Her Wedding Night Surrender

She stood tall and proud, her eyes running over the façade of the building, studying it as if for the first time.

‘Nothing’s changed,’ he said, the words darker than the night that surrounded them.

She flashed him a tight smile. ‘Yes, it has.’ Her eyes looked bigger somehow, and the moon was drawing out flecks of amber and gold from amongst their caramel depths. ‘I live here now.’

Pietro’s expression was grim, and Emmeline flinched inwardly. Her own shock at the fact that they were now married was dwarfed only by his, and yet he made a decent show of pretending normality.

‘I’ll show you to your room. Come.’

She thought about making a joke—wasn’t it a tradition to carry a bride over the threshold of her new home?—but the tightness of his back as he walked away, the firm angle of his head, showed how little he wanted to laugh about this situation.

Emmeline followed, her gaze wandering over the façade of his house as she went. It was an impressive building. If she had found her host...no, her husband...less intimidating she would have asked him a little about it. Still, a place like this had to be in the history books; she could do her own research. Especially once she was at uni and had access to a fantastic library.

She breathed in, imagining the scent of all those books. Renewed purpose reassured her. There was a reason she’d married him. She had to keep that firmly in mind and then all would be well.

‘It’s late. I won’t give you the tour now. Tomorrow the housekeeper will show you where things are.’ He stood with his hands in his pockets, his attention focussed squarely ahead.

‘That’s fine, only...’

‘Si?’ It was an impatient huff.

‘Um...where am I supposed to sleep?’

His expression contorted with irritation but he moved forward, down a long corridor, then turned left and took her up a flight of stairs.

‘These rooms are for your use.’

He pushed a door inwards, showing her a practical space that had been set up with a desk, a bookshelf and a treadmill. The latter made her smile, though she covered it with a yawn.

‘Very good.’

‘There is a bathroom through there. And your bedroom is here.’

He nodded towards a third and final door and she turned the handle and pushed the door inwards, her eyes scanning the room with interest.

It was not dissimilar to a particularly lovely five-star hotel. A king-size bed made up with nondescript white bed linen and silvery grey throw cushions, a white armchair near the window and yet another book case, and double doors that presumably concealed a wardrobe.

With increasing interest she stepped into the room, the thick beige carpet soft underfoot.

‘No books?’ she murmured, eyeing the almost empty shelf. The sole book in its midst was a tourist guide to Rome and she refused to believe its placement had anything to do with her husband. He wasn’t thoughtful like that.

‘This has been used as guest accommodation in the past,’ he said softly. ‘The décor is neutral in order to accommodate the guests I’ve had staying here. You are free to add your own touches—furnish it with whatever books you wish.’

She fluttered her eyelids exaggeratedly. ‘Even if I want to paint the walls lime-green?’

His smile was dismissive. ‘Your choice. It is not as if I will ever be in here to see it.’

She laughed, but there was a thunderous rolling in her gut that she didn’t want to analyse. Anxiety, she told herself. She had taken herself out of the comfiest little nest in the world and dropped herself like a stone into the deep end of a raging river.

‘So, hot pink then?’ she joked, walking towards the window.

She hadn’t noticed at first, but as she got closer she saw that it was in fact French doors, and beyond the window was a small Juliet balcony.

Her heart fluttered as she turned the handle and opened the door, feeling a warm breeze breathe in off the city. They were far enough away that she could make out Rome’s landmarks with ease, see their place within the cityscape.

‘Your suitcases are in the wardrobe,’ he said, definitely impatient now, calling her attention back to the important business of getting settled. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d find it invasive for the housekeeper to unpack for you. Let me know if you’d like me to send her up...’

Emmeline waved a hand in the air dismissively. ‘I can manage.’

‘Fine.’ A curt nod. ‘My room is down at the other end of the hallway. Last door on the right-hand side. If you need me.’

As in, Don’t bother me unless you’re on fire, your room is falling away from the building, and there is no one else you can think of to call.