Margaret Mayo - His Virgin Bride - The Fiorenza Forced Marriage / Bought - For His Convenience or Pleasure? / A Night With Consequences

His father hadn’t slept with her .

It was almost too much for him to take in. Why had his father left things the way he had? What had he hoped to achieve by involving Emma in such a convoluted way? If she hadn’t been his mistress, then why give her half of his estate? What possible reason could he have had for doing such a thing?

His father hadn’t known Emma before she came to look after him. She had been a total stranger to him and yet he had tied things up to her advantage, giving her the trump card, leaving his only remaining heir at her mercy. Had his father known how he would react? Had he planned this? Why had he used an innocent girl to get back at his estranged son?

Rafaele carefully lifted himself off her, his insides twisting with guilt as he saw a smear of her blood on his body. His throat felt raw and tight and he inwardly grimaced as she hastily tried to cover herself, her face aflame, her grey-blue eyes looking wounded.

He handed her the shorts and top she had taken off earlier before stepping into his own. ‘I am sorry, Emma,’ he said heavily. ‘I had no idea. I wish you had told me.’

She scrambled back into her shorts and top, her bra and knickers scrunched up in her hand, her eyes shying away from his. ‘It’s not your fault,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have let things go that far…I don’t know what came over me…I’m deeply ashamed…’

Rafaele touched her on the arm, his gut clenching again as she flinched away as if she found his touch abhorrent. His hand fell back to his side. ‘Do not be ashamed,’ he said. ‘It was my fault, in any case. I have done nothing but pressure you into having an affair with me. I have no excuse, other than I truly believed you to have seduced my father in order to get your hands on his estate. I can see now I have done you a great disservice. I would not blame you if you walked out right here and now. It is exactly what I deserve.’

She lifted her gaze to his. ‘I’m not going to walk out on you,’ she said. ‘This is your home, Rafaele.’

He scraped a hand through his hair, not at all surprised to see it was still shaking slightly when he brought it back to his side. ‘Did my father know you were a virgin?’ he asked.

She blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘No, of course not! Why would I tell him something like that?’

He gave her a wry look. ‘Why indeed?’

Her mouth flattened crossly. ‘I had no idea when I came downstairs this morning that we would…you know…’

‘Come on, Emma,’ he said with a touch of impatience fuelled by his lingering guilt. ‘You came down here this morning with every intention of handing me pity on a plate with you served as a garnish.’

‘That’s not true!’ she said. ‘I wanted to clear the air between us, that’s all.’

He hooked one brow up sceptically. ‘That was some flag of friendship you were waving,’ he said. ‘Do you kiss all of your friends like that?’

She gave him a brittle glare. ‘You started it. You kissed me first.’

‘Ah, yes, but then you stuck your hand down my shorts,’ he said with a twisted, humourless smile. ‘That is going a little further than friendship, I would have thought.’

Her cheeks were fiery red, her eyes flashing with sparks of irritation. ‘Do you have to rub it in?’ she asked. ‘I told you I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself. I can’t believe I acted like that. I lost control completely, but I can assure you it won’t happen again.’

‘Pity,’ he said. ‘I was just starting to enjoy myself.’

Emma drew in a prickly breath. ‘Don’t make me feel any worse than I already do,’ she said. ‘I realise it must have been…uncomfortable for you…to be left like…like that…’

‘You mean unsatisfied?’ he asked.

Her throat went up and down. ‘Yes…I suppose that’s what I do mean…’

‘Put it out of your mind,’ he reassured her. ‘I am not going to die because I didn’t get my rocks off. I can handle a bit of frustration now and again.’

‘Yes, well, I’m sure it doesn’t happen very often,’ Emma said with a little pang of errant jealousy.

‘No, not if I can help it,’ he said. ‘But then boys will be boys, eh, Emma?’

Emma wondered if he was mocking her again. The differences between them had never been more apparent. He was a cynical, experienced playboy who took pleasure how and where he wanted, while she was a romantic fool in search of a home-and-hearth-happy-ever-after. ‘Are you laughing at me?’ she asked.

He stroked a finger down the length of her cheek. ‘Why would I do that, Emma?’ he asked, looking at her with those darker-than-night, unreadable eyes.

Emma felt her spine start to unhinge. ‘You probably think I’m an old-fashioned prig,’ she said. ‘Someone who hasn’t lived life at all.’

‘I do not think that at all,’ he said with a little frown beetling his brows.

‘I know I’m far too old to be without experience, but I haven’t found anyone I liked enough to take that step,’ she said. ‘I wanted to be in love with the person first. I didn’t want it to be just a physical thing.’

His frown deepened. ‘So why did you let me make love to you just then?’ he asked.

Emma felt her colour rise again as his probing gaze held hers. ‘I-I’m not sure…’

The line of his mouth tightened. ‘So it was just a pity lay,’ he said crudely. ‘I guessed as much.’

‘That’s not true,’ she said, biting her lip again.

He moved away from her, his expression locking her out once more. ‘It will not happen again,’ he said, unwittingly driving a stake through her heart. ‘It must not happen again.’

Her throat closed over until she could barely speak. ‘If that’s what you want…’

His eyes clashed with hers, pain glittering in their ink-black depths. ‘Do you know what I want, Emma? Do you? ’

She shook her head, fresh tears suddenly blurring her vision.

‘I want my life back,’ he bit out as he raked a hand through his already tussled hair. ‘I want to start over. I want to pick up that cricket ball and throw it into the pond instead of towards my brother’s raised bat.’ He took in a breath and added hollowly, ‘And I want to rewind the clock to the day before my mother died so I could have told her how much I loved her while I still had the chance.’

Emma choked back a sob as he continued in the same bitter, heart-wrenching tone, ‘I do not even know if I ever told her that I loved her. Everyone throws those three little words around so casually these days, but I do not remember if I did or not. I was only six years old at the time. If I did I have never said those words since, not to anyone.’

‘You can’t shut off your feelings for ever,’ she said. ‘I am sure you are more than capable of loving someone. I am sure of it.’

He drew in a ragged breath. ‘I am sorry for what happened here this morning, truly sorry,’ he said. ‘I must have some sort of curse on me; all I seem to do is wreck people’s lives.’

‘You haven’t wrecked my life,’ Emma said softly.

‘I hurt you.’ He gave her an agonised look. ‘I made you bleed, for God’s sake.’

‘I’m fine…really I am,’ she said.

‘Maybe you should see a doctor to make sure…’

‘That would be embarrassing and totally unnecessary,’ Emma insisted. ‘Really, Rafaele, please don’t cut yourself up about it. It was bound to happen some time or other, if not with you then someone else.’

He came back to where she was standing and, reaching out with one of his hands, gently brushed her hair back off her forehead with a touch so tender Emma felt as if someone had placed an industrial-sized clamp on her heart. He didn’t say anything; he just stood there with his eyes holding hers, his thumb moving in a rhythmic fashion against the softness of her cheek.