Julia James - It Happened In Rome - The Forced Bride / The Italian's Rags-to-Riches Wife / The Italian's Passionate Revenge

They seemed to have been driving for ever but at last the Jeep turned off and Emily found they were bumping over a rutted uphill track.

Her companion pointed to a light ahead of them. ‘That’s Braeside Cottage. Auntie’ll have been up with a welcome pack—bread, milk, porridge oats and the like. And I’m to show you where everything is and light the living room fire for you.

‘The water and heating work off oil,’ he went on as Emily murmured appreciatively. ‘And the cooker uses bottled gas, because the electricity goes off sometimes in bad weather. But Auntie Maggie makes sure there’s always a good stock of candles.’ He paused doubtfully. ‘You’re certain you won’t mind being up here on your own?’

‘Believe me,’ Emily said truthfully, ‘I can hardly wait.’

The cottage was certainly worth waiting for, she thought, as she was ushered straight in through a front door which, Angus told her, was rarely, if ever, locked.

Well, it was the back of beyond, just as she’d hoped, she reminded herself. Her Scottish sanctuary, hundreds of miles from irate Italian millionaires.

It was a large room, comfortably furnished but not flash. Two big sofas upholstered in blue flowered chintz flanked the fireplace and there was a small dining table and two chairs under the window. None of the furniture was new, but it gleamed and there was a pleasing scent of polish in the air.

A curtained archway led to a small but well-equipped kitchen at the rear, with the promised welcome pack standing on one of the counter tops.

In addition, there was a flight of wooden stairs to the upper floor and a door in the corner which Angus said led down to the cellar, where the boiler and the coal bunker were both located.

He took her case upstairs and deposited it in the large front bedroom. Emily saw that there was a thick quilt in a green and white striped cover on the double bed and that the lace-edged pillows were crisply laundered. It looked so inviting that she almost ached.

There were sheepskin rugs on the wooden floor and plain curtains in the same green at the windows. There was also an elderly chest of drawers with a mirror above it and a walk-in cupboard with a hanging rail.

Opposite was a single room, chastely furnished in white, and at the end of the narrow landing was a small but serviceable bathroom with a deep old-fashioned tub and a hand shower.

It was all immaculately clean and shining, which made Angus’s Aunt Maggie a treasure. Pity she can’t sort out High Gables for Simon, she thought, and wondered if he was missing her, at the same time disturbingly aware that she’d hardly spared him a thought. That she’d been preoccupied with Raf instead, and to an absurd degree. Well, that would stop right now.

When she rejoined Angus downstairs, the fire was already crackling in the grate.

‘The kindling’s kept in the cellar, too, for dryness,’ he mentioned. ‘And the log store’s in a lean-to at the side of the house. There was a load delivered before Christmas, so don’t stint yourself. And it draws well, this fire, so it’s easy to light.

‘You’ll have no trouble finding the village, either,’ he continued. ‘Just keep walking downhill. Auntie’s shop is only open for papers tomorrow, because of the Sabbath. But, if you look in the fridge, you’ll find she’s left you a Sunday dinner, so you won’t starve. I’m afraid that’s extra,’ he added a touch awkwardly. ‘Is that all right?’

‘I’m truly grateful,’ Emily assured him. ‘Your aunt’s gone to a lot of trouble to make me welcome, and so have you.’

‘Och, think nothing of it.’ Angus stood up, dusting his hands. ‘Make sure you use the spark guard before you go to bed and you’ll be fine.’

‘I’m sure I will. I’ll just have a quick supper, then sleep off the journey.’

His smile warmed her again. ‘Then I’ll see you around.’

And he was gone, and she heard the Jeep disappearing down the track.

At last, there was nothing but silence. Emily stood for a moment, looking round her new domain with profound satisfaction.

It was settling in time. She would unpack, make her first meal, take her first bath, then let the stresses and strains of the past week slide away in that big, comfortable bed upstairs.

It felt chilly in the bedroom. She felt the radiator, but it was cold, as was the one in the bathroom. Presumably the heating worked on a timer and had switched itself off, she thought, putting away her clothes in double-quick time.

In the kitchen, she unloaded the groceries in the welcome pack. As Angus had indicated, there was a fresh chicken in the fridge, along with some carrots and a small cabbage.

But, for now, she would make do with a can of soup, and tomato at that, she thought, operating the ring-pull on the can. The ultimate comfort food.

When it was hot, she poured it into a large pottery mug and carried it into the living room. As she sat down one of the logs in the grate collapsed, making her jump, emphasising her awareness of the cottage’s isolation.

It seemed strange to have no real idea of the landscape outside the dark rectangle of window, she thought with sudden unease. Maybe it would help if she drew the thick woven cream curtains, closing out the darkness and the unknown together.

But this is what you wanted—a hiding place with total seclusion, she argued inwardly. So why be a wuss about it?

As she began tugging the heavy folds into place, she became aware of two things. That snowflakes were dancing in the air, just as Angus had predicted. And that she could hear the sound of an engine and see a pair of powerful headlights approaching the cottage.

Oh, God, she thought, groaning inwardly. Surely it wasn’t Angus paying another visit on some pretext. He didn’t seem the type to make a nuisance of himself because she was female and on her own, but how did she know? What did she know?

She would just have to make it perfectly plain that she didn’t need any kind of complication in her life. And, whatever he’d said earlier, she’d keep that damned door locked.

But, even as she turned to do so, she heard a vehicle door slam and footsteps approaching on the gravelled area just outside.

As the cottage door opened, she said breathlessly, ‘Whatever you have to say can wait until tomorrow. Now, I’d just like you to go.’

‘But how inhospitable of you, carissima,’ came the drawled reply. ‘Particularly when I have come so far to find you.’

And, as Emily halted in stunned disbelief, Raf Di Salis stepped into the lamplit room.

Emily couldn’t speak. She could hardly think. She just stood there, rooted to the spot, staring at him. Watching him strip off his gloves.

He can’t be here, she thought. It wasn’t possible for him to have found out her destination and followed her so quickly. Yet he was only too real.

There were snowflakes clinging to his dark hair and to the shoulders of the parka he was wearing and he was carrying a leather travel bag, which he allowed to drop to the floor with a thud that sounded ominously final.

‘Lost for words, mia bella?’ he asked, the hazel eyes raking her mercilessly. ‘How strange. You seemed eloquent enough when you spoke to my lawyers the other day. And very frank.’

Her throat closed in fright as she remembered every reckless word she’d thrown at them. His arrival had made the cottage seem suddenly smaller and more cramped. And there was a note of cold, quiet anger in his voice that made her shiver.

He noticed instantly. ‘You are cold, my angel? Forgive me.’ He kicked the door shut behind him. ‘So, Emilia, are you pleased with the cottage?’

She found her voice at last. ‘I was—until a moment ago.’ She took a deep breath. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’