Imprisoned by a Vow

by Annie West

  His mouth tightened and she read grim intent.

  Now the terms of their prenup made sense. No real marriage. A penalty for pregnancy. Joss used the law to cut himself off from any chance of a family.

  Her heart went out to him. He had it all socially and financially yet she grieved for the vacuum at his heart where love should be. He’d probably call himself self-contained. She thought it tragic.

  His gaze clashed with hers. ‘I don’t want sympathy. It’s wasted. I didn’t tell you so you’d feel sorry for me, but so you’d understand I’m serious about no long-term emotional involvement.’ His gaze shifted, dropping from her face, and his expression took on a saturnine cast that skimmed something almost like fear through her.

  ‘But there’s something else you can give me.’ He cupped her breast, not gentle this time, but purposeful. His fingers pinched her nipple and she gasped as pleasure teetering exquisitely close to pain shafted through her. Involuntarily her body curved into his.

  His smile was wolfish, past hurt buried behind a visage of hungry lust.

  ‘That’s what I want, Leila. Sex. Simple physical pleasure. Can you give me that?’

  His eyes glittered and she felt a tide of answering hunger engulf her. The passion they’d unleashed was primitive and unstoppable. Yet that didn’t prevent her seeing the shadows in his eyes, the hurt buried deep. Her heart squeezed hard for all he’d endured.

  So when he grabbed a condom then tipped her onto her back she didn’t object. He pushed between her thighs, suckling hard at her breast and she gathered him close, giving herself up to his need. He touched her between her legs, probing her readiness, and she arched into his hand, eager to give him the sweet oblivion he craved.

  When, moments later, he thrust in hard and sure, his hands unyielding on her hips, his face stern with the force of his need, Leila gave herself willingly. And when he shuddered to a climax that pumped on and on, his hoarse shout echoing in her ears, Leila tugged him to her, cradling him with all the tenderness that welled up inside her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  AFTER THAT JOSS ASKED no more questions. Since revealing his troubled past he avoided anything personal.

  Personal except for their ardent lovemaking every night and morning. And now he’d taken to coming back to the apartment for lunch.

  The first day he’d arrived as Leila was finishing laps in the indoor pool. She still blushed to think of what they’d done on the wide lounger by the water. She’d been utterly abandoned, giving herself up to the spiralling whirlwind of desire that grew daily rather than abated.

  A flicker of anxiety stirred. It didn’t feel as if this was the way to get rid of her physical weakness for Joss.

  If anything, she turned to him more, enjoying the evenings when, instead of working or entertaining, Joss joined her to listen to music or watch a DVD. Intimacy wasn’t just about skin-to-skin contact, but precious shared peace.

  That she’d found it with her husband of all men stunned her.

  Perversely, the fact he no longer pressed her for information made her wonder if she should trust him with the truth.

  He must have guessed some of it. Though he said nothing, every time they went out he gathered her to him in the lift and kissed her till her head spun and her nerves vanished. When the limo threaded busy city streets, Joss would clamp her to his side and distract her with conversation or, more often, his marauding touch. Now she almost looked forward to going out.

  She’d given up worrying that she emerged from the car dishevelled. Joss declared he preferred her looking sultry and hot rather than buttoned up and cool.

  Maybe he was just boosting her ego. Unlike Gamil, who’d made it his mission to destroy first her mother then her, Joss made her feel good. He valued her contribution to his commercial schemes and said so. And when they were alone and naked, the sound of his praise always filled her with delight. He made her feel wonderful: sexy and strong.

  Had he any idea how much that meant?

  Leila slid a look at Joss beside her in the restaurant alcove. Each day she expected to discover he’d diminished, that the glamour that drew her to him wore off. If anything he looked more charismatic and potently masculine.

  As if attuned to her thoughts, Joss slid his hand to hers, tracing a finger up her arm till he reached her sensitive inner elbow and she shivered. Instantly he smiled, his hooded eyes giving a glimpse of ravening hunger she knew no meal could sate.

  A trickle of excitement slid low as his smile widened.

  Sex, that was what he was thinking about.

  Yet he hadn’t needed to bring her out to lunch every day this week if he’d just wanted sex. She was so blatantly eager for his touch they both knew she’d give him what he wanted the moment he entered the apartment.

  Nor was he here to network. They were seated away from the windows in a quiet, exclusive corner.

  Now she thought about, it they were always seated well inside any venue. Deliberately?

  Slowly Leila put her knife and fork down, reviewing the past weeks. The occasional outings had become more frequent. Her nerves had stretched that first time when the city had seemed vast and threatening. Joss never gave her time to worry or back out, simply appearing and announcing they were going to lunch. He kept her close, distracted by conversation and his blatantly sensual caresses.

  Her eyes rounded as she digested details she’d not taken time to consider before.

  Her progress in venturing out wasn’t all down to Joss. She forced herself outdoors every day, starting with a few minutes on the roof garden and short expeditions to the building’s foyer and onto the street.

  But with Joss she’d managed to do so much. With Joss the fear faded into a mere prickling undercurrent.

  ‘Leila? What is it?’ The lustful glint in his eyes dimmed and concern replaced it.

  That was when she knew.

  Joss had no need to take her out. With his wealth he could bring in the best chefs to cook for him.

  This was about her.

  Leila’s head spun.

  * * *

  ‘You’ve brought me out to lunch every day this week.’

  Joss looked into green-grey eyes turned mysteriously smoky and wished again that he could read his wife better. Some things, like her desire for him, were easy. But always he sensed she hid so much.

  It shouldn’t matter. Yet he couldn’t quench his need to know.

  ‘You don’t enjoy yourself?’ He frowned. He’d enjoyed spending time with a woman who was every bit as fascinating as he’d suspected.

  ‘Of course.’ She gestured abruptly. ‘But you’re giving up your work time. You even come home early at night.’

  Home. There it was again, that word filtered into his subconscious again and again when he was with Leila.

  Returning to her felt like coming home.

  Joss frowned and swallowed a mouthful of Chablis. His gazed dipped to Leila’s kissable mouth and his muscles tightened in ready arousal. He...appreciated Leila but that was as far as it went. He didn’t need her.

  ‘You’re afraid I let my responsibilities slide?’ He tried to tell himself she worried about whether that would impact his profits and her allowance, but it didn’t work. Leila no longer convinced as a money-hungry gold-digger. That woman had been a mirage.

  ‘I know what you’re doing, Joss.’

  His gaze rose to her eyes, lustrous and huge. When she looked at him that way his chest tightened and he had trouble marshalling his thoughts.

  ‘What am I doing?’ The words emerged gruffly. ‘Spending time with my bride is hardly a crime.’

  Yet he bluffed. Deep within he felt something akin to embarrassment at how much pleasure he took in her company. Never had he enjoyed a woman outside bed as much as he did in it. It was a first
. One he preferred not to examine. Better to accept and enjoy the unexpected bonus marriage had brought then move on.

  ‘You’re not doing this just because you want to.’

  Joss swallowed the betraying truth that his choice to be with her was utterly selfish. Just watching her lips move, hearing her husky tones, knowing soon she’d be in his arms, was pure pleasure.

  ‘You know, don’t you?’

  Something in her voice dragged him out of his reverie. Leila looked—defeated.

  He snagged his hand around hers where it rested on the table. Instantly a frisson of electric energy sizzled under his skin. Normally it disturbed him—that charge for which there was no rational explanation. Now he ignored it, too intent on Leila.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  Her lips twisted in a travesty of a smile and she darted a look at the plate-glass windows across the room.

  ‘That I’m...anxious about going out.’ Her words were soft, as if she didn’t want him to hear, but her chin tilted regally and she swung round to meet his gaze with a stoic pride that squeezed his chest.

  Joss’s fingers meshed with hers. ‘I guessed.’ At first it had been hard to believe—that a woman as sassy and strong as his bride should harbour such fear, but the evidence had built inexorably.

  ‘You haven’t asked about it.’

  He shrugged. Of course he wanted to know. But after revisiting his own troubled past, his desire to push her into telling him had waned. Her desperate pride struck him as precious and hard won. Who was he to strip that away?

  Carefully he weighed his words. ‘I’m interested, of course.’

  ‘Because you don’t want a defective wife?’ Her bite of self-derision told him how much she abhorred what she saw as a weakness.

  He slid his fingers over hers, as if his touch could soothe. He, who had no skills in caring for anyone!

  ‘I owe you an explanation, I suppose.’

  She looked as if she faced a firing squad, drawn up tight and proud. A better man would assure her he didn’t need to know her secrets.

  But Joss had never thought himself a better man in anything other than wheeling and dealing, and getting whatever he wanted.

  He wanted to understand.

  Leila looked down at his hand covering hers. ‘It happened first the day of the wedding.’

  ‘Not before?’ His gut clenched. She couldn’t mean marrying him had caused her fear!

  But already she was shaking her head. ‘Never before.’ She paused and the taut silence stretched every nerve into jangling discord.

  ‘When the car drew away from the house I was nauseous, wobbly as if I’d eaten something that disagreed.’ She swallowed convulsively. ‘When we got to the airstrip...’

  Leila shook her head. ‘I’d never felt anything like it. It was as if the weight of the sky crushed me, pushing the air from my lungs so I couldn’t breathe.’ Her breasts rose and fell as her breathing grew choppy. ‘It all seemed so huge, so limitless, so frightening.’ Her voice faded on a gasp that rattled in her chest.

  Joss wrapped his other arm round her and drew her to him along the banquette seat. She sat stiffly. She didn’t even seem to register his touch and Joss wondered if he should have deflected this discussion. But selfishly he waited for enlightenment.

  When she continued it was in a breathless voice that didn’t sound like the proud woman he knew.

  ‘I thought myself strong. Even fighting a battle I couldn’t win I never gave up. But when the threat is on the inside...’ She swallowed hard, as if forcing down rough shards. ‘These last years, even on the worst days I refused to admit defeat. But this—’ She shook her head and a lock of hair tangled over her shoulder, an unwinding skein of mahogany silk. Joss chafed her hand, stunned at how it had chilled. ‘I thought I was going to die.’

  ‘I wouldn’t let you.’ He didn’t formulate the words. They simply emerged. But they were true.

  Her lips pulled in an uneven smile that spoke of pain. ‘You distracted me enough to stop me giving in to it. Thank you.’ Her eyes met his and again that electric spark hit him. This time it jagged deep into his vitals.

  ‘Why? Do you know what brought it on?’

  Leila shifted straighter, tugging her hand from his. Inexplicably he felt...deprived.

  ‘I—’ Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips as she stared towards the window and its view of bustling London. ‘I suspect it’s because I wasn’t used to going out.’

  Joss waited. The pressure of expectant silence would draw the truth better than any encouragement.

  ‘My life before this wasn’t...normal.’

  Joss watched her skin draw tight over her finely moulded features and fought the urge to ask. She said this had started on their wedding day yet she’d spoken about the last few years as if they’d been a battle. Tension screwed every muscle. He had a dreadful pit-of-the-belly premonition he wasn’t going to like what he heard.

  ‘Didn’t you ever wonder why I married you?’ Her gaze flicked to him.

  He shrugged, about to say he’d assumed it was for wealth and position—what women always wanted. He’d learned that early from his dear mother. But since coming to know Leila, he’d learnt neither of those topped her list of desires.

  Why hadn’t he bothered to find out?

  Because he didn’t want to delve too deeply?

  Her eyes bored into his. ‘I would have married anyone if it meant escaping. No matter how unappealing.’

  Leila found him unappealing? She had a fine way of showing it. Yet the bone-shivering urgency in her voice extinguished Joss’s instant outrage.

  ‘Tell me.’

  She held his gaze so long he wondered if she’d speak again. Finally she dipped her head to look at her hands, twisted together on the table.

  ‘My mother was a beautiful woman. Not just pretty but vivacious, the sort who drew admiration without trying.’

  It didn’t surprise him. Her daughter was the same. Leila had a special quality, not mere beauty or charm or even spirit, but a combination of the three that spotlighted her in any crowded room. It tugged at him like an inexorable tide.

  ‘After my father died Gamil courted her. He was always there, wherever she was. He was charming, eager to please and devoted.’ Yet Leila’s voice was flat as she spoke. ‘Eventually my mother agreed to marry him. It wasn’t a love match like her marriage to my father, but he seemed a good man and she wanted me to have someone other than herself to rely on.’

  Leila bit her lip so hard Joss feared she’d draw blood. But as he reached out she spoke again. ‘It turned out Gamil wasn’t the model husband she’d thought. What he called love was really obsession. Once they married he grew increasingly possessive and controlling, needing to know where she went, who she saw. He was pathologically jealous.’

  Eyes the colour of a storm cloud met his and any idea she exaggerated died at the wretchedness Joss read there.

  ‘He called her a whore. Accused her of being unfaithful. Accused her of bringing me up to be the same—weak, corrupt and licentious.’ Lightning flashed in her eyes. ‘My mother was nothing like that!’

  ‘Of course not.’ If she had been, Leila would have been different, not the wife who bedazzled him with her spirit and unshakeable honesty. The memory of the night she’d given him her virginity still had the power to suck the air from his lungs.

  Joss’s skin prickled at the idea of her being at the mercy of such a man. He didn’t question her story. His wife was secretive but she wasn’t a liar.

  ‘Gamil was unhinged. I’m sure to anyone outside the house he appeared normal. But inside it was different. The restrictions tightened one by one. First the Internet stopped working. Trouble with the connection, he said, but he’d cancelled it. Then the phone. There were limitations
on where we went. My mother’s servants were dismissed on various pretexts and replaced with his own—people who’d spy for him. People who’d tell him what he wanted to hear.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘By the time my mother succumbed to cancer he’d broken her spirit and her will to live.’

  Joss’s skin iced as the implications sank in. ‘You were alone with him then?’

  ‘Except for his servants.’ Her bitter tone told him they’d been no protection.

  ‘He hurt you?’ Joss leaned forward, his hand hovering over her taut fists. He remembered the livid bruise on her wrist, and red mist rimmed his vision. If he’d known this when the bastard had toadied to him—

  ‘Not physically.’ Yet she rubbed her hand absently over her arm. ‘He had other ways.’ Again Leila looked towards the restaurant’s full-length windows and her expression made his belly clench.

  ‘Gamil kept me prisoner after Mum died. I’d started a university course but deferred it when she got ill. He informed the university I wouldn’t return.’

  ‘Why did you let him?’ Disbelief rose in him. Leila always stood up for herself. It was one of the things he admired even though initially he’d found her feisty attitude annoying.

  She laughed. He didn’t like the humourless sound.

  ‘In Bakhara a guardian has complete control over his daughter, or stepdaughter: where she lives, where she goes, who she sees. That lasts until she turns twenty-five.’

  ‘Or until she marries.’ It was a guess, but it explained why she’d marry a stranger when she needed neither wealth nor social standing. What she must have suffered! The thought of Leila so desperate and defenceless made him feel sick with thwarted fury. How he wished Gamil were here right now.

  Her eyes lifted and her lips curved in a tight smile. ‘I always knew you were clever.’

  Something sliced through his belly like a hot blade. Horror at her story? Regret that she’d come to him out of desperation? Guilt that he’d married her without bothering to find out why?