Her Wedding Night Surrender
Шрифт:
She bit down on her lip again, her eyes dropping to the floor. The lighting was dim, but he could see the flush of pink in her cheeks.
‘No,’ he agreed softly.
The word should have been a warning, but Emmeline had no experience with men at all. And definitely not with men like Pietro Morelli.
‘I don’t propose you stop...um...that...’ She waved a hand in the air, the dainty bangles she wore jingling like windchimes on the eve of a storm.
‘Don’t you? My, my—what an accommodating wife you’ll be.’
‘I won’t really be your wife,’ she pointed out quickly. ‘I mean, we’ll be married, but it will be just a means to an end. I imagine we can live perfectly separate lives.’
She tilted her head to the side thoughtfully, recalling the details she’d seen of his sprawling mansion on the outskirts of Rome.
‘Your house is enormous. We’ll probably hardly see one another.’
He rubbed a hand over his stubbled chin, somewhat mollified by her realism in the face of such a ludicrous suggestion. At least she wasn’t getting carried away with fairy tale fantasies, imagining herself as a Disney princess and he as her long-awaited Prince Charming.
‘And that wouldn’t bother you?’ he drawled, his eyes raking over her from the top of her bent head to the curved body and crossed legs.
She was the picture of boring, high-society America. No fashion, no sense of style or personality—just a beige trouser suit with a cream blouse and a pearl choker wrapped around her slender, pale neck. Why would any twenty-two-year-old choose to style themselves in such a fashion?
‘Of course not,’ she said, the words showing her surprise. ‘I just told you—it wouldn’t be a real marriage. My father will be comforted by knowing that we’re married—he’s so old-fashioned—but I don’t think he expects it to be some great big love-match. It’s a dynastic marriage, pure and simple.’
‘A dynastic marriage?’ he heard himself repeat.
‘Yes. It’s hard for people like us to settle down. To meet a person who’s interested in us rather than our fortunes.’
She shrugged her shoulders and Pietro had the impression that Col had been fundamentally wrong about Emmeline. She didn’t strike Pietro as particularly vulnerable. If anything, she had an incisive grasp of the situation that he hadn’t expected.
‘I definitely don’t want your money. In fact I don’t want anything from you. Just the freedom our marriage offers me.’
Why did that bother him? Her calm insistence that she would take his name and nothing else?
‘My mother would like grandchildren,’ he was surprised to hear himself say. Baiting her, perhaps? Or trying to unsettle her?
She laughed—a sound that caught him off-guard completely. It was a musical laugh, full of the colour that was otherwise lacking from her.
‘She probably already has several, given your reputation.’
Dark colour slashed across his cheeks. ‘Are you suggesting I have unacknowledged children running about the place?’
She shrugged. ‘Well, I guess it’s a possibility you should consider.’
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. She had more spark than he’d appreciated. It was hidden deep beneath the veneer of cultured, polite society heiress, but her intelligence and acerbic wit were obvious now that he was actually in a conversation with her.
‘There aren’t,’ he said with finality. ‘The responsibility of parenthood is not one I would abandon.’
Yes, she could tell that about this man. He had a sombre, ultra-responsible air.
‘Then your mother may have to live with disappointment. At least she’ll have the satisfaction of not seeing her son in the society pages for all the wrong reasons every weekend.’
She stood up, pacing across the room thoughtfully, reminding him powerfully of his own back and forth with Col earlier that same evening.
‘You would need to be far more discreet, though. I’m not marrying you just to be embarrassed or ashamed. The outside world would have to think it was a normal marriage. I suppose we’d have to attend some events together, be seen out in public from time to time—that kind of thing. But within the walls of your home you can do what you want and with whom.’
‘So if you were to walk into this room and find me having sex with one of my lovers you would not be concerned?’
Her heart kerthunked but she kept her expression neutral. ‘Only from a sanitation perspective.’
He bit back a smile at her prim response. ‘I see.’
‘Daddy seems to think a quick wedding is for the best, and if we were to get married within the month I’d have time to enrol in a couple of subjects for next semester...’
‘Subjects?’ he asked, a frown marring his handsome face for a moment. Then he remembered her plans to study in Rome. The revelation of Col’s cancer had thrown everything else from his mind, particularly Emmeline’s reasons for pursuing this marriage.
‘Yes. University. I presumed Dad told you?’
‘He did,’ Pietro agreed.
‘Well, then, you see? I’m not going to be in your hair. I’ll be out doing my own thing much of the time.’
‘And there we may have a problem,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘While I appreciate your generosity in agreeing that my social life shouldn’t be disrupted, I would have no such tolerance for you in return.’
Emmeline tilted her head to one side, her eyes meeting his with obvious confusion. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I won’t marry a woman who wants to go out with other men. Who wants to sleep with other men.’
Emmeline pulled a face full of surprise. The possibility hadn’t even occurred to her, but his hard-line stance wrought instant confusion. ‘Why not?’
His eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Because it might create the impression that I can’t satisfy my wife.’
‘Oh, heaven forbid anyone should cast aspersions on your big macho libido,’ she said, with a roll of her caramel eyes.
‘That is a deal-breaker for me, cara.’