Wed To The Italian: Bartaldi's Bride / Rome's Revenge / The Forced Marriage. Sara Craven
Читать онлайн.| Название | Wed To The Italian: Bartaldi's Bride / Rome's Revenge / The Forced Marriage |
|---|---|
| Автор произведения | Sara Craven |
| Жанр | Современные любовные романы |
| Серия | |
| Издательство | Современные любовные романы |
| Год выпуска | 0 |
| isbn |
Former journalist SARA CRAVEN published her first novel ‘Garden of Dreams’ for Mills & Boon in 1975. Apart from her writing (naturally!) her passions include reading, bridge, Italian cities, Greek islands, the French language and countryside, and her rescue Jack Russell/cross Button. She has appeared on several TV quiz shows and in 1997 became UK TV Mastermind champion. She lives near her family in Warwickshire – Shakespeare country.
Wed to the Italian
Bartaldi’s Bride
Rome’s Revenge
The Forced Marriage
Sara Craven
Table of Contents
THE weather in Rome had been swelteringly hot, with clear blue skies and unremitting sunshine, but, as she drove north, Clare could see inky clouds massing over the Appenines and hear a sour mutter of thunder in the distance.
Out of one storm, straight into another, she thought ruefully, urging the hired Fiat round a tortuous bend.
The first storm, however, had been of human origin, and had brought in its wake an abrupt termination to her contracted three months in Italy teaching English to the children of a wealthy Roman family.
And all because the master of the house had a roving eye, and hands to match.
‘It is not your fault, signorina,’ Signora Dorelli, immaculate in grey silk and pearls, had told her that morning, her eyes and mouth steely. ‘Do not think that I blame you for my husband’s foolish behaviour. You have conducted yourself well. But I should have known better than to bring an attractive young woman into my home.
‘At least you may have taught him that he is not irresistible,’ she’d added with a shrug. ‘But, as things are, I have no choice but to let you go. And the next tutor will be a man, I think.’
So Clare had packed her bags, said a regretful goodbye to the children, whom she’d liked, and expressionlessly accepted the balance of her entire fee, plus a substantial bonus, from a sullen Signor Dorelli, his elegant Armani suit still stained from the coffee she’d been forced to spill in his lap at breakfast.
If it had been left to him, Clare reflected, she’d have been thrown, penniless, into the street. But fortunately his wife had had other ideas. And no doubt the enforced payment had been only the first stage of an ongoing punishment which could last for weeks, if not months. Signora Dorelli had had the look of a