by Anne Hampson
'No, I do not admit it was an affair!'
'Then why did you refer to it as that just now?'
'A figure of speech, for want of a better description of the perfectly innocent friendship which sprang up between Jake and me as a result of my loneliness and… and despair.' She paused to clear the hurtful blockage in her throat. 'My marriage had collapsed after only a few weeks. I needed comfort, and Jake just happened along. I tripped and he caught me, saving me from falling. He sensed that I was unhappy and invited me to have afternoon tea with him…' She broke off and spread her hands. 'It's all in the past, so why should I talk about it?' A shuddering sigh followed her words, and she felt the fingers of Leon's hand tighten over hers. She wanted to cry for what she had lost, and yet, paradoxically, she knew that deep in her heart she was praying that all was not lost, that she could make Leon love her. She had thought a great deal lately about children, feeling that if they had a child, then surely Leon would love the mother.
And she rather suspected she was already carrying Leon's child…
'So you don't love Jake,' mused Leon at last. 'Do you love me, Kathryn?' Leon's voice had lowered; it was edged with tenderness, and she accepted that he was filled with gratitude towards her for what she had done for his sister—the help which, after all, had come in a very different way than had originally been planned. She looked at him, and could not give him a truthful answer because, since he did not love her, an admission of her own love would be far too humiliating.
It did not occur to Kathryn that he had some special reason for the question, and so she said, slowly, as if reluctant to voice something which, though a lie, was very necessary, 'No, I c-can't love you—not when I know you married me under false pretences…' She brought her voice to a trailing stop. If she were to make her husband love her, she must not keep reminding him of what he had done to her. Again the tears came close; she did not know they glistened in her eyes, or of the effect they had on her husband. She did not know that she seemed especially attractive to him tonight, that he was finding a tender translucency in the pallor of her face, the alabaster quality of her skin, or that the moonglow flattered her in a way which Leon found irresistible. Her over-gown had come loose and her low-cut nightdress revealed breasts that had filled a little lately, honey-tan curves alluring to her husband's appreciative eyes. She saw a muscle twist and throb in his throat, saw his eyes shaded by lashes deliberately lowered to hide his expression.
'You loved me when you married me.' His voice was flat, a betrayal that he believed her when she said she did not love him now.
'I did, very deeply.'
'So deeply that it has died already.' Dry and sardonic the tone now; she hated him in this kind of mood. He always seemed so superior, high above her like a god on an unreachable pedestal.
'There are some things that even deep love cannot weather.'
His gaze was morose. 'Are you telling me there's no future for us, Kathryn?'
She was startled, frightened. Perhaps she had carried her injured feelings too far; perhaps Leon had had enough of tensions and strained relations, of her coldness and her pride. Yes, she was afraid, and the quiver in her voice was a betrayal of this fear. 'You mean… are you suggesting we… we h-have a separation?' The child—if there was to be one… Kathryn had never contemplated having a one-parent child. It wasn't as if she had anyone to go to, a mother or even an aunt; she had no one who would want her with a child.
Leon scanned her pallid face and his eyes narrowed a little. 'You are not keen on the idea?' His voice was grim and curt; he was adopting a superior manner, and she felt it was done deliberately to increase her fear. 'You don't like the thought of resuming the life you were living before your marriage?'
She could not answer for a while. It was unthinkable that she should admit to loving him, and yet, if he really was suggesting a divorce, then she would have to lower her pride and tell him she wanted to stay. And if she did that, he must quite logically guess that she still loved him.
'Well?' he prompted in a very soft voice. He had removed his hand; she felt the cool air on hers, and an unaccountable shiver quickened her whole body.
'I… it… it has to b-be your decision…' She faltered, blinking rapidly to stem the tears which threatened to fall. 'I suppose… suppose that Eugenia…' What on earth had she meant to say?
'Could it be that you are jealous of Eugenia?' he questioned in a dry voice. 'I must say, you've been interested in her from time to time.'
'You were in love with her—probably still are.'
'No,' he denied, still in that same dry tone, 'I am not in love with her and haven't been for some time. In fact,' he went on thoughtfully, 'I rather think I was never in love with her.'
'Never?' She blinked at him, nerves suddenly quivering.
'There was something,' he admitted reflectively.
'Something strong.'
'Is that a question?' Faint amusement in his manner now… and perception in his eyes.
'It doesn't matter,' she returned flatly, and she brushed a hand across her face, very much in the manner of a child who, bewildered and tired, is reluctantly feeling ready to go to sleep.
The action seemed to move Leon deeply, but his voice had not softened in any appreciable way as he said, 'So you do not want a separation?'
She looked at him through shadowed eyes. 'I've said, it's your decision.'
Leon moved a little closer; she could feel the hardness of his thigh against her. 'Kathryn,' he said, and now his voice was infinitely gentle, 'I feel it is time we both lowered our pride. I've stubbornly held on to mine, believing you were telling the truth when you stated that your love for me was dead. I, like you, dear, could not bring myself to confess to loving someone who did not love me. But you do love me, very dearly, and I love you. So you see, darling, it is high time we acted like sensible people and stopped running around in circles.' He would have pulled her into his arms, but she stepped away, to stand there staring at him as if she could not believe her ears.
'You love me?' Her voice was sceptical. 'When… ? No, this is gratitude and you're just saying you love me so that I won't be too unhappy, so I won't insist on leaving you!'
'Darling,' said Leon, trying to be patient, 'don't begin all over again. Gratitude? Yes, certainly I am grateful for what you've done for Marina, but I love you as well.'
She shook her head, saying reluctantly, 'It's gratitude… it must be—'
'Let me show you whether it's love or not,' he begged, still having trouble with his patience. 'Let me take you to bed—'
'That wouldn't prove anything, and you know it! It's just… just lust!'
'My heavens, Kathryn, you are asking for it!' No restraint on his temper now as he gripped her by the shoulders and shook her thoroughly. 'A more perverse woman I have never met! I love you! Love you! Does that convince you?'
She began to cry, the result of overwrought nerves, she decided. These past two weeks had obviously taken their toll. 'I don't believe… I mean,' she added hastily, when it seemed he would shake her again, 'you didn't love me when you married me.'
'What the devil does that signify?' he demanded wrathfully.
'It was a dastardly trick.'
He looked at her warningly, holding her at arm's length. 'Kathryn,' he said in a dangerously soft voice, 'do you know how very close you are at this moment to the beating of your life?' She coloured vividly and tried to pull away, but in vain. 'Yes, my girl,' grimly and with another little shake, 'you are about to be thrown across my knee—'
'No!' She began to struggle in earnest. 'Touch me and I shall scream for help!'
'No you won't,' he said with a hint of amused mockery. 'Your pride won't let you.'
So right! Yet she was not going to submit to the spanking he had threatened her with.
'Let me go,' she cried, still struggling even though she admitted there was no chance of success. Leon's muscled hands, curving sinuously around her shoulders —and leaving bruise
s, she was sure—were far too strong for her puny attempts at escape.
'Say you love me!' he commanded.
'If… if I thought you were speaking the truth when you say you love me—' she began, but he interrupted her before she could finish.
'Say you love me,' he ordered again, 'because if you don't, Kathryn, then it's the spanking. The choice is yours.'
Her colour heightened, but still she hesitated, uneasily aware of doubts still lingering in her mind. If it was merely gratitude he felt for her… 'Well,' came her husband's voice decisively as he pulled a chair towards him, 'it looks as if it's the beating.'
'You wouldn't dare!'
'No? We shall soon know, shan't we?'
She lifted her hands to push them against his chest. 'If only I could believe you,' she said as she gave a push which surprised them both. She was free, having taken him unaware like that, and she fled into her bedroom. But he was there almost at once and pulled her into his arms. His mouth, hard and possessive, crushed hers in a kiss that left her gasping for breath.
'Leon… I—' Her mouth was claimed again, even before she could gulp the air she needed. He was pushing the over-gown from her shoulders; she felt it drop at her feet, felt the warmth of his hand through the dainty material of her nightdress. He took his mouth away at last and she inhaled over and over again.
'Yes? Leon… what?' He was laughing at her, laughing because of the response he had without difficulty elicited from her. 'I'm still waiting for that confession of love,' he added before she could speak.
'I love you,' she whispered, abandoned now as fire raged through her body, fire ignited by the flames of his own torrid passion. She could feel the racing beat of his heart, could feel the strong, virile hardness which had brought her arching against him over and over again while his hands had explored and his mouth had bruised. Passion had invaded her, passion in all its unsullied, primitive beauty and innocence.
She whispered close to his breast, 'When did you begin to love me?'
He held her from him, sardonic amusement in his eyes as they scanned her face, noticing the dreamy shadows as her lashes swept down, the quivering of her mouth, the blood tinting the delicate bones of her cheeks. 'So at last you believe me?'
'When?' she repeated. Leon gave her a warning glance and she added swiftly, 'Yes, oh, yes! I believe you!'
'And now I have to try to remember when it started?' A low laugh escaped him. 'Is it important, dearest?'
'I'd very much like to know,' she persisted, although she had no idea why she should be wasting time like this when she desired nothing more than that he should take her to bed, lie with her in the sweet intimacy of the love they had just confessed to one another.
'I wonder sometimes if it began right at the start— when I first met your eyes in that dining-room, before I even noticed the ring.'
'There were times when I felt you cared—I mean afterwards, when we were married.'
'You mean, of course, after you'd made the discovery that I'd married you for the ring?'
She nodded with a smile. 'Yes. But I was so stubborn—'
A tender finger over her lips stopped her, and Leon said gently, 'It's all in the past, love, just as the anxiety of Marina's illness is now in the past.' He was pushing the straps of her nightgown from her shoulders, his hands warm and tender against her flesh. She quivered beneath his touch, thrilling to the intimacy when, with her nightgown down to her waist, he left it there to fondle the soft skin of her breast, his lean, possessive fingers caressing the nipple before his mouth, full-lipped and moistly sensuous, closed upon it and she knew a spasm of sheer rapture as his tongue moved and manipulated until the nipple was raised to a hard bud of desire. Kathryn's body seemed out of control as it writhed and arched, with the blood surging to her heart and her temples drumming so that for the moment every other sound was blanketed out. It seemed her nerves would explode when at last he picked her up and carried her across the room, her nightgown trailing for a while before dropping to the floor a few yards from the negligee. He laid her down with such gentleness that it savoured of reverence, and she smiled happily up at him, wishing she could speak, to describe the great joy within her, the supreme contentment that enveloped her whole being.
Yet, after all, words were not necessary, she mused when presently he lay down beside her after switching off the bright ceiling light, leaving only the soft rose-peach glow of the small bed lamp. No, words were not necessary and she turned with a joyous, sensual movement to enter the sanctuary of his arms, revelling at the contact with his flesh—the hard chest whose thick black hairs were a temptation in themselves as they pressed against her breasts, the rise and fall of his stomach, the hard virility of him throbbing urgently into her thighs.
His warm, possessive hands roamed over her eager, naked form, exploring and discovering just as if it were the first time he had made love to her.
She knew instinctively that it would always be like this, new and wonderful and exciting. He found her secret places, vulnerable places, and exulted in his triumph when he heard her throaty whisper against his cheek, 'Love me, my dear husband… I need you so much…'
He held her tenderly, though, and seemed to want to get his breath back, and allow her to get hers back, too. She thrilled to his tenderness, to the gentle way his hand closed over her lower curves while the other curled around her breast. His mouth was not idle; it closed over the other breast in sensuous and faintly arrogant possession and she sensed his intended mastery even though his every act was gentle and tender.
'Darling… I'm hungry for you,' he whispered in a husky bass tone… and he was on top of her, possessing her receptive body, transporting her to the nerve-shattering and dizzy heights of rapture, and his gift to her was the sweet prelude to his own fulfilment.
It was a long while afterwards that, his arms encircling her protectively, he said in soft and gentle tones, 'Was there anything else you had to tell me, sweetheart?'
She moved so swiftly that he thought for a moment it was another spasm of rapture, but her words told him it was only surprise that had caused her to give a start. 'What c-could there be?' she began hesitantly.
He touched one breast and said, 'I think you know what there could be,' and he drew her a little closer, without passion, just in infinite tenderness and love. 'These lovely breasts did not fill out for no reason at all.' He paused, then added with a hint of tender humour, 'You're blushing there, beneath the sheet. Come on out and let me look at you.'
But she snuggled even closer to his breast and said in a muffled voice, 'There could be… be something else, dearest Leon, but I am not quite sure.'
He made no response, but merely held her close to his heart. Kathryn's arms came about him and she gave a deep contented sigh.
Once again, words were not necessary…