Her Wedding Night Surrender

He stormed through the house, anger taking the place of adrenalin. How dared she end their marriage like this? Without the courtesy of so much as a phone call? Hell, she hadn’t even answered his text messages!

As he got closer to the indoor swimming pool the sound of her splashing made him slow. He tried—and failed—to get a grip on his temper. The doors were made of glass. He saw her even before he’d shouldered into the marble-floored room. She was moving slowly through the water, her stroke elegant, her legs languid as they kicked along the length of the pool.

Desire kicked hard in his gut; he forced himself to ignore it.

He ground his teeth together and began to stride on at the side of the water, all the way to the end of the pool. He reached it before she did, and crouched down so that when her fingertips grazed the tiled edge he was able to reach down and touch them. He’d meant simply to alert her to his presence, but the moment he felt her soft flesh beneath his a visceral ache overtook his body—a need to touch more than her fingers, more than her hand.

He straightened in physical rejection of the idea.

She emerged from the water and all he could do was stare at her. Her face was wiped clean of make-up, her hair was slicked back, and her expression showed nothing but shock. He felt something like a stabbing pain in his gut. She was so young, so innocent and so beautiful.

If she wanted a divorce, what kind of bastard was he to fight it? Didn’t she deserve her freedom? True freedom? Not the kind that was bargained for and arranged by her father, but the freedom that came of being a young woman who had her own place in the world.

All the fight and the anger he’d brought with him, the disbelief that she wanted to end their marriage, evaporated.

He had to let her go.

He had to do what Col hadn’t been able to.

He had to acknowledge that she was a mature woman with every damned right to make her own choices in life.

‘Pietro.’

It was a groan and it broke through his resolve. Her eyes dropped to the document in his hands and at the moment of recognition she blanched. Her eyes held desperate anguish as they met his.

‘You got the papers.’

‘Si, cara.’

Why did she look as though he was killing kittens in front of her? This was her choice. Her decision.

He looked away, the sight of her making him want more than anything to argue with her. To use any tool at his disposal—yes, even sex—to get her to agree to give their marriage another chance.

But she’d been railroaded enough for a lifetime.

‘You didn’t have to hand-deliver them.’

Her words were so quiet. So pained. God, how he wanted to swoop down and take that pain away.

‘That wasn’t my intention.’ He stepped back from the water’s edge, feeling utter disbelief at what he was about to do.

‘Wasn’t it?’

The water made a rippling sound as she lifted her arms out of it and braced her forearms against the coping, then pressed her chin into the back of one hand.

‘So why did you come?’

He shook his head, forcing himself to look at her. But the pain was back—an ache that seemed to rip through him when he met her eyes. The change in her was marked. The happiness that had seemed to shimmer out of her pores in Rome was utterly absent now.

‘I was surprised to receive these,’ he said, without answering her question.

‘Why should you be?’

Visibly, she seemed to tighten her resolve, to assume a mask of unconcern. How did he know it to be a mask? Because he knew. He knew everything about her.

‘Our reasons for marrying are gone now. He’s dead.’ Her voice cracked. ‘You’re free.’

Pietro’s head whipped back to hers. He crouched down. Urgency perforated his tone and he spoke before thinking. ‘What do you mean, I’m free?’

‘You did everything he wanted. You were a very good friend to my father. But it seems only fair to absolve you of this responsibility.’

Now it was Emmeline whose eyes were jerking away, refusing to hold his.

Pietro’s mind moved quickly, rapidly sifting through her statement, trying to comprehend her words.

‘You’re divorcing me because you want to free me from our marriage?’ He held the papers up. ‘This is for me?’

She opened her mouth, surprise obvious in her face. She shook her head, and her eyes showed panic. ‘I... It’s the right thing to do.’

‘Why is it, cara? Do you think I no longer love you?’

Tears sparkled on her lashes, mixing with the water of the pool. ‘Please...don’t. Don’t say those things. It’s not fair.’

His gut whooshed to the floor. She was right. Hadn’t he just been telling himself that? And yet...