The house was furnished perfectly, with both antique and modern furniture, vivid contrasts of shade and colour met Jassy's eyes wherever she looked. The lounge had an open fireplace surrounded by old glowing tiles and carved wood. A wicker basket of logs stood at the side of it. Again the carpet was Oriental, the pale green walls hung with framed photographs and paintings. All the furniture in the room was old, mellow and very comfortable, the only concessions to modern living being the impressive-looking stereo equipment and a television.
Jassy's eyes skimmed quickly over everything, imagining dark and cosy winter evenings in front of the log fire, with snow thick on the ground outside.
The long windows were open leading on to the garden and it was all so beautiful and perfect that Jassy wanted to cry.
Max was standing by the door, still watching her carefully. His jacket was gone and so was his tie, his shirt open at his brown throat and his waistcoat undone. Jassy looked at him, dry-mouthed, his fierce attraction assaulting her senses.
'It's wonderful,' she said huskily.
He smiled. 'You can change anything you don't like,' he said softly, giving her a free rein.
'Did you choose the furniture and the colour schemes?' she asked curiously. Max nodded. 'You have perfect taste,' she complimented, looking away from him, outside, at the bright garden. She had known the answer to her question before asking it.
'I married you,' Max replied, and she could not tell whether or not he was serious.
Next he showed her the kitchen. It too had an open fire and every imaginable modern convenience, carefully planned, to blend easily into the old-world atmosphere of the room.
Jassy gazed at the huge wooden dresser, displaying beautiful china, at the rows of shining copper pans and at the window boxes full of fragrant herbs. It was perfect.
And so it continued, room after room, until Jassy's head was spinning with all she had seen. Behind each door there seemed to be some new surprise that made her cry out with pleasure. If she had been asked to imagine the house of her dreams, she could not have imagined a house more beautiful than Oakdene.
Finally there was only one room left. Max opened the door, and stood back to let her enter first.
'Our bedroom,' he said softly. Jassy swallowed convulsively, squeezing past him obviously. A huge brass bed dominated one wall, in front of huge open windows, the light through the trees outside dappling the old and intricate patchwork quilt. Her eyes registered the dark slatted doors of fitted wardrobes, her heart beating suffocatingly fast as she sought to find the words to tell Max that she would not be sleeping in this room with him. .
She sensed him behind her, and her words would not come.
'Jassy,' Max murmured huskily. 'Come to me.'
She heard the faint note of command in his voice, and a strong shiver of excitement ran through her.
She turned slowly to find him staring at her with such hungry intensity that she was transfixed for a moment, before turning away from him again, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.
Then he was beside her, pulling her round to face him, his strong fingers burning through the thin silk of her dress.
'Let me go,' she whispered desperately, struggling in his grasp.
'I can't,' he said simply. 'I've waited too long for you.'
'No—I want. . . .' She felt panic rising up and making her feel sick. There would be no way she could hide her feelings from him if he became her lover. It would be embarrassing and agonising because he did not love her. He had only married her to get his hands on those damned shares. She would not let him make love to her. Not now. Not ever. She needed strength.
But his hands had become gentle on her shoulders, tracing her delicate collarbone, the long fingers sensual.
'Please let me go,' Jassy moaned, terribly aware that she could not resist him for very much longer. She reached up to push at his wide shoulders. 'I won't let you. . . .'
'You can't stop me, nothing can, and you don't want to stop me,' Max muttered against the golden softness of her hair.
It can't be true, Jassy thought dizzily, I don't want him. But to her horror, the hands she had raised to push him away were resting lightly on his shoulders. She could feel the smooth warmth of his skin through the light material of his shirt. Of their own volition her fingers were shaping and stroking the tense muscles of his shoulders.
Her panic had completely dissolved, the familiar weakness flooding through her limbs, destroying coherent thought, and she was treacherously responding as Max drew her into his arms, his mouth finding hers with bruising need.
He kissed her deeply, parting her lips with devastating expertise, then he lifted her effortlessly into his arms and carried her to the bed. Jassy felt the hard, unyielding strength of those arms around her and beneath her, and looking into his eyes she saw the naked desire burning in their green depths.
It was true, she could not stop him, did not want to stop him, and her fear and panic returned at that thought.
'Max. . . .' she began earnestly.
'Be still, Jassy, I won't hurt you.' His voice was incredibly gentle. He laid her on the bed, then moved beside her, his warm urgent mouth possessing hers before she had time to protest, drugging her, until her need for him flared inside her, out of control, and she wound her slim arms around his neck, to tangle her fingers in the darkness of his hair.
His hands were moving at her back, and she felt the downward slide of her zip. Then suddenly her shoulders were bare, as he pushed the white dress down and off, slowly discarding the rest of her clothes, until she was naked beneath his stroking, seeking hands.
He leaned back then, to look at her, and Jassy moved to cover herself, her face very flushed.
'Don't.' He stayed her moving hands with a husky command, and his burning gaze moved hungrily over her slender white-body. 'Dear God, you're beautiful,' he said raggedly, his rare green eyes still devouring her. 'I'm almost afraid to touch you, but
I need you so badly, Jassy,' he groaned, lowering his dark head to find her bruised and parted lips again.
His hands slid over her trembling body, tracing the curve of smooth bare skin from shoulder to thigh. He was breathing heavily, his heart pounding against her aching body. There would be no escape.
'Max, I've never. . . .' she groaned, shuddering as his cool mouth touched her breasts, tasting the soft scented skin, as his lips moved to capture a taut nipple.
He lifted his head-immediately, his eyes dark and gentle.
'I know that, child, and I won't hurt you, I swear,' he promised softly, burying his face against her satiny skin.
Jassy could not fight him any longer. She loved him and he had aroused her so expertly, so fiercely, that her only desire was to satisfy the hard need that she felt tautening his powerful body.
She reached for him, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and finding the warmth of his hair-roughened chest. She heard him draw breath sharply and unevenly as she began to touch him, stroking her small hands over his warm skin to find the muscled flatness of his stomach.
'Max? Are you there?' The low cultured voice of a woman suddenly broke over them as they lay entwined on the huge, sunlight-washed bed. Jassy stiffened.
'Ignore it,' Max muttered thickly, against her bare shoulders.
'Max?' Slow footsteps came up the stairs towards the bedroom, accompanying the questioning call. They both heard them. Max swore long and savagely under his breath, rolling away from Jassy and getting to his feet with lithe angry grace, buttoning his shirt.
Jassy lay dazed, where he had left her, the bright shadows of the trees outside the window dappling her taut, beautiful body. Max stared down at her with burning tormented eyes, breathing deeply as he regained control.
Then he strode from the room and Jassy was alone. She listened to his low, angry voice outside the door, as she slowly came to her senses. At that moment of realisation she sat bolt upright on the bed. Was she mad? Only minutes ago she had been lying in Max's arms, waiting for
his love, and her own weakness disgusted her. She had promised herself that she would not let him touch her, he did not love her after all. She closed her eyes in despair. She had been crazy to go to the register office with revenge in her heart. She would never have revenge on Max, and he would probably destroy her, loving him as she did.
Miserably, she dressed, brushing out her tousled hair vigorously. Who was the woman downstairs? she wondered. Whoever she was, she obviously knew Max well enough to walk into his house and up his stairs in search of him, and Jassy felt a fierce stab of jealousy at this stranger's knowledge of her husband. Glancing at herself briefly in the mirror, she left the bedroom and went in search of Max and the woman.
They were in the lounge. The woman, petite and redhaired and very pretty, was lazing in a chair, casually dressed in elegant riding clothes. Max was standing by the window, smoking idly.
As soon as he saw Jassy he came forward, taking her arm, his eyes still shadowed with desire.
'Jassy, I'd like you to meet Marianne Sargeant, who lives in the village. Marianne, my wife, Jassy.'
'Your wife?' Marianne was obviously taken aback, but controlled her surprise immediately. 'Isn't this a bit sudden, Max?'
'Is it?' Max countered smoothly, his hard face unreadable. The inference of Marianne's remarks was not lost on Jassy.
'How do you do, Miss Sargeant,' she murmured politely, her gentle mouth tightening with an almost instant dislike for this pretty stranger.
Marianne was staring at her, assessing her young beauty with narrowed eyes, as she murmured something equally polite. Her eyes were also noting, with distaste, Max's possessive arm around Jassy's shoulders.
'You're obviously a very clever girl,' she said with a brittle smile, managing to make it sound insulting.
Jassy looked at her, amazed at how rude she was. 'Really, how is that?' she asked blandly. Marianne was not pretty at all, she decided at that moment. She was far too cold and sullen. She was older than Jassy, twenty-eight or twenty-nine. Did she love Max? Had she been waiting for him to propose to her?
'To get Max to the altar, of course,' Marianne replied coolly. 'It must have been quite a fight.'
Jassy gasped. She would not be insulted by this woman, however close a friend she was to Max.
'Aren't you rather jumping to conclusions?' she enquired silkily, a blank smile curving her lips. 'Perhaps I didn't have the trouble that you have obviously had.'
Marianne flushed, and jumped to her feet. 'Are you going to stand there and let her insult me, Max?' she said, turning to the man at Jassy's side, and managing to inject her voice with just the right amount of pain.
'What do you think? You give as good as you get, Marianne, you don't need my help,' Max drawled uncaringly.
Marianne stared at him for a second, then turned on her heel and left the room. The front door slammed a moment later.
'Bravo, Jassy, you can be quite a little spitfire when you're roused,' Max said softly against her ear. He was obviously amused. Jassy pulled away from him, anger flashing in her brown eyes.
'Did you expect me to stand there being insulted by your . . . your lover?' she snapped furiously, her jealousy still making her nasty.
'Jealous?' Max queried, with mocking eyes.
Her mouth tightened. He was too damned perceptive! 'Hardly. I felt sorry for her,' Jassy lied, her voice flat and convincing.
Max raised his eyebrows. 'Feel sorry for yourself,' he advised softly, laughing at her, his meaning clear.
Jassy flushed deeply. 'You really are the most- '
she began, but he cut her short.
'Shall I tell you something, my love? Marianne is not my lover. She is merely a rather over-presumptuous young lady who lives in the village. She was riding past today and she saw the car, so she dropped in, a habit of hers which I don't encourage. Satisfied?'
'I don't care,' Jassy replied stiffly and childishly. 'You don't have to explain yourself to me.' This was another lie. In fact, she felt profoundly relieved that he had. It was so good to know that Marianne Sargeant meant nothing to him—so very good.
Max laughed, his eyes glittering with amusement.
'Perhaps I want to,' he said tolerantly, suddenly serious. Jassy lowered her head, her stomach turning over at something in his voice.
'I'm hungry,' she said, changing the subject quickly.
Max looked at her, his intelligent eyes probing, sensing her sudden withdrawal. 'Let's have dinner, then,' he said lightly. The huge refrigerator in the kitchen was well stocked with food. Max caught her curious glance.
'There's a woman from the village who comes in to clean the place,' he explained.
'Not Marianne?' Jassy teased.
'Not Marianne,' he replied, surprising her by catching hold of her small chin and giving her a brief, hard kiss on the mouth. 'She won't be in to clean the house for a couple of weeks. I've given her a holiday.'
They grilled steaks, prepared vegetables and made a salad together, working in harmony, although Jassy was still avoiding any physical contact with Max. She refused to let her mind dwell on the thought of the coming night, her fear making her a little jumpy.
They ate in silence, and she was aware of the change of mood between them, and Max's eyes resting darkly on her from time to time. When the meal was over and she had washed up, she felt as nervous as a kitten, visibly starting every time Max spoke to her, her answering conversation brief and snappy.
He noted her every action, retiring behind a cool, remote facade, as the evening wore on.
Finally he moved over to where she was sitting and gently touched her hair, a light conciliatory gesture, his mouth thinning as she flinched away from him.
'Okay, Jassy,' he said with cool weariness, 'what's the matter?'
'I don't know what you're talking about,,' she replied untruthfully, her heart beating very fast.
'Liar.' You know damned well what I'm talking about,' Max said, sardonically.
'All right—I don't like you touching me,' she retaliated quickly, in a high, nervous voice, her eyes meeting his briefly, then skittering away.
But there was to be no escape, for he tilted her chin with hard fingers, forcing her to meet his enigmatic eyes.
'You haven't been near me all day, you haven't touched me once of your own free will. I want to know why,' he stated flatly.
Jassy stared at him fearfully. It could have been her imagination, but she felt sure that a faint spasm of pain flickered in his eyes for a brief second. Anguish squeezed her heart. She loved him so very much, but he must never know. She had to find some way of holding him off.
'I suppose it's difficult for you to believe that I don't want to touch you,' she said slowly and clearly, retaliating in the only way she could think of, pain clenching inside her like a fist as she spoke so cruelly.
'I don't have to believe it,' Max muttered dangerously, her remark angering him, 'because we both know that it's a lie. Shall I prove it to you?' His hand tightened painfully on her chin and his eyes were bleak with anger as he gazed down at her.
'What, more force?' she enquired scornfully, fear of self-betrayal making her reckless.
'Goddammit, Jassy, are you deliberately trying to annoy me?' Max asked tersely.
'If that will make you let me go, yes!' she almost shouted, feeling desperate and hurt.
'I'll never let you go,' he said fiercely, almost beyond control from her deliberate goading. 'You're my wife, and I want you.'
Despite her struggling protests, he lifted her gently into his arms and carried her upstairs to the bedroom. Jassy fought him every inch of the way, torn between despair and desire, her nails clawing at him, until he grabbed both her small hands in one of his and held them still, swearing violently under his breath.
He deposited her on the bed, then before she had time to scramble away, arched over her, pinning her to the soft mattress.
The weight of his body on hers was weakening her resistance and he was staring at her, holding h
er gaze with shadowed green eyes.
'Why this sudden change in you, Jassy?' he asked curiously. 'A few days ago, your eyes and your body promised me heaven, promised me everything. I could have taken you any time I chose to, but now ' He broke off, shaking his dark head.
Hot colour stained Jassy's cheeks at his words. Had she given herself away so easily in his arms? she wondered shamefully. 'Now, I detest you,' she said passionately, fighting the deep emotions he aroused so carelessly in her with the only weapons she had left—cruel words. She had to stop him making love to her, because she thought she might die of agony if he did.
Max's face closed as she insulted him and she felt him stiffen against her. If she had not known better, she might have thought she had hurt him.
'Now,' he said very slowly, his voice flat, 'you are my wife, and you will have to learn your role as my lover.'
'I wish to God I'd never married you!' she said hysterically, twisting futilely beneath him, hypnotised by the dark, angry glitter of his eyes.
'Well, that's unfortunate,' Max drawled coldly and hurtfully. 'Because I intend to have you—with or without your consent. I have the taste of your body in my mouth, the feel of you beneath my skin, and I'm hungry for more.'
'I'll hate you, if you do,' Jassy warned feverishly, staring at him with wild eyes.
He lifted his shoulder in idle disregard. 'Hate me, then,' he said flatly.
He lowered his head, his warm, angry mouth bruising hers in its ferocity. Jassy lay passive under the hard demand of his lips, but not for long. Her body trembled as she tried without success to evade him, her lips suddenly parting weakly beneath the fierce, persuasive possession of his.
His arms held her forcefully, his hands almost cruel as he forced her to obey him and lie still. She heard him laugh harshly and triumphantly as she acquiesced, and stared up at the face that hovered only inches over hers, at his glittering green eyes, the hard bones of his face, the deep hollows beneath his cheekbones, the hungry, sensual mouth.
She held her breath as his eyes searched hers.
'Did you really think that I wouldn't take what is mine?' he asked with harsh wonder.
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