Giggling a little, she sank on to the sofa, vaguely conscious that Rick was staring at her again, with his permanently narrowed eyes.
The fleeting humour that had touched her disappeared immediately. 'Don't worry, Rick. I'm not drunk, just a little lightheaded. I don't suppose Veronica ever gets this way?'
'Leave her out of it,' he gave her a cup of very black coffee. 'You wouldn't be jealous?'
'A lot of good it would do me if I was,' she muttered, broodingly. 'You'd be the one to get pleasure from seeing me suffer.'
'Perhaps,' he agreed callously. 'But right now I have no wish to see you suffering from anything. It might only lead to my own frustration.' Placing his own coffee on the mantelshelf of the huge fireplace he was standing beside, he regarded Emma with cool detachment. 'Drink your coffee, that should help. It's getting late.'
That was true. She had taken a long time over her dinner, eating slowly and pushing the food on her plate around with her fork, as though subconsciously seeking to prolong the evening indefinitely, to put off the moment she didn't want to think about. Now, when Rick mentioned that it was getting late, she fixed her attention on the empty fireplace rather than him. She had gazed too long at his dark, good-looking features over dinner, stared over deeply into his calculating blue eyes. That the blue had changed often almost to black with disapproval had made little difference. Her heart beat loudly and her limbs felt weak, her whole being drugged more by his hard attraction than anything else.
'Come here,' he said softly, as she met his eyes helplessly.
'No!' She stood up, suddenly completely in control of herself, tilting her chin. 'I'm going to bed, Rick—my own bed. You can find some other girl to tease.'
'I'm getting rapidly fed up,' his eyes hardened again as they went insolently over her. 'I don't intend going through this kind of charade every evening. From now on you'll do things my way—and stop arguing!'
Feeling altogether too apprehensive of him, Emma heard herself stammering an apology which she felt he didn't deserve. 'I'm sorry, Rick, I didn't mean to be annoying, but I would like to go to bed.'
'It's only ten,' he drawled tauntingly. 'You seem very eager.'
Only a minute ago he'd been saying it was late! 'I've been in bed by ten since I came here,' she replied coldly. 'On the farm I always went early.'
'Always?' Sarcastically his thick brows rose. 'I can't believe Rex Oliver was such an early bird. It's not hard now to see what other men found so attractive, but you didn't always have such luscious curves.'
'Rex had nothing to do with it…'
'Hadn't he?' Rick snarled harshly, as she sought anxiously for words to explain. His hand caught her arm as she turned hopelessly away. Dragging her to him, he merely laughed when she winced, as his fingers gripped the bruise he had inflicted earlier.
As his arms closed ruthlessly around her, she cried, 'Please, Rick, let me go!'
'There's no point,' he drawled, his breath warm on her face. 'You're not going anywhere tonight, except with me.'
'Rick!' Anger gave way to a kind of desperate fear as she realised he was serious. 'How can you do this when you don't love me?'
'What has love to do with it?' he drawled, his glance going meaningfully over her. 'Don't tell me you've loved every man you've ever slept with?'
Tears clogged her throat with despair as she stared into his hard eyes, but before she could answer he caught her up. His arms going round her completely, he lifted her high against him, then crushed her trembling mouth beneath his own. Nor did he release her until she was trembling all over and the fists she had used to fight him with had uncurled and were finding their way blindly around his neck. Not until then did he stop kissing her, and when he did it was only to allow his lips to caress her tear-damp cheeks and her throat. Deftly he undid the buttons at the top of her dress, taking no notice of either her tears or pleading cries.
Feeling his hands gain their objective, she almost died with shame. It proved useless to struggle, so she had to endure—hadn't she? Endure, while she tried to ignore the flickering flames of desire which appeared to be igniting in both of them simultaneously. Rick had scarcely moved, but there didn't seem any necessity for hurry. He was letting everything happen slowly, but it was all the more potent for that. Then he was striding with her towards the door, carrying her through it, up the stairs to his bedroom. She might have weighed no more than a few pounds, and there was no help for her in the silent, sleeping house.
Inside the room, he dropped her to her feet and quietly closed the door, but just as she was thinking he might intend letting her go, he caught her to him again. Again she tried to fight as she felt him pulling her towards him, as she felt the hard muscles of his legs tense against the slimness of her own and he made no attempt to hide his rising desire. Though shocked at her own overwhelming response she was unable to resist him and stood shivering within his embrace, her head bent. As his hands slid from her ribcage to her hips, her body seemed to move towards him of its own accord. Then there was nothing but the warmth and hardness of him as his arms tightened and his mouth brushed her half hidden cheek.
The touch of his mouth brought reason back briefly. 'Rick,' she whispered, 'please don't!'
Harshly he laughed. 'That isn't what you said to Miles Ray.'
'Why won't you believe me, Rick?' Emma looked up at him, her eyes full of tears.
Again the harshness of his laughter made her close her eyes against it, as his hands went ruthlessly to her full breasts. 'There are certain signs that you've already given yourself to him. Signs I'd be a fool to ignore.'
Confused, she bit back a sob, half believing she would wake any moment to find this was all part of a bad dream.
Surely none of this could be happening to Emma Davis, who had never been out with a man in her life? Apart from her husband, who was convinced she was a girl who slept around.
'I know,' she gulped, 'that the evidence against me might look black, but if you'd only trust me!'
'Trust you!' his teeth nipped her earlobe derisively. 'You'll have to do better than that, I'm afraid.'
Fire leapt with pain from his teeth, making her cry out wildly, 'Why don't you ask Miles, Rick? He'd tell you the truth.'
'You must think me a fool,' he snapped. 'He's already had you and now he'd like to marry you, but don't imagine it's because he loves you.'
'What other reason could there be?'
'He might just wish to fulfil a lifelong ambition to get even with me.'
'Why should he want to do that?' she frowned.
'Because I've always managed to do better than he has, or so he thinks. To steal my wife, who he no doubt imagines is my pride and joy, would give his self-confidence a hell of a boost.'
'But why me?' Helplessly Emma shook her head. 'I'm so plain…'
'Not now, you aren't, my love.' Rick's voice was silky again as his eyes went over her. 'You've developed mysteriously while I've been away into quite something, even if your particular kind of beauty doesn't appeal to me. You still have that look of untouched innocence, and I hate pretence!'
He certainly knew how to wound! Tears ran down her face as he began ruthlessly to slide her dress from her shoulders, burying his mouth in her bare skin as he did so. She made one last attempt to rally some strength to fight him as her body went weak. 'Don't do anything you might regret, Rick.'
'To hell with that!' he said curtly, his mouth burning the vulnerable curve of her young throat. 'Aren't I entitled to demand my rights, take what I've already paid for?'
'You're taking…' she choked incoherently, 'and you aren't entitled to anything.'
'I won't take anything you aren't prepared to give.' His breathing had deepened, but he still spoke suavely.
Her heart racing, Emma realised it was the devil in him talking, the pitiless, cynical business man against whom she would never stand a chance. Already he had her subdued by his experienced caresses while her foolish body clamoured for more. She was dazed by the fee
lings it seemed he could so easily arouse in her. With a sense of dismay she acknowledged that she wanted him to make love to her, in the fullest sense of the word.
Foolishly, as such wanton yearnings began to really frighten her, she tried again to escape him. This brought his anger immediately down on her head. His jaw muscles tensed and his eyes hardened.
'Don't try me too far,' he rasped, his mouth claiming hers inexorably.
Determined to fight on, she clenched her lips tightly, which appeared to madden him. Lifting his hand, he caught her chin, holding her still while his cruel mouth forced hers open under his, controlling it so ruthlessly she couldn't do anything but submit. For a moment she managed a token resistance, raking his shoulders under his unbuttoned shirt, but he was too strong for her. He held her implacably until her mouth softened voluntarily and she went limp in his arms. Until the hands which attacked him began to cling instead of wounding, and the whole of her slender, shaking frame became helplessly responsive.
It was then, with a grunt of satisfaction, that he lifted her, laying her on the bed. Another minute and he was lying beside her, threading his fingers through her long, shining hair, his kisses hardening and lengthening into passion. He had all the expertise, while Emma was completely at the mercy of her emotions. As she dimly realised this, like someone drowning and coming up for the third time, a wild sob of protest choked in her throat and she twisted frantically away. She seemed to hit the peak of bitter humiliation when Rick's caressing hands soon had her turning back to him, her senses swimming, every inclination to struggle forgotten.
'Have you finished fighting me?' he muttered thickly, pushing her back against the pillows so he could see her face.
Emma found she couldn't answer. He was leaning on one elbow, staring at her, making her heart race so madly she didn't think she could have spoken coherently if she'd tried. Rick hadn't put on the light, but the moon shining in through the window was more than sufficient. Through dazed eyes she saw the broad strength of his shoulders, the powerful lines of his waist and thighs. Her cheeks went hot, but her eyes lingered in wonder as she realised he had nothing on.
She had never been as close to a man before, but all men, she knew, wouldn't be like this. She tried to be angry with herself that an awakening delight in his undoubted masculinity was rapidly replacing a sense of shame. How could she even begin to feel this way when as soon as he could Rick would be getting rid of her? She loved him, but she mustn't use this as an excuse for surrendering herself so easily. Yet what else could she do? What else did she really want to do? Might not this be all she would ever have to remember? That once she had actually appealed to him so much he had wanted her?
With a sigh, she nodded weakly to his query, letting her arms creep eagerly around his neck. When he muttered hoarsely, 'I hope I don't disappoint you,' she tried not to think of how different it might have been if instead he had whispered words of love. Then such a coming together could only have held sheer joy.
Yet when his mouth began moving insistently over hers, the renewed, frantic beat of her heart and racing pulse stifled any more regrets. As her lips parted and she clung to him, she shivered as she felt his passion growing. He wasn't treating her as a novice. Dimly she understood that he expected to find her almost as experienced as himself, and having had no experience at all, Emma could only let her senses guide her. These, however, seemed swiftly to let her down. Soon she was twisting and gasping in his arms, apprehension mixing with excitement to such a degree it appeared to be removing any pleasure. Nevertheless, although she scarcely knew what she was doing, she couldn't seem to get close enough to the man who was so frightening her.
His broad chest hurt, but when she tried to protest he punished her by letting her feel the full weight of his thighs over hers, before he moved in to take total possession. She was crushed and crying out, rent with pain—yet transported, was it seconds or minutes later? to unknown heights. Enmeshed by her own emotions, she was battered by the strength of Rick's hard, male body, his harsh rasping breath. She was fleeing from yet racing towards incredulous delight, then clinging to him while trying to push him away. She was terrified to grasp what was within her reach, but unable to prevent herself—in the final outcome, from being utterly consumed by the ultimate rapture.
CHAPTER NINE
Afterwards, Emma was aware only of a curious exhaustion. The fires which had consumed her were still smouldering but slowly dying down, leaving her with a sensation which was far from unpleasant—which normally, she suspected, would have left her on the brink of sleep, in the arms of her lover. She was therefore confused to find herself sobbing.
It must, she thought, her hot cheeks growing cold with unhappiness, be Rick's heavy silence which was affecting her so. It seemed to condemn her in a way she failed to understand. Obviously she had failed to please him and he wasn't prepared to make any allowance for her lack of experience. Of course, she reminded herself, he thought she had been around, so no doubt he believed she had been deliberately reticent with him. Unable to even guess the depth of her own response, she imagined he had a legitimate cause for complaint, and her sense of misery increased when he didn't speak. She was desolate that he should be considering the delight she imagined they had shared in such stony silence.
Feeling suddenly ill, she slipped blindly from the bed. Stumbling frantically towards the bathroom, she was startled but strangely unheeding to find herself immediately lifted in Rick's arms and carried there.
'Be quiet,' he commanded tersely as she tried to protest. Through eyes bright with tears, she noticed irrationally his face was white.
Later he carried her back to bed again and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. Surprised at how gentle his hands could be, she wanted to thank him, but the gratitude in her eyes was hidden by eyelids suddenly too heavy to raise and her voice was somehow non-existent. Reaction, now fast setting in, caused her to lie still and pale, completely unresistant as Rick covered her with a light sheet. Again he was gentle. Briefly she fancied his hand trembled as he brushed a loose strand of hair from off her hot forehead. His touch was so tender that she turned her mouth blindly into his palm as he caressed her cheek. But just as she tried to whisper how much she loved him, she fell asleep.
He was gone next morning when she woke. Lying in a kind of daze, she thought of him, trying to put together, like pieces of a jigsaw, a dear picture of everything that had happened. Needless to say she failed. Much of the puzzle, no matter how hard she tried, just wouldn't fall into place.
The last half hour, before sleep had overtaken her, Emma found easiest to recall—perhaps because her mind shied nervously away from everything else. Surely Rick couldn't hate her too much, for hadn't he taken care of her as compassionately as any woman? His face had been grim, his eyes bleak, but he hadn't been obviously disgusted at the way she had trembled and shivered, and been unable to help herself in the bathroom. He had done everything for her that she hadn't been able to do for herself, and she didn't think she had thanked him. If only he had been here now, she might have thought of a way.
Her cheeks hot, she turned to bury her face briefly in her pillow. This was Rick's bed and she suddenly knew she wanted to stay in it. When he had invited her to, she had refused, but when she saw him she would tell him she had changed her mind. This morning it might be possible to tell him a lot of things she had felt reluctant to even mention last night.
Trembling, she recalled how he had made love to her, yet still found it impossible to recapture one perfectly lucid moment. The electricity that existed between them had leapt without restraint, as if along bare wires. Emma doubted if either of them could have prevented what had happened. It had been so fierce it had seemed to take the last of Rick's control.
She thought she remembered exactly when he lost it, the moment when his arms had tightened savagely and she had gasped against the increasing pressure of his mouth. Feverishly now she wished she could recall the whole of it, but certain parts of
the night were still shrouded in a peculiar darkness.
By the time she had showered and dressed Rick still hadn't come, as she had half expected he would to see what she was doing. Thinking he must be busy in his office and forgotten how late it was, she went downstairs in search of him. Finding him neither in the office or the dining-room, she ran along to the kitchen where Josephine told her he had gone out.
'Boss always busy on Lusanda,' she trilled, glancing curiously at Emma's stricken face as she prepared the young mistress some fresh coffee.
Belasco walked in, almost ready, from the look of him to leave for Barbados. 'Just in time to say goodbye, little missus,' he grinned.
Little—missus? Emma stared at him sharply. He hadn't called her that since the day he had met her, when she had stepped off the plane. 'Have you seen Rick?' she asked, disregarding Josephine's eloquent eyes.
'Boss on the other side of the island,' Belasco replied, the expression on his face making her heart suddenly sink.
Stubbornly, Emma kept a bright smile fixed on her face. 'I'll have my breakfast and then see if I can find him.'
'He isn't in a good mood this morning,' Belasco said carefully. Emma felt he was trying to warn her of something. 'Better wait here until he gets back, this evening.'
Emma was aware of the coldness of shock moving slowly through her. So it was to be exactly as it had been on Barbados?, There, the only time she had seen Rick was at dinner. Unless Belasco was mistaken. Perhaps it didn't do to be too hasty. Rick couldn't have forgotten what had taken place between them so quickly. A man, she knew, had his work to do, but on this one morning, surely, Rick wouldn't put work before everything else?
Yet for all her brief optimism there was no real hope in her heart as she said goodbye to Belasco and tried to eat some of the appetising breakfast which Josephine cooked for her. And for the remainder of the day, as she waited in vain for Rick, her heart grew heavier. What a fool she had been to imagine he cared! Hadn't he warned her he was only interested in one thing and, in her case, it was merely because he believed she had been having affairs with other men. Maybe it was a good thing he had gone. At least it had given her time to think—otherwise she might have foolishly confessed that she loved him.
Substitute Bride Page 14