by Anne Hampson
'I think,' decided Ramon when she failed to continue with what she had been saying, 'that we will close the subject.' He glanced at the clock. 'Dinner will be ready in half an hour. We just have time to change.'
It was a silent meal, with Paula dreading what was to come afterwards. How could she fight a man as determined as this dark foreigner she had married? It was impossible, she told herself, looking at him across the table. He was her master and would remain so while she stayed here as his wife.
And yet, she was unable to resist fighting him when, in their bedroom, he took her possessively into his arms and, forcing her head back, tried to kiss her. Taking him by surprise, she was out of his hold and fleeing towards the door, scarcely knowing what she would do or where she would go, but instinctively making an effort to escape. With a muttered oath he was following her, his supple body carried with the agility of a jungle cat. She uttered a little scream even before he touched her and he stopped momentarily, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Then he reached out and took hold of her wrist, and she felt afterwards that he might have been gentle with her if only she had accepted his mastery, and the fact that he had a right to expect reciprocation from his bride.
But instinct once again came to the fore, urging her to struggle.
'Stop it!' he ordered, sharply. 'Do you want me to shake you again?'
'I expect you will do just that if the urge takes you,' she retorted, wondering vaguely where her courage was coming from. 'Coward that you are!' she added, twisting about with the instinctive, primitive compulsion of a wild female creature endeavoring to escape the inevitable.
'By God, Paula, you're asking for it! What are you trying to do—make me murder you!' Without affording her an opportunity of answering he jerked her protesting body against his, crushing it savagely until she uttered a little pleading cry as every bone affected seemed to be reduced to pulp. The blood pounded in her temples when her head was jerked so sharply that it seemed the muscles in her neck would snap.
'Leave m-me alone,' she whimpered, too weak and despairing to speak in anything but a low and husky tone. 'I—' The rest was smothered as his sensuous lips crushed hers in a hard, possessive kiss. She felt the lubrication of his mouth, forcing hers open, the contact of his teeth with hers before the roughness of his tongue sent a reluctant shudder of pleasure rippling through the entire length of her body. Still feebly trying to resist, she thrust her hands against his chest but they were caught and, without the slightest effort on his part, Ramon held them behind her back and looked down into her face with an expression of triumph that brought fury to her eyes. He intended to take her, and not gently as he had before, but with the arrogant domination of the conqueror whose intention it was to force total submission, to prove to her once and for all that he was her master.
'What are you going to do now?' he asked in some amusement as with the other hand he began to unbutton the front of her dress. 'Shall you still struggle to the end—or are you ready to admit that you would be wasting your energies?'
'I hate you,' was all she answered, in a voice that broke in the middle. 'I wish I'd never met you!'
He merely shrugged, more interested in what he was doing than in words. The dress she was wearing was long, nipped in at the waist and he appeared to be puzzled as to how to get it off. But just as she surmised, he soon discovered the zipper at the side and slid it down. He had to release her hands in order to slip the dress from her shoulders but she made no further move to struggle; she was overcome with weakness, and in any case, her emotions were already heightened by the contact of his hands with her flesh. She glanced down as the lovely dress dropped to the floor, obeying without protest when ordered to step out of it. She watched him flip it to one side with the toe of his highly-polished shoe and even that action seemed to accentuate the mastery he was so arrogantly adopting towards her.
'So you've decided that it's futile for you to fight me, eh?' His hands were smooth and warm on her arms, his deep-set foreign eyes almost lustful in their roving examination of her body. With a slick movement he had taken off her bra, and his lips twitched at the scantiness of the pretty piece of lace. She closed her eyes as he tossed it away, then quivered as his hand touched her breast, not moving, as if it were his intention to try her patience to the utmost. He knew so much about a woman's feelings! He could play with her for his own satisfaction and enjoyment until, crazy with longing, she would pander to his arrogant male ego by pleading with him to make love to her.
No, never that! He could do what he liked with her but she would never be reduced to submission as degrading as that.
His hands moved at last and it was Paula who felt triumphant now. She had managed to remain unmoving, as if she had no interest in what he was doing. He was exploring her soft body, his hands sweeping from her thighs, upwards to press into her waist, then to encircle her ribcage, his sensuous movements arrogantly possessive and masterful, his dark eyes all the time boring into her, watching her, alive to every change in her expression, every quiver of her soft young body. She had no illusions about his knowledge of her feelings; he knew he was awakening a desire for him that would crave fulfilment. He ordered her to put her arms around him and she obeyed, aware of his muscled strength beneath the evening shirt he wore. His mouth came down to possess hers and it seemed that every fibre was awakened when, at the same time, his hand slid down her back and she was brought even closer to his hard and sinewed frame. She was aware of the stirring rhythm of his movements, the erratic beat of his heart. His breath came more swiftly; his body pulsed with increasing ardour, infecting Paula's emotions and sending fire through her veins until she became lost in a sensuous, erotic longing for him.
'So you weren't intending to accept my attentions anymore?' His face was close to hers, amusement and arrogance mingling in his expression. 'How little you know yourself—wife!' With a swift and agile movement he had her in his arms, to stand for a long moment studying her with appraising eyes. 'Don't you feel rather foolish now?' he added, the gloating triumph in his tone abrasive on her ears. She turned away as he laid her down on the bed. He had proved his point, had brought her to surrender, but she would not afford him any more satisfaction than that, and so she made no answer, no sound at all until, a little later, a stifled moan escaped her, mingling with her husband's sudden gasp as their desire was fulfilled.
Chapter Eight
Paula awoke to the sunlight dancing on the wall of the bedroom, and to the perfume of flowers drifting in through the fly-screen covering the open window. Turning her head she looked at the tranquil figure of her husband and despite herself a great wave of love swept through her. The next moment, disgusted at her weakness, for the sensation was a weakness, she slid from the bed and went into the bathroom where she took a shower and was dressed before Ramon awoke.
'What time is it?' His eyes met hers through the mirror of the dressing-table where she was sitting, brushing her hair. 'Why didn't you wake me? There's a lot to do at the office today.'
'It isn't late.' She continued brushing her hair, avoiding his eyes now. 'I have about quarter to eight, but my watch isn't keeping very good time at present.'
'I'll buy you a new one,' he offered. 'There are some very excellent jewellers in San Juan as you probably know.'
She turned her head to look at him. So cool, leaning there on one elbow, watching her every movement! Last evening might never have taken place, much less the violent scene that had left her bruised and defeated.
'I don't want a new watch,' she said. 'I'll take this one in for repair.'
He shrugged and she turned away again, to pick up a perfume spray to use on her wrists and behind her ears. Her thoughts were in turmoil, because she felt she ought to leave here immediately, yet there was another side of her that could not bear the idea of leaving the way clear for Rosa to take her place. She thought of her attempts at revenge that had failed so miserably; she had intended repulsing her husband, hoping to succeed in convincing h
im that she did not want him. But she had been shown a very different side of his character, a frightening one which, although she knew him to be stern and forbidding at times, she would never have believed he possessed. He had taken what he wanted, gloatingly masterful as he proved, without much effort, that he could bring her to surrender just whenever he liked. A shuddering sigh escaped her; she shut out the scene and turned her thoughts to Rosa again. How long would it be before Ramon learned about her visit? Not long, she surmised, replacing the perfume spray and absently taking up the brush again.
'What are you thinking about, Paula?' Ramon's voice, cool and languid, came to her across the large, elegant bedroom.
'Why do you ask?' Paula went on brushing her hair and for a space there was silence between them.
'Don't try my patience too much,' advised Ramon at last. 'You haven't seen the worst of me and that's a warning you'd be well-advised to keep in mind.' Rising from the bed, he unfolded his long length in cat-like movements and stretched luxuriously. His dressing-gown was on the end of the bed and he put it on, wrapping it round him and tying the girdle. Paula stood, watching him through the mirror, her body quivering suddenly and tiny beads of moisture coming on her upper lip. Why was she afraid like this? Ramon was perfectly calm, in full control of his passions and his temper, so what was the matter with her?
He came over, to stare at her in silence, his eyes expressionless, devoid either of warmth or emotion. Strange man! Unfathomable and distant, as if reaching out into the past… It came almost as a shock to hear him say, 'You appear more beautiful every time I look at you.' His dark Spanish eyes roved; she was wearing linen slacks and a plain white shirt, and sandals that revealed peach-tipped toes. Her hair shone from the prolonged brushing she had given it; her cheeks were faintly flushed, the fine-textured skin flawlessly moulded to the classical bone structure of her face. She saw a muscle move unexpectedly in her husband's throat, was aware of his hand reaching out to draw her towards him, while with the other he relieved her of the hairbrush and laid it on the gleaming glass top of the dressing-table. 'But you seem afraid,' he added, as if suddenly noticing the moisture on her lip, the expression in her eyes.
'Fear does not become you. What is it?' Without awaiting an answer he was bending his head to take her quivering lips beneath his own in a long and passionate kiss that was yet gentle too, surprising her. She stared wordlessly up into his hard face when presently he held her from him; she felt small, defenceless, yet not now afraid of him. She saw the glimmer of a smile hovering on his lips and her response came hesitantly. If only he loved her! But he loved Rosa, of that Paula had no doubts whatsoever. He had married to spite her, to punish her for what she had done to him, but he loved her for all that.
He kissed her again, his arms tight around her, possessive and strong, his muscles tensed, and once again she was thinking that he had forgotten last night, and everything she had told him in her endeavor to get even. But he knew there was something wrong, and inevitably he would discover what it was—just as soon as his ex-fiancée telephoned him. He was kissing the delicate outline of Paula's breast and she quivered, caught in rapture that was pain.
'It'll be late when we get to the office,' she said, drawing away and becoming brisk. 'You've just said we have a lot to do.'
'Yes, we have.' He glanced at the clock and Paula wondered if he were estimating whether or not he would have time to make love to her. To her relief he said, 'I must shower and dress. I'll see you at breakfast.'
An hour and a half later Paula was sorting the mail when she came across an envelope that was addressed to her. She had written to several friends and this was one of the answers she had been expecting. Eagerly she slit the envelope and withdrew the single sheet of fine, airmail paper.
'Dear Paula,' she read. 'It was lovely to get your letter, with the colourful stamps and the foreign postmark. It caused quite a stir and the two boys were about to start a scrap as to which would have which stamp, so can you send the same two again and well have no further trouble. Well, you've certainly got yourself a lovely job, and your boss sounds like one of those unapproachables we ordinary girls can only stare at from afar and envy the girls who are attractive enough to win them for husbands. But of course, they are never faithful for long, as they have too many temptations. Their marriages break up and they try again and again. My Bill's a plain man, but nice and homey and I'm glad I've got him. How about you and Denis? Have you made any decisions yet? He wrote to my brother from some Caribbean island or other. Apparently his ship is on a Caribbean cruise so you could be having a surprise visit from him. I expect most ships call at Puerto Rico, as it sounds such a wonderful island with a great deal to offer…' The letter went on to the end of the page, and over, and ended, 'The kids send their love along with Bill's and mine. Be happy! Love Janice.'
Paula held the paper in her hand, fleetingly scanning the words again. Handsome men like Ramon are never faithful for long… Their marriages break up and they try again…
Slowly she folded the letter and returned it to its envelope. What a fool she had been to marry Ramon! How was she to explain to her friends that she had been married and then separated in so short a time? She was positive it would be a short time, for Ramon must be regretting the impulse that had parted him from the girl he really loved. He would ask for a divorce, offering his rejected wife compensation by way of a financial settlement. It was the old, old story…
The bell rang and she went to the inner office.
'I want you to go and choose a wristlet watch,' Ramon said, automatically glancing at the one she had on. 'Get exactly what you want and forget the price. All right?'
She began to shake her head, then suddenly felt stifled and the idea of getting out into the open for an hour or so appealed and she found herself saying, 'All right. I'll look, but I might not find what I want.' She had no intention of finding a watch to buy. Ramon could keep his presents for the woman he loved!
'I'm sorry not to come with you,' he went on, albeit rather absently as he fingered a pen lying on his desk, 'but I'm seeing a client as you know. Was there anything of importance in the mail?'
'I haven't really checked yet. I had one from a friend of mine.' A flicker of interest lightened his eyes. 'Male or female?'
'Female.'
'What about your friend Denis you spoke of? Hasn't he written?'
'No, but his ship's in the Caribbean; he might be seeing me, if the ship calls here, that is. Many ships do. There was one in yesterday; the town was crowded with the passengers. It must have been a very large ship—perhaps the Q.E.2.'
'Or maybe more than one ship was in.' Ramon paused a moment, frowning. 'If this Denis does come to see you, you'll tell him it's all over, that you're now married and he mustn't try to see you again. Understand?'
Fury blazed at his words and the manner of their delivery. Who did he think he was dictating to! And he himself in love with another woman! Paula's first impulse was to tell Ramon she would see Denis just whenever she liked, and that, in any case, it was none of his business whom she had visiting her. But she refrained, wanting only to get away, and walk through the beautiful city of Old San Juan with its mellowed houses, its medieval atmosphere, and the citadel that rose above the city, dominating it. There was an abundance of flowers too, and the shops, a mingling of quaint and modern, were fascinating storehouses of treasures to take one's breath away.
She went out into the sunshine, and immediately the weight lifted from her. Once in the old city she sauntered along, not caring if she did not get back for hours. She had a very good excuse; she could not find exactly what she wanted, even though she had looked around all the jewellers' shops in the city. Telling the lie did not bother her in the least; she was too lethargic to worry her head about such things.
It soon became evident that a cruise ship had docked, for the passengers were in evidence in fair numbers, all staring about them or stopping to take snapshots. Paula wandered on, from one street t
o another, the sun on her face, the incomparable scent of frangipani in her nostrils. She felt thirsty as she passed a coffee shop and the delicious smell drifted out to her. She entered, and the first person she saw was Denis! She stood by the door and stared, watching the blue eyes widen with pleasure, the full mouth curve in a ready smile.
'Paula!' he exclaimed, rising. 'What a pleasant surprise! I had no idea I'd see you at this time. I intended phoning you at the office address you'd sent me, to see if it was possible for us to have lunch together, and then dinner tonight. We don't sail till one o'clock tomorrow morning—' He stopped to look her over admiringly. 'My, but this climate suits you! You've got a lovely tan.'
'So have you.' Suddenly she was happy, for here was someone to confide in… How would he take her marriage? He had obviously not yet received the letter she had sent to Southampton, the port to which she had expected the ship to return after its voyage to the Canary Islands. 'I'm free for an hour or so,' she said, automatically glancing around. 'Shall we talk here or go somewhere else?'
He stared at her, seeming to be a trifle concerned by the look in her eyes.
'Is something wrong?' he asked anxiously.
She nodded.
'Yes, Denis, very wrong.' She glanced around again; the cafe was fairly full, with sounds of talk and laughter and music in the background. 'Let's find a quiet place,' she said. 'There's a very nice hotel just along this street; it's expensive and and exclusive. We can talk there.'
He seemed to guess at her reluctance to talk as they went along, so he contained his curiosity until they were seated in the coffee lounge and had given their order. Very quiet music, and the occasional voice, were the only sounds to disturb them and Paula wasted no time in beginning to talk. Denis, his bronzed and rugged face set but his eyes narrowing and widening alternately as she progressed, sat there opposite to her, noticing that her eyes had become dull and deep in the pallid frame of her face. He seemed lost for words when at last she had finished her story. But eventually he spoke.