Читать книгу His Independent Bride: Wife Against Her Will / The Wedlocked Wife / Bertoluzzi's Heiress Bride - Сара Крейвен, Catherine Spencer - Страница 16

FOR A moment Darcy was completely still, assimilating what he’d said. Feeling the meaning invade her consciousness like tiny chips of ice. Then,

‘But you promised.’ The words burst out of her in a little wail of agony and betrayal. ‘You said—you gave me your word you wouldn’t want to sleep with me.’

‘Nor will I. That’s no great hardship.’ His voice was still gentle. ‘But I haven’t come here to sleep, my lovely one. Not for some time, anyway, because I’m actually not tired at all. And neither, I suspect, are you.’

‘But you let me think that you wouldn’t…’ Her voice rose in desperation. ‘We had an agreement.’

‘With all agreements, examine the small print closely.’ Joel was unruffled. ‘Sleeping together is such an ambiguous concept, don’t you think? It can mean different things to different people. And it covers none of the very pleasurable things one can do when awake.’

He smiled down into her frightened, pleading eyes, and his voice deepened slightly. Became husky. ‘And now, my sweet, I want to look at you.’

He took the edge of the sheet and turned it back, his brows lifting as he saw her nightgown.

‘Almost virginal,’ he remarked. ‘And yet we both know that’s not the case.’ He paused. ‘So, will you take it off, or shall I?’

She wrapped her arms round her body, staring up at him wild-eyed.

‘Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare touch me. You lied to me, you bastard. You tricked me…’

‘It’s a trait we seem to share,’ he drawled. ‘Just be thankful we’ll never have children, or heaven only knows what they’d be like.’ He paused, and his voice hardened a little. ‘And you weren’t deceived, Darcy, whatever you may tell yourself. I told you once that I wanted you from that first moment—but you already knew that, so don’t bother to deny it. It was always a question of when, so don’t pretend otherwise.’

‘Joel.’ She was shaking, her voice sinking to an anguished whisper. ‘Don’t do this. I’m begging you. Don’t force me. I—I couldn’t bear it.’

‘I don’t believe in force, darling,’ he said. ‘Just a little gentle persuasion, perhaps. Starting with this.’ He reached down and, with a deftness that appalled her, whipped her nightgown over her head and tossed it aside.

For a long moment he stood looking down at her, and she lay transfixed—her whole body burning with the knowledge that he was the first man ever to see her naked—and terrified by the open hunger in his gaze.

When he spoke, his voice was very quiet. ‘You’re so beautiful, Darcy. Lovelier than any of my dreams, if that’s possible.’

He untied the sash of his robe and shrugged it off, revealing that it was indeed his only covering.

With a cry of outrage Darcy flung herself on her side, turning her back to him, but knowing at the same time that it was already too late. That there was another image now—unwanted but unforgettable—burning itself into her brain. And that there was nothing she could do about it.

She was aware of the slight dip in the mattress as he joined her in the big bed. She could feel the warmth of his nearness, and her stomach muscles clenched in panic.

As his hand touched her shoulder, she flinched violently. ‘Don’t!’

He sighed. ‘I’ve already established my intentions,’ he said. ‘So save the token protests, sweetheart.’

‘Don’t you dare say that to me,’ she whispered. ‘Because I also told you something once—that I loathed sex, and never wanted it again.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I remember.’

‘Then why can’t you understand that? Accept it as my decision?’

‘Darcy.’ His voice was not unkind. ‘Darling, I’m aware that a lot of girls must find their first sexual experience disappointing, but they don’t take an immediate vow of chastity. Isn’t that something of an overreaction?’

‘I thought you were going to leave me alone.’ She choked on a sudden sob. ‘My God, I married you on that one condition. You know I did. But men can never believe that you don’t want to be mistreated—brutalised. Because “no” really means “yes”, doesn’t it, Joel? Because it’s what we bitches all want.’

She sat up in bed, turning on him, uncaring that her breasts were uncovered, tears running down her white face. ‘That’s what Harry kept saying to me all the time he was doing it, all the time I was trying to push him off, crying out for him to stop because he was hurting me so much—so badly. But he wouldn’t—he didn’t…’

‘Darcy.’ There was a note in his voice she’d never heard before—sharp, almost agonised. ‘Dear God, Darcy, what the hell are you talking about? Are you telling me that Harry Metcalfe—raped you?’

‘Rape?’ she repeated, then shook her head. ‘Oh, no, because there’s no such thing as rape. Just stupid little girls who change their minds when it’s too late. Didn’t you know that? Harry knew it. He said so.’

Joel’s face looked as if it had been carved out of stone. He said something soft and obscene under his breath, then reached over to the box of tissues on the night table and passed her a handful. Then he leaned down and retrieved his robe from the floor, wrapping it gently round her bare shoulders. Darcy clutched at it, dragging the red silk across her breasts with one hand, while she tried to mop her face with the other.

‘Let me.’ He took the tissues, drying her eyes and wiping her nose as if she were a child. His arm went round her, drawing her against his shoulder. ‘Now tell me what happened.’

She swallowed convulsively. ‘I’d been to a party at the house of a girl called Isobel, whose parents had gone away on holiday. I’d just left school, and I didn’t know her very well, but I realised as soon as I got there that it was a big mistake. Harry was there, and he offered to drive me home.’

Her fingers played restlessly with the crisp edge of the sheet. ‘He told you the truth when he said I’d been crazy about him for years. It started when I was thirteen, and I probably did make a hellish nuisance of myself over him. When I learned he’d got engaged, I felt as if my life had ended.

‘And now here he was, being kind, offering me a lift. It was like a glimpse of paradise. But we didn’t go straight home. Harry drove to Whitnall Woods, and parked there. He said he needed someone to talk to. That his engagement was a terrible mistake, and he was trying to break it off. He said he felt awful about it, because she was a wonderful girl, but not for him.

‘Then he said how strange it was that sometimes the girl you really wanted was right there, under your nose, only you were too blind to see it.

‘And he said, “Darcy—forgive me for being blind.”’ She tried to smile and failed. ‘I felt as if all my dreams had come true at once.’

‘Go on,’ Joel directed tersely.

‘He started to kiss me, and that was when everything changed. It should have been heaven, but it wasn’t. I didn’t like it, and I didn’t know why. So I asked him to take me home, and said we could talk again the next day, if he wanted.’

She bent her head. ‘He said it was far too early for that, and kissed me again. He told me I had a lovely mouth, then—then he undid his zip and tried to push my head down, towards him. But I couldn’t, I just couldn’t…’

‘No,’ Joel said quietly. ‘And why should you?’

She took a breath. ‘He laughed at me. Said it was the twenty-first century, and I should lighten up. That he thought blow jobs were on the curriculum of every girls’ school. He squeezed my breasts, and I told him to stop, but he said he knew what I really wanted. Then he pushed me down on the seat, and ripped my underwear. I tried to scream, but everything was dark and stifling, and I couldn’t make a sound. So, it—happened.’

‘And afterwards?’ Joel asked curtly.

Darcy shook her head. ‘He said I had a lot to learn about men. That I shouldn’t lead them on, then make a fuss.’

‘My God.’ Joel was silent for a moment. ‘Who else knows about this?’

She swallowed convulsively. ‘No one.’

‘Why didn’t you report it to the police?’

She said in a low voice, ‘Because it was my word against his, and I wasn’t sure anyone would believe me. He was a neighbour’s son, after all, and it was an open secret how I felt about him. A big joke in the neighbourhood. I—I knew that.

‘And there were plenty of people at the party who’d seen me leave with him. Anyway, he’d already established his defence. He’d have claimed I encouraged him, and afterwards reported him for revenge because he wasn’t prepared to ditch Emma for me.’

She sighed. ‘Besides, it also meant my father knowing, and Aunt Freddie, and I couldn’t bear that. I couldn’t hurt them like that, or let them find out that I’d lied about where I was going that night, because I knew they wouldn’t approve. I suppose I just wanted to put it behind me. Forget what a fool I’d been—the whole thing.’

‘Then why did you turn up at the club that evening? Surely not to tell him what a complete and utter bastard he was?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Not that. I went there because I’d just found out I was having his baby.’

There was a terrible silence, then Joel said wearily, ‘Oh, my God.’ His arm tightened round her, drawing her closer so that she could feel the deep beat of his heart under her cheek. ‘Why, Darcy? Did you really imagine he’d help you?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘At least—I don’t know. I suppose I was totally in shock—not thinking straight. He was the father and I didn’t know where else to turn. It seemed logical at the time.’

‘And instead of seeing you were in deep trouble, I treated you like a tart, and pushed you into the street.’ His voice was quietly bitter. ‘No wonder you were so hostile when we met again. You had every possible reason.’

‘Perhaps I should have been grateful.’ She bit her lip. ‘Later that night I had a miscarriage. I realised—afterwards—that had to be a blessing in disguise.

‘I also knew, when I had a chance to think straight, that going to Harry was the very worst thing I could have done. That I’d have hated him knowing. Hated it. So there was something else to be thankful for.’

She turned and looked at Joel. Saw the hardness of his mouth, and the brooding expression in his eyes that spoke of anger, and something less easily recognised. Almost, she thought, a kind of anguish.

She said urgently, ‘And he must never know, either. Joel, swear to me that you’ll say nothing. It’s over. Over and gone. And, anyway, there’s Emma to consider.’

He said grimly, ‘I don’t think Emma’s under any real illusion about the man she married. Not any more.’ He paused. ‘But it’s hardly over, Darcy. Not with the residue of pain and fear you still have. And which I’ve only added to,’ he added with renewed bitterness. ‘Reopened a two-year-old nightmare for you.’

She said stiltedly, ‘Now, perhaps, you can understand why I’d only marry you on certain terms.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It explains a great deal.’

She went on, in a rush, ‘I don’t know why I told you all this. I didn’t intend to. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be.’ Joel released his arm carefully, positioning her against the plumped-up pillows. ‘After all, I pushed you into it.’

He gave her a brief smile, stroked an errant strand of hair away from her face, then threw back the sheet and left the bed.

This time she was careful not to allow even a stray glance in his direction as he walked away across the room. And when the door closed behind him, leaving her alone, she breathed what she told herself was a sigh of relief.

Yet at the same time, without the support of his shoulder under her cheek, and the firmness of his arm around her, she felt oddly bereft, although, of course, she was still wrapped in his robe.

Not that she wanted him to stay, she amended hastily. But he’d listened to her, believed her, and what was more he’d been kind, none of which she’d really expected. Especially the kindness, she thought wryly. But maybe that was just guilt.

And he was certainly the last man on earth she’d ever imagined confiding in completely. Even Lois and Mick had never known the whole truth. She’d let them think that her pregnancy was simply an awful mistake—the reckless result of too much wine at a party.

But she’d had to tell Joel, she thought with sudden defensiveness. It was the only way to deal with the threat he posed to her. To make him understand that she could not endure being taken against her will a second time. That it would be a monstrous, an unforgivable thing to do.

Which he had totally accepted.

She shivered, and hugged the red silk more closely around her. A subtle fragrance seemed to cling to its folds—a mixture of clean male skin with a hint of musk from the cologne he used. The scent of him, she realised as she breathed it into her. The essence of him, deeply and undeniably sensuous.

And that brief glimpse of him naked, however unwelcome, had told her quite unequivocally that he had a wonderful body, strong, lean and muscular.

If it had come to a physical struggle she would have lost, she thought, dry-mouthed. But, thank heaven, it had not come to that. He’d admitted defeat and gone, so she didn’t have to worry any more. From now on, Joel would abide by the rules of their marriage. She was certain of it.

But even as she was still reassuring herself, the door opened and Joel came back into the bedroom. She shot up in bed with a gasp, clutching at the edges of the robe. He was wearing a towel, she saw, draped discreetly round his hips and fastened with a knot. And he was carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses.

She found her voice. ‘I don’t understand. I thought you’d gone. Why are you here?’

He held up the wine. ‘The hotel thinks of everything, even down to the all-purpose tonic,’ he said. ‘I felt you could do with

one.’

‘I—I’m fine. I don’t need anything.’

‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘What else do you drink on honeymoon? Of course, it’s usually used to toast the successful consummation of the marriage,’ he added meditatively, as he extracted the cork. ‘But in our case, we have something else to celebrate.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Honesty,’ he said, pouring the wine. ‘You have to admit, my sweet, that it’s a step forward in what we laughingly call our relationship.’

He handed her a glass, then, to her dismay, stretched himself on the bed beside her, propped up on an elbow.

She wanted to edge away, but between his weight on one side, and the tightly tucked sheet on the other, there was little room for manoeuvre.

Besides, his robe was tangled around her, and she couldn’t release herself without removing it completely.

So maybe it was best to keep still, and simply play along. For the time being.

She said, with an attempt at lightness, ‘Is that the toast, then? Honesty?’

‘Coupled with marriage.’ Joel raised his glass, watching the dancing bubbles in the lamplight. ‘Whatever form it takes.’

It seemed easier to murmur something vaguely acquiescent, and drink. The wine was dry and cool against the tautness of her throat, and she welcomed the refreshment of it, sipping at it nervously until her glass was empty. Only to find Joel refilling it.

She said quickly, ‘No more, please.’

‘But we can’t waste it,’ he said, taking some more for himself. ‘Besides, it will help you relax.’

‘Not necessary.’ She took an undignified gulp of one of the world’s most expensive wines, aware that her heart was thudding wildly. ‘I’m practically asleep as it is.’

‘No,’ Joel said gently. And the blue eyes met hers with a message even her inexperience could understand. ‘No, darling, you’re not. Because sleep’s still a long way off—for both of us, my beautiful wife.

‘And our real marriage is about to begin. Right here, and right now.’

For a moment she stared at him, her pupils dilating. Then, with a little hoarse cry she threw the rest of her champagne at him.

Joel tutted, and removed the glass from her hand. ‘Such a pointless gesture, I always think,’ he commented, setting both glasses on the night table. ‘But there’s still some left for later.’

‘There’ll be no later,’ she said fiercely. ‘I’ve just told you why I don’t want a marriage in that sense.’ ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I heard you.’

‘Then, what part of “no” do you not understand?’ Her voice bit at him.

‘A bad thing happened to you, Darcy,’ he said quietly. ‘A terrible thing. But you can’t use it as an excuse to put your life on hold forever, or deny your own sexuality. Because whatever you may tell yourself, your body’s ready to love and be loved.’

‘Love?’ Her voice shook. ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word. You disgust me.’

‘No,’ Joel returned, unmoved. ‘I don’t think that’s altogether true—not on past evidence, anyway. Not when I’ve felt your response on the brief occasions that I’ve kissed you—touched you.’

‘Oh, God.’ She wrapped her arms round her body. ‘I suppose next you’ll tell me I’m gagging for it.’ Her scorn was withering. ‘Isn’t that the romantic phrase?’

He shrugged a shoulder. ‘It’s certainly not one of mine. Nor do I plan to hurt you, abuse you, or call you names.’ He paused. ‘I’m going to show you that sex can also be about pleasure. Is that really so terrible?’

‘Yes.’ There was a sob in her voice. ‘When you know I don’t want it.’

‘Sweetheart, I don’t think you have a clue what you do or don’t want.’

His voice gentled. ‘And, whatever I may have said, Darcy, I’m in no great hurry. I can wait, if I have to. But tonight, we make at least a beginning.’

His hand went to the knot at his hip. ‘And now, if you still want your blushes spared, I suggest you close your eyes.’

Huddled in the robe, she glared at him. ‘Alternatively, you could put the light out.’

‘No thanks,’ he said. ‘You don’t like darkness, remember? Besides, I want to be able to see your eyes, and for you to see mine.’ He paused. ‘And although the colour of that silk is quite incredible against your skin, you’d look even lovelier without it.’ He held out his hand.

Darcy’s lips parted in protest, then closed mutinously, the words unspoken. She wriggled free of the folds of silk, under cover of the sheet, and passed the robe to him. As he took it, Joel extracted a small packet from one of the pockets and put it on the night table.

She realised at once what it must be, and felt sudden heat flood her skin. It was really going to happen, she thought. He was going to have sex with her, and there was nothing she could say or do to stop him. And he was even being practical about it.

She turned swiftly away, burying her face in the pillow. ‘You’re vile,’ she said in a muffled voice.

‘I’m a man who wants to make love to his wife,’ Joel retorted as he slid into bed beside her. ‘And all the insults in the world won’t make the slightest difference to that.’

When he reached for her, Darcy resisted silently, her body unyielding. But calmly, even gently, she found herself being drawn back into Joel’s embrace. So she couldn’t even accuse him of using force, she thought bitterly.

She lay taut and trembling in his arms, totally aware of the coolness of his skin against her own. Dreading the inevitable moment when she would find herself touched. Taken. Known completely by him.

When he might also demand that she touch him…

But, as he’d indicated, Joel seemed in no great hurry to impose his possession, as the practised warmth of his fingers began their initial contact with her skin, slowly stroking the curve of her shoulder and arm, as if he was gentling a wild creature. Just the same quiet movement, repeated over and over again, until, in spite of herself, Darcy felt the tension beginning to drain out of her, and the shaking start to quieten.

How could he? she asked herself, almost desperately. How could he do that? Why was it possible?

At the same time his lips were conducting their own delicate exploration, touching her hair, then moving to her closed eyelids, before caressing her temple, her cheekbone and drifting down to her mouth.

His kiss was light, almost questing, but her lips stayed firmly closed against him, denying him the sweeter access he sought.

She had to prove somehow that she meant what she said, she thought wildly. That she did not want him.

Joel kissed her again, his mouth moving on hers in lingering, sensuous persuasion, trying to coax a response from her.

She was suddenly aware of a strange inner tremor, like the flutter of a butterfly wing as his lips continued patiently to caress hers. A sign of weakness that she could not allow. She could not, would not risk even the slightest softening towards him, and her fists clenched, digging her nails into the palms of her hands to bolster her resistance.

At last Joel raised his head, propping himself on one elbow and surveying her, brows lifted, mouth quizzical.

‘No?’ he asked softly.

‘No.’ She stared back at him, eyes icy with resentment, wishing that her voice sounded slightly less breathless. ‘I thought I’d made it clear. I’m giving you nothing.’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘And you think that my taking will impose some kind of hardship?’ He shook his head, slowly. ‘It won’t, my sweet. Not on either of us, and that’s a promise.’

He tossed the sheet to the foot of the bed and lifted himself lithely into a kneeling position beside her, his hands capturing her fists and uncurling them in spite of her struggles to free them. He whistled faintly when he saw the small, angry crescents in the soft flesh, slanting a glance at her mutinous face. ‘Now, what caused that, I wonder?’ he murmured, a note of faint amusement in his voice.

He moved her hands away from her body, clamping them firmly to the mattress on either side of her.

‘Let go of me. Let go at once.’ Darcy twisted furiously but unavailingly against his grip.

‘Not a chance,’ he said. ‘But please don’t stop wriggling on that account,’ he added mockingly. ‘You look amazingly sexy. All my fantasies coming true at last.’

She was immediately still, staring up at him, angry tears glinting on her lashes. ‘This is not funny.’ She spat the words at him.

‘No,’ he said, his voice suddenly husky. ‘And I’m not joking.’

He bent, and put his lips very precisely against her throat, at the point where the pulse leapt crazily. Then he began, slowly and deliberately, to move downwards, allowing his mouth to explore, without apparent haste, the hollow at the base of her neck, and the slender ridge of her collarbone.

He traversed the line of each shoulder, then pressed tiny kisses on the soft inner flesh of her imprisoned arms, lingering on the delicate skin inside each elbow, before following a sensuous path down to her wrists.

Darcy closed her eyes, catching her bottom lip in her teeth, trying to ignore the strange, insidious warmth that was beginning to invade her entire body.

She felt as if she was being drawn slowly to the edge of some abyss, and that she must fight back before her mind and body went out of control, and she plunged into chaos.

He’d released her hands, so she could at least try to defend herself—attempt to push him away—but her arms seemed to have become lead weights.

He was touching her face again, stroking her cheek and feathering along the line of her jaw. Brushing the stubborn contours of her mouth with his fingertips, while his lips caressed her throat, lingered on the warm, vulnerable place beneath her ear.

She realised that her breathing was becoming ragged, and knew that he must be aware of it too.

But this, she recognised, was what had always scared her about Joel. Why she had tried so hard to distance herself from him. This desperate suspicion that he might awaken in her needs and desires she did not want to experience. That, in some strange way, she might even lose herself, and become part of him.

A suspicion that had crystallised into certainty that evening when he’d first kissed her, touched her, and during the long night which had followed, when her aching, shaken body had not allowed her to rest.

But she could not, must not, let him sap her will completely. Draw her, unresisting, into the sensuous web he was spinning round her.

Whatever he did, she had, somehow, to maintain her own integrity, to shield her against the time when this mockery of a marriage ended and he was no longer part of her life.

But even as this resolution took shape in her mind, Joel bent his head and, for the first time, she felt his mouth warm and enticing against the rounded softness of her breasts. And knew that she was right to be afraid. Because her senses were suddenly in meltdown, and the void was gaping in front of her.

She tried to say ‘no’ but her taut throat couldn’t manage the word. Only a brief faint moan.

His hands cupped her, stroking the small, scented mounds, then lifting them again to the homage of his mouth. He captured each nipple between his lips in turn, sucking gently at the dusky rose peaks, his tongue a small flame dancing against them, teasing them until they hardened into aching, intolerable sweetness.

He could not be doing this to her, she thought from some dazed corner of her mind. Could not be inflicting this beautiful, insane cruelty on her. She must not let it go on…

But this time, when his mouth returned to hers, she surrendered helplessly to its demand, knowing that further denial was no longer possible, not when she could taste the scent of her own skin on his lips.

Joel kissed her deeply and passionately, his mastery absolute, as he explored her mouth, his tongue caressing hers with languorous expertise.

When he finally lifted his head and looked down at her, she met his gaze, her own eyes clouded in bewilderment and uncertainty.

He said her name very quietly, then slid an arm beneath her, lifting her against him so that the tips of her aroused breasts grazed his hair-roughened chest in a new and exquisite torment that made the breath sob in her throat.

Then he kissed her again, his mouth hotly demanding, carrying her away on a rising tide of sensual delight that made her burn and shiver.

His other hand was beginning to make its own leisurely journey down her body, delicately mapping each graceful curve and plane, from her ribcage to the faint concavity of her belly, even tracing with a fingertip the whorls of her navel, and measuring the slight hollow inside her hip bone.

Every touch, every slightest movement stirred her senses—made the blood in her veins quicken helplessly.

But when the stroking hand reached her slim thigh, Darcy became suddenly rigid. This was where memory returned to haunt her—remind her that ahead other lay only pain, and confusion. A stark, physical reality that she could only recall with nausea. And which bore no relation to the beguiling sensuous caresses she’d experienced so far in Joel’s arms.

Yet, as soon as he felt the tension in her body, he stopped and began to kiss her again, his tongue gently playing with hers, his fingers softly fondling her breasts, coaxing her back to trembling pliancy, and she sighed as she surrendered once more, her body sinking against his.