by Penny Jordan
‘But marriage!’
‘I don’t want to have to share you with anyone else,’ he told her grimly, ‘or to be dangled on the end of a piece of string to flatter your vanity. Oh, it won’t last. One day I’ll wake up and find I’m free of this obsession which seems to haunt me, and then I’ll divorce you, but until then you’ll be my possession, to do with as I please.’
‘And if I refuse to marry you?’ Genista asked. Her throat was dry with tension. An obsession he had called his desire to possess her, and that was what it was; a hunger fuelled by her own foolish attempt to humiliate him. For a moment it crossed her mind that she might be wiser simply to open the door and run, but common sense reminded her that she wouldn’t be allowed to get very far. But marriage!
‘If you refuse I shall make sure Elaine knows all about your affair; about this apartment; about the weekend you and Bob spent together; the car he bought you…’
‘It’s not true!’ Genista told him angrily. ‘None of it’s true. We aren’t having an affair; I own this apartment in my own right. Bob is a very good friend…’
‘And you care enough about him to want to protect him. I didn’t think you had it in you, but it won’t work. I meant every word I said, Genista. It’s either marriage to me, or I tell Elaine everything.’
In normal circumstances Genista would not have hesitated. She would have gone straight to Bob and warned him so that he could tell Elaine, but Elaine’s operation and state of mind meant that this was impossible. If Luke told Elaine now that she and Bob were having an affair, she was only too likely to believe it. For one mad moment Genista contemplated going to see Elaine herself, but then acknowledged that this would probably only serve to make them appear more guilty. Luke definitely had the upper hand, she thought bitterly, but marriage—!
‘Why marriage?’ she demanded again. ‘Why not a brief affair? A one-night stand, even? After all, that’s all I’m fit for, according to you, isn’t it?’
Dark colour ran up under his skin as she flung the words at him. He came to stand over her, his fingers biting into the soft flesh of her upper arms, his eyes burning so hotly that she wondered how she could ever have thought of them as cold.
‘I’ve told you why. I can’t analyse my need for you, Genista. It defies all the laws of logic. I know you’re a cheap little tramp who sells her favours in return for financial gain; I know you don’t give a damn who you hurt or how, but God help me, I still want you so badly it’s like an ache in the gut, and it won’t be assuaged simply by one act of possession. You might as well offer a starving man a crumb of bread!’
His words frightened her; showing her the intensity of his desire for her. It was like a sickness, she thought, shivering under the look in his eyes. Richard too had wanted her, and had been prepared to lie to her by pretending love for her to satisfy what was merely sexual need, but Luke was prepared to go to even further lengths.
‘I want your decision now,’ he told her harshly, cutting across her thoughts. ‘Either we return from this trip as man and wife, or I tell Elaine all about your relationship with her husband.’
He really meant it, Genista acknowledged. Her heart felt as though it were being squeezed by giant hands, her breathing shallow and uneven as she contemplated the prospect of being Luke’s wife. A shudder ran through her as she remembered that soul-destroying kiss he had forced upon her. And that had only been a kiss! Even now she could remember how it had besmirched her, making her feel as cheap as the sort of woman he accused her of being.
‘If I agree, I’ll lose Bob anyway,’ she realised, desperately trying to find a loophole for herself. Instinct told her that there was no point in trying to plead with him by revealing Elaine’s dangerous emotional state; he would merely use the information as an additional lever.
‘You’re damned right you will!’ Luke swore savagely. ‘I don’t intend to share you with anyone else, Genista, but this way at least you keep your pride. He won’t leave Elaine for you, you must know that, and if you do care about him you won’t want to try and break up a marriage that obviously means a good deal to him. Strange, I shouldn’t have thought you the type of woman who shares her man. Or as long as he keeps on paying the bills, don’t you care?’
Genista longed to scream at him that he was completely wrong. She paid her own bills, and cared for Bob only as a friend, but she knew he would not believe her. He was so biased against her, so convinced that he was right that nothing would change his mind. While she stared sightlessly across the room he walked past her and into her bedroom, strolling casually round it, while the words of bitter fury froze on her lips.
‘Odd,’ he mused, glancing at the delicate feminine room with its pale peach decor. ‘It doesn’t give the impression of a room that’s shared by a man and woman.’ Before she could stop him, he opened a wardrobe door, studying the clothes hanging there.
‘Nice,’ he commented, ‘and expensive. Where does Bob keep his things? Or is he too discreet to leave any of the evidence lying about?’
Feeling too sick to reply, Genista walked towards the kitchen. Perhaps a glass of water could clear the nausea rising in her throat. She was reaching for a glass when she heard Luke behind her, his tall, lean frame filling the small room.
‘Well?’ he enquired grimly. ‘What’s the answer?’
‘If I had only myself to consider there is just no way I would agree,’ she told him in a shaky voice. ‘What you’re doing is blackmail—there’s no other way to describe it. The thought of making love with you makes me feel ill!’ Her voice started to rise hysterically on the last few words, and she gasped as hard fingers dug into her shoulders, turning her painfully so that she was facing Luke, the broad expanse of his white shirt blurring a little as tears filled her eyes.
‘Does it now?’ he grated in a voice laced with threatening menace. ‘Well, we’ll just have to see if we can’t change your mind about that, won’t we? Not now,’ he told her, as the colour left her face, leaving her vulnerable to the knowing probe of his dark eyes. ‘When I take you, Genista, I want to savour the experience, not rush through it like a callow adolescent. And you will savour it,’ he told her softly, the pressure of his fingers no longer painful, but persuasive, as they lingered on the frail bones of her shoulders, impelling her forward until her breasts were touching the dark wool of his jacket. ‘I’ll make you respond to me,’ he murmured against her hair. ‘Whatever pleasure Bob gave you, I’ll give you more.’
‘You couldn’t!’ The words were torn from her throat in a terrified cry. For a moment his words had almost mesmerised her; her heart was pounding unsteadily, sensations that turned her cold with fear, curling insidiously through her stomach, weakening her legs to the point where she wanted only to lean against Luke’s lean body. Her emotions shocked and terrified her. She hated the man, and yet just for a moment the images conjured up by his soft words had weakened her defences to the point where she had actually experienced a sharp stab of physical desire!
‘Try me.’
The sexually explicit invitation left her feeling nervously frightened. They were, after all, completely alone in the flat. She moistened her lips, unaware of the teasing provocation of the movement until she glanced up and saw the raw hunger burning in Luke’s eyes.
‘Don’t tempt me,’ he advised her harshly. ‘Now, do I tell Elaine about you and Bob, or are you going to marry me?’
Did she really have any choice? Dared she risk Elaine’s health and possibly her marriage by refusing? But if she married Luke, ultimately he would discover that he had been wrong. A hot flush of colour surged over her body as she dwelt on exactly how he would discover the truth, and she started to tremble violently at the thought of the intimacies marriage would entitle him to. Perhaps she could agree, and then find some means of escaping. If she could just get him out of the flat; just persuade him to wait until Elaine was over the operation.
‘I’m not going to wait, Genista,’ he told her, as though he had the power t
o follow her thoughts. ‘And don’t try running out on me. If you do I shall tell Elaine. I want your answer now.’
Genista took a deep breath. For Bob’s sake she had to do it.
Marriages could be annulled. She could find some way of keeping Luke at bay until Elaine was better.
‘Very well, I’ll marry you.’ Her lips felt swollen and dry and she badly wanted to lick them again, but fear of what the gesture might provoke prevented her.
‘Very wise,’ Luke said softly. ‘But don’t start thinking about a long engagement. We’re getting married today.’
‘Today?’ Her heart came into her mouth. ‘But…but that’s impossible!’
‘Not with an archbishop’s licence and an archdeacon for an uncle,’ Luke told her drily. He pushed back his cuff in a gesture which was becoming familiar to her. The sight of the dark hairs curling crisply against the gold strap of his watch made her stomach knot with apprehension. Some instinct told her that his body would be totally masculine, and her fingers curled moistly into the palms of her hands as she contemplated its enforced possession of her.
‘It will take me about an hour to make the arrangements. We can be married in Cumbria. And don’t even think about running out on me, because if you do I’ll find you, and I’ll make sure Elaine knows exactly what’s been going on between you and her husband. While I’m gone I suggest you occupy your time in finding something suitable to be married in.’ He pulled out his wallet and wrote a cheque, signing it firmly, and tossing it across to her. ‘On second thoughts, go out and buy yourself something, I won’t have my bride wearing clothes paid for by another man.’
‘And I won’t wear anything bought with your money!’ Genista flung back at him. ‘I’d rather be stark naked!’
‘An enticing prospect,’ Luke drawled coolly, ‘but I have a rather old-fashioned urge to be the only one to see my bride’s nudity. And don’t tear that cheque up, because if you do, I’ll take you out and buy you something myself.’
‘I’m surprised you don’t anyway,’ Genista raged, goaded beyond endurance. ‘What am I supposed to buy? Something white? If I had my way I’d be wearing mourning!’
For a moment there was a flicker of some emotion she could not name in the depths of the charcoal grey eyes, but then it was gone, his mouth uncompromisingly firm as he looked her up and down.
‘Save the amateur dramatics for those who appreciate them,’ he advised her dryly. ‘A simple suit should suffice. Whatever else you might lack, no one could accuse you of not having taste. Just remember that we shall be getting married in a small country church and that no one apart from ourselves will know that it isn’t a perfectly normal marriage.’
‘When in reality it’s merely a legal vehicle for you to satisfy your libido,’ Genista said bitterly. ‘And once you have, I’m to be flung aside like so much unwanted trash.’
‘I couldn’t have put it better myself,’ Luke said smoothly. ‘One hour, Genista—and remember, if you’re not here, I go straight to Elaine and tell her about your affair with her husband.’
When he had gone Genista sank down into the nearest chair, her legs trembling with fear and reaction.
Marriage to Luke Ferguson! Even now she could not believe it was actually going to happen; that the whole thing wasn’t merely some terrible nightmare. It was all real enough, she told herself soberly, her eyes alighting on the phone. A last desperate hope came to her, and she picked up the receiver, dialling the office number, and asking for Bob.
‘He’s at the hospital,’ Jilly told her. ‘They called him—something about Elaine. Apparently she needs a fairly major operation. I’ve never seen him look so worried. Can I take a message for him?’
After telling Jilly that it wasn’t anything important, Genista hung up slowly. She felt like an animal driven far below the earth, its every avenue of escape slowly blocked off. The chiming of the old grandfather clock which had belonged to her parents reminded her that she had barely forty-five minutes of her hour left. She glanced distastefully at Luke’s cheque, still reluctant to use it, and then she remembered a suit she had bought the previous month. It was still hanging in her wardrobe as yet unworn. She had bought it for the christening of a friend’s baby. It was in a very soft shade of pale green; a three-piece comprising a skirt in silk chiffon, slenderly fitting and finely pleated at the back; a pretty camisole top, and a long-sleeved jacket which gave the outfit a more formal air. Without it the camisole and skirt could easily pass for a dress, and there was even a hat in matching chiffon trimmed with soft pink roses. Genista remembered that when she had been trying it on the salesgirl had commented that it would be ideal for a summer wedding. Genista had agreed, never for one moment dreaming that she would be wearing it for her own. It had been many years since she thought about getting married—since Richard, in fact, but that did not alter the fact that had she so desired she had every right to be married in a misty froth of white with all the traditional trimmings.
The case she had packed earlier was in the living room, and she refused to add anything else to it. This was no true marriage; she had no need of a normal bride’s fripperies. The first thing she saw when she opened the case to pack the silk suit was the Oriental housecoat she had placed on top of her other clothes, and she averted her eyes from the rich jade silk. She had bought it in Hong Kong and loved the feel of the fabric next to her skin. It was designed on the lines of a cheongsam and she knew that it suited the slender lines of her body. No man had ever seen her wearing it, and none would, she told herself fiercely. She would find some way of preventing Luke from consummating this parody of a marriage.
She had just closed the case when Luke returned. He had changed out of the suit he had been wearing earlier and was dressed in hip-hugging jeans and a thin knit shirt which clung to the sleek muscles of his back and chest. The shirt was open at the neck, and Genista felt the familiar fear curl through her stomach as she saw the dark hair shadowing his chest.
‘Ready?’
How could he sound so cool? The man who had told her that it was his desire for her that was forcing him into this marriage seemed to have completely disappeared, to be replaced by this cool, distant, arrogantly male creature, whose presence in her home intimidated and alarmed her.
‘I’ve made all the arrangements. We’ll be married in Cumbria, spend the weekend there and then return to London.’
Not a word about where they were to live; what she was supposed to do about her job or what his family thought about his sudden decision to marry—and to a girl they had never seen, Genista thought incredulously, watching him lift her case as though it weighed no more than a handbag.
‘What are you waiting for?’
His sardonic words jerked her to her feet, and like someone in a dream she followed him out of the apartment.
CHAPTER FOUR
MOTORWAYS provided a fast but very monotonous means of traversing the country, Genista thought, watching the landscape flash past as the Maserati ate up the miles. Lancaster had come and gone; the scenery grew gradually wilder. The empty feeling in the pit of her stomach reminded her that it was past her normal lunchtime. She snatched a brief look at Luke’s remote profile. He had not talked to her at all during their drive, and she had been quite happy to let him concentrate on the motorway, even though her thoughts were not happy ones. He had arranged a special licence, he had told her before they left London, and his uncle had made all the arrangements with the small church where they were to be married.
‘My parents were married there,’ Luke had told her, and the brief comment had aroused her curiosity.
The Maserati slowed down, and Genista glanced at Luke again. ‘I thought we’d stop for lunch. There’s an excellent hotel not far from here. We used to eat there whenever we travelled north.’
‘Do your parents live in Cumbria?’ Genista probed, curious to learn a little more of his background. If they did, it was not inconceivable that she might meet them, and they could prove to be
allies.
‘No,’ Luke said shortly, quenching her hopes. ‘They’re dead—they were killed in a road accident several years ago. Now there’s just my sister and myself. Marina is divorced. She lives in France with her daughter. Her husband left her for his secretary.’ His mouth twisted. ‘A story with which I’m sure you’re quite familiar. Unfortunately Marina was very sheltered by our parents. She’s never really got over the blow, and Lucy is left to run wild when she isn’t at school, while Marina broods.’
‘I’m sorry.’ The trite words were low, but she meant them. She was surprised that Luke had told her so much, but then of course he could hardly keep their marriage a secret, and she would be expected to know something about his background.
‘Your parents are dead too, of course.’ He shot a sideways glance, perceiving her sudden start of surprise. ‘It was on your staff records.’
‘Oh?’ Something in the way his eyes slid over her, assessing the shape of her body beneath her clothes, provoked her into saying bitterly, ‘Did they also tell you that I’m illegitimate? That my mother bore me without benefit of marriage? That my father was married at the time but gave her a child anyway?’
‘It happens.’
His laconic response halted her. She half turned in her seat as they left the motorway, her forehead furrowed. ‘Aren’t you shocked? Aren’t you going to say like mother, like daughter?’
‘Ought I to? I’ve never been able to understand why our society casts the slur of illegitimacy on innocent children. They’re not to blame for their parents’ actions. A true case of the sins of the fathers, I suppose. Is that what made you the way you are?’ he demanded, catching her off guard. ‘A deep-seated desire to get back at all men for the fact that your father caused you to be illegitimate?’
‘No,’ Genista told him shortly. ‘My parents loved one another very deeply. For a time I did resent what had happened, but I didn’t know until I was in my teens, so I was spared a lot of the agony.’