to wait.’
‘And I’ve been waiting, for God’s sake. Have a heart, honey. I’m only human and I’m getting sick of walking away from you with just an ache in my guts.’
Her cheeks warmed and she looked round in embarrassment. ‘Simon—keep your voice down. People will hear you.’
‘What are they going to hear? That I want you? That’ll come as no surprise to anyone in the neighbourhood—except your father, maybe.’ He moved fractionally closer. ‘Isn’t there some way we can be together, sweetheart?’
‘You mean this evening?’ Emily was incredulous. ‘But I’m my father’s hostess. I can’t just—disappear. Besides, I’m under orders to make sure that our house guest meets everyone,’ she added with a touch of bitterness.
‘You mean the tall Mediterranean job who’s been roaming round the village lately?’ Simon snorted. ‘I wouldn’t worry about him.’
‘But I have to worry. I was in trouble yesterday for spending time in my room when I should have been dancing attendance on him. Daddy actually ticked me off about it, when I was on my way up to bed.’
She sighed. ‘So now I’m supposed to compensate for yesterday’s rudeness by looking after him tonight. Making sure he’s not bored—keeping his drink freshened and all that stuff.’
‘You could have a problem there,’ Simon informed her. ‘Because all the women in the room are clustered round him, drooling. You’d probably have to kill to reach him.’ His voice sank to a persuasive whisper. ‘Sweetheart, this is a big house. There must be somewhere we can go—just for a while?’
Emily bit her lip. Was that how he wanted their first time together? she asked herself, troubled. A snatched encounter in some empty bedroom with the threat of discovery hanging over them?
She said quietly, ‘Simon, I can’t. My father’s bound to miss me and we can’t take the risk.’
‘Later, then. When the party’s over and everyone’s gone.’ His voice was urgent. ‘I’ll give it a couple of hours, then I’ll come back across the garden, so leave the conservatory unlocked for me, hmm?’
He paused. ‘Please, darling. It would mean so much to know you’re ready to trust yourself to me.’
Emily hesitated miserably, then nodded. ‘If—that’s what you want.’
His grin was triumphant. ‘Oh, you’ll want it too, my pet, I promise you that. And wear my present, eh?’
Emily moved away, aware that her mouth was dry and her heart thudding uncomfortably. Some instinct made her look across the room and she realised that, hemmed in as he was, Rafaele Di Salis was watching her, his dark face expressionless.
And she’d already turned away before she remembered she’d intended to stare back.
She was on edge for the rest of the evening. Someone—some stranger outside herself—moved through the groups of people, smiling and talking, but was unable to recollect a single word that had been said.
However there was nothing wrong with her eyesight. And it seemed that Simon had been perfectly correct about Rafaele Di Salis’s ability to attract the women in the room. In particular, Jilly Aubrey seemed so attached to his side that it would probably need a surgical operation to remove her. Which proved, Emily told herself waspishly, that there was no accounting for taste.
It seemed to have been a good party, however. Everyone was saying so as they reluctantly departed. In the hallway, someone produced a sprig of mistletoe and kisses were freely exchanged amid laughter and cheering. Emily had to submit to her fair share, smiling with spurious brightness as she did so. But Simon was not among the claimants.
‘I didn’t see the Aubreys leave.’ She tried to speak casually as the door closed behind their last guests.
‘They went nearly an hour ago,’ Sir Travers returned. ‘Apart from the girl Jillian,’ he added disapprovingly. ‘She stayed on, having persuaded to Rafaele to drive her home later.’
Now why does that not surprise me? Emily thought ironically.
The clearing up after the party was accomplished swiftly and efficiently by Mrs Penistone and the extra staff hired for the evening, and eventually Emily was able to go up to her room, but not before she’d slipped unobtrusively through the dining room to the conservatory beyond and unlocked the door.
She could only hope that the housekeeper would not decide to carry out a last-minute double-check.
Or was that really what she was hoping for? Because, if she was honest, she felt almost sick with apprehension as she undressed and took a quick shower.
Reluctantly, she put on the bra and thong and took a wincing look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look or feel in the least sexy, she thought wretchedly. Just uncomfortable and—in-credibly stupid. But if this was how Simon wanted her…
All the same, she was glad to cover up by zipping herself into her dark green velour robe.
Why was she hesitating? she wondered, as she brushed her hair into a silken cloud on her shoulders. Tonight was a turning point in her life—the magic time when she would belong at last to Simon—the man she loved—and it would be beautiful—wonderful, because he would make it so for her.
And, drawing a deep breath, she slipped out of her room, closing the door behind her with immense care, and went silently down the shadowed stairs to keep her rendezvous.
CHAPTER TWO
EVEN now, three years later, Emily could remember every detail of that short journey. Could recall the brush of the stair carpet under her bare feet, the way the shadows had seemed to distort even the most familiar objects and the soft creaking and groaning as the old house settled for the night.
With every step she’d expected lights to blaze on and her father’s voice demanding to know what she was doing.
She supposed she’d have to say that she couldn’t sleep and was going to the kitchen to heat some milk. He’d believe her, because she’d never given him cause to do otherwise. Or not until now, she’d thought, her throat closing.
More than once she’d been tempted to turn back. To take refuge in her room and find some excuse that would placate Simon for her failure to show.
But I love him, she’d reminded herself almost feverishly. I should be wanting to make him happy, not pacify him.
When she was in his arms, she would feel differently. She was sure of it. Convinced that this little knot of coldness in the pit of her stomach would dissolve into something altogether warmer and more receptive.
And yet…
She’d have been lying to herself if she hadn’t hoped that her first time with Simon would have been more meaningful in some way. More romantic than these hasty and covert moments ahead of her.
Although, as she’d gathered from the conversation of her more sophisticated school friends, usually the first time was no big deal. Merely something that needed to be got out of the way, so that more pleasurable experiences could follow.
