Taken Over

by Penny Jordan

  She knew instantly that Joel was now awake, and tensed against his rejection, shivering with shame that she should have so betrayed herself. Unable to look at him she started to move away, only to find herself imprisoned between his hands, his hoarse, ‘No…’ stunning her into stillness as he raised his head to look into her eyes and then still looking at her deliberately bent his head to feather warm, moist lips across the tensed outline of her own, wooing them into tenuous response.

  ‘Make love with me Cassie.’ He whispered the words against her mouth interspersing them with gentle kisses, soothing her as though he knew all her fears, and even though she knew she would regret what she was doing Cassie found herself responding, touching the smooth skin of his shoulder, pressing her lips against it in obedience to his husky command, quivering against him as he rolled her beneath him pinning her with the weight of his thighs, his fingers cupping and stroking the tender fullness of her breast as though he knew how it still ached from the exquisite agony caused by the heated pressure of his mouth.

  One part of her still refused to believe what was happening, even when Joel moved her slightly to ease away her skirt completely. That was probably why she did and said nothing when he pulled off his own clothes, her eyes widening over the darkness-dimmed outline of his body, her cheeks burning as she felt the unmistakable contraction of her lower stomach in response to his masculinity.

  ‘Sweet Cassie, did I hurt you?’ Cassie heard him murmur throatily as his thumb probed the crest of her breast still tender and slightly sore. ‘Shall I make it better?’ He bent his head feathering light, moist caresses around the throbbing aureol before she could say anything, one hand spread possessively over the curve of her hip while the other held and caressed her other breast.

  Shivers of molten pleasure inflamed her skin, sensations so alien and intense that they half frightened her, taking hold of her body. Her nails dug protestingly into Joel’s back as his tongue rasped over the soreness of her nipple, and then pain gave way to unbelievable surges of pleasure causing her to arch feverishly against him, and welcome the tight coiling urgency occasioned by the fierce demand of his mouth against her tender skin.

  After that there was no turning back. In a dream Cassie followed with wondering eyes and pulsing senses the erotic path of Joel’s mouth against her skin, tensing abruptly in sudden panic when his fingers probed the edge of her briefs.

  ‘Cassie, I want you. Kiss me…touch me…’ Joel’s hands urged her against his body, inciting her to a wanton exploration of his maleness that made him shudder and mutter her name into her skin. Excitement spiralled up inside her as she registered his hectic response, her lips explored the smooth column of his throat, wondering at the tension in his body as he arched beneath her gentle touch, inciting her to explore further; to discover that the hard male nipples were almost as responsive as her own, too excited by Joel’s feverish response to her to be aware that he had removed her briefs until she felt his fingers cupping the rounded softness of her bottom, lifting her against him.

  ‘Cassie…’ Her name was a long drawn out moan of need and she shivered involuntarily, tense with a mixture of love and fear.

  ‘Joel…’ She wanted to tell him that she loved him, but his mouth against hers dammed the words, her body convulsed by totally unexpected waves of pleasure as his fingers caressed her intimately, the soft words of praise he murmured against her ear coaxing her trembling body to relax and accept the male thrust of his.

  His mouth caught her faint cry of pain, silencing it, his body responsive to her sudden tension, gentling it until Cassie felt a renewed surge of pleasure, which she knew was echoed by Joel’s body.

  Eager now to please him and give him the same degree of pleasure he was giving her, her hands caressed the lean contours of his body, her mouth exploring the rigid muscles of his throat.

  ‘Cassie.’ He gasped her name as though in pain, twining his fingers into her hair as he twisted her mouth under his own and drank deeply from it, shuddering beneath the deep surges of pleasure rocking both their bodies.

  Later Cassie remembered him looking at her afterwards and starting to say something, but she was already on the verge of sleep, too exhausted both emotionally and physically to hear what he was saying.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SHE woke up in the morning slowly, conscious of a pleasurable lassitude and numerous small aches that made her face colour at the memory of how they had been caused. She was alone in Joel’s bed and at first she thought he had left the house, but as she rolled over, burying her face in his pillow and breathing the scent of him into her lungs she heard sounds from the adjoining bathroom. She had no time to move before Joel emerged, a brief towel wrapped round his hips, his hair wet from his shower.

  For a few seconds they simply looked at one another, Cassie focusing blindly on Joel’s bare shoulder, unable to meet his eyes, deeply ashamed of her responses to him and frightened of what he might read into them. She couldn’t endure his scorn; his mocking comparison of her clumsy attempts to please him with the more skilled embraces of his customary lovers. Neither could she survive hearing him say he had guessed her secret. Too late now for ‘if onlys’, she could only keep on staring at him until he drawled succinctly, ‘Stop looking at it as though you don’t remember how it got there, Cass, those marks were caused by your teeth, my little wife, and the scratches on my back by your nails.’

  Until that moment she hadn’t even noticed the tiny betraying mark on his shoulder, now she did so, her skin colouring vulnerably as she looked hurriedly away. There were marks on her own skin, faint bruises on her arms and even her breasts and she shivered, longing to be anywhere but here. Joel had lived through moments like these far too many times for them to occasion him any embarrassment but she…

  Pain lodged in her throat, a tight hard lump of misery, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. How could she have been so stupid, wilfully careless of her pride. Surely now Joel must guess how she felt about him. In an agony of mortification she caught back a sob, knowing that her eyes were filling with stupid…stupid tears. She lowered her lashes, but it was too late. Tears quivered against them, diamond bright in the morning sunshine.

  ‘Cassie…’ Joel was frowning, striding towards her. Another moment and he would reach the bed; tell her that what had happened last night had been no fault of his; that he hadn’t realised who he had in his arms; that she ought to have woken him; to have stopped him before things had got out of hand.

  ‘No…’ The moan of pain she gave echoed sharply round the room, stopping Joel where he stood, his frown deepening. ‘No…I don’t want to talk about it,’ she told him thickly. ‘I…’ The ‘phone rang sharply and clamorously and Joel glared at it, his attention momentarily distracted. Sensing his indecision Cassie muttered thickly, ‘You’d better answer it, it might be important.’

  Even as he turned his back on her to reach for the receiver, she was sliding out of his bed, not bothering to gather up her clothes—she could retrieve them later. She felt him turn as she raced for the door, her skin flushing as she felt him study her nudity, but refusing to turn round or stop in response to his angry, ‘Cassie, wait, I…’

  In the sanctuary of her own room she locked both her bedroom and her bathroom door, filling the bath with hot water and soaking in it while she tried to come to terms with the turmoil of her thoughts. Could it really be possible that last night she and Joel had been lovers? That he had caressed her body into a mindless whirlpool of desire until she wanted nothing but his complete possession? That he had aroused her to such an extent that she had wanted to touch and caress him with a need nearly as intense as her desire for him. Shame scorched her cheeks. It was one thing to love him in the secret recesses of her heart, it was another to give in weakly to that love; to let it merge with physical desire to the point where her pride and self respect meant nothing and his possession everything, even while she knew how little he really thought of her.

  She lingered in
the safety of her rooms until she was sure he had gone, refusing to answer the ‘phone when she finally did emerge from them just in case he was on the other end of the line. It was the end now. It must be. He wouldn’t want to keep on with the pretence of their marriage now. He would probably have guessed her secret and be terrified she might try to force him to remain married to her. Cassie’s heart thudded in a mixture of terror and joy as she realised that she might now have a very valid reason for persuading him to continue their marriage. She might already be carrying his child.

  If she was she would rear it alone, she decided stoutly, wondering why she was suddenly crying again. In order to distract herself she tried to study the guest list Joel’s secretary had sent her for the cocktail party. The Williams’ name was included on it Cassie noted with surprise, jumping nervously as the ‘phone started to ring again. She ignored it, continuing to scrutinise the list, and then pacing tensely round the study. She ought to do some work, but she felt too tense. She knew she ought to have something to eat, but the thought of food was totally nauseating. Suddenly she longed for Miranda, and stared desperately at the telephone, finally deciding against ringing her. Miranda would guess from her voice that something was wrong and she would worry about her, Cassie knew. It would be selfish of her to add to Miranda’s unhappiness over her son.

  At three o’clock Cassie finally sat down in front of her computer, a mug of coffee beside her. She had barely started work when she heard a car. Tensing automatically she glanced at the door, and then tried to relax. If it was Joel there was nothing to be gained by running away. She would just have to face whatever it was he had to say.

  Her face was white with strain when he finally walked into the study, her fingers interlocked in tight pain beneath her desk.

  ‘Why haven’t you been answering the ‘phone?’

  ‘I was busy,’ she lied, ‘working…I…’ She risked a look at him, and then looked quickly away. His eyes glittered darkly as they studied her face. He too looked tense, probably because he was wondering how to deal with her, Cassie acknowledged miserably.

  ‘Cassie, about last night,’ he began, and if she hadn’t known better she could have believed there was anxiety and a certain element of pleading in the way he said the words. Tension coiled through her as she anticipated his rejection. ‘I’d rather not talk about it,’ she said tersely. ‘It happened, and I know we both regret it. If you want me to leave…’

  ‘No.’ His curt denial startled her for a second, hope flaring brilliantly and ridiculously inside her, only to die immediately as he added. ‘You can’t—the cocktail party—remember?’

  The cocktail party, of course. Stupidly she wanted to laugh, but her throat locked back the sound, her voice high and strained as she agreed, ‘Yes…I’d forgotten that for the moment…’

  ‘I think the best thing would be for me to move out—It shouldn’t occasion too much comment. We’re very busy at the moment and it isn’t unusual for me to stay in London. I’ll have to come back for the party of course…’

  ‘Of course…’ Cassie echoed numbly. No doubt he considered himself safe from her love for him for the odd night, especially when they would be surrounded by others.

  ‘Cassie…’

  She turned her back on him so that he wouldn’t see her misery. ‘Cassie, if you…’

  Pride made her fling desperately at him. ‘I don’t want anything from you, Joel, anything at all…except to be left alone to get on with my work.’

  Her head was bent over it when the door slammed behind him, but tears blinded her vision. She didn’t move until she heard him drive away, his car roaring angrily down the drive. No doubt tonight the woman in his arms would be experienced and safe; unlike herself, she thought bitterly.

  Later that night, too strung up to sleep, but knowing that in reality she was tired, she made her way upstairs. Some masochistic impulse directed her footsteps to Joel’s room. Drawers and cupboards were half open, mute testimony of his desire to escape, and she moved automatically, picking things up and putting them away, studiously avoiding looking at his bed. It was still rumpled from their joint occupation, his shirt discarded on the floor.

  The moment she touched it Cassie knew it was a mistake. The tears started to flow down her face, her body aching with a hunger she now knew was born of her love for him. His scent clung to the soft cotton, and she shuddered as she looked at his bed, torn by a longing to curl up in it and make believe it was last night and he was still here. Wadding the shirt into a tight ball, she threw it into her own laundry basket, knowing that the scent of her own clothes would mask the elusive masculine odour clinging to it. In her bathroom she showered, ignoring the faint bruises on her skin, and pulled on one of her old fashioned cotton nightdresses. Alone in her bed she refused to allow herself to think about him, and then lay sleepless and dry-eyed stoically enduring the pain of loving him and knowing that she wasn’t loved in return.

  * * *

  ONE DAY SLID into ten and Cassie was thankful that she had the preparations for the cocktail party to occupy at least some of her thoughts. The discovery that she was not to have Joel’s child had been both a relief and a disappointment. Logically she knew she would want a child of hers to grow up sure of the love between its parents, and yet there would have been a special sweet pain in knowing she had conceived his child.

  The day before the party Joel returned home, brusque and tired looking. Cassie did everything she could to appear normal and relaxed, asking him about the progress with his new development over dinner.

  His replies were curt, his manner preoccupied, and Cassie caught him looking at her frowningly on several occasions, studying her as though he was trying to work something out. Had he guessed how she felt about him? Cassie’s heart thudded tremulously. If so she prayed he would not torment her with his knowledge.

  ‘Have you heard from my mother since you left Florence?’ His question startled her. It was the first time he had ever mentioned Miranda of his own volition and Cassie responded eagerly, offering to show him the letter she had received that morning.

  ‘No thanks,’ he responded coldly. ‘Has your Italian Romeo written to you as well?’

  Cassie had heard nothing from Bernardo nor expected to. She knew that there was a tentative possibility that Bernardo might become engaged to the daughter of a friend of Nico’s because Miranda had mentioned it to her but she had heard nothing from Bernardo himself.

  ‘No.’ Her reply was as cold as his had been, and it seemed for a second that his face paled, the harsh outline of his cheekbones thrown into relief—his expression sombre and withdrawn. The need to reach out and touch him played havoc with her senses and Cassie rushed into speech to try and conceal her emotions. ‘Everything’s organised for tomorrow,’ she told him breathlessly. ‘Have you had any problems with the funding for your new research?’

  ‘Why the concern, or is it simply that you want to know when you can expect to be free of me?’ He practically snarled the words at her, pushing aside his plate and standing up. ‘I’ve got some work to do, if you’ll excuse me.’

  Why should he think she wished to be free of him, Cassie wondered, puzzled by the deep vein of anger she had sensed behind his words. Did he genuinely believe she wanted to be free of their marriage or was he simply exercising tact, and easing the burden on her pride by allowing her to think that he did? Either way it was hardly a subject on which she could question him more deeply.

  It was harder to sleep that night than ever, knowing that Joel was in the house with her, alone in his bed as she was alone in hers. Reminding herself that tomorrow would be a busy day Cassie tried to relax into sleep, but her dreams were fragmented by tormenting memories of Joel’s lovemaking and she woke up unrefreshed and muzzy.

  The day passed in a ceaseless whirl of activity. The flowers arrived and she arranged them. Mrs Pollit turned up on time and set about giving the drawing room and the long gallery a final polish. After lunch the caterers arri
ved. The party was due to commence at seven and Cassie had been pleased to hear that none of the guests would be staying overnight.

  At six she made a final check of the rooms, and inspected the buffet, before going upstairs to get ready. She had driven into town in the morning to have her hair styled and it curled softly on to her shoulders, shining almost chestnut in the early evening sunlight.

  The silk suit she had decided to wear was one she had bought in Italy, lovely rich golds and deep blues that added colour and depth to her eyes, the elegant lines of the silk emphasising her slender curves.

  At six-forty-five she was ready, trying to quell the nervous flutters of dread in her stomach, and wondering where Joel was as she went back downstairs. He emerged from his room, just as she reached the hall and leaned over the banister, calling to her impatiently, ‘Cassie, can you help me with this damned cufflink?’

  He was wearing dark trousers that clung tautly to his thighs, his shirt open across the chest. Slowly Cassie walked back upstairs, trying to control her breathing, hoping she was equal to the task of touching him without betraying how she felt about him.

  He extended one lean wrist as she drew level with him and her fingertips brushed the dark hairs growing over it. It was all she could do not to pull away, reminded as she was of the feel of his chest beneath her fingertips.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Joel demanded harshly. ‘Can’t you even bear to touch me now? You sang a different tune not so very long ago, Cassie.’

  He must have felt her involuntary withdrawal, because lean fingers grasped her chin, his eyes darkly bitter as they studied her strained expression. Quite what he would have said Cassie didn’t know, but the peal of the door bell stopped him. He frowned as she turned away, and remembering why he had wanted her, Cassie quickly secured the errant link before hurrying back downstairs, to greet the first arrivals.