Her Wedding Night Surrender

Of course now she was regretting that impulse, as time marched on and food simmered and she worried that she would have nothing ready by the time they arrived.

There was nothing she could do but wait. The quail in confit needed an extra hour before they would be ready to remove. The soup was the entrée. There were olives, breads and cheeses ready to serve as antipasti.

She rubbed her hands together, checking the table for the tenth time. She’d set it with a simple white cloth and put several vases of old-fashioned roses in the centre. Sprigs of orange blossom lent them a beautiful fragrance. Plus, they reminded Emmeline of his farmhouse—the place where their relationship had come alive.

She smiled as she leaned down and breathed in deeply—then her back pocket vibrated. She reached down and fished her cell phone out, relieved and surprised in equal measure to see a text from her dad. She’d left several messages for him in the last week, and apart from a brief email she’d heard nothing.

Hi, Pumpkin. Sorry I’ve been hard to catch lately. I’ve got the flu and it’s kept me in bed all week. Are you doing good? Love, Daddy.

A smile tickled her lips. It was something he had often asked her when she was younger.

I’m doing real good, Daddy. Uni is amazing.

She ran her finger over the phone, wondering what she should say about her husband and settling for, Married life suits me. Come over and visit soon?

She thrust her phone into her pocket and continued with her preparations. But as she showered and changed she couldn’t help but let a kernel of worry infiltrate her happiness.

Her dad wasn’t a young man. For the flu to have kept him in bed all week sounded serious. That and the fact that she hadn’t spoken to him in rather a long time had her mind unpleasantly distracted.

She chose a black silk slip dress, teamed it with a long string of pearls and a pair of black ballet flats, then quickly applied basic make-up.

Pietro appeared just as she was bent forward, slashing mascara over her brows, and his eyes locked to her rear before she straightened and spun around.

‘If it isn’t my favourite husband,’ she murmured, her eyes clashing with his in the mirror.

‘Your only husband?’ he prompted.

‘For now.’

She winked and turned her attention back to the mirror, ignoring the serious tremble that assaulted her heart. Initially she’d felt their marriage would be of short duration. That she’d wean herself off life at Annersty, let her father adjust to her departure and then move on. For good. But now...?

‘I have something for you,’ he said softly.

Curious, she spun around, scanning his outfit, his hands, and seeing nothing.

‘It’s downstairs.’

‘What is it?’

‘Come and see,’ he murmured, holding a hand out to her.

Emmeline walked to him, wanting to peel her dress off as she went, to expose her nakedness to him. She followed behind him, her curiosity increasing with each step, until they reached the front door.

He lifted his hand to cover her eyes. ‘Wait a moment.’

She bit down on her lip, held her breath and listened as the heavy timber door was pulled inwards. Then his hand dropped from her eyes and she blinked, focussing beyond him.

A sleek black car sat before her. A Bentley with a soft roof that looked as if it would turn the car into a convertible.

‘It’s...it’s beautiful,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t understand...’

‘Well, cara, you are a Roman now. You go to university here. You live here.’

He moved to the car and opened the driver’s door; she followed, a frown etched in her face.

‘Do you know what I have been thinking about lately?’

‘What?’

‘When we first discussed marrying, I remember you saying something about wanting only the freedom it offered.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t understand it at the time. I still don’t. But I know I want to give you everything in this world, and a car seems like an important step to true freedom.’

Unexpected tears sparkled on Emmeline’s lashes. ‘Stop doing this to me!’ She groaned, a laugh breaking the seriousness of her mood. ‘You’re too perfect.’

‘Cara, I’m not...’

Something flickered in his face—something that briefly made her heart skid to a stop before she pushed the doubts away.

He was perfect. She had no reason to worry that he’d ever disappoint her or let her down. He was her match in all ways.

‘Thank you,’ she said softly.

‘Hop in,’ he replied, and grinned.

She smiled brightly as she slid behind the wheel. ‘You know, I’m not actually a great driver...’

His laugh was husky. ‘Then I shall have to teach you.’