‘I…I don’t know what to say…’ She felt the sting of tears and blinked them back. ‘I feel so ashamed…’
‘You have no need to be,’ he said. ‘I sought my revenge against your father and succeeded.’
‘Your…your mother’s…suicide…’ She took an unsteady breath before continuing. ‘She did it because of my father, didn’t she?’
He gave a single nod. ‘When I was taken away by the police she begged him to pay for my bail so I wouldn’t have to go to prison. Of course he refused and sacked her both professionally and personally within minutes of my eviction. She took her life a few months later, before I could help her deal with her shame and guilt. I found a journal she’d kept; it filled in the parts I hadn’t known about. She was devastated by his rejection, not to mention deeply ashamed of me being incarcerated. She had no money to fight for my case legally, so in the end it all became too much for her.’
Bryony found it difficult to take it all in. Her brain felt as if it had been clamped between two book-ends with great force and her eyes ached with the pressure of welling tears.
‘I think I’m starting to see why you demanded marriage,’ she said. ‘Ravaged lawns and gardens aside, it was the perfect way to twist the knife in my father’s gut.’
He didn’t respond, which frustrated her no end.
‘That is why you did it, wasn’t it, Kane? You wanted to rub his nose in the fact that his lover’s bastard son had got the lot in the end, including his daughter. It wasn’t enough that you’d swept his assets from under him, you had to take me hostage too.’
‘I felt it appropriate at the time,’ he answered.
‘Appropriate?’ She all but gaped at him. ‘Haven’t you ever heard of the saying two wrongs never made a right? You got my father back, my mother too, although I have no idea what she ever did to you to incur your wrath. As for my brother, I realise you both couldn’t stand the sight of each other. And, as for me…’ She did her best not to let her gaze dip to his mouth but she felt the magnetic pull and finally had to give in to it. She gave a ragged little sigh as she stared at the hard line of his damaged lip. ‘I…I just wish you could have left me out of it…’
His hands came back to her shoulders, holding her so she had to look up at him once more.
‘I could never have left you out of it. You were part of it from day one.’
Bryony knew tears were tracking twin pathways down her cheeks as she held his forceful gaze but she was beyond disguising her pain.
‘You make me sound like some item you’ve had your eye on in a shop somewhere for years; do you have any idea how that makes me feel?’
‘Would you have ever considered entering into a relationship with me without me forcing you into it?’ he asked her roughly.
His question surprised her into silence.
She tried to imagine what it might have been like to have met as two adults without the history of their diverse backgrounds coming between them, but it was almost impossible to think of her father ever agreeing to her associating with anyone like Kane. Owen Mercer was unashamedly racist and had always made it clear she was never to date outside the white Anglo-Saxon boundaries he’d laid down. Kane’s half-Greek heritage would have caused the first stumbling block and his class the second.
Kane’s gaze released hers as he stepped away from her. ‘I guess that’s my answer then,’ he said. ‘You’re a Mercer after all, born and bred to always believe yourself above the rest of the human race.’
‘I don’t think like that any more, Kane.’ She brushed at her face with her hand. ‘I know I was an appalling little bitch to you before, but I’m not like that now; surely you can see that?’
He turned and looked at her, his expression impossible to read. ‘What’s happened, Bryony? Have you suddenly decided you don’t hate me any more now that you know the truth about your father?’
Bryony held herself very still, her breathing coming to a stumbling halt.
‘Your father was the same. He couldn’t stand the sight of me until I showed him my bank balance. Then he couldn’t wait for me to be his son-in-law.’ He stepped towards her, tipping up her chin so she had no choice but to meet his diamond-sharp gaze. ‘Be sure of one thing. I will have you whether you love me or hate me. It makes no difference to me.’
Bryony pulled away, her heart thudding in reaction to the steely purpose in his tone.
‘As far as I can tell, the only emotion you ever allow yourself to feel is hate; you have no room in your life for love, even if by some miracle I had changed my mind,’ she said through tight lips.
‘If I believed it to be a genuine emotion I would make room for it. I watched my mother prostitute herself for love; is it any wonder I no longer trust the concept?’
‘But aren’t you asking the same of me that my father asked of your mother?’ she demanded. ‘You’re using me just as he did your mother.’
‘I am not using you, Bryony,’ he insisted. ‘Unlike your father, I have at least given you the security and respectability of marriage. You came to me willingly last night and you will again. You don’t want to admit it due to your stubborn Mercer pride, but you want me even though you say you hate me. I knew it ten years ago and so did your brother and your father but they did everything they could to sabotage any chance of a relationship between us.’
‘But you only want me out of revenge and spite! What sort of basis for marriage is that? How long do you expect it to continue?’
‘I’ve told you before: our marriage will continue indefinitely, for even now, as a result of our lovemaking last night, you may well be carrying my child.’
Bryony’s blood chilled as she recalled the second and third time she’d received his hard male body during the night. She could still feel the sexy silk of him between her legs, the intoxicating scent of their combined passion one of the first things she’d noticed on waking.
Had he planned it? Had he planned to ensnare her even further into his complicated web of revenge by neglecting to use protection in order to tie her to him indefinitely?
The years stretched ahead of her, long lonely years filled with the misery of the emotional emaciation her mother had suffered, the continued cold indifference of her husband turning her life into a wasteland of lost opportunities and unfulfilled dreams while her children watched on in silent tortured anguish.
‘I suppose this was all part of your plan?’ Her eyes cut to his with bitterness. ‘You have orchestrated this so I have no way out.’
‘I did not really intend to put you at risk of pregnancy so early in our relationship but last night I could think of nothing but having you in my arms at last.’
From any other man she might have been mollified by such a confession but, coming from Kane, she felt angry instead. He’d made no secret of his desire for her, a desire that had been smouldering for ten long years, steadily stoked by hatred and bitterness until he could finally make his move.
‘I don’t know how you can sleep at night,’ she said. ‘You are no better than my father, using people for your own ends with no regard for their feelings.’
‘You have indeed a right to be angry, Bryony, but it is misdirected while it is aimed at me. I am not interested in exploiting you for my own ends. I only want what is best for you.’
She threw him a caustic look, her tone dripping with sarcasm. ‘I suppose you think I should be grateful for being selected for the highly esteemed position of your wife?’
He didn’t answer but she could see the tightening of his lean jaw as if he was trying to be patient with her in the face of her taunt.
She stalked across the room to stand just in front of him, her finger stabbing at his chest, her eyes flashing with fury.
‘You might have forced me into marriage but I won’t allow you to crush me the way my father did my mother. I would rather kill myself, do you hear me?’
He held her fiery look for so long she began to feel a little foolish standing there, her body
far too close to his, the deep thud of his heart pushing against the sensitive pad of her finger.
Just when she thought she could stand it no longer he suddenly cupped her face in his hands and dropped a swift hard kiss to her mouth.
He stepped back from her and left the room without another word, the door swinging shut with a soft click behind him.
Bryony lifted the finger that had read his heartbeat to the trembling curve of her mouth and wondered how she could both love and hate him at the same time.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE sun was warm and the breeze light as Bryony made her way down to the beach an hour later. Her knee stood up to the journey, her limp easing off enough so she could walk almost normally once she was off the slope of the cliff path.
She placed her towel on the sand and sat with up-bent knees as she watched the surf, the earlier white caps flattened out now the breeze had dropped.
She could see Kane swimming in the distance, well beyond the breakers, the sun glistening on his back as he made his way along the length of the beach, his easy relaxed style demonstrating his superb physical fitness.
She couldn’t help thinking of her brother’s slighter build, his tendency for sunburn and his aversion for all things to do with the water as a result. Her father, too, was no fan of regular exercise and now in his sixties was showing the excesses of his earlier years, even the flight of stairs at Mercyfields drawing heavy breaths from his lungs.
Somehow Bryony couldn’t imagine Kane ever allowing himself to get out of shape. It was part of his magnetic power; the sculptured muscles and toned limbs spoke of discipline and self-control, something she knew her family had demonstrated very little of over the years.
She squinted against the sunlight as she followed Kane’s progress, her heart doing a crazy little lurch as she saw the surface of the water swirling a few metres behind him. She frowned as she got to her feet, shading her eyes from the glare as she tried to make out what was following him as he swam. She caught sight of a dorsal fin and her heart rammed against the wall of her chest in panic. They were on an isolated beach. If he were to be attacked by a shark she hadn’t a hope of getting him out of the water and up the cliff path to help and safety.
She cried out to him but he was swimming on with his head down, only turning every fourth stroke or so for air, the swell of the wave between him and the shore interrupting his view of her frantic waving.
She bit her lip as the fin disappeared. She imagined the grey body sneaking up on him, the lethal jaws wide, hungry for blood.
‘No!’ She was running through the waves towards him, throwing her arms about as she shouted at the top of her voice. ‘Get out, Kane! Get out of the water! Sharks! Sharks!’
It was no good. He was still swimming, totally oblivious to the imminent danger he was in.
Bryony ran through the shallows until she was closer to him and, throwing all caution aside, ploughed ungainly through the waves to deeper water, her lungs almost bursting as she screamed for him to look around.
She trod water for a moment, trying to locate the shark, and didn’t see the wave until it was on top of her, rolling her over, the downward pressure of the sheer weight of water as it broke sending her face first to the sandy bottom with an aspiration of water not air trapping her lungs into immobility. She clawed at the sand to anchor herself but another wave followed the previous one and sent her along her nose through the shelly sand.
She was out of air and at least one and a half times her height below the surface, the tumultuous waves still rolling in leaving her little time to scramble to the surface.
Her chest grew tighter and tighter and panic sent white spots of alarm through her line of vision as her body cried out for oxygen.
With a strength she had no idea she possessed she spotted the surface and aimed for it, her limbs feeling like lead weights as the need for air clawed at her. She could see the sunlight on the surface and tried to reach it, but the weight of the water kept dragging at her, pulling her down as if with invisible clutching fingers…
Kane stopped swimming and, as he trod water, flicked the hair out of his eyes and looked towards the towel where Bryony had been sitting. He’d seen her come down to the beach a few minutes earlier, her red and white bikini showing off her figure even though she’d tied a sarong around her waist, no doubt to shield it from his hungry eyes.
She was gone.
He looked right along the shore but she was nowhere in sight. He turned to inspect the water and caught sight of the pod of dolphins as they drew close and circled him.
Even though he’d done it many times before, each time he swam with them he felt like laughing right out loud in sheer joy. Their tentative friendliness thrilled him, especially as their contact with humans was so limited in such an isolated place. He ducked beneath the pod to see if the injured dolphin had rejoined them but in amongst the swirl of silver streamlined bodies he caught sight of flowing blonde hair and pale, lifeless limbs a few metres away.
The hammer blow of dread hit him in the chest as he surfaced and, taking a deep breath of air, he dived back down and scooped Bryony off the sandy bottom and took her to the surface.
‘Bryony!’ He brushed the hair out of her pallid face as his hand sought her wrist to check her pulse. She wasn’t breathing as far as he could tell and, fighting down his fear, he towed her out of the deep water, half carrying, half dragging her to the strip of sand.
He fell on his knees beside her but before he could begin CPR she gave a gurgling groan and, turning her head, sent the contents of her stomach into his lap.
‘Bryony!’ He settled her into the recovery position and waited for her to empty the rest of her stomach, the tortured heaving gulps making him wince in empathy.
‘All done?’ He frowned down at her, his hand at her temple gentle as it brushed a wayward strand of hair away.
She nodded and fell back against the sand. ‘Sh-sharks…’ she gasped. ‘There…were…sharks following you…’
He frowned. ‘You came out to warn me of sharks?’
She nodded and wiped at her streaming nose with the back of her shaking hand. ‘They…they were following you. I…I had to do something or you would—’
‘Dolphins.’
‘—be killed and…w-what?’ She opened her eyes fully and stared at him.
‘Dolphins, Bryony. They were dolphins, not sharks.’
‘But…but the fin…it was huge. It was right behind you.’
‘I’ve swum with them heaps of times. They often follow me.’
Bryony felt foolish, pathetic and very, very sick. She shut her eyes and stifled a groan of shame as she thought about her screaming passage through the water, almost killing herself in her attempt to save someone who was in absolutely no danger.
‘You were very brave to come into the water if you thought I was being stalked by sharks.’
‘I-I had to do something.’
‘You could have let them eat me. I’m fully insured, so just think of how wealthy you would be. Mercyfields and my millions; what more could a girl want?’
Bryony opened one eye and glared at him for his insensitivity. ‘It might have escaped your notice, but I’m not really feeling up to your sick jokes right now.’
‘It’s true though, isn’t it?’ He fielded her icy glare with a challenging look of his own. ‘You didn’t have any need to rescue me, certainly given the terms of our relationship. Why did you do it?’
‘I had nothing better to do.’ She closed her eye and turned away.
‘That’s not an answer and you know it.’
‘I can’t stand the sight of blood,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to have to carry whatever limbs were left over back up that path for the mortician to classify.’
‘Charming.’
‘You asked for it.’
‘Come on.’ He got to his feet and offered her his hand. ‘We’d better have a rinse off before we go up to the house.’
She
took his hand and got to her feet unsteadily, a wave of embarrassment washing over her when her gaze fell upon his thighs, where most of her breakfast had landed.
He saw the pathway of her vision and smiled. ‘You can anoint me with whatever bodily fluids you like. I can handle it.’
She spun away from him and strode somewhat shakily to the shallows where she washed her face, all the time conscious of him a few feet away as he performed his own rough ablutions.
They made their way back to her towel in silence. Bryony was relieved. She felt every type of fool for blundering into danger without thinking. The drowning toll was in no need of any bolstering by her but she had truly panicked at the thought of losing him and had acted on impulse instead of clear rational thought.
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself, Bryony,’ Kane said as he pushed open the cottage door for her to go in a few minutes later. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m really touched that you put yourself in danger for me. Remarkable when you think about it, considering the depth of your loathing for me.’
She compressed her lips to stop herself from responding to his teasing taunt.
‘Maybe you don’t hate me as much as you thought,’ he added when she didn’t speak.
‘Don’t hold your breath.’
He laughed at her stiffly delivered retort, her previously pale cheeks now bright with heightened colour. ‘Now, now, agape mou,’ he chided. ‘Don’t be angry at me. I just saved your life.’
She slammed the door on his chuckle of laughter and, turning the shower on full, stepped under it and promptly burst into tears.
Bryony avoided him for the rest of the day. She pretended to be sleeping when he came to her room some time later, not sure she wanted him to see her reddened eyes and blotchy skin.
At six p.m. he knocked on her door again and informed her that he was preparing dinner. She mumbled something in reply and, dragging herself off the bed, sifted through her things and pulled out a sundress and small three-quarter sleeved cardigan for when the evening grew cooler.
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