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.’
As he’d already taught her so much. ‘The thing is, I get bored,’ she said honestly. ‘I find it all a bit dreary.’
‘Not here, you won’t. Roman roads are fun. They are designed to test you.’
‘I love my car. Even if I just sit in it to study.’ She grinned at him.
A plume of dust from further down the driveway heralded the arrival of another car, and Emmeline stepped out with true regret. As she did so she saw a university parking permit on the dashboard, and that single gesture of thoughtfulness meant more to her than the extravagant gift of such an expensive car.
‘I love it,’ she said again, walking around the bonnet and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
His eyes latched to hers and she had the strangest feeling that he wanted to say something else. That something was bothering him.
‘Is everything okay?’ she asked searchingly, her eyes scanning his face.
‘Ciao, ragazzi!’
Pietro’s mother stepped from the car, a vision in green, her hair styled in a topknot, a large gold necklace at her throat and a pair of gold espadrilles snaking up her legs. She sashayed towards them as though the driveway were actually a chic fashion show catwalk.
‘Mother,’ Pietro drawled, kissing Ria on both cheeks before she transferred her attention to Emmeline.
‘Ah! My lovely daughter-in-law,’ she said in her heavily accented English. ‘Still too skinny, I see,’ she said, with a disapproval that Emmeline guessed was only half joking.
‘Mother,’ Pietro scolded warningly. ‘That is enough.’
‘What? I want grandchildren. Can you blame me?’
Emmeline’s heart squeezed painfully. The truth was, the image of a baby had begun to fill her dreams. How sweet it would be to grow their own little person in her body—to hold it and feed it and cuddle it and love it.
Maybe one day that would happen. But for now Emmeline was having her first taste of life as a normal adult woman and she wasn’t ready to sacrifice her independence yet. Her life with Pietro was perfect and new, and she didn’t want to add a baby into the mix.
Yet.
Her eyes met Pietro’s over Ria’s head and she smiled; she knew he understood. He wanted her to be happy. To be free.
Her eyes drifted to the car, and as they walked into his home, she saw the number plate: Mrs M.
Her smile stretched broader, making her cheeks hurt.
Rafe arrived only a few minutes after his mother. They were sitting at the table sipping rosé wine, when he strode in, relaxed in pale trousers and a T-shirt.
‘Ah, Rafe. Off the yacht, I see,’ Ria said critically, but her smile showed nothing but maternal pride.
‘Ciao, Mamma.’ He grinned, doing the rounds and saying hello to his family. ‘This smells wonderful. So you cook, too?’ he demanded of Emmeline.
‘A few dishes,’ she said with false modesty.
Emmeline had always loved cooking. She’d spent as much time in the kitchen as possible—especially when Patrice had been on the war path. It had been the perfect bolthole. A spot where she could make dishes and enjoy the therapy that cooking and baking offered. She’d mastered croissants from scratch at the age of fifteen—just before her mother had died.
‘Tell me again why
