'There,' he murmured. 'That's your weakness. Me.' For a split second he looked as if he was about to add something else, but, apparently thinking better of it, he stepped back, pushing the door open with one hand and moving to let her leave.
Like a sleep-walker Flame groped her way outside without speaking, and only when she was safely beside the front door did she turn to look back. He stood in the doorway, a smile of unashamed triumph on his face. Then he turned and went back inside his office and closed the door. She gazed unseeingly straight ahead as she tried to bring her teeming thoughts under control.
When she had discovered Marlow was having an affair with another woman her world had crashed around her. And rather than stay to suffer the hell of living with him any longer, she had impetuously taken the first flight out, feeling instinctively that time and distance might eventually heal the wounds. Then she had gone through hell. Months when she had scarcely been able to recognise herself. But she had managed to drag herself away from the abyss and had slowly begun to pick up the pieces of her shattered existence once again.
Until Samantha had asked her to return she had really believed she was over Marlow. The shell she had built around herself had remained intact all that time. Nothing had tested it.
But now all it had taken was one look, one touch, one kiss for her defences to be smashed to smithereens. He was her first love. Yet she knew he had used her once, and whatever his reasons was now prepared to do the same again. He was a man who told lies in a voice like velvet, a man as slippery as snake oil. To her everlasting agony, he was also her husband.
CHAPTER THREE
Flame made her way shakily towards the terrace. Her entire body seemed to be on fire, nerve-endings juddering like a crash victim's, sight blurred, hands clenching and unclenching until she forced herself to take several deep breaths and consciously relax her adenalin-flooded limbs.
She was poised for either fight or flight, she realised, observing the physical signs, and it was all because Marlow had taken her by surprise. If she had guessed he was going to try his old tricks again, she would have been ready to resist. But he had lulled her into thinking they were to have a serious discussion about their divorce—not a reopening of the question of marriage.
What he had just said had steamrollered her into responding despite her real feelings. Now she was struggling to clamber out of the emotional wreckage.
She began to shake as she remembered his look when he informed her that he didn't want a marriage in name only. How could he contemplate long nights of loveless sex? She supposed it would be easy for him. His heated animal instinct to physically satisfy himself was all-important. Finer feelings seemed to have been honed out of existence. And he seemed to imagine she felt the same way!
Her jaw clenched and her teeth bit painfully into her lower lip as she imagined nights like that. But total confusion raged, for hadn't she herself had similar fleeting thoughts—that although she felt nothing for Marlow as a person, thinking of him as a lover she was still driven by the same insatiable need?
It was horrible. She felt trapped. She couldn't indulge her yearning to escape from the danger again, but neither did she know how to fight it. Fight him. Fight the enemy within herself—the serpent of desire that had sprung to life so suddenly once more.
Affecting an air of nonchalance with the greatest difficulty, Flame managed to settle herself on one of the black and white loungers beside the pool, remarking to Samantha as she closed her eyes, 'I'm quite tired after that night flight.'
She felt Samantha hovering nearby, no doubt wondering if she and Marlow had started to patch things up, but she resolutely kept her eyes shut until she heard the car drive off. Samantha was going to the hairdresser's and the children had already gone out with Britt. As soon as she was alone she sat up, her mind in such turmoil she couldn't keep still. She walked agitatedly beside the pool for a minute or two, thoughts and feelings teeming madly without any pattern.
Was it true what Marlow had told her—that her mother's illness was due in part to worry about their break-up? Guilt was a horrible burden to bear. But of course he would say that, wouldn't he? He had reasons of his own to make her feel bad—to put her in the wrong when it was really he himself who was the guilty party.
She trailed about the garden in a confusion of half-formed fears, but underneath it all was the searing memory of Marlow's lips covering her own. She still felt the old desire for him—that much was blatantly obvious. There was no escaping that. But how could she feel desire for such a rat? Hadn't she learned her lesson long ago? It wasn't as if there was any doubt what sort of man he was. He was as cold-blooded as a rattlesnake when it came to building up his fortune—even if cold was the last thing he was in bed.
Outside the bedroom he was a snake. A rat. An arch-manipulator of other people. An out-and-out user. But why did she always have this sneaking desire to give him the benefit of the doubt? It wasn't as if he was different when it came to personal relationships. She had caught him red-handed, another woman in his bed. What more proof did she need to have to see him in his true colours?
She had been a bride of only three weeks, and his betrayal had inflicted the pain of a physical wound. Time had healed the lacerations, but it hadn't healed the emotional scars.
Her mind flew back to that day when she had innocently made the decision to go out to Ibiza to be with her new husband. The anticipation with which she had taken a taxi from the airport, the excitement that had welled up inside her as she walked jauntily into the hotel foyer—it all came back to her now. She had been so sure of her welcome, so sure of the love with which he would greet her.
Instead, her entire world had come crashing down within seconds.
Yet even now, after all this time, just because his lips could promise such heaven, she had briefly allowed herself to consider falling in with his plans! As if she could ever contemplate going back to him! It was frightening to discover that he still exerted the same old irresistible magnetism.
She sat on the edge of the pool and gazed unseeingly into the water. Her reflection was broken into a thousand fragments by a ruffle of wind that touched the surface. At this moment she felt her life was like that, broken into a thousand pieces—and there seemed no way of ever putting it together again.
A footfall behind her made her pivot, and the cold caress of fear brought a gasp to her lips. 'How long have you been standing there?' she croaked before she could stop herself.
'Long enough to check you out. You're looking good. You've lost your puppy fat.'
'Keep your opinions to yourself!' she blurted. 'Do you think I care a damn what you think?'
'Don't you, Flame? Don't you care a damn?' His expression was enigmatic. He was like a cat playing with a mouse, watching her face with a cruel intensity.
'I stopped caring about you a long time ago,' she hit out with a dismissive toss of her long hair.
'If that's true,' he said laconically, 'there's only one thing for it—I'm going to have to make you care... all over again.'
Flame gave a scathing laugh. 'You're going to have your time cut out! I'd save it for something more productive if I were you!'
'My time is always productive,' he remarked, moving slowly towards her now he'd gauged her mood. He strolled to within a couple of feet of her, then stopped.
Like someone mesmerised against their will she tried to tear her glance away from his, but he was looking down at her with that cold, scrutinising expression that effectively controlled her impulses. It chilled her to have his eyes boring into hers with no sign of love in them, yet she felt herself drowning in his glance and like a drowning person reaching out, pleading, begging, the need to be plucked into the safety of his arms freezing all other emotions. She forced her glance away before he could comment on it and said, 'You make me sick! What right do you have to make me do anything?'
'The right of law,' he pointed out at once.
She raised an eyebrow, looking composed thoug
h her heart was bumping madly. 'I didn't realise you bothered about that sort of thing.' Her voice was acidic with contempt.
'When it comes down to it, darling...' his voice was like a caress '... I would dispense with every law in the land to get you where I want you.'
'I don't doubt it.' Her heart gave a flutter of fear. 'Anything to prove you're top dog, Marlow!'
Her words got through, because he lunged forward and grabbed a bunch of hair at the nape of her neck, forcing her head back so that she had no choice but to look up at him. He was bending over her, his face only inches from her own. Even then she managed to close her eyes so he couldn't see what was in them.
'I don't have to prove a damn thing, least of all to you,' he ground out. 'I get what I want when I want it. And right now what I want happens to be you? He bent her head a little further back until her spine arched, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of making a complaint.
'I thought you said you wouldn't --' She bit her lip to stifle what she had been about to say and her eyes darted a glance at him in confusion.
'Wouldn't what?' he pursued. 'Wouldn't take you, perhaps?'
She lowered her eyelids, cheeks already blazing at the blatant image his words conjured up.
'I'll take you if I want to,' he intoned. 'And I'll take you when and how I want. Don't imagine you have a choice—you lost all rights to a choice when you broke the rules by running out on me.' He tightened his grip. 'You're making a big mistake if you think you can thwart me by refusing to co-operate.' His fingers were biting into the back of her head, but she refused to make a murmur.
His gaze swept her stony expression and his jaw tightened. 'I'm in no hurry to satisfy you, Flame. You can wait for it. I've got time on my side. I know I'm going to get you in the end—on my terms.'
'Not a chance,' she managed to croak. 'I'll never give in!'
'Tell yourself that if it helps, but it'll get you precisely nowhere. Unfortunately for you you've reached the end of the line. There's nowhere else for you to run.'
'I'll go back to England,' she sparked, trying not to let him see how ragingly humiliated she felt to be pinned so helplessly in his grip. It only compounded the humiliation to hear what he said.
Still sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water, she couldn't even begin to wriggle free while Marlow stood over her like her lord and master. Inside she cringed with shame, but instead of showing it she tried to flick the long tendrils of amber hair away from her face with a gesture of disdain, while pretending he didn't have her trapped at all.
He greeted her words with a tight smile and informed her, 'You're not going to England or anywhere if I don't say so, baby. I thought you'd guessed that much by now.'
'You can't stop me!' she hissed, trying not to struggle.
'No?' He laughed openly and her eyes dwelled too long on the features that made him look as handsome as the devil, so that triumph lurked in his eyes as soon as he saw it. He leaned over her. 'I can stop you doing whatever I want. You forget, you're on my territory now. And if you want to put me to the test, make your move. Let's see how you make out.'
'If I want to, Marlow,' she said with as much hauteur as she could muster, 'I can walk out of this villa right now. I've got my passport, I've got money. There's no way you could stop me.'
'I've always regarded physical restraint as a crude last resort,' he remarked. 'Surely we're not going to sink to that level?'
'Then what do you mean?' Flame whipped back.
'You're still here,' he pointed out.
'Nothing to do with you, so don't flatter yourself!' she retorted.
'No? But it was I who pointed out the consequences if you suddenly took off again,' he observed almost mildly. 'Surely you're not forgetting your obligations to your mother?'
'You think you've trapped me by resorting to emotional blackmail? But it was nothing to do with you and what you wanted that brought me back,' she managed to return. 'If it wasn't for Mother I wouldn't have come back at all.'
'You would if I'd wanted you back.'
She gave a small gasp and turned her head. Even now he could wound her with the knowledge of his deeper emotional indifference to her. Did he already know how it had seared her to the soul to know that he hadn't at any point asked her to return?
'If you didn't want me back at any time m the last eighteen months,' she gritted, 'I don't see why you should pretend to want me back now.'
'But you've got it wrong, Flame.' His voice dropped to a seductive deeper level. 'I'm not pretending to want you back. I do want you—passionately.' His eyes lazed over her upturned face, noting how helplessly she was arched beneath him. 'I've already told you,' he went on throatily, 'my patience is now over. I'm calling in the debt. You've owed me for too long. And now you're going to repay what you've withheld—with interest!'
'It always comes back to money, doesn't it? You can't think of anything without reference to profit and loss!' Her eyes blazed with contempt.
Marlow laughed softly. 'You would say that, obviously, because it's a part of your own game.'
'What on earth do you mean?' she exclaimed.
'You know that when you come to inherit you're going to be a very rich young woman in your own right should you choose to sell Cabo Margarita. Maybe now you've tasted freedom you feel you don't want to share your wealth with anything so inconvenient as a husband?' His lips twisted. 'Tough luck, lady—you've got me to contend with and you're not going to forget it!'
Confused, Flame tried to jerk her head away. 'You're hurting my neck,' she muttered. What he had just said had never occurred to her.
In answer to her protest, his fingers tightened convulsively. 'Hurting it? I ought to break it,' he breathed, drawing her closer beneath him. When she flinched he went on, 'I see you have no answer for me. You must really hate me for spoiling your little scheme! How inconvenient for you that you made that disastrous decision to marry at the age of nineteen—though even you must admit you were eager at the time.'
'Damn you to hell, Marlow. I hate you!'
'Oh, I know that,' he murmured in a caressing tone. 'I've grown used to that idea. It no longer enters into my calculations. I may even hate you too. But so what? There are more things in life than love. Like sex, for instance. And we both know we're in accord on that one!'
'You might think so, but I've got news for you,' she managed to say, her heart racketing painfully as his words lashed her like silken whips. 'I don't go to bed with anybody out of blind lust. I have to care completely --'
'You must have changed a hell of a lot,' he broke in harshly. 'I seem to remember you couldn't get enough of me in the old days. Even you wouldn't try to convince me that you wanted anything but my body then, would you?' His fingers raked her scalp. 'Would you?' he demanded.
'If you say so.' She lowered her eyelids at the thought that he had never known how much she had really cared.
'So where have all these finer feelings come from?' he rasped. 'If indeed they exist anywhere but in your imagination.'
'Maybe people change,' she fought back, risking a glance at him. 'Maybe they learn that there's more to life than possessing someone --'
'Or being possessed?' murmured Marlow with a tilt of his eyebrows. His voice had thickened. 'We're wasting time, darling. We both know it. Instead of talking we could be pleasuring each other in the only way we both understand... Quit this talk about finer feelings, it won't wash. These last months have shown me how you really are.'
Flame wondered what he was going to do next, but his words left her in no doubt. 'Let's get down to business,' he muttered hoarsely against the side of her head.
'Don't, Marlow!' The cry was torn from her lips as she suddenly found herself sinking back beneath his weight on to the mosaic tiles beside the pool. Her feet still trailed in the water and one of his knees placed between her thighs effectively prevented her from struggling free. 'Don't!' she began again, more strongly.
She moved her head vi
olently from side to side as she guessed what was coming next. Sure enough, his free hand came up and gripped her chin, then his mouth covered her own in the heat of possession, prising open her lips to allow his tongue its invasion. She felt herself weaken under the force of his suddenly unleashed desire, and the more rapidly she breathed, the more passionate his response. Soon she couldn't tell whether her panting came from the exertion of trying to resist or from the desire that ripped through her loins in response to his own. A small sound of surrender was torn from her throat as his mouth lifted at last. He noticed it with satisfaction.
'We're good together when we don't talk,' he observed. 'Why don't we always keep things this simple?'
'Because real life isn't simple!' she bit back, wriggling sideways to get away.
'Do that some more,' he muttered against the side of her cheek. Flame didn't have to ask what he meant. Her ineffectual squirming had brought her achingly up close beneath him and she could feel the hard male response burning between her thighs as a blatant sign of his desire. His lips were already consuming the rest of her resistance, feasting on the sweetness of her curves with an insatiable appetite, and when his dark head of tangled hair lifted to search out other places of delight she felt the outside world slip beyond consciousness with the final surrendering thought that at least they were shielded from prying eyes by the huge poolside parasol.
His experienced touch made her open like a flower long deprived of rain, forcing her to groan his name in a helpless submission, all resistance to him impossible so long as his touch plundered her senses like this. He had said he would take her when and how he wanted, and now he was giving her the proof.
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