The Marchese's Love-Child by Italian Husbands & Sara Craven

Author:Italian Husbands & Sara Craven [Husbands, Italian & Craven, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780373125210
Goodreads: 1390093
Publisher: Thorndike Press
Published: 2004-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER EIGHT

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Polly took a step backwards. She said hoarsely, "What are you doing here?"

"I want to take a shower," he said. "I decided you would probably not wish me to join you, so—I waited."

She took a breath. "How—considerate." Her voice stung. "Perhaps you'd be even kinder and go to your own room, and use your own shower. I'd like my privacy."

"So would I, cara, but we are both to be disappointed. Thanks to Zia Antonia, all the rooms in the palazzo are occupied by other people and will remain so for tomorrow—the day after—who knows?"

He paused. "Also you are under a misapprehension. This is my room—and my shower."

He paused to allow her to digest that, his mouth twisting in sardonic amusement at her shocked expression.

"The accommodation intended for you is currently taken by my aunt Vittoria, a pious widow with a hearing problem," he went on. "She does not like to share either. Also, she snores, which, as you know, I do not."

He smiled at her. "But she is certainly leaving tomorrow, so you will only have one night to endure in my company," he added lightly.

She stared at him, her hands nervously adjusting the towel. "You really imagine I'm actually going to sleep here—with you?" Her voice rose stormily. "You must be mad. I can't—I won't…'

"You will certainly spend the night with me," he interrupted, a harsh note in his voice. "I cannot predict whether or not you will sleep. That is not my concern."

"Then what does concern you?" She glared at him. "Certainly not keeping your word."

He flung exasperated hands at the ceiling. "Dio—you think I planned this? That I have deliberately filled my house with a pack of gossiping relatives, including my cousin Emilio, may he rot in hell," he added with real bite, "just so that I can trick you into bed with me?"

He gave her a scornful look. "You overestimate your charms, bella mia. You will stay here tonight, without fuss or further argument, for the sake of appearances, because it is our wedding night, and because we have no choice in the matter.

"But let me attempt to allay your obvious fears," he went on cuttingly. Clasping her wrist, he strode back to the bed, with Polly stumbling after him, tripping on the edge of her towel. He dragged back the satin coverlet, dislodging the huge lace-trimmed pillows to reveal a substantial bolster. "That," he said, pointing contemptuously, "placed down the middle of the bed, should deter my frenzy of desire for you. I hope you are reassured."

He paused. "May I remind you, Paola, you agreed to co-operate in presenting our marriage as a conventional one."

"Yes." Polly bit her lip. "But—I didn't realise then what could be involved."

His smile was thin. "Well, do not worry too much, carissima. There are enough willing women in the world. I see no need to force someone so clearly reluctant."

He held up the nightgown. "Although your prudishness hardly matches your choice of nightwear. Why buy a garment so seductive, if you do not wish to be seduced?"

"I didn't buy it," Polly said stonily.

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