The Forced Bride

She’d sat up, pushing back her hair, instantly defensive.

‘What do you want?’ Her voice was husky.

His mouth tightened. ‘To give you this.’ He held out a small leather box. ‘Open it,’ he directed.

She obeyed and gasped when she saw the beautiful square sapphire enclosed by small diamonds that it contained.

‘An engagement ring?’ She frowned in bewilderment. ‘Isn’t it a little late for that?’

‘It is a family tradition,’ he said quietly. ‘This ring is given by each Count to his bride on the first day of their honeymoon as a sign that she has pleased him. I wish you to wear it.’

Her face flamed. ‘No way.’

‘Then I must insist. It will make your situation here much easier if it is thought that we make each other happy. Or that you make me happy.’ He looked at her mutinous expression and sighed. ‘Emilia, I have spared you the intimacies of marriage to me. Its formalities, however, you will endure, and this is one of them. Do I make myself clear? Now put it on.’

She acceded reluctantly, hoping that it would not fit. But the sapphire slid easily over her knuckle as if it had been made for her alone.

‘Are there any other degrading medieval customs I should know about?’ she asked haughtily.

‘If I think of any, I will tell you.’ He paused. ‘Now go back to sleep.’ He added wryly, ‘You will not be disturbed again.’ And left her.

To her own astonishment, she fell asleep within minutes and it was nearly midday when she awoke next time.

She bathed and dressed hastily, conscious all the time of the unfamiliar weight of the sapphire on her hand and its distasteful significance. And it took nearly all the courage she possessed to present herself downstairs, knowing she would be under scrutiny, however discreet.

Raf’s butler, a stately individual called Gaspare, was waiting for her in the hall to conduct her out on to the terrace at the rear of the house where Raf was seated at a table under an awning.

‘Carissima.’ His voice was warm and filled with laughter as he got to his feet and came to her. Under Gaspare’s indulgent gaze, he took the hand that wore his ring and kissed it, then bent, brushing her cheek with his lips.

It was the lightest of touches, but she flinched just the same and saw his eyes harden.