiasm in Alessandro’s voice when he’d upped his offer to ensure her agreement. But it had been just a list of commitments he was prepared to make in exchange for her hand in marriage. He might have been reading from a list—perhaps he had been, Emily thought, trying to concentrate on what her sister was saying.

  ‘And all you have to do is marry some stranger,’ Miranda exclaimed contemptuously.

  ‘Don’t be like that,’ Emily said softly.

  Miranda made a sound of disgust. ‘Well, I think you’ve all gone completely mad.’

  Emily might have agreed, even smiled to hear the word she had so recently flung at Alessandro echoed by her sister, but noticing how Miranda held the violin a little closer while she spoke only firmed her resolve. ‘This marriage lasts just long enough to allow Alessandro’s father to abdicate in his favour and Miranda to complete her studies with Professor Iwamoto. That’s it. Then it’s over. So don’t any of you start building castles in the air—’

  ‘Castles,’ her mother breathed, clapping her hands together as she gazed blissfully forward into the future. ‘Who’d have thought it?’