The Forced Marriage by Sara Craven

embarrassment he had caused me. And went.’ Flora made a brave attempt at a smile. ‘End of story.’
    ‘Presumably because he’s hideously embarrassed himself.’ Hester sighed. ‘After all, it was the most appalling coincidence to choose that hotel out of all the others you could have gone to.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘Whose decision was that, by the way?’
    ‘It was Marco’s suggestion, but he didn’t pressure me into it. He said we could take pot luck somewhere else, if I wanted.’ Flora shook her head. ‘I should have obeyed my instincts and taken him at his word. Only Aldleigh Manor did sound lovely.’
    ‘Wonderful,’ Hester agreed drily. ‘Just the place to meet one’s friends.’
    ‘Oh, don’t.’ Flora blew her nose, destroying another tissue. ‘Anyway, it happened, and it’s over. And Marco’s gone. I just hope I never have to set eyes on him again,’ she added, her voice cracking in the middle.
    ‘Pity,’ said Hester. ‘I’d have liked to meet the man who finally made you into a woman. Because under all the woe, my lamb, there’s a new light burning.’ She gave her friend a worldly look. ‘Nice, was it?’
    ‘I don’t want to discuss it.’ Flora crunched another tissue in her hand.
    ‘That good, eh?’ Hester said reflectively. ‘So what are your immediate plans, once you’re over your crying jag?’
    ‘I’ve got to get away for a while. I’d already been considering it, and now I’m sure. I feel bad enough about all this without having to field the angry phone calls,’ she added, shuddering. ‘I need to get myself back on track—somehow.’
    ‘And you really don’t want to see Marco Valante again?’
    ‘Never—ever.’
    ‘That’s tough.’ Hester came away from the window. ‘Because he’s outside, just getting out of a car.’
    ‘Oh, God.’ Flora scrubbed at her tearstained face. ‘Don’t let him in.’
    ‘Nonsense.’ Hester grinned at her as she went into the hall to answer the doorbell. ‘I want to meet him, if you don’t. I might even shake hands with him for his sterling efforts on behalf of repressed womanhood.’
    ‘Hester!’ Flora shrieked, but it was too late. The front door was being opened and there was a murmur of voices in the hall.
    A moment later, Hester returned, her face wearing a faintly stunned expression. ‘You have a visitor,’ she said, standing aside to allow Marco to precede her into the room. ‘And I have places to go and things to do, so I’m sure I leave you in good hands.’
    ‘No—please. There’s no need…’ Flora began desperately, but Hester simply blew her a kiss, added an enigmatic wink, and departed.
    Leaving Flora staring at Marco across the back of the sofa. She was horribly conscious of how she must look, in ancient jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair pulled back carelessly into a rubber band, her face pale without the camouflage of cosmetics, eyes reddened through weeping.
    He, on the other hand, was immaculate, in another elegant suit, but his usual cool assurance was not as much in evidence. There was an odd tension about him, she realised. There were signs of strain in his face, the skin stretched tautly across the high cheekbones, and his eyes were watchful, even wary, as they studied her.
    And yet, in spite of everything, she felt the familiar, shaming clench of excitement deep within her at the sight of him. The uncontrollable twist of yearning that she was unable to deny.
    She felt more tears welling up suddenly—spilling over. He made a small, harsh sound in his throat and walked round the sofa to sit beside her. He took a spotless handkerchief from his pocket and began to dry her face, his touch gentle but impersonal.
    When she was calm again he studied her gravely for a long moment. ‘My poor little one,’ he said quietly. ‘Have you discovered you cared for him more than you knew?’
    She shook her head. ‘I wish I could say that,’ she said huskily. ‘But it wouldn’t be true. I—I