by Penny Jordan
‘Damn you,’ he muttered thickly releasing her mouth. ‘Damn you a thousand times over, but I won’t let another man take what is mine.’
His hands left her arms, his fingers tugging at the slack knot of her robe. When she realised what he was doing Cassie gasped in dismayed protest. She must explain to him that he was wrong; that she had not wanted Peter’s embraces. His possessive attitude towards her stunned her; it was something she had not expected and she didn’t know how to react to it. Her own emotions were too rawly vulnerable for her to be logical. Her mouth felt soft and bruised from his kiss, the taste of him still lingering on her lips. She licked them tentatively one hand against his chest as she tried to push him away. Beneath his shirt she could feel the heat coming off his skin, and tiny tremors of responsiveness shivered through her.
‘What are you doing?’ Joel grated. He had untied the knot of her belt, and was tugging it away. Panic spiralled through Cassie, and yet it was a panic spiced with a delicious, blood-heating excitement. ‘Comparing his taste to mine?’
The accusation shivered across her nerves. Joel’s hands were on the lapels of her robe parting it, sliding over her body, cupping her breasts. ‘Does he make you feel like this?’
This time his mouth played with hers, teasing and tormenting her lips into quivering responsiveness until they clung to his and parted eagerly to the conquering thrust of his tongue. Cassie had never been kissed so intimately before, her skin burned, every nerve ending tormented by the onslaught of physical arousal Joel was subjecting her to. As though he knew what was happening to her he made a small male sound of satisfaction into her mouth, his thumbs caressing the already hard tips of her breasts. Cassie felt a wave of shame for their eager responsiveness. Her body seemed to burn with the bitter amalgamation of humiliation and desire—mind warred with body—her senses were winning out, she thought weakly, as wave after wave of bitter-sweet pleasure swept over her. When Joel touched her she became mindless, a puppet capable only of responding to his commands.
He released her mouth and she sighed her relief, feeling sanity slip back once she was no longer subjected to his physical domination. His hands still cupped her breasts, but she tried to pull away, believing that he had finished punishing her.
He refused to let her go, his hands sliding round her back, imprisoning her. As she arched away from him he lowered his head, his mouth exploring the exposed arch of her throat.
Weakness robbed her of the ability to resist. Her senses were so highly attuned to him that she could barely endure the mingling of pleasure and anguish his touch evoked. His mouth explored her skin with leisurely relaxation, almost as though he knew of her humiliating inability to pull away from him. Sensation after sensation swamped her, shocking her with their intensity. She wanted to reach out and touch him in response, to run her fingertips over the hard muscles of his chest and back, to touch her lips to his skin, to… Shivers convulsed her body as she tried to come to terms with the emotions rioting through her. Joel’s tongue stroked over the hollow at the base of her neck, slightly rough and infinitely arousing. His mouth moved downward, and she tensed, arching frantically away, self preservation urging her to resist, to fight against the hold he had on her senses while she still could, but his hand against the small of her back, imprisoned the lower half of her body against his while the other curved round her breast.
The downward descent of his mouth towards her breast was something Cassie could not prevent. The light pressure of his mouth against her skin seemed to burn and torment, as though he knew how torn she was between escaping from him and giving in to her need to clasp his head against her body. Deep shudders tore through her. This could not be happening to her; it was beyond the power of any man to reduce her to the mind jellying state of physical arousal. That’s all it was, she told herself frantically, physical arousal, and she ought to have the self control to be able to resist it. She hadn’t felt a thing other than revulsion when Peter touched her, a small treacherous inner voice reminded her. That reminder only served to increase her terror, but even as she fought against her desire Joel’s tongue was drawing erotic circles round her nipple, sending her whirling crazily out of control to a place where the whole universe centred round the pleasure-inducing brush of his tongue and the eager, urgent ache in her breasts, and she yearned wantonly against her will for his more intimate possession.
When his tongue finally brushed over the throbbing apex of her breast Cassie abandoned all her attempts to resist her emotions. Her hands left his chest where they had been braced to resist him, clinging instead to the breadth of his shoulders, her head tipped back, her breath coming in long, shuddering sobs.
‘My God, no wonder he wanted you.’
She heard Joel mutter the words, but could make no sense of them. He added something she couldn’t catch, and groaned huskily, a deep shudder tensing his body against hers, as his mouth opened over her breast.
His teeth grated slightly over her responsive flesh and she moaned softly, arching frantically against him, deaf to everything but the tormenting moan of need building up inside her. She cried out aloud as Joel sucked compulsively on her breast, pierced by sensations so unfamiliar that they half frightened her. Her body seemed to be possessed by alien emotions so strong that it was impossible to deny them.
‘I want you.’ Joel’s hands moved down over her body, holding her hips, his mouth seeking her other breast. His skin burned beneath his shirt; he was breathing heavily, his hands trembling faintly as he caressed her in rapidly urgent strokes.
He was aroused and he wanted her Cassie realised, and suddenly the realisation hit her that that was all there was to it. He wanted her to satisfy an entirely masculine and physical appetite, while she…her mind shied away from the thoughts filling it. She what, she asked herself tensely. She loved him? How could she? She barely knew him. And yet the tiny thought once formed would not be denied. She stiffened in Joel’s arms, catching him off-guard enough to step away from him. He studied her, his eyes dark and blank, a dull flush heating his skin.
‘We can’t,’ Cassie told him shakily, pulling her robe protectively round herself.
‘Why not? We’re married—remember?’ He was still caught up in his sexual need for her, Cassie realised, and yet she could not allow him to make love to her simply to satisfy that need. He didn’t want her as a person.
How could she stop him? Her mind sought for an answer, and found one. Forcing herself to appear calm, she said coolly, ‘I’m not on the pill, or anything…we could have a child…’
‘You didn’t seem to be too worried about that half an hour ago when I found you with Williams,’ Joel retorted harshly.
What could she say to him? That she had been in no danger of succumbing to Peter? What conclusions might he not draw from that revealing comment. She had no illusions left now. If he guessed how emotionally vulnerable she was to him, might he not use that vulnerability to take her company away from her?
Summoning all her courage Cassie faced him squarely and lied, ‘If Peter had made me pregnant, it wouldn’t matter—after all once I’m free of this marriage to you, Peter and I…’
‘My God, you’re all the same aren’t you?’ he exploded furiously, not letting her finish. ‘Too bad you didn’t think it through a little more though, Cassie. I’m far, far richer than Peter Williams will ever be. Just think if I’d fathered a child on you, you might have been able to force me into continuing our marriage.’
Taking a deep breath Cassie flung bitterly at him, ‘Money might be everything to you, Joel, but it isn’t to me, and besides you’re forgetting I have enough and earn enough to provide for any child I might ultimately have, on my own. I would never pressure any man into supporting me because I’d had his child, and I would never contemplate having a child by any man I did not respect and…’
‘All right,’ he cut in harshly. ‘You’ve made your point. I’m the last man on earth you’d want as the father of your child, but just reme
mber Cassie, while you’re married to me, you’ll behave accordingly. If I think you’re playing around with Williams behind my back, I’ll make you both sorry you were ever born. If he becomes your lover…’
‘What makes you think he isn’t already?’ Cassie challenged, bitter that he should assume she was so undesirable that no man had ever been her lover, even though it was true. He had mocked her for her virginity before, and suddenly it angered her.
‘There’s one sure way to find out,’ he said softly, coming towards her and gripping her chin with firm fingers. ‘Is that what you want me to do, Cassie? Make love to you?’
‘No.’ She jerked away from him, turning her face away so that he wouldn’t see the betraying sweep of hot colour his words aroused.
‘Then you haven’t been lovers?’ he persisted.
What should she say? That until he realised that Joel had married her, Peter had never even contemplated making love to her? No, that would be too humiliating.
‘Not yet,’ she agreed as casually as she could. As she turned to face him she thought for a moment she saw a gleam of satisfaction darken his eyes, but her eyesight was so poor without her glasses she felt sure she must have imagined it.
‘Not yet and not ever, as long as you remain married to me,’ he warned her softly, ‘just remember that, Cassie.’
He didn’t say what retaliatory measure he would take if she didn’t but Cassie thought shiveringly that she had no desire to find out.
‘I’ve brought down your computer,’ he told her, completely changing the subject. ‘I’ll install it in here for you.’ He glanced at the papers she had been working on, and frowned. ‘A new game?’
‘Maybe,’ Cassie agreed non-committally.
Suddenly his eyes narrowed, ‘I hope you aren’t thinking of revenging yourself on me by giving a new game to Williams, Cassie?’
Her mouth tightened. Did he always have to think the very worst of people?
‘I hadn’t thought of giving it to anyone. At the moment it’s just a series of ideas,’ she told him curtly.
‘But you were entertaining Williams here in my house, wearing only a bathrobe,’ he pointed out tauntingly.
‘I’m wearing a bathrobe because having a bath was the only way I could get warm,’ Cassie told him bitingly. ‘Peter called unexpectedly, in fact when I heard the car I thought…’ She broke off biting her lip as she recalled how eagerly she had rushed downstairs, believing it was him.
‘Yes,’ Joel probed softly. ‘You thought…’
‘I thought whoever it was might think the house was empty and go away again,’ Cassie lied valiantly, refusing to look at him.
‘Umm… Well, standing around dressed like that isn’t going to make you feel any warmer. You go and get dressed, I’ll get the heating on.”
As she walked to the door, he added tauntingly, ‘Not that I perceived any coldness about you, Cassie. As a matter of fact…’
She slammed the door on him before he could finish his goading statement, rich colour stealing up under her skin. She hated him she thought crossly, really really hated him.
During the next few days Cassie found herself examining that statement as she watched Joel installing her computer, interspersing it with doing some of his own work, and was forced to acknowledge that far from hating him she was dangerously close to loving him. Too close to draw back. Just having him in the house with her brought her a happiness that made her shiver with fear for her future. How had it happened? She barely knew him. Some things defied logic she was forced to admit, and her love for Joel Howard was obviously one of them. All she could do now was pray that he never discovered it.
CHAPTER SIX
A WEEK slipped by and Joel continued to stay at Howard Court. Cassie devised elaborate methods of avoiding him without being seen to do so. The fact that he had a considerable amount of work to do made this easier. After breakfast each morning he shut himself away in his study, very rarely emerging before mid-afternoon.
When he was busy he didn’t bother with lunch, he told Cassie when she asked what he wanted her to do about meals.
With Mary Jensen’s aid she had organised a firm to come and clean both the carpets and the upholstery in the downstairs rooms. A Mrs Pollit from the village had agreed to come and clean three mornings a week. At first Cassie was slightly apprehensive that Joel might consider she had taken too much upon herself in view of her very temporary status as his wife, but to her surprise he said nothing, merely frowning slightly when he strode into the drawing room and found the furniture shrouded in covers.
‘I’ve arranged for the painters to come and touch up the paintwork,’ she told him hesitantly. ‘This is such a beautiful room it seems a shame to let it get neglected, but if you’d rather I didn’t…’
‘Do whatever you like,’ he told her brusquely, glancing frowningly round the room. ‘In fact change the entire colour scheme if you feel like it.’
Cassie sensed that he almost hoped she would. Anything rather than live with the legacy of his mother’s presence she thought wryly, but the former Mrs Howard had had excellent taste, and Cassie had fallen in love on sight with the mellow golds and soft blues of the drawing room.
Mrs Pollit had just left for the day when Joel walked into the kitchen and announced that he had to drive up to London.
‘I need some papers from my office,’ he explained curtly, frowning as he looked at her. ‘You look pale,’ he told her shortly. ‘What’s the matter—missing Williams’ attentions? Well don’t look to me to supply them in lieu.’
It seemed that he could barely speak to her without insulting her Cassie thought miserably when he had gone. There was an angry tension about him recently that made her heart contract with pain every time he looked at her.
That he deeply resented her presence in his life she couldn’t doubt, and yet she couldn’t find the willpower to remind him that his burden was self-inflicted.
Fortunately her own business could be run with the aid of a telephone and from her desk in the library. Her secretary was handling the day to day mundane chores, and Joel had made arrangements for all her mail to be forwarded on to her. With Joel gone she went into the library, and got out her notes on her new game. She never worked on it while he was around, terrified that his astute mind would all too easily make the connection between the design of the new game and her feelings for him. It would be her farewell gift to him she thought achingly, the price of her freedom from a marriage that was becoming daily more onerous—not because it existed, but because of the form in which it existed. It was like being allowed the merest glimpse of paradise and then told one could never hope to look at it again, she reflected, frowning as she considered the viability of working such an idea into her game—it could be the ultimate goal of the player. She laughed a little bitterly. Why on earth had she been stupid enough to fall in love with Joel? At least before she met him she had been content with her life; clear-headed enough to know her limitations and to live by them. Since he had erupted into her tightly enclosed world she had been subject to an entire range of unattainable dreams, chief of which was lying in Joel’s arms while he told her he loved her.
It was hopeless, she decided, annoyed with herself, now she couldn’t even shut Joel out while she worked. A cup of coffee might help her to think more objectively.
She was just leaving the room when the ‘phone rang. She reached for the receiver automatically, freezing as she heard a caressingly female voice enquiring, ‘Is Joel there?’
There was no reason at all for her to feel the prickle of awareness that shivered down her spine—Joel received many telephone calls during the day from his office and his business associates but intuition told Cassie that this woman was not one of them.
‘I’m afraid he isn’t,’ she replied as calmly as she could. ‘Would you like to leave a message?’
‘No it doesn’t matter,’ the voice responded carelessly, ‘I’ll be seeing him later. ‘Bye…’
&nbs
p; So Joel wasn’t just going to London on business, she thought painfully. Was that the reason for his growing tension? A sexual frustration that could find no outlet while he remained with her? The thought was gallingly painful, and Cassie tried to shut it out as she walked numbly into the kitchen, just as she tried to shut out the tormenting images filling her mind of Joel making love to some other woman. The images were far too vivid; far too erotic. Her hands shook as she reached for a cup. It shattered on the floor as it slipped from her fingers and suddenly Cassie found that she was crying, tearing abandoned sobs of pain torturing her throat, making her whole body ache with an anguish for which there was no panacea.
She didn’t hear the kitchen door open, freezing in shock as she felt the hand on her shoulder.
The woman looking at her with sympathy and compassion was unknown to her, and yet at the same time instantly recognisable. Joel had inherited his mother’s eyes Cassie thought bemusedly, and it was also from her that he got his dark hair. Hers was faintly streaked with grey, caught back in a smooth chignon that revealed the delicate purity of a bone structure that would make her a beautiful woman even in old age.
Slim and elegantly dressed in vivid silk separates, she presented the sort of image Cassie normally shrank away from, knowing how she herself must look in comparison, but those navy-blue eyes, so like her son’s and yet so warm and understanding, melted the barriers of her reserve.
Almost without being aware of it Cassie allowed herself to be led to a chair and pushed gently into it. Seconds, or was it minutes later, she was sipping gratefully from a mug of fragrant coffee, the kitchen restored to pristine order.
‘So, you’re Joel’s wife, and these…’ graceful fingers touched the dampness of Cassie’s cheek gently, ‘are no doubt occasioned by my obtuse and obstinate son.’
‘How did you know?’ Cassie asked bemusedly, ignoring the last part of the question. ‘How did you know who I was?’