‘I’ll make it work. I have to,’ Emily said, when she was alone in her bedroom with Miranda later that day. ‘I’ve got nothing to lose—’
‘You’ve got everything to lose!’ Miranda argued passionately. ‘You might fall in love with Alessandro, and then what?’
‘I’m twenty-eight and have managed to avoid any serious romantic entanglements so far.’
‘Only because you’re a workaholic and no one remotely like Alessandro has ever crossed your path before,’ Miranda exclaimed impatiently. ‘What are you going to do if you fall in love with him? He’s one gorgeous-looking man—’
‘Which makes it all the easier to keep the relationship on a professional level,’ Emily cut in, seizing on the potential for disappointment. ‘He’s bound to be spoiled, selfish, inconsiderate and self-obsessed. Just the type of man I have always found so easy to resist.’
‘And what if you get pregnant?’ Miranda persisted.
‘Absolutely no chance of that.’
‘Now you do have to be kidding. You’ll never be able to resist him. And Alessandro looks like one fertile guy—’
‘It’s never going to happen without sex.’
‘What?’ Miranda stared blankly at her.
‘I’ve had it written into the contract,’ Emily said, congratulating herself on her foresight. ‘It seemed like a sensible precaution. And it saves any embarrassment for either party.’
‘“It saves any embarrassment for either party”,’ Miranda mimicked, trying not to laugh. ‘Get real! You’ll never know what you’re missing.’
‘Exactly,’ Emily confirmed. ‘And I intend to go back to work when all this is over, so I don’t need any distractions.’
‘Alessandro isn’t a distraction; he’s a lifetime’s obsession,’ Miranda pointed out dreamily.
‘Maybe,’ Emily conceded. ‘But he’ll want out of this contract as much as I will do. Don’t go making Mother’s mistake and reading more into it than there is. This is a straightforward business deal that suits both of us. It’s a merger, not a marriage.’
‘Then I’m sorry for you,’ Miranda said softly. ‘For Alessandro, too. And it makes me feel so guilty—’
‘Don’t,’ Emily said fiercely, clutching her sister’s arm. ‘Don’t use that word. You have to support me, Miranda. It’s too late to back out now. I’ve already arranged to take a career break. Just think—I’ll be able to pay off my mortgage with Alessandro’s divorce settlement, so you’re helping me to achieve my dream, too.’
‘In that case, I guess we’re in this together,’ Miranda said, pulling a resigned face.
‘Just like always,’ Emily admitted, forcing a bright note into her voice as she tried not to care that her marriage to Alessandro was doomed before it even began.
‘Like for ever,’ Miranda agreed, on the same note as her twin. But her face was full of concern as she looked beyond Emily’s determined front and saw the truth hovering behind her sister’s eyes.
It was a beautiful summer’s evening of the type rarely seen in England. The milky blue sky was deepening steadily to indigo, and it was still warm enough to sit out on the hotel balcony in comfort. The uniqueness of the weather was perfectly in accord with the mood of the occasion, Emily mused as she watched Alessandro come back to her with two slender crystal flutes of champagne. The business of signing the contract was over, and now it was time to celebrate a most unusual deal.
A little shiver ran through her as she took the glass. Marriage to a man like Alessandro would have been an intoxicating prospect whatever his condition in life…If there had only been the smallest flicker of romance—but there was none.
‘To us,’ he murmured, breaking into her thoughts with the most inappropriate toast she could imagine.
‘To our mutual satisfaction,’ Emily amended, only to find herself qualifying that pledge when she saw the look on his face. ‘With the outcome of our agreement,’ she clarified.
‘Ah, yes, our agreement,’ Alessandro repeated with a faint smile. ‘It may not have been spelled out to you exactly, but you will be entitled to keep the title of Principessa if you so wish…Emily?’
‘That’s really not important—’
‘Not important?’
She could see she had offended him. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I—’
His dismissive gesture cut her off. Turning his back, he stared out across the rapidly darkening cityscape. ‘Once we are married the title is yours for life, whether or not you choose to use it.’
‘I will have done nothing to earn that right,’ Emily protested edgily.
‘Don’t be so sure,’ Alessandro countered, spearing her with a glance. ‘There are bound to be difficulties before you settle into the role.’
‘Please don’t worry about me, Alessandro. I’m quite capable of looking after myself.’
Emily was convinced that she was right, but she hadn’t reckoned with the speed with which Alessandro would put the plan into operation. By the end of the week even travel arrangements had been finalised. Emily and her family would fly to Ferara in Alessandro’s private jet while he remained in London to conclude his business dealings there.
As the day of departure drew closer, the speed of change in Emily’s life began gathering pace at a rate she couldn’t control. It felt as if the carefully crafted existence she had built for herself was being steadily unpicked, stitch by intricate stitch. The first warning sign was when a young couple arrived unannounced to take her measurements and speak in reverent terms of Brussels lace and Shantung silk, Swiss embroidery and pearls. At that point Emily realised that if she didn’t put her foot down she would have little to say even about the style of her own wedding dress. As if to confirm her suspicions, just a couple of days later clothes began arriving at her apartment—without anything being ordered as far as she was aware—as well as boxes of shoes by the trunkload.
Feeling presumptuous, almost as if she was attempting to contact someone she hardly knew, she picked up the telephone to call Alessandro at his London office.
She was so surprised when his secretary put her straight through that for a few moments she could hardly think straight.
‘I know it’s a bit crude,’ he admitted, covering for her sudden shyness with his easy manner. ‘But time has been condensed for us, Emily, and I wanted you to feel comfortable—’
‘Comfortable?’ Emily heard herself exclaim. ‘With clothes labelled “Breakfast, lunch, dinner: al fresco; breakfast, lunch, dinner: formal”! And that’s only two of the categories. There must be at least a dozen more—’
‘You don’t like them?’ Alessandro said, sounding genuinely concerned.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.’
‘Should we meet and discuss it, do you think?’
‘Yes.’ She should have pretended to think about his offer for a moment or two, she realised.
‘Shall I come for you now?’ There was a note of amusement in his voice.
‘That would be nice,’ she managed huskily.
Alessandro took her to lunch at one of the city’s most exclusive restaurants. Somewhere so discreet that even a prince and his beautiful young companion could pass a comfortable hour or two consuming delicious food in a private booth well away from prying eyes.
Laying down her napkin after the most light millefeuille of plump strawberries, bursting with juice, sweetened with icing sugar and whipped cream, Emily wondered how she was going to refuse Alessandro’s fabulous gifts without offending him.
‘Is something troubling you?’ he pressed, signalling to the waiter that he was ready to sign the bill. ‘You surely can’t still be worrying about those clothes?’
‘I don’t know what to think about them,’ Emily admitted frankly, hiding her confusion behind the guise of practicality. ‘There are just so many outfits—it would take me the best part of a year just to try them all on.’
‘So leave it for now,’ he suggested casually. ‘Grab a few things you like,
and I’ll have the rest delivered to the palace. You can take your time over them in Ferara. I just thought as we were in London it was too good an opportunity to miss.’
‘You’re very kind…too kind,’ Emily said impulsively. Her heart was hammering painfully in her chest, while Alessandro’s gaze warmed her face, demanding that she look at him.
‘I just want you to be happy,’ he murmured.
A muscle flexed in his jaw, as if he was struggling with the situation almost as much as she was. ‘For the duration of the contract,’ Emily said, as if trying to set things straight in both their minds.
Inclining his head towards her, Alessandro gave a brief nod of agreement. ‘Talking of which—’ Reaching inside the breast pocket of his lightweight jacket, he brought something out, then seemed to think better of it and put it back again.
‘Are you ready to go?’ he said, standing up. ‘I thought we might take a stroll around the park before I take you back.’
As they left the restaurant Emily was aware that the same men who had followed them discreetly from her apartment were just a few footsteps behind them now.
‘Don’t worry,’ Alessandro said, linking her arm through his, seeing her turn. ‘They’re the good guys.’
‘Your bodyguards?’
‘Yours, too, now that you are to be my wife,’ he reminded her.
The thought that she was to be Alessandro’s wife excited her, in spite of everything, but the thought that she would never go anywhere again without bodyguards was the flipside of the coin. She needed Alessandro to guide her through this confusing new world, Emily realised. There were so many things she had to ask him…
‘Would you like to come back to my place for coffee?’
The few seconds before he replied felt like hours. So long, in fact, that Emily began to feel foolish—as if she had made some clumsy approach to a man she’d only just met.
‘Better not,’ he replied with a quick smile.
‘Don’t worry—I just thought—’
Alessandro could have kicked himself. Emily’s invitation had been irresistible—almost. But if they went back to her apartment there could only be one outcome and, to his continued surprise, Emily Weston had awoken a whole gamut of masculine instincts within him—prime amongst which, at this moment, was his desire to protect her. To protect her, to woo her, and then make her his wife. And he had already accepted that the timing of that last part of his plan might not coincide exactly with their wedding day.
‘There’s still time for that walk in the park.’
They were sheltering from rain beneath a bandstand when he said, ‘You’d better have this.’
‘What is it?’ Emily said curiously, watching as again he dipped his hand inside the breast pocket of his jacket. She frowned when she saw the ring he was holding out to her.
‘It would cause quite a stir in Ferara if you weren’t seen wearing this particular piece of jewellery,’ Alessandro explained, as coolly as if it was a laptop that came with the job.
Of course there would be a ring…she should have known. And it was a very beautiful ring. But shouldn’t an engagement ring be given with love…and with tenderness?
‘Don’t you like it?’
It really mattered to him, Emily realised, taking in the fact that the ring was obviously very old and must have been worn by Alessandro’s ancestors for generations—possibly even by his late mother.
‘If you prefer you could just wear it on public occasions.’
‘I love it,’ she said firmly. And I can see how much it means to you, her eyes told him. ‘It’s just with all these fabulous clothes, and now this…’ The words dried up as he took hold of her hand. His expression was lighter, as if a great burden had been removed from his shoulders.
‘Thank you,’ he said softly. ‘I was hoping you’d like it. It has been passed down through my family.’
‘Tell me more,’ Emily encouraged, forgetting everything else as she surrendered to Alessandro’s voice, and his touch…but most of all to the sudden realisation that she wasn’t the only one who needed reassurance.
‘I know it isn’t the usual huge and very valuable stone,’ he began, ‘and perhaps it isn’t the type of thing you might have been expecting. But this ring has a provenance that no other piece of jewellery can boast.’
It might have been made for her, Emily realised as he settled it on her finger. Dainty ropes of rubies and pearls wound around the circumference with a ruby heart as the centrepiece of the design. ‘Tell me about it,’ she repeated.
‘There was a Prince of Ferara named Rodrigo,’ Alessandro began. ‘He fell in love with a beautiful young girl called Caterina. Rodrigo had this ring made for her…’
As his voice stroked her senses Emily tried to remain detached and remind herself that Alessandro was only telling her a story. But it wasn’t easy when her mind was awash with alternative images.
‘On his way to ask for Caterina’s hand in marriage, Rodrigo’s horse shied, throwing him unconscious into the lake. Robbed of her one true love, Caterina decided to join a religious order.’
Emily tensed as Alessandro switched his attention abruptly to her face. ‘What happened to her?’ she asked quickly, full of the irrational fear that he could read her mind and know it was full of him rather than the characters he was telling her about.
‘Caterina’s horse shied on the way to the convent,’ he said casually, the expression in his eyes concealed beneath a fringe of black lashes. ‘When she recovered consciousness this ring was right there by her side.’
The ruby heart seemed to flare a response, making Emily gasp involuntarily.
‘So, did she join the religious order?’
‘She couldn’t.’
‘Couldn’t?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Why not?’
‘I should take you home now, if you are to have an early night before your flight to Ferara tomorrow,’ he said restlessly, as if he wished he had never started the story. ‘I have another business meeting in about—’ He frowned as he glanced at his wristwatch. ‘About ten minutes ago.’
All the romance…all the tenderness…had vanished from his voice as if it had never been. Of course it had never been, Emily thought, angry for allowing herself to get carried away. Alessandro’s fairy story was just part of the play-acting they were both forced to endure…and the ring was just another prop.
‘I’ll take good care of it,’ she said, closing her fist around the jewel-encrusted band.
‘I’m sure you will,’ he murmured as he straightened up. ‘Shall we go?’
It was an instruction, not a question, Emily realised. ‘You don’t have to see me home,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ve made you late enough already.’
‘I’m taking you back,’ he insisted in the same quiet determined tone that made it impossible to argue with him.
Alessandro left her at the door to her apartment, refusing yet another invitation to cross the threshold. ‘Li vedro in Ferara, Emily,’ he said, waiting until she had closed the door.
‘Yes. See you in Ferara, Alessandro,’ Emily confirmed softly, turning away from him to face the empty room.
CHAPTER FIVE
IT SEEMED to Emily that everyone in Ferara had cause to celebrate apart from the main characters in the drama that was about to unfold.
From one of the windows in the turret of the huge suite she had been given for her few remaining days as a single woman she had a good view of the cobbled thoroughfare outside the palace walls. Bunting and banners in the distinctive Feraran colours of crimson, blue and gold hung in colourful swathes across the street, along with numerous posters of the soon to be married couple…Emily Weston and Prince Alessandro Bussoni Ferara. Es and As, intertwined.
For once Emily was forced to agree with her mother. It hardly seemed possible!
She had been awake since dawn, when all the unfamiliar sounds of a new day in Ferara had intruded upon her slumbers. Only then had she begu
n to drink in the unaccustomed luxury of her new surroundings—and with something closer to dread than exhilaration. The setting was everything she might have dreamed about—if she’d been a dreamer. One thing she had not anticipated was how it might feel to be set adrift in a palace that, however fabulous, was full of endless echoing corridors where everyone but she seemed to know exactly what was expected of them.
Ferara, at least, was far lovelier than she had ever dared to expect. On the drive from the airport the countryside that had unrolled before her had been picture-postcard perfect. A landscape of lilac hills shrouded in mist, some crowned with quaint medieval villages shielding fields cloaked in vines, and clusters of cypress trees standing on sentry duty against a flawless azure sky.
The Palace of Ferara was constructed around a sixth century Byzantine tower, and seemed from a distance to be balanced perilously on the very edge of a towering chalky-white cliff face. Rising out of the low cloud cover as they had approached by road, both palace and cliff had appeared to be suspended magically in the air. But as they’d drawn closer Emily had seen that the stone palace was both vast and set firm on towering foundations.
No wonder a Princess of Ferara needed so many clothes, she mused as she retraced in her mind those parts of the palace she had already been shown. The sheer number of rooms was overwhelming.
Tossing back the crisp, lavender-scented sheets, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and headed towards the glass-paned doors leading onto her balcony. Even in the early-morning sunshine the mellow stone already felt warm beneath her naked feet. Staring out across the city, she felt like an excited child, monitoring the progress of some promised treat…Except that she wasn’t a child any longer, Emily reminded herself, pulling back. She would have to be totally insensitive not to realise that the people of Ferara had high hopes for this marriage, and all she had to offer them was a sham.
She dragged her thoughts from harsh reality and they turned inevitably to Alessandro, and how long his business would keep him from Ferara. The best she could expect was that he would turn up for their wedding. Then they would get on with their own lives—separately. She would stay on in Ferara, of course, and act out her part as promised. But what did Alessandro have planned? Would she see him at all?
Married By Christmas Bundle: Anthology Page 48
