Bought With His Name

by Penny Jordan

  Her words only echoed Genista's own fears and feelings. It was obvious that Luke had confided in Verity; had told her about their marriage, and she did not know which was the hardest to bear—the knowledge that he had openly discussed her with Verity, or the fact that much of what Verity was saying was true. The mere fact that Luke had invited his old love to the house, where Lucy would see her, shrieked the truth out loud; his need for her was so great that even Lucy's feelings no longer mattered.

  She still had some tattered remnants of dignity, some age-old instinct which made her lift her head and say proudly,

  'If Luke wants me to leave he only has to tell me. I have no intention of staying where I'm not wanted, but until he does, this is still my home, and you are still an intruder. Coming here when you must have known that Lucy would be here is in the worst possible taste, in view of the fact that you were living with her father until quite recently. As you say, we have no need to fence with one another, so I'm sure you'll understand me when I tell you that I'm going upstairs to Lucy, leaving you to wait for my husband on your own.'

  'Your husband!' Verity laughed mockingly. 'How the words trip off your tongue, but very soon they'll only be an empty phrase. Luke is mine!'

  The words reverberated through Genista's mind as she hurried upstairs. As she had expected she found Lucy huddled up on her bed, her expression woeful.

  'She said Uncle Luke had asked her to come here!' she burst out as Genista opened the door. 'I don't believe it. He wouldn't do a thing like that— he hates her!'

  'I'm sure whatever he did was for a good reason,' Genista soothed. After all, it was the truth. No doubt to Luke his love for Verity was an adequate reason for putting it before everything else. 'Look,' she suggested, 'why don't you give your mother and father a ring? I'm sure they'll be delighted to hear from you. They weren't planning to go away, were they?'

  Lucy shook her head, and Genista could see that her suggestion had taken root. They made the call together, Lucy insisting that Genista stay while she spoke to both her parents.

  'Father wants me to go home,' she told Genista as she replaced the receiver. 'Oh, Genista, they both sounded so happy! Mother was quite different, more like she used to be before ... before ...'

  'You'll have to speak to your uncle before you make any plans to go to France,' Genista warned her. When Lucy was on the phone she had heard a car outside and automatically her body tensed in dread of the confrontation to come. Verity must have made her presence known to Luke by now. Was she in his arms? Was he assuring her that she, Genista, would be leaving his house at the earliest possible opportunity. The child he had given her was destined never to know its father. She tried not to let the thought hurt.

  She was in their room when Luke walked in. He threw his jacket down on to the bed, and loosened his tie impatiently.

  'Verity tells me you were very unpleasant to her. Why?' he demanded without preamble. 'She is a guest in my house and as such entitled to courtesy if nothing else.'

  'While I, as your wife, am entitled to nothing, I suppose,' Genista challenged. 'Have you any idea of the effect it had on Lucy to find her here?'

  Just for a moment an expression she could not fathom crossed his face, but it was gone before she could begin to unravel it.

  'Don't hide behind Lucy, Genista,' he said harshly. 'You insulted Verity, and I should like to know why.'

  'Insulted her? On the contrary!' Genista took a deep breath and held it. Whatever she said about his mistress Luke would side with Verity. Arguing with him was pointless. It only caused her more pain.

  'I'm the one who's been insulted, Luke,' she said quietly at last. 'Insulted by being forced to endure sex without love; a marriage which makes a mock­ery of all that marriage should be.'

  She heard the door slam, but it was several minutes before she was able to turn round— minutes during which she had battled against the tears threatening to fall, but it was all in vain. She was alone in the room, and several minutes later she heard the hum of the BMW's engine and saw the two people sitting in the car.

  Lucy was slightly subdued over dinner, and Genista hoped she had not heard them quarrelling. She thought that given time Lucy would come to realise that men and women could find happiness together if they had enough love and trust, but she sensed that the younger girl was hurt by Luke's behaviour.

  'Are you going to wait up for Uncle Luke?' she asked Genista anxiously after dinner.

  Genista shook her head, striving to show a con­fidence she could not feel. She had no wish to de­stroy Luke's relationship with his niece, although she suspected that Verity would soon make sure there was room only for herself in his life.

  When she did go to bed she lay sleepless, waiting for his return. Dawn was breaking before she ac­knowledged that he would not be back—not that night, at least. The anguish was almost unbear­able.

  She managed to put on a brave face in front of Lucy, letting the younger girl think that Luke had returned and gone out again, and hoping that Lucy would not think to comment on the fact that his car was still outside.

  She had been sick again, and could now ignore the signs no longer. She was carrying Luke's child. A part of her paganly rejoiced in the knowledge while another, more sensible part pointed out the problems she would have to face as a single parent, and the possible effect the lack of a father could have on her child. It was still too early to think about visiting her doctor, but intuitively she knew that she had conceived Luke's baby.

  Lucy had decided to go riding again, but this time Genista declined to accompany her. Hadn't she once read somewhere that the early weeks could be critical for an unborn child? The very fact that she was so anxious about the safety of the life she carried told her how precious it had already become to her in such a short space of time.

  She was sitting in the garden, trying to concen­trate on a book she had found in the library when she heard footsteps on the gravel path. At first she thought it was Luke, and her heart leapt in antici­pation, but it was Bob's more homely features which she saw when she looked upwards.

  'Luke not here?' he asked her, frowning when she shook her head. 'He rang me last night and asked me to bring some papers down here. He said they were urgent.'

  'I've no idea where he is,' Genista admitted. 'Can you stay and have lunch with me or do you have to rush back?'

  'Oh, I think I could manage to endure lunch with a beautiful woman,' Bob said with a grin. 'You're looking pale, Gen, is everything all right?'

  'Can you think of one good reason why it shouldn't be?' Genista parried. 'Come inside with me, I'll fix us some lunch and you can tell me all about Elaine.'

  'She's doing fine—much better than the doctor thought at first. She's being so incredibly brave— you've no idea. I never dreamed she had so much inner strength. There was a time when I thought she would simply give up and die, but she's fighting with everything she's got.'

  'I'm glad,' Genista said simply. 'But she's got a lot to fight for, Bob. A husband, her child . . .'

  'Hey, do I detect a certain ... unhappiness? Forgive me for prying, Gen, but to be honest I was surprised when you married Luke out of the blue like that. Don't get me wrong—I'm not surprised he fell so heavily for you, but you've never been a girl to act rashly. I might seem a middle-aged old fuddy-duddy, but I assure you I haven't forgotten the power of sexual attraction or the havoc it can wreak if it's mistaken for love.'

  'There was no mistake. The trouble was that I didn't realise how much I loved him until it was too late. Oh, Bob!' Once the tears started to come she couldn't stem them. He took her in his arms awkwardly, proffering a large comforting hand­kerchief, and patting her gently on the back.

  'What's the matter, Gen? Do you want to talk about it?'

  'Luke doesn't love me.' The relief of saying it was only momentary. 'He never loved me, Bob, he just wanted me.' She tried to explain what had happened, between sobs, while Bob listened patiently. 'And now he's got Verity back he doesn't
want me at all.'

  'I'm truly sorry, Gen,' said Bob when she had finished. 'I only wish there was something I could do to help.'

  'Just listening did that.'

  'Try to hold on to the knowledge that loving another person enriches life whatever the outcome.

  We might resent it; we might fight against it, but ultimately our lives would be poor things indeed without it. Love is a very special thing, Genista.'

  'I know.'

  'My apologies for breaking up such a delightful scene. If I'd known you were having a tete-a-tete in my kitchen, Bob, with my wife, I would have knocked. I haven't been a husband for long enough yet to know the subtleties attached to the rela­tionship, so you'll have to forgive my crassness. Did you bring the papers?'

  Luke walked into the kitchen, completely ignor­ing Genista. He had shaved and was wearing a dif­ferent suit from the one he had been wearing the previous evening. Love for him melted Genista's bones. She wanted to go to him and be taken in his arms more than she had wanted anything else in her life, but he was looking at her with a cold fury which left her in no doubt that her feelings were not reciprocated. It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him that his accusations were little short of ridiculous when he had just spent the night in Verity's arms, but all at once the effort was too much for her.

  'I'm going upstairs,' she said unsteadily, then turned to Bob. 'I'll remember what you said,' she told him, smiling wanly. 'Tell Elaine to keep on fighting!'

  She was sitting listlessly staring out of the window when the bedroom door crashed back and Luke strode into the room.

  His fingers bruised her shoulders as he pulled her to her feet, shaking her as though she were a rag doll, until the room spun dizzily round her.

  'You little tramp!' she heard him say thickly through the ringing in her ears. 'How dare you entertain your lover here? Did you let him take you in my bed? Did you?'

  She couldn't even raise the energy to protest at his rough treatment of her.

  'What does it matter what I did?' she heard her­self say wearily.

  'You're my wife!' Luke gritted at her. 'That's what it matters, and Bob is one of my employees. Did you do it to get back at me, Genista? To punish me for the other night?'

  If only she could float free of her body and escape from her pain, but it was impossible. Bruising though Luke's grip was, her body was unbearably aware of him. She felt a feverish need to reach up and touch him, to feel him tremble against her as urgently as he had done when he made love to her.

  'Two can play at that game,' she heard him say harshly, and then she felt his hands on her back, tugging down her zipper, and exposing her body clad only in minuscule briefs and a lacy bra. She trembled as he sought the clip, and growing im­patient wrenched at the dainty lace until it tore, revealing the soft thrust of her breasts to his prob­ing eyes.

  'Has he seen you like this?' he demanded harshly, 'touched you like this?'

  His hands seemed to burn where they touched her skin. He seemed to be possessed of a primeval force that nothing could stem. For the sake of her self-respect she could not let him take her in re­venge and anger, and yet as he thrust her down on to the bed, pinning her there with his superior weight, she could feel her will deserting her. The treachery of her body was searingly painful. There was no way she could meet the scorching triumph in his eyes as he cupped her breasts with his hands and she felt her nipples harden betrayingly against his palm. As though bent on punishing her further he teased the rosy peaks with his thumb, stroking roughly until she was almost mindless with pleasure, all the time watching her face with hard eyes.

  This time she did not cry his name, nor did she try to prolong his touch. Deep down inside her self-disgust welled alongside longing. This was not how it should be, Luke using her body as though it were a toy, and watching her reactions like a voyeur. Her love rebelled, overcoming her desire. This was not how she wanted to remember their last encounter. She wanted her last memory of their lovemaking to be the mutually burning need which had brought them together before, not this calcu­lated attempt to humiliate her by teaching her that he was her body's master.

  'Satiated, are you?' Luke sneered cruelly. 'There'll be other times, Genista, when you won't be fresh from your lover's arms.'

  'Go to hell!' Genista choked bitterly, hating him for a brief moment.

  'If I do I'll make damn sure I take you with me,' Luke replied savagely. 'I'm not going to rape you, Genista. It will be much more subtle than that.'

  'Save it for Verity,' Genista told him bitterly. 'You and she are both in the same league, and it's one which I'm thankful to say I don't aspire to!'

  She heard him leave while she was still upstairs. He had left her without a backward glance. Going back to Verity, she imagined. He had probably only come home in the first place to warn her that he wanted her to leave. The scene she had just endured must be the lingering effect of their first meeting. He had dented his pride badly on that occasion, and the need to be revenged still drove him. Every time Verity teased him and left him unsatisfied—and Genista suspected that she was the kind of woman who would enjoy adopting such tactics—would she be used as a substitute, a sex object, taken without pity or love? She shuddered deeply, then retched emptily and shivered with mingled fear and nausea. She couldn't allow that to happen, but if she stayed here there was no way she could avoid it. She still loved Luke, and no matter how strong her will when she was alone, he only had to look at her for her bones to turn to water, for all her resolve to fade and her treacher­ous body to yearn for his touch.

  She told Lucy she was going to London. The girl's face dropped when Genista explained that she could not take her with her. She packed mech­anically, stowing her case in the boot of her Mercedes, and bending to hug Lucy impulsively before she climbed into her car.

  She would ring Lucy from London to explain to her that she wasn't coming back. It would be hard, but far harder to tell her now, face to face.

  The country road was virtually empty, but Genista concentrated on her driving as she always did. Later she was to reflect that her guardian angel must indeed have been watching over her, but as she took the fork which led to the motorway Luke was occupying her mind to the exclusion of every­thing else.

  She saw the child at the same moment as she saw the lorry. She had only a split second to make the decision—a moment of choice between the safety of the child and the safety of herself—but really it was no choice at all.

  She heard the protesting screech of the lorry's tyres, felt the impact as she hit it head on, the sick­ening crunch of metal, the screams and then the silence punctuated only by the thin, high sound of a child crying. Not her child, please God, she prayed hazily as she fought against the beating wings of darkness, and for the first time in her life felt consciousness slip away.

  CHAPTER NINE

  'You're a very lucky young woman,' the doctor pronounced cheerfully, lifting her wrist and taking her pulse. 'That's what comes of driving a sensibly built car, I suppose. Had you been behind the wheel of one of those sardine cans that pass for modern cars, I doubt you'd be lying here all in one piece. That was a very brave thing you did,' he added a little more gently, 'and a certain six-year-old has you to thank for her life.'

  Genista was lying on a trolley in the casualty ward of the hospital the ambulance had brought her to following the accident. A nurse had come to assure her briskly that she was not to worry. Someone had taken away her clothes and handbag and now she was lying on this narrow, high bed, dressed in a hospital gown, while the young casualty doctor prodded and poked.

  'Doctor. . .' At her hesitant tone he stopped examining the bruises beneath her ribs where her seat-belt had tightened and looked up at her.

  Genista licked her lips nervously. From the moment she regained consciousness one thought had possessed her to the exclusion of everything else.

  'I think I might be pregnant,' she said huskily. 'Will I … the baby?’

  'How long?
' the doctor asked her quickly. When Genista told him, he relaxed a little. 'You might just be lucky,' he told her frankly. 'Another few weeks and I would say that a shock such as the one you've just sustained would almost definitely bring on a spontaneous abortion, but because your pregnancy has only just started you could be okay. We'll keep you in for a few days, just to be on the safe side, though. Try not to worry.'

  That was easier said than done, Genista thought half an hour later, as the nurse made up a bed for her in the women's ward.

  'Try not to worry,' the girl comforted her, un­consciously echoing the doctor's words. 'Your husband should be here soon. Sister has been in touch with him.'

  'Luke!' Genista's stomach muscles contracted painfully. She had forgotten that the hospital would contact him as her next of kin. Would he realise that she had been leaving him? And if he did would he be glad?

  She realised that the drink the nurse had given must have contained some sort of tranquilliser, for minutes after she had finished it a numbing drow­siness came over her.

  'Try and sleep,' the nurse advised her. 'It will do you good—you and your baby. It's nature's most effective cure.'

  When Genista woke up she was conscious of various aches and pains all over her body from her bruises. There was a screen round her bed, and she could smell roses. She turned her head slowly, wincing a little at the pain from her jarred spine. There was a huge vase of red roses beside her bed, and sitting motionless in the chair next to it was Luke.

  'How do you feel?'

  It seemed to Genista that he was under a great strain. No doubt Verity had not been pleased when he left her to come to the hospital, but he was the type of man who would insist on carrying out what he considered to be his duty.

  'The police tell me you had a lucky escape,' he added.