feet. 'Will you excuse me?' she asked. 'I think I'll go to bed. I'm not feeling well.'
Rafaele rose from the table with a frown. 'You should have told me earlier,' he said. 'No wonder you have been so tetchy. What can I get you?'
'Nothing,' she said, putting a hand to her damp forehead. 'It's just a little headache. I'll be fine once I've had a rest.'
He came around and placed his arm around her waist, guiding her upstairs with the gentle solicitousness Emma found so very confusing since he maintained he didn't love her. 'I will sleep in one of the other rooms tonight so as not to disturb you,' he said.
'You don't have to do that,' she protested.
He gave her a wry smile. 'I have to leave at an ungodly hour in any case,' he said. 'Now get into bed and I will bring you a glass of water and some paracetamol.'
Emma crawled into the big bed and closed her eyes against the swirling nausea as she waited for him to return...
Rafaele came back into the bedroom to find Emma fast asleep, her face still far too pale, the bruise-like shadows beneath her closed eyes making his gut suddenly clench. He sat on the edge of the bed and, pushing the silky hair off her face, gently stroked her smooth brow. She made a child-like murmur and nestled against his hand, the movement so trusting he felt another blade of guilt slice through him. He should never have allowed things to go this far. She was young and inexperienced, of course she fancied herself in love with him. It wouldn't last, he was sure of it. And then where would he be? He wasn't used to feeling so vulnerable in a relationship. Every time he made love to her it was a totally new experience, his pleasure reaching heights it never had before. Seeing her blossom with sensuality was captivating, she was such a generous lover, shy but adventurous, her passion a perfect match for his.
But how could he give her what she wanted? She had no idea of how things had been set up. If she were to find out about the codicil to his father's will she would no longer be talking about loving him. She would hate him and how could he blame her?
He bent down and pressed a soft kiss to Emma's temple and she blinked sleepily and looked up at him. 'Rafaele?'
He brushed his thumb over her slightly parted lips. 'Qual e il mio piccolo?' he asked.
She placed her hand over his and held it to her cheek. 'I'm going to miss you,' she said.
'Sto per perdere anche voi,' he said, and then translated, 'I am going to miss you too.'
The villa was achingly empty once Rafaele left the following morning. Emma heard him leave first thing and felt immediately disconsolate. The days stretched ahead of her interminably. She couldn't imagine how she would survive when their marriage was brought to its inevitable end.
She pulled back the covers and got to her feet but was so quickly assailed by a giant wave of nausea she stumbled to the en suite and was promptly sick. She staggered out after the bout of sickness was over, but she still felt so wretched she had to lie down again.
A little thought began to gnaw at her like a tiny mouse nibbling at a crumb, and, although she tried to ignore it, it wouldn't go away.
It couldn't be possible.
It couldn't be.
They had used protection.
She was back on the pill.
Her hand crept to her belly, her thoughts still whirling out of control. She couldn't remember the last time she had been physically sick. It didn't seem possible she could have fallen pregnant in such a short space of time.
Panic clutched at her insides with claw-like fingers. How could she tell Rafaele? He had never promised her anything but an affair. She had been the one to profess love, not him.
Emma knew she had to have a test before she worked herself into a state of hysteria. There was no point in worrying about something that might not have even happened. She could easily have picked up a bug of some sort. After all, she had worked tirelessly looking after Valentino Fiorenza; it had drained her more than she had realised, leaving her run-down and vulnerable.
She got dressed and walked down to the town centre to the nearest pharmacy and in her rather fractured Italian managed to relay to the