Margaret Mayo - His Virgin Bride

‘Rafaele…this is crazy,’ she said.

‘What is so crazy about two people going out to dinner and strengthening their acquaintance?’ he asked. ‘After all, we have got to live together for months on end—wouldn’t it be better if at the end of it we were friends instead of enemies?’

‘I can’t imagine us ever being friends.’

‘Only because we got off to a bad start,’ he said. ‘I am not always such a brute you know. I can be quite charming when I put my mind to it.’

Yes, well, that’s what I’m worried about , Emma thought. She was having enough trouble keeping her head as it was. God only knew what would happen to her heart if he laid on the Fiorenza charm at full strength. She had seen a glimpse of it already, that lazy smile and those dark, smouldering eyes had set her heart racing a few times too many. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll have dinner with you, but only because it’s the housekeeper’s afternoon off.’

He grinned at her, a boyish grin that sent her stomach into another dip-and-dive routine. ‘You really know how to annihilate a man’s ego, don’t you?’ he said.

Emma felt an answering smile tug at the corners of her mouth. ‘I’m sure yours should be listed as one of the great wonders of the world,’ she said. ‘In fact I bet it can be seen from outer space.’

‘I can see I am going to have to work extra hard to improve your opinion of me,’ he said. ‘But who knows what a bit of wining and dining will do? I am going to have a bit more of a swim before I get out and have a shower. Is eight-thirty OK with you?’

‘Sure,’ Emma said, moving to the side of the pool, her stomach already fluttering with excitement. ‘I’ll be ready.’

When Emma came downstairs close to eight-thirty Rafaele was waiting for her in the salon. He had been reading through one of the weekend papers and rose to his feet as she came in, his gaze running over her appreciatively. ‘You look stunning, Emma,’ he said, ‘absolutely stunning.’

‘Thank you,’ Emma said shyly.

‘I thought we could eat at a restaurant at Villa Olmo,’ he said as he led the way out to his car. ‘Have you had a chance to visit it yet?’

‘No, but I’ve walked past it a couple of times,’ she said. ‘It’s very grand, isn’t it?’

‘It’s the most famous residence of Como,’ he informed her. ‘The villa owes its name to an elm tree that in ancient times grew inside the park. The architect was Simone Cantoni and now the town of Como owns it and uses it for various exhibits. The restaurant is situated to the right of the villa.’

‘I’ve made a bit of a start on my sightseeing,’ Emma said. ‘I’ve been to Duomo, the cathedral, and to the Volta temple and on the Funicular so far.’

He glanced at her. ‘Did you walk up to the lighthouse?’

‘Yes, it was an amazing view from up there,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to leave.’

‘The funicular has been running from the end of the eighteen hundreds,’ he said. ‘From the top you can make out the castrum, the rectangle that made up the old establishment of the Roman town. You can even see the first basin of the lake and the villas and plains that lead to Milan.’

Emma looked at him. ‘Did you miss all this while you were living abroad?’

He took a moment to answer. ‘Yes, I did miss it,’ he said. ‘There was many a time I wanted to come back, but it was impossible.’

‘Do you really think your father would have turned you away from the door?’ she asked.

His hands tightened on the wheel, the only sign Emma could see of his tension. ‘When I left fifteen years ago he made it quite clear I would not be welcome to return. I did not bother testing him to see if he meant it or not.’

Emma made an exasperated sound. ‘But don’t you see how you were being as stubborn as him? I am sure he would have welcomed you with open arms if you had come back.’

He gave her a flinty look. ‘Still trying to defend him, Emma?’ he asked.

She compressed her lips for a moment. ‘I’m not doing any such thing; I just think two wrongs never make a right.’

His expression was mocking as he came around to open her door. ‘He did a good job on you, didn’t he?’ he said. ‘But then he bought your allegiance.’

Emma stepped out of the car, flinging him a glare over one shoulder. ‘Could we talk about something else for a change?’ she asked. ‘I thought you said this evening’s outing was going to be about building our acquaintance, not talking ad infinitum about your late father.’

He shut the car door and took her elbow in the cup of his palm. ‘You are right,’ he said, and led her towards the restaurant entrance. ‘I am not being a very good date so far, am I?’

Emma cast him a glance. ‘No, but believe it or not I’ve had much worse.’

‘Is that some sort of compliment?’ he asked with the hint of a wry smile.

Emma didn’t get the chance to answer as the maître d ’ came to lead them to a table in the little courtyard outside. A short time later they were seated with drinks and a plate of warmed olives and fresh crusty bread set in front of them.

Rafaele picked up his glass and slowly twirled the contents. ‘So tell me, Emma,’ he said. ‘Marriage and kids is high on your to-do list, is that right?’

‘If the right person comes along, then yes.’

‘Are you one of those young women who have a checklist on what they are looking for in a man?’ he asked.

‘I don’t see a problem with sorting out what you don’t want from what you do,’ Emma said.

‘So what’s on your list?’

‘The usual things,’ she said. ‘Faithfulness, a sense of humour and a willingness to be emotionally available.’

‘You did not mention money.’

‘That’s because it’s not as important as love.’

He gave her a cynical smile. ‘It is always important, Emma,’ he said. ‘At least it is for all the women I know.’

‘I don’t agree,’ she said. ‘Your father is a perfect example of how money doesn’t buy love. He had more money than he knew what to do with and yet he didn’t have the love and respect of his son.’

‘That’s because he did not want it,’ he said. ‘Now, I thought we were not going to talk about him—or have you changed your mind?’

‘I’m just trying to understand you, Rafaele.’

‘I do not need your understanding, Emma,’ he said. ‘What is it about women that they always want to pick apart a man’s brains? Now, be a good girl and choose something to eat. I am starving after my swim.’

Emma let out a sigh and busied herself with the menu, all the while conscious of the way her body was responding to his close proximity. She knew his desire for her was purely a physical thing on his part; he was between mistresses so why wouldn’t he want a quick fling with her to satisfy the primal urge to copulate? Her cheeks grew hot as her brain filled with images of him in the throes of making love, his strong, tanned naked body glistening with sweat as he pumped his essence into the secret heart of her until she…

‘Have you had too much sun today, Emma?’ Rafaele asked. ‘Your cheeks are bright red.’

Emma fanned her face with the menu. ‘Um…it’s still a bit hot, don’t you think?’

‘Would you prefer to move indoors where there is air-conditioning?’ he asked.

Her eyes fell away from his. ‘No…I’m fine out here,’ she said and picked up her drink. ‘I like being outdoors.’

‘I suppose you must spend a great deal of time indoors in the role of a nurse.’

‘Yes…if the patient is housebound.’

A small silence passed.

‘How ill was my father towards the end?’