The Devil's Bride

by Margaret Pargeter

  Half guessing his intention, if unable to accept it, she started hitting him with small, clenched fists. 'I know you're just trying to frighten me,' she cried, 'but if you don't let me go you'll regret it!'

  His laughter was harsh as, ignoring her frantic plea, he flung her roughly on the bed. 'Come the morning I might regret a lot of things, but at least there'll be some pleasure to remember — for us both, I hope.'

  Oh, God, this was worse than anything she had imagined. The breath was almost knocked out of her as she struggled to escape him on the hard mattress, terrified as his weight imprisoned her and one hard hand pinned her arms above her head. She felt his other hand throwing aside his robe before returning to her trembling limbs. Her own thin nightgown he tore relentlessly from her body.

  Every movement he made seemed unhurried but swift and, though her limbs were like water and her heart beating crazily, she felt overwhelmed by a wild terror. It was worse than last night, when she had wanted to comfort him by giving herself and it had been he who had done the rejecting. But even then, when momentarily carried away, he hadn't been like this, so filled with hard determination. Now, as passion surged violently in him, he seemed a stranger.

  'Please, Stein,' she begged, groping feverishly for the right words, 'you promised ours would be a marriage in name only. A business arrangement!'

  His mouth eased its pressure on her naked shoulder. 'That was before. Since then you've convinced me I'd be a fool not to make the most of this opportunity. You've a beautiful little body, why shouldn't I enjoy it? Why shouldn't I allow you to brighten my dark world? Because that's what it is, my dear wife, no matter how much I might deny it.' His voice softened against her ear. 'You must admit you'd share my pleasure, that you're not altogether indifferent, much as you like to pretend.'

  'No!' Horrified at his astuteness, she pushed away from him,

  'You've got it all wrong! I'm sorry, Stein.'

  'So you should be, you little wildcat!' As her hands escaped and one caught his face, he winced with pain, his brief tenderness forgotten. 'Do you think me quite stupid as well as blind? We had precious little hope of getting our marriage annulled. I think I only realised it this morning, but you must have known all along. I told you before I don't know what sort of game you're playing, but you won't go on playing it with me.'

  'I should never have married you!' Half sobbing with an intensity of raw feelings, Sandra struck out at him. 'I hate you, you're a beast! I... '

  He interrupted with cold fury, 'Don't you think you should shut up? Perhaps I'd better do it for you.'

  Before she could elude him, he drew her hard against him, his mouth effectively silencing hers. In the next moments Sandra knew she was lost, the tension between them mounting unbearably as he moulded her to him and, if at first she tried to continue her struggles, the expertise of his lovemaking was such, she had no real defence against it. Liquid fire seemed to pour through her veins and she found herself melting helplessly in his arms, her own going suddenly and fiercely around him, drawing him down to her.

  She sensed he could be selfish, even cruel if he felt like it, but soon the gentle caressing of his hands, the deep, drugging sweetness of his mouth crushed her fears, awakening an urgency which matched his own. The room and everything in it seemed to fade, she couldn't even hear the wind any more as he swept her insistently towards a passionate surrender. There was only the heavy beating of his heart against hers, the hardening smoothness of his lithe body which had the power to make her feel as she had never felt before.

  They seemed to be floating in some way-out universe, one which frightened but also beckoned with promise of ultimate fulfilment as his mouth softened over her trembling lips and he kissed her again and again. As his hand ran down the silken length of her thigh she couldn't seem to resist him and pressed against him hungrily. Her resistance and fright seemed to be fighting a losing battle with her overwhelming love for him. A love which decreed she must do everything she could to make up for the terrible blow fate had dealt him.

  Yet, in spite of the flood of desire that consumed her, she wasn't prepared for the searing pain which shattered the ecstasy of their first serious embrace, and she lay shaking and sobbing in his arms when it was all over. It didn't help when, as his breathing grew quiet, he thrust her away from him.

  'I'm sorry,' he muttered curtly. 'You should have told me. It seems I've misjudged you.'

  She hated what seemed like his rejection of her, hating even more his terse and obviously reluctant apology. She felt cheated, mixed up, not sure what had accompanied the hurt she had suffered. She had seemed to soar, where eagles fly, only to be brought ruthlessly down to earth in the final moment.

  'You wouldn't believe me when I tried to explain,' she accused him wildly. 'I had no idea it would like that!'

  'It will be better next time,' he said grimly, but his hand was strangely gentle as he reached over to brush a tear from her cheek. 'Sandra,' his voice thickened, 'if I'd known I would have taken more care, but, as I've just told you, it won't be so bad next time.'

  Her limbs still aching, she doubted him. 'There won't be a next time!' she declared hysterically, trying, for all she knew he couldn't see, to cover herself with the torn, crumpled sheet.

  'There'd better be!' As if not prepared to indulge her any longer, he thrust the sheet aside impatiently, and ran his hands possessively over her. 'Do you think I would let you go now?'

  'No!' she cried, secretly ashamed that her body could respond again so soon. The moon was rising and a trail of light fell over the bed, showing dimly the brown nakedness of his strong figure, and she closed her eyes against new and unexpected sensations. If only he loved her as she did him, but all he could think of was his own satisfaction.

  'I want to go to my room. Please let me go now, Stein,' she whispered, trying weakly to twist from him.

  'No!' Almost as if he read her thoughts, his arms

  tightened against her feeble struggles. 'Tonight has proved, has it not, that we can find pleasure in each other, much as you might like to deny it. Right now you feel bruised, disillusioned, but I promise it won't always be like that. I know how your body works now, how you react, and some things are best repeated straight away.'

  It was foolish to listen to the clamorous voices within her, the curiosity which wouldn't allow her to leave it alone. She knew she should have left him immediately, that to hesitate could only lead to more anguish, even worse than she suffered now, but, as she raised her hand to protest and her fingers touched his hair-roughened chest, she seemed incapable of movement. She could only cling to him with a low moan, so it appeared that she was begging him to make love to her again and, as he dragged her still closer, she returned his sensuous kisses and caresses until she scarcely knew what she was doing. Until swiftly every part of her seemed to be released before a flood of devastating passion, as they melted together in long minutes of perfect culmination, such as she had never known existed.

  In the first light of an early dawn Sandra woke, still feeling dazed, her body aching but languorous. Unsure where she was, she raised herself on one elbow, her heavy eyes widening to find Stein fast asleep beside her. Bemused, she stared down at him. In sleep he looked younger than his thirty-five years and curiously vulnerable. It took an effort to remember that he was no such thing, that he was predatory and very ruthlessly male, yet just then, she could only think how much she loved him.

  In the moment it took to realise how she came to be in his bed she felt her throat thicken with tears as she recalled his treatment of her. Of his tenderness which, as she had responded, had rapidly changed to a sensual onslaught of barely controlled passion. If he had sensed her virginal terror behind the response he had sought so assiduously, he had wanted to possess her too much to take any notice.

  Apprehensively she held her breath, barely daring to breathe now for fear of disturbing him, but he slept on as if deeply content, one arm flung around her. Still scarcely able to believe last nig
ht had really happened, Sandra continued to gaze at him, wondering nervously how he would feel when he woke up. It seemed incredible that one man could have given her such unbelievable delight but, in the sane light of day, it seemed very possible that Stein might not share her feelings.

  This morning she felt different, as if his lovemaking had left an indelible mark and she would never be the same again. The feeling of his arms and lips, the low, persuasive timbre of his voice which had hardened each time she had tried to fight him, would be with her forever. For all his determination to have her whether she was willing or not, he had given her so much in return that her love for him this morning seemed to leave no room for hate.

  He moaned, moving restlessly, flinging his free hand over his eyes in a gesture which moved her to compassion. Loving him, she could never regret what she had given him, especially if it helped him to forget the darkness he was forced to live in perpetually. The heartbreak, she suspected, would come later — but she tried not to think of it.

  It actually came sooner than she had thought.

  'Sophy,' he muttered, and Sandra felt herself grow cold. So Sophy was still on his mind? She, Sandra, was his wife, whom he had loved passionately, but it was still of this other woman he dreamt.

  Feeling indescribably cold, she slipped quietly out of bed. A second ago she had been almost overwhelmingly tempted to waken Stein with a soft kiss, but she no longer felt she wanted to be in his arms. Quickly she stepped over her discarded nightdress and ran soundlessly to her own room to seek a robe. Deciding against a bath, she took a quick shower, and it wasn't until the water trickled comfortingly over her that she allowed herself time to think. How foolish she had been to imagine someone like Stein would be faithful to a girl as naive as herself! If he sought after other women, even in his sleep, what could the future hold? Wouldn't she be wiser to hate rather than love him?

  Yet Sandra knew she must be honest. Hadn't she made herself available by her own foolishness? Stein was so ready to think the worst of her. Might he not, this morning, imagine she had acted deliberately, as he had last night? He might even go so far as to think she had intentionally set out to prevent him getting an easy divorce. Being comparatively wealthy he must consider himself a target for every scheming woman.

  Unhappily Sandra dried herself and putting on a simple cotton dress, ran downstairs. It might be better to pretend nothing had happened, it might save embarrassment all round. That might not be easy when all she wanted was to be back in Stein's arms, but it might only annoy him if she began to cling. She still had some pride left and must guard against turning into a possessive woman. Besides, she had no excuse to be that way with him.

  At the bottom of the stairs she paused, unable to resist trying the lights. Although she prayed rather feverishly that none of them might work, the one in the hall was the only one that didn't. It seemed to confirm or perhaps excuse Stein for making the accusations he had. More than a little disheartened, she removed the spent bulb and went to the kitchen to ask Thyra for another.

  Stein joined her as she was finishing her second cup of coffee and she watched bleakly as he deftly helped himself to a large breakfast. She tried to concentrate on pouring his coffee, but could scarcely keep her eyes from him. He made no attempt to kiss or even touch her, which only strengthened her suspicions that he regretted what had taken place.

  He did say softly, 'It's a beautiful morning.

  'I expect,' she replied, with effort, 'you'd like to make an early start.'

  'Work?' suddenly he smiled broadly. 'Not today. I didn't think you'd feel like it. I decided we might have a picnic on the beach and forget about work for a change.' Her breath caught as she envisaged spending the whole day with him down on the warm sands, but it was something she would be wiser not to contemplate. 'We can't, Stein. We haven't finished your third chapter.'

  He laughed indifferently, as if sensing the line of her thoughts, his gentle mood, as it so often did, quickly vanishing. 'It's times like this, Sandra, when I'd give almost anything to see your face.

  Are you a blushing bride this morning, I wonder, or are you as cool and unmoved as you sound? Last night you certainly weren't the latter.' How dared he tease! He was simply a great brute!' I think we should forget about last night,' she said sullenly, her aching limbs still with her.

  'Why?' his voice sharpened insultingly. 'Did I disappoint you?'

  'Please, Stein,' her face went scarlet, 'you know you never intended it should happen ... '

  'But it did,' he rasped, 'and you'll find it's something which can't be undone.'

  'But not something that need be repeated.'

  Again he laughed unkindly. 'Ah, Sandra, why should I bother to argue with you this morning when you might be very ready to seek my arms again tonight? I'm not very good at making love over a breakfast table, nor do I find it an easy subject to discuss with someone I can't see. But my memory doesn't play me tricks. I can recall quite lucidly how you were in my bed, especially after you'd been there a while. I'd think very carefully about rejecting me now— you may not want to later.'

  Mortified, Sandra stared at him, feeling completely shaken, her cheeks even hotter. She didn't want to remember how it had been in his arms through the night and, when he could only dream of Sophy, it was unfair of him to remind her. 'I still think,' she insisted tearfully, 'it would be better forgotten.'

  Putting down his knife and fork, as if losing interest in his food, he leant towards her. 'How do you propose going about it?' he jeered.

  'Men!' she gulped, stumbling to her feet. 'You make love to me while you love another woman! I wonder how you can do it?'

  Getting up himself, he halted abruptly beside her. 'So that's your opinion of me?'

  She found it difficult to be so near and not touch him. Her voice wobbled infuriatingly. 'If I dislike you it's your own fault!'

  With a sigh his hands descended on her shoulders. 'You're a very lovely girl, Sandra — not one a man would tire of easily, but you have a lot to learn, about men in particular. This morning, when I woke, I wanted you with me, but you were gone. Why should I have had the feeling of a ship without its anchor? Such a small thing to become so necessary. Just don't let me wake again and not find you there.'

  'Don't make me, Stein,' she begged breathlessly, her face suddenly white with emotion. 'You wouldn't like to think I was only there because of your orders. You've always made it clear that you hate me and my cousin, so you can't possibly want me!'

  She didn't know why she had brought it up, but the damage was done before she could retract. 'Sure,' he drawled, gazing down on her dryly, 'but hate can sometimes make one feel more intensely than love. It certainly won't make me reject one inch of your enticing little body. I can enjoy that even while I'm hating

  you.'

  They had their picnic after all and, over the next week or two, Sandra found that it was difficult to escape him. Stein appeared to have the uncanny ability of finding her whenever he wanted to and there seemed nothing she could do to prevent it. Shamefully she realised his love-making was rapidly becoming something she didn't want to be without, if she wasn't quite ready yet to admit the truth of what he had told her. The nights she spent in his arms were interludes to be treasured, stored against the time which would undoubtedly come, when he no longer wanted her.

  Sandra knew he would never say he loved her, and, while she respected him for not pretending to in order to get his own way, her heart was sore. He made love to her most nights, but she knew she would never hear such magic words pass his lips. Sometimes, when he held her, she felt her love for him moving through her almost tangibly and knew a wild jealousy of those women he had really cared for, a hostile envy of the rapture they must have known. When she had first come to the island none of this seemed to matter so much, but since she had begun sharing Stein's bed she found such primitive reactions more difficult to control. He mustn't guess how she often felt like shouting at him, of accusing him of things which had never
previously occurred to her. It was enough that she should be horrified by her own

  hysterical emotions without having his withering opinion too.

  Wanting only to love him, she was forced to endure his continuing derision regarding her conduct and Alexandra's. Always he reminded her that their relationship could only be physical, even while making it no secret that he needed her more and more, and though her pride felt humbled into the dust she couldn't find any strength to resist him.

  Sometimes she felt so wounded by what he said she wondered how much longer she could endure it. She grew too pale and lost weight. She guessed Thyra had noticed and told Stein, because he suddenly insisted she go out more. He said he wished he could have taken her around the island, to meet the people, but was not sure enough of himself for this. He didn't fancy falling over them as he introduced them to his wife. He wasn't bitter so much as cynical. Often Sandra wished he would be bitter — it might have made him seem more human. He might be easier to live with if he had a few noticeable faults and failings, such things as Gran had always been on about. He did take her down to the beach more often, though, and with the smooth sand hot under her back and Stein stretched out by her side she felt oddly content. Very often, while she lay half asleep, he would begin making love to her, and then she loved the taste of brine on his mouth; the smell of sand on his bare skin; the harshness of it against hers as he pressed her passionately into it.

  Once he had taken her out sailing in his caique, but naturally had to leave the skippering of it to Panos, and, though he didn't say anything, Sandra sensed his impatience at not being able to do the sailing himself. He had sat in the prow with her, his arm lightly around her waist, the wind warm on their faces, and she wondered if he felt resentful that she could see the dancing waves while he could not They had cruised among the islands that day, with small fish of many colours darting alongside them. The water had been the most vivid blue imaginable and, somehow, she had managed to be cheerful, so he should not have the least suspicion of how her heart ached for him.