Читать книгу Satans Master - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 5

SHE had been staring at him for the last few minutes, unable to believe the evidence of her own eyes. Joel Brent, a man who oozed sex-appeal, whose husky voice seduced every woman who listened to him sing, a man always in demand by the eager public, his sales in records reaching the millions, was lying here on this bed beside her.

She knew a little about him, knew that he was thirty-four, came from somewhere in Hampshire, that Nicole Dupont had been his girlfriend for six months before the accident that had killed her, and that he had no close family, although she doubted he was ever alone.

But he was alone here! Why had he come to such a place? Could it be guilt about Nicole Dupont that had prompted this need for solitude, or could it be that he found life so difficult without the woman he loved that he had chosen to cut himself off from all other humanity?

Sabina looked at the strength in his face, the bitterness, and knew that he felt guilty about nothing, and that strength would never allow him to give in to any weakness. ‘You didn’t do it,’ she said with certainty.

He seemed to tense. ‘What did you say?’ His voice was low, dangerously so.

Why hadn’t she recognised that attractive quality in his voice, that deep timbre that spoke of voice control? She moved uncomfortably as she realised he was waiting for an answer. Her words had been more of a thought, and not meant for him to hear. She bit her lip. ‘I said—–’

‘I know what you said!’ He sprang into action, looming over her, his hands trapping her in the confines of the sleeping bag. ‘What did you mean by it?’

Sabina eyed him apprehensively. He might not be capable of murder, but he was capable of violence. ‘I just meant—– That crash—– You didn’t—–’

‘No, I didn’t!’ he cut in savagely, his eyes like chips of ice. ‘But I didn’t need you to tell me that. The subject was covered pretty comprehensively in the newspapers. Of course, no one bothered to ask for my version of what happened, but then the truth might not have made such interesting reading. Has your editor decided it might be a good angle after all?’ he asked angrily. ‘After a year someone actually wants to know the truth?’

She wished he wasn’t quite so close, wished she could at least move her arms, but she lay there trapped beneath him, his bare chest only inches above her, his warm breath caressing her cheek. ‘Why didn’t you ever tell anyone the truth?’ she queried breathlessly, no doubt in her mind that whatever had happened in that crash it had not been Joel Brent’s fault.

‘Because no one asked me for it,’ he snapped. ‘And you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life, little lady.’

‘Wh-what do you mean?’

He smiled, a smile that was mainly cruelty. ‘I mean I’d more or less decided to let you leave here in the morning.’ His mouth quirked. ‘I fell for that innocent look in your huge green eyes,’ his hand moved to touch her gently, causing her long lashes to flutter nervously. ‘You’re ideal for a reporter, Sabina Smith, you have the hair and face of an angel. An impression that’s totally deceptive.’

‘I’m not a reporter, Mr Brent. Please believe me,’ she pleaded.

His harshness remained. ‘Who knows,’ he spoke softly to himself, ‘I might get to like having you around,’ his hand smoothed the hair back from her temple, moving to cup her cheek. ‘Yes, I think I could get to like it very much.’

‘But I—I’ll be leaving tomorrow.’

‘Would have been leaving tomorrow,’ he corrected. ‘But not now, not when you know who I am, and would very much like to know what I’m doing here.’ He flicked the ring as it lay against her partly revealed breasts. ‘He’ll have to learn to do without you for a while. At the moment my need is greater than his.’

Sabina swallowed hard. ‘What do you mean?’

Joel Brent swung away from her, laughing softly. ‘Not what you think I mean—not yet anyway. But you see I happen to like living here, and I’m not ready to move on. So for the moment you stay with me.’

‘Stay here?’ Sabina sat up to look at him, looking away again as she saw the bedclothes had almost fallen back to his hips, revealing his flat, taut stomach. ‘I can’t stay here,’ she protested. ‘I’m getting married in eight weeks’ time.’

‘Are you now?’ Joel got out of bed, moving to pull on his cords. ‘Now that is interesting.’

Sabina turned around just in time to see him zipping up his trousers. ‘Why is it interesting?’ Thank God it was dark in here! This man seemed to care nothing for the fact that he was walking around half naked. Oh she had seen men wearing less at the beach, but the confines of this bedroom could hardly be classed in the same light. Although Nicholas had often pressurised for a closer relationship between them she had always refused.

‘Who’s the lucky man?’ He ignored her question.

‘Um—his name is—er—Nicholas.’

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘Nicholas what?’

‘Er—’ she shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’ She would only be damning herself more by revealing who Nicholas really was.

‘It didn’t,’ Joel Brent said slowly. ‘Not until you tried to avoid telling me. Hmm,’ he gave her a studied look, his head tilted to one side. ‘Let’s look at this logically. You have an engagement ring with a diamond the size of an ice-cube, you work for the Daily News, and you’re engaged to a man called Nicholas. Putting all that together I come up with—Nicholas Freed!’ He seemed to pounce on her, crossing quickly to the bed and wrenching her chin round to look at him. Her high colour told him what he wanted to know. ‘Well, well, well,’ he drawled tauntingly. ‘What some girls will do to get to the top!’

Her colour deepened. ‘It isn’t like that! I—–’

‘How did you get him to propose marriage to you?’ he mocked. ‘That isn’t his style at all. Did you hold back this lovely little body of yours until he waved a wedding ring in front of your nose?’ His hands were roughly caressing the hollows of her throat.

‘No, of course not! He—–’

Joel flung her away from him in disgust. ‘You mean you’ve let him make love to you?’ he said with distaste, rubbing his hands down his cords as if the touch of her revolted him. ‘Good God, the man must be at least thirty years older than you.’

‘Twenty-six,’ she corrected huskily. ‘I’m nineteen.’

‘And he’s forty-five? It’s disgusting!’

Sabina swallowed hard. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way. Actually, I—I’m not going to marry him now, I’ve changed my mind.’

‘Why?’ he sneered. ‘Couldn’t you take the weekly beatings you would be expected to endure?’

Her face was white, her eyes huge. ‘B-beatings?’

Joel Brent gave a harsh laugh. ‘Don’t tell me he hasn’t hit you yet? His second wife couldn’t take those beatings, but perhaps you’re one of those women who enjoy that sort of thing.’

‘Of course I’m not! Do you know Nancy Freed?’

‘Yes, I know her.’

‘And Nicholas used to—he used to hit her?’ She couldn’t believe it. Surely her father must have known of this too. How could he let her marry a man like that?

‘He beat her,’ Joel corrected grimly. ‘Although she said she’d fallen over.’

‘Maybe she had,’ Sabina said hopefully.

‘She didn’t,’ he said with certainty.

Sabina felt sick. ‘I didn’t know.’ Her voice was faint.

‘Maybe not,’ he shrugged. ‘You could only have been nine or ten at the time they separated.’

Then her father had known, he had been Nicholas’ partner for the last fifteen years. And he had been going to let her marry such a monster. But why? It was a question only he could answer. ‘Do you have a telephone?’ she asked Joel Brent.

‘Why?’ His eyes were narrowed.

‘I—I need to call someone.’

He shook his head. ‘Not from here you won’t. I don’t have a telephone, radio, television, or read newspapers.’

So that was why he didn’t know she was Charles Smith’s daughter, why he took her to just be a young reporter taking the easy way to the top of her career. How wrong could he be! She had never worked in her life, a little charity work was as near as she had ever come to it. Her father always said he needed her at home whenever she suggested going out to work, and Nicholas seemed to feel the same way when she had told him she would like to get a job after they were married. Maybe if she had had a job, had gained a little independence from her father, she might not have been so easily persuaded to marry Nicholas.

‘Then you don’t know that the public are anxious to know what’s happened to you?’ she now asked Joel Brent.

He seemed to stiffen. ‘They were quick enough to condemn me a year ago.’

‘But—–’

‘I don’t conduct interviews at two o’clock in the morning, Miss Smith,’ he cut in harshly. ‘In fact I don’t conduct interviews at all, not any more.’

‘I was only—–’

‘I don’t care what you were only!’ His face was livid with anger. ‘You can sleep in this bed tonight, tomorrow we’ll have to try and fix up some other arrangement.’

‘T-tomorrow?’ she queried.

‘I’ve already told you, you aren’t leaving, not until I do. And that may not be for months yet.’

‘But I just told you I can’t stay here! Mr Brent, I—–’

‘Joel!’ he snapped. ‘If you have to call me anything call me Joel. I don’t get many visitors, just the occasional neighbour, and they have no idea that my name is Brent. Do you understand?’

‘Yes. But—– Where are you going?’ Her question stopped him going out of the door.

‘What’s the matter, aren’t you used to sleeping alone?’

‘I always sleep alone!’ she told him through gritted teeth.

‘Always?’ he taunted.

‘Yes!’

‘I wonder if Freed has ever taken a virgin?’ he mused cruelly. ‘I doubt it, I shouldn’t think he has the finesse for it. Still, perhaps we can change all that before you leave here.’

His softly spoken words conjured up erotic pictures in her mind, pictures of her and this man locked together in love. She blushed as she saw by the contempt in his eyes that he had clearly read her thoughts. ‘You’re disgusting!’ she snapped to cover her embarrassment.

‘Maybe,’ he agreed huskily. ‘But you seem to like me well enough.’

She didn’t like him at all, her feelings went much deeper than that. How was it possible to fall in love with a man she hardly knew, a man still in love with the memory of a dead woman? No matter how it had happened she did love him, and it was because she loved him that she was going to stop fighting him about leaving here. If she stayed long enough she would be able to get out of marrying Nicholas simply by not turning up for the wedding—a coward’s way out, but in this case the safest. Her father could be very persuasive when it came to getting something he wanted.

She couldn’t have married Nicholas now, not even if Joel hadn’t told her about his marriage to Nancy. How Joel Brent would laugh if he knew the mess she was in. How much more he would laugh if he knew she had fallen in love with him almost on sight.

‘It’s been tried before,’ he told her coldly.

Sabina gave him a puzzled look. ‘What has?’

‘A colleague of yours, Sharon Kendal, got me into bed with her and then tried to get me to talk about Nicole. Needless to say I got the hell out of there.’

Sabina knew all about Sharon Kendal’s methods of getting a story. She had come to work for the Daily News about six months ago, a hard-headed career woman of about Joel’s age. In that six months she had come to be the chief reporter, pushing out anyone who got in her way. Sabina could quite well believe she would use any tactics to get a story, although how Joel could have fallen for that—–

‘I didn’t know she was a reporter until it was too late.’ Once again he seemed to be able to read her thoughts, a disconcerting habit of his.

She frowned. ‘I thought you said you didn’t tell her anything.’

His mouth quirked. ‘I didn’t mean too late for that.’

‘Oh,’ she blushed at her stupidity. ‘Where are you going, Joel?’ she changed the subject to something less painful to her. Joel Brent’s past would be littered with women who had shared his bed—and Sabina found she hated every one of them.

‘Downstairs—to sleep on the sofa. I’m not in the mood for you tonight, attractive as you are. Tell me, does Freed know exactly where in Scotland you are?’

He didn’t even know she was in Scotland as far as she knew! ‘Why should I tell you that?’ she said defensively.

‘He doesn’t,’ Joel said with satisfaction. ‘This gets better and better.’

‘How do you know he doesn’t?’ she flashed. ‘I didn’t say he—–’

‘He doesn’t, Sabina. If he did you would have said so straight away.’

She sighed. ‘You’re right, he doesn’t.’

‘Now why should you admit that?’ His eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Is this another approach? Now that you know I won’t be fooled by the holiday story are you going to try and charm it out of me?’

‘I’m not interested in—in Nicole Dupont, or the relationship you had with her.’

‘That’s good,’ Joel rasped. ‘Because I don’t intend discussing it with you. Get some sleep, Sabina, you look as if you need it.’

‘Thanks!’

He laughed at her sarcasm. ‘I’ll leave Satan up here with you—just to keep you company,’ he taunted.

‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ she said hastily, the cat already watching her with an evil look in its eyes.

‘I’m sure you would. Sweet dreams,’ he mocked as he left.

Sweet dreams be damned! She couldn’t even fall asleep, let alone dream. What was she going to do about Joel’s bad opinion of her? Finding out that Nicholas was the man she was engaged to had only seemed to confirm that she was a reporter, and Joel made no secret of his hatred of reporters. With good reason, if she remembered correctly. Until he had been cleared of all suspicion of crashing deliberately, the newspapers had given him a rough time—mainly, she realised now, because he refused to confirm or deny their allegations.

If she could manage to convince Joel she wasn’t a reporter perhaps he would stop resenting her and start seeing her as a woman. Telling him who her father was was definitely out, that would just damn her twice over in his eyes. Besides, if her father had known of Joel Brent’s presence here he wouldn’t be past using his daughter to get an exclusive interview. And if she knew that about her father then so did Joel.

She hated to think what was going to happen when her father found out she had changed her mind about marrying Nicholas. He would be furious.

A dark shadow loomed up and covered her, causing her to cry out. ‘Be quiet, you little fool!’ snapped the now familiar voice of Joel Brent.

‘I—– You startled me!’ she accused, sitting up to see that it was the flames from the fire that had made such a large shadow. Oh God, had he changed his mind about sleeping with her? She wasn’t sure whether her heart leapt in fear or anticipation.

He placed a mug on the table beside her. ‘That’s no reason to scream the place down,’ he told her impatiently. ‘I’ve brought you some cocoa. You seem to be having trouble sleeping. The bed hasn’t stopped creaking for the last fifteen minutes,’ he explained how he had known of her sleeplessness.

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, aware that she must have been keeping him awake too. She eyed the cocoa suspiciously.

Joel interpreted that look and smiled mockingly. ‘It doesn’t have anything in but a little sugar. I was never into drugs. Not my scene at all,’ he taunted, his arms folded across his sweater-clad chest.

Sabina flushed. ‘I don’t talk like that, so there’s no need to be sarcastic.’

‘I’m so sorry, Miss Smith,’ he said with exaggerated politeness. ‘Put my rude behaviour down to lack of human company. All Satan requires of me is that I feed him, keep him warm, and occasionally give him a bit of love. Not so different from a woman, now I come to think of it.’

She sighed. ‘I’m tired, Mr Brent. I’m not up to this verbal fencing right now.’

‘Then drink your cocoa. Go on, it will help you sleep.’

‘I haven’t drunk cocoa since I was a child.’ She sipped it tentatively, finding she still had a liking for it.

‘And that was such a long time ago,’ he teased softly, taking the empty mug out of her hand and pushing her down on to the pillow before zipping up her sleeping bag.

Sabina gave him a sleepy smile. ‘Thank you—Daddy,’ she did some teasing of her own, thankful that he had stopped sniping at her.

She had thought that too soon. ‘Not me, Sabina,’ he said harshly. ‘Freed may be old enough to be that, but not me. And just to prove it…’ His dark head swooped and his lips claimed hers.

Sabina’s sleepiness instantly left her, her arms going up about his throat, her fingers entwining in the dark hair at his nape. She made no objection as he undid the buttons to her pyjama top, cupping her breast to gently arouse the nipple with his thumb. She instantly felt on fire, her whole body seeming to burn with a sensuality she had never before experienced.

Her neck arched, her head falling back as his mouth moved down to claim her, the first touch of a man’s lips against her breast sending her into a world of wonder, a world where only Joel’s caresses mattered, only his lips and hands on her body seemed important.

And then he was moving away from her, pulling her hands from about his neck. She looked at him with glazed passion-filled eyes. ‘Joel …?’ Her voice ached with her unfulfilment.

‘I told you, I’m not in the mood for you tonight,’ he said cruelly. ‘You’ve been fed, there’s the fire to keep you warm, and now you’ve had your loving.’ He got up from the bed, looking down at her with flinty grey eyes. ‘Now you should fall into as contented a sleep as Satan has.’

Her eyes darkened with pain, his rejection of her cutting into her like a knife. ‘You’re cruel!’ she choked.

‘And you’re a very good actress. I could almost believe you enjoyed my caresses just now.’

‘But I did!’ she defended.

‘Really? And what would you call that, job satisfaction?’

Sabina paled. ‘If you think I responded to you just to try and get a story …’

‘That’s exactly what I think,’ he told her coldly. ‘I wonder if Freed knows how much you enjoy your work?’

‘Get out of here!’ She shook with anger, clutching the gaping front of her pyjama jacket to her. ‘Get out and leave me alone!’ To her shame tears welled up in her eyes.

Joel’s eyes narrowed, his gaze moving slowly over each feature of her face. ‘I think you may have chosen the wrong profession, Sabina. Your acting really is superb. Do you act when Freed makes love to you too? I should think you would have to, I can’t see any woman willingly letting him touch her.’ His mouth turned back in dislike.

The truth of the matter was that although Nicholas was attractive he had never aroused her, in fact the opposite, making her shut her mind off to him as he kissed and fondled her. Perhaps she had always subconsciously known he wasn’t the man for her, a fact that had been proved when she responded mindlessly to Joel’s caresses.

‘I can see you do,’ Joel scorned, his expression contemptuous. ‘Is it worth it?’

She could see it wasn’t now. But at the time she had wanted to please her father, had for once in her life wanted his full approval, and agreeing to marry Nicholas had certainly given her that.

‘Don’t bother to answer.’ Joel moved to the door. ‘And if you still can’t sleep at least lie still. I have work to do tomorrow—today, and I need my sleep even if you don’t.’

Her eyes widened. ‘What work do you do?’

‘Mind your own damned business!’

Once again she was alone, but infinitely sleepier than she had been a few minutes ago. But thoughts of Joel kept flooding into her mind. If he had to shut himself away from the world why on earth had he come to an out-of-the-way place like this, a cottage barely big enough for two people, a place where he had to do everything for himself? A man at the pinnacle of his profession, he had homes in every capital in Europe, a large apartment in New York, a yacht anchored off one of the Greek islands, and each of these homes was more than adequately staffed. And yet here he was, in a one-bedroomed cottage in Scotland.

He could also have had any amount of female company this last year, and yet he had chosen to remain here alone. But he wasn’t alone now, she was here, and she would remain as long as he would let her. Which looked like being some time—she hoped.

Sabina woke once in the night, to feel something warm and soft pressing against her back, body warmth. Had Joel changed his mind and slept in the bed after all? She was almost afraid to turn and look, tensing as she slowly rolled over. Satan stirred beside her, sleepy green eyes suddenly becoming alert as he raised his head to look at her. Sabina moved her hand tentatively out of the sleeping bag, putting it down near the cat, as near as she dared. The black nose moved towards her, the mouth opening to show the viciously sharp teeth, before the rough tongue came out and licked her hand.

‘Why, Satan,’ she laughed softly, ‘you old fraud!’ She tickled him under the chin and he nuzzled his face into her hand, purring as loudly as he had for Joel. Finally the cat settled down again, even closer to her than he had been before. ‘I hope I can make your master like me as easily,’ she murmured before falling asleep again.

It was quite late in the morning when she woke, after nine, and she could hear a strange noise outside. Just as she was about to get up and investigate the noise stopped and she could hear someone, she supposed Joel, moving about downstairs. Satan had gone from the bedroom now, with nothing to show that they had become friends during the night.