Married By Christmas Bundle: Anthology

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘Alessandro, I think we’re snowed in.’

  Emily waited as he stretched and yawned noisily, then sat up and raked through his wayward black hair in a hopeless attempt to tame it.

  Padding across the room to join her, he leaned his fists on the windowsill and gazed out across what had become in a few short hours a featureless snowscape.

  ‘No chance of anyone leaving Lech today,’ he murmured.

  Where there had been pavements and cars and railings, marking the banks of the river that wound its way through the village, there was only a uniform blanket of deep white snow.

  ‘Hungry?’ he said, not appearing too concerned by this turn of events.

  ‘A little,’ Emily admitted, trying to ignore the fact that her husband was naked, apart from his hip-skimming boxer shorts, and standing very close.

  ‘I’ll ring down—have them send something up to us. I feel lazy today. We might as well take it easy…after all, we’re not going anywhere.’

  Emily moved away to put on some more logs and stoke the dying embers of the fire. The fact that they had slept in the same bed together and he hadn’t attempted to make love to her had left her feeling restless and uneasy. Was he still angry with her? Maybe he didn’t want her any more. Maybe he was going to reinstate the celibacy clause in their agreement. Maybe he would find that all too easy.

  ‘How long do you think we’re here for?’ she said, pulling herself together, knowing she sounded edgy, as if she didn’t want to be snowed in with him, when nothing could be further from the truth.

  But Alessandro seemed not to notice. He had the phone in his hand and was gesturing for her to wait as he got through to Room Service. He spoke rapidly in German…something else she hadn’t known about her husband, she realised, feeling panic sweep over her. The fact was, she didn’t know much about him at all.

  ‘That’s settled,’ he said, replacing the receiver. ‘Relax, Emily. There’s nothing we can do. We might just as well settle back and enjoy the break. Why don’t you stop prowling around the room? Go and have a nice long soak in the bath while we’re waiting for breakfast to arrive.’

  Did he want to put distance between them? Emily swallowed down the fear that had lodged in her throat. All her emotions seemed to be in turmoil—all the time; every little thing seemed to assume crisis proportions. ‘How long?’ she said again.

  ‘Breakfast? Or—?’

  ‘No, not breakfast,’ she flashed back. ‘You know what I’m talking about, Alessandro.’

  ‘Do I, Emily?’ he said. ‘I know you’re very prickly this morning, and over-sensitive. Is it something I’ve done—or not done?’

  Her face flamed as the thought of what he had not done. And when she saw the faintly ironic shadow in his slanting amber gaze she knew for sure he was reading her mind.

  ‘You seem to be in a great hurry to leave Lech,’ he pressed. ‘Do you have an urgent appointment to keep elsewhere?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Emily’s mind lurched back on track. ‘I came here to be with you—to thank you properly for helping me with that case.’

  Is that all? Alessandro thought as he snatched up his robe. Thrusting his arms into the sleeves, he threw her a cynical look. So, Emily only wanted to thank him for his help with her case? It was almost worse than being told she had only come for the sex. ‘To answer to your question,’ he said coolly, securing the belt, ‘walking parties may be able to leave here quite soon with a local guide. Others, who are not quite so desperate to return to reality, can stay on at the hotel until the road down to Zurs is cleared.’

  ‘Oh…’ Emily said, peering distractedly out of the window.

  ‘Which category of snowbound guest do you fall into, Emily?’

  She moved back towards the fireplace, where the logs were well ablaze. ‘I’m staying,’ she said without hesitation.

  ‘And we’ll do what?’

  Now it was Alessandro’s turn to sound as if he was having difficulty reining in his feelings—as if he was determined that the emotional rollercoaster ride she had subjected him to had made its final run. It was time to build bridges between them, Emily realised, before the moment was lost for ever…

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, determined to find something that would bring them close again. ‘Tell each other stories?’

  His gaze narrowed thoughtfully, and then, to her relief, softened a little.

  ‘For instance?’

  ‘How about the one you never finished…the one about this ring,’ she suggested, holding out her hand so that the central stone in the beautiful old piece of jewellery glowed like a drop of crimson blood in the firelight.

  Their relationship was like a ball of wool that had become hopelessly tangled, Emily thought as he came to sit down on the sofa while she chose a spot on the rug. Telling each other stories wouldn’t have been her first choice for Christmas Eve activities, but it was somewhere to start teasing out the knots.

  ‘You reached the point where Caterina found the ring and believed it was a sign from Rodrigo,’ she prompted.

  ‘OK,’ Alessandro said, settling back. ‘So Caterina was forced to accept that her lover had drowned. But she decided she couldn’t lock herself away in a religious community after all, and would live her life as Rodrigo would have wanted her to.’

  ‘How could she know what he wanted?’

  ‘Because that was the moment she realised she was pregnant with his child.’

  Emily’s glance flashed up, but there was no separate agenda, she saw thankfully—he was only recounting a much-loved story.

  ‘Caterina put Rodrigo’s ring on her finger and returned to Ferara to fulfil her destiny. And every Princess of Ferara has worn the ring you have on your finger since that day.’

  ‘That’s the most romantic thing I ever heard,’ Emily admitted, turning the ring around her finger so that the flames from the fire seemed to imbue it with life…or with challenge, maybe…And now it was her turn to come up with an equivalent tale. How would she begin? Alessandro, I’m going to tell you the story of a baby?

  ‘I’m sure the history of that ring has been embellished over the years until it’s little more than a fairytale,’ Alessandro said, misreading the questions in her mind.’ Emily? Where are you going?’

  ‘To have that bath you suggested.’ To give herself time.

  ‘You don’t get out of telling your story that easily,’ Alessandro warned. ‘I’ll order breakfast while you’re reclining in bubbles, then it’s your turn.’

  Putting a CD on to play, Emily slipped the slim volume of poetry Alessandro had given to her, with the Christopher Marlowe rose from her wedding bouquet pressed inside it, between his jeans and jumper, where he was sure to find it, before heading for the bathroom.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he said suspiciously as she darted about the room.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘This music—?’

  Her shoulders dropped with relief that the first part of her plan hadn’t failed.’ Miranda’s first commercial recording.’

  ‘It’s quite remarkable,’ Alessandro murmured, remaining very still as he listened.

  ‘It was brought out in time for Christmas. This is the first copy off the press. Miranda wanted you to have it…she signed it for you.’ Hurrying to his side, Emily pressed the empty case into his hands. ‘I suppose I should have wrapped it up—’

  ‘No, this is perfect,’ Alessandro insisted. And before she could get away he caught hold of her hands and raised them to his lips. ‘Go and have your bath, Emily—and don’t be long.’

  The message in his eyes was unmistakable…irresistible. Emily held his gaze. Her heart was thundering in her chest. It was going to be all right. Everything was going to be all right…

  ‘Do I have to?’ she protested after her bath, when they were both sitting by the fire again. ‘I’m fine with facts, but I’m absolutely hopeless at telling stories.’

  ‘Then if you can’t play the game,’ Alessandro war
ned, ‘you’ll have to pay a forfeit.’

  There was only a glint of humour in his eyes, but it was enough for Emily to feel as if the whole world had revolved on its axis and returned them to a moment in time before secrets had driven a wedge between them. ‘A forfeit?’

  ‘Certainly,’ he murmured, in a voice that hovered between stern and seductive. Reaching towards her, he brushed a wayward strand of hair back from her face with one finger. ‘And I get to choose what that forfeit should be.’

  Emily’s nerves were jangling with awareness.

  She was acutely conscious of the crackling of the logs in the grate and the barely discernible patter of snow against the window as his hand moved to cup the back of her head and draw her close. As his warm, musky man-scent invaded the clean air she made no move to resist when he gathered her into his arms.

  ‘Thank you for the rose,’ he whispered against her lips, and even though his eyes were half closed Emily could see how bright they flared with passion, and with love.

  ‘And for the gift of music. I can’t think of a better Christmas present.’

  ‘Except this,’ she murmured seductively, drawing him down with her onto the soft rug in front of the fire. It felt like a homecoming, a long awaited return. She was lost from the moment his lips touched her body. And when his tongue began to work on her nipples there was no possibility of turning back.

  Moving lower, Alessandro freed the fastenings on her jeans and took them down, together the tiny thong she was wearing. Naked now, Emily moved sinuously beneath him as he covered her waist and her belly with tiny teasing bites, before moving on to the insides of her thighs. Running her hands appreciatively over his back, she felt bereft when he left her briefly to tug off his clothes.

  There was nothing wrong in having your husband make love to you, Emily reassured herself when something dark and unfathomable niggled at the back of her mind—nothing but the knowledge that you were really four months pregnant with his child and he didn’t know yet! She pulled away as his kisses grew a lot more intimate.

  ‘What?’ he said, but there was already a hard look in his eyes—as if he knew, Emily saw apprehensively. But how could he know? ‘You taste different.’

  She was so thrown by the comment that it took her a few moments to rally her thoughts. ‘Different?’ she muttered.

  ‘You heard what I said.’

  The change in Alessandro’s voice, in his mood, was frightening. Backing away, Emily sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. ‘How do you mean, different?’

  His eyes had narrowed and his gaze was calculating. ‘I can’t list the contributory factors like a recipe—’

  ‘The contributory factors?’ Emily demanded, reaching nervously for her clothes. ‘Don’t ever accuse me of lawyer-speak again!’ Her attempt to lighten the mood skittered across the frigid silence between them, making no improvement. Stumbling awkwardly around, she pulled on her clothes. ‘I should never have come,’ she exclaimed when Alessandro made no response. ‘I’m going to call down to Reception and find out when that guide will be leaving the village—’

  ‘Put that down!’

  One minute he was on the rug gazing up at her; the next he was standing beside her with the telephone in his hand.

  ‘I think you owe me an explanation, Emily.’

  ‘No—why—?’ she said, backing away from the look in his eyes.

  ‘I think you know. How many months pregnant are you, Emily? Why didn’t you tell me the moment you found out?’

  Emily’s head spun and the ground seemed to come up to meet her. This was the very last thing she had wanted. The hurt in his voice jabbed at her mind like so many thorns.

  ‘How long were you prepared to wait before you told me?’

  ‘Stop!’ She put her hands over her ears, as if she couldn’t bear to hear another word. ‘Please, Alessandro, stop firing questions at me. I can’t think—’

  ‘That’s perfectly obvious.’

  She glanced at him, then quickly looked away. Everything that had been between them minutes earlier had been replaced by an expression on his face that chilled her to the marrow. ‘I’m sorry—’

  ‘You set a great scene; I’ll hand you that,’ he said bitterly, swiping one angry hand across the back of his neck.’

  ‘A scene? What do you mean?’

  ‘The music, the poetry, the rose,’ he flashed accusingly. ‘I would have preferred honesty…and from the start. Why couldn’t you just trust me?’

  Silence swooped down between them, holding them apart, until finally Alessandro said in a voice so low she could hardly be sure he spoke at all, ‘It’s my fault. That damnable clause in our country’s constitution—I should have told you—’

  ‘Stop it!’ Her cry rang harshly round them after his murmured confession. ‘I’m at fault, too, Alessandro,’ Emily insisted desperately. ‘But I was frightened—’

  ‘Frightened?’ He looked stunned. Wheeling away from her, he raked stiff fingers through his hair, and then stopped again, as if he hardly knew what he was doing. ‘I can’t stand this,’ he admitted, shaking his head distractedly. ‘I can’t bear what’s happening between us—and most of all I can’t bear to think you were frightened of me.’

  ‘I was never frightened of you,’ Emily admitted softly. ‘I was frightened of losing you…frightened of what it will mean to all of us…you, me, and especially our child…when that wretched contract comes to an end.’

  ‘Contract!’ He made a sound of disgust as he turned his face away. ‘I should never have put my name to it in the first place.’

  ‘We both entered into it in good faith,’ Emily pointed out. ‘We just didn’t expect to have feelings get in the way of a business deal.’

  ‘Can you ever forgive me?’ he demanded tensely, staring at her as if his very life depended on her answer.

  ‘Easily,’ Emily said as she touched his arm. ‘We’ve both made mistakes. Neither of us was prepared for how our feelings would grow. That contract was drawn up to satisfy our business instincts, not our emotions. I know I should never have left you…but when I found out about the clause in the constitution that demanded an heir before your father could abdicate I couldn’t think straight—’

  ‘And no wonder,’ Alessandro admitted, very slowly drawing her into his arms, as if he needed to be certain she knew that was where she belonged. ‘And now?’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Can you think straight now?’ he demanded softly.

  ‘I hope so…I don’t know.’ She shrugged with exasperation. ‘I’m just so—’

  ‘Pregnant?’ he supplied gently, a wry smile playing around his lips as he looked at her. ‘This is the first time for you and the first time for me…and I am totally overwhelmed to know we are expecting a child. Your hormones must be in turmoil. Don’t be so hard on yourself, Emily.’

  As he dipped his head to kiss her Emily made herself pull back. ‘Are you quite sure that marriage to a commoner is what you really want, Alessandro?’

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’ He drew his head back to stare at her in bemusement. ‘How can you even ask me a question like that?’

  ‘There must be so many women of noble birth who would jump at the chance—’

  ‘And none of them is you.’

  ‘But it can’t have been easy for your father when you told him.’

  Alessandro placed his finger over her lips. ‘My father loves you, Emily.’

  ‘You can trace your ancestors back thirty generations—’

  ‘And half of them were warlords,’ Alessandro broke in firmly. ‘Brigands who snatched power from those weaker than themselves. They would be considered beyond the pale in today’s society.’

  ‘But still—’

  ‘No, Emily,’ he said firmly. ‘Stop this right now. Did you know that Christopher Marlowe was the son of a shoemaker? No?’ he said, staring at her intently. ‘And yet he was a far greater prince than I. We quote his words more than four hundred years after
his death. Who will remember my words?’

  ‘You share your father’s passion for Tudor playwrights,’ Emily exclaimed, her face breaking into a smile as she relaxed at last.

  ‘It would be impossible to live under the same roof as my father and not share his passions,’ Alessandro admitted wryly. ‘And one of his most profound, my love, is you.’

  ‘And yet I’ve been so unreasonable—to both of you.’

  ‘No,’ Alessandro argued gently. ‘You’re a woman in love, a pregnant woman in love, and with a man you’re still getting to know.’

  ‘So, where do we go from here?’ she said anxiously, scanning his face.

  ‘That’s the easy part,’ he murmured, kissing her again.

  When Alessandro insisted they should both dress for dinner that evening Emily didn’t have the heart to refuse him, even though she expected the small, exclusive hotel festivities to be low-key.

  The floor-length gown, packed into her suitcase at the last minute in a moment of whimsy, was of crimson silk, and emphasised the creamy whiteness of her skin. She felt particularly comfortable in it because it draped elegantly over her fuller figure. Leaving her hair to fall loosely around her shoulders, she wore the minimum of make-up—just some lip-gloss and soft grey eyeshadow to point up the brilliant jade-green of her eyes.

  Wondering what Alessandro had planned, she found herself ready before him, and had to keep reminding herself that this was the man who loved her while she watched with naked appreciation as he dressed after his shower.

  As he slipped into his dinner jacket, and made final adjustments to his hair in the mirror, he smiled back at her. ‘I think it’s time for your Christmas present,’ he said, shooting her the type of look that always made her melt.

  ‘But we’ve just got dressed—’ She stopped at his amused glance of male awareness. The sound of his voice was enough to arouse her, she realised self-consciously. But he instead of moving towards her he made for the door.’ Alessandro?’ Emily called after him anxiously. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I said it was time for your Christmas present now,’ he reminded her. Removing what looked like a single sheet of paper from his jacket pocket, he left it on the oak dresser by the door. ‘While I’m gone, you might like to cast your eyes over this,’ he suggested. And then, before she had a chance to say a word, he left the room.