Before she could answer, his mouth came down on hers again, different now, the anger and cruelty gone, as he kissed her deeply, forcing her response, a response that she could hold back no longer, when his caressing hands began to move on her body.
She arched herself against the hard, urgent length of him in final and total surrender, her eyes closing and her lips parting softly beneath his, to unashamedly match the hunger of his kiss.
He undressed her slowly, touching her shaking body gently, stroking the smooth bare skin he uncovered, exploringly.
Finally she lay naked against him, shivering with need and longing and shyness as his eyes moved slowly over her, brilliant with flame and intense desire. The breeze through the open windows blew cool against her hot face, lifting the tousled cloud of blonde hair across the smooth pillows. She felt no fear as he undressed, but watched every graceful movement of his powerful brown body, with aching attention.
When he reached for her again, she moaned, as their naked bodies came together for the first time, revelling in his strength and his mastery, her arms closing tightly around him, as she felt him shuddering against her.
He aroused her very slowly, his hands stroking over every inch-of her. His mouth abandoned hers to move across her throat, her slim shoulders burning wherever it touched, finally reaching the soft swell of her aching breasts.
'Max. . . .' She gasped his name, her fingers clenching against his smooth, unyielding shoulders, her slender white body arching against his mouth, as his cool lips sought and captured a hard nipple, teasing it with his lips and tongue until Jassy was lost in pure sensation, her blood roaring in her ears, deafening any coherent thought.
'Touch me, Jassy, for God's sake touch me,' Max groaned harshly, his breathing forced and uneven as he buried his lean face against her breasts.
Tentatively at first, Jassy did as she was ordered, learning with pleasure how to make him draw breath sharply, how to make him groan as her hands and lips caressed him, the heavy pounding of his heart matching hers.
Her only thought now was to satisfy the aching, thrusting demand of his hard, powerful body, everything else was forgotten, except her own need, her untaught body, shuddering uncontrollably in his arms, almost fainting beneath the sweet torture of his caress.
At last he moved over her, staring down at her with eyes that burned, as they rested on her flushed face.
'Tell me you want me, Jass,' he demanded raggedly. 'Please.'
'I want you Max, my love,' she trembled, with no thought of denying him.
The fierce and piercing sensual explosion that followed was beyond anything that Jassy had ever imagined, and as Max patiently and expertly carried her to a shattering fulfilment, the last sound she remembered was his deep shuddering groan of satisfaction.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EARLY next morning, woken by the singing birds outside the window, Jassy found herself lying in Max's arms, her cheek pressed to the hair-roughened warmth of his chest, her arms around him.
She lay perfectly still for a moment, listening to the deep, steady beat of his heart, aware that his hands lay possessively on her body. Sweet memories of the night before filled her mind, and flooded her warm languorous body with weakness. She had given herself to him with total abandon, no doubt revealing her love, her need for him.
To him, it would have meant nothing more than the satisfaction of his needs—why should it? She was just another woman, the fact that she was his wife inconsequential. He did not love her.
Despite her efforts to hold them back, her sad tears fell freely over the warm hard body beneath her and she trembled against him, her mind wrapped in grey melancholy.
Max woke slowly, his muscular arms tightening protectively around her as he felt her tears.
'Jassy, what is it, child?' he asked softly, his voice husky with sleep and concern as he tilted up her face to meet his warm, lazy green eyes.
She stared into his heart-stoppingly familiar face with bruised eyes, the breeze from the open window behind them lifting her tousled hair and blowing it across his strong brown throat in a vaguely symbolic gesture.
She shook her head, tears spilling like diamonds out of her closed eyelids and falling down her pale hurt face.
He watched with inscrutable eyes for a second, then with a muffled curse pressed her shining golden head to his smooth-skinned shoulder, his arms closing around her again.
It was too much to bear, being so close to him, and Jassy struggled desperately to free herself. Max let her go easily.
'Leave me alone,' she whispered, sniffing loudly, and finding herself free of his strong comforting arms, she swung her legs off the bed, uncaring of her nakedness, filled with the need to get away from him. If, as she feared, she broke down and told him of her love, she would be left with nothing, not even her pride.
She looked round wildly for something to cover herself with, desperately fighting the almost overwhelming urge to fling herself back into his arms, to touch his body and beg him to make love to her.
Seeing her fearful, darting glances, Max reached for a shirt that lay within easy reach and tossed it to her, his mouth twisting bitterly as he levered himself on to one elbow and watched her slip into it, her shaking fingers taking ages to fasten the buttons.
'Did you think I was going to jump on you?' he queried softly, his face hard and blank. Jassy flinched, unable to speak.
'I presume that is what this little scene is all about,' he continued, still in that dangerously pleasant voice that grated along her nerve, endings.
She could feel him staring at her, but could not turn round. She felt the mattress move and the rustle of clothes, and seconds later he was standing in front of her, dressed only in a pair of tight denim jeans that hugged his lean hips and flat stomach.
Jassy met his eyes with a fierce rush of uncontrollable desire weakening her already shaky limbs. In the bright morning light he was magnificent, his overwhelming attraction and his powerful half-naked body leaving her dry-mouthed and breathless.
'Well?' he prompted coolly. Then he sighed. 'Oh, Jassy, what is it? Tell me—I can help,' he said gently.
Self-disgust and bitterness filled her, at her leaping inward response to his voice. This subtle persuasion would not work on her. If he thought he could bully and cajole her into submission, he had another think coming! Her stepfather had tried that too many times for her not to recognise the signs.
'Just leave me alone,' she repeated stonily.
'Is that what you want?' His voice was hard and strange.
'Yes,' she snapped, losing control. 'I don't want you to touch me again, I hate to have your hands on me—I hate you! Do you understand?' She lifted numb, defiant eyes to him.
His face was totally unfathomable, the green eyes suddenly blank. 'You make yourself very clear,' he said wearily. 'Very well, I won't touch you again.' Seeing her disbelieving expression he added flatly, 'You have my word.'
Turning on his heel, he left the bedroom, slamming the door violently behind him.
As soon as he had gone, Jassy covered her face with her hands, shaking reaction gripping her. She could hear Max moving around downstairs—a fair indication of how angry he was, then there was silence.
After , crying herself dry and empty, Jassy finally got up and decided to take a shower. Gathering clean clothes together, to lay out on the bed, she was fighting the conflicting emotions inside her heart.
Now that Max had given his word not to touch her again, she was safe. But that did not silence the perverse, nagging voice in her head that insisted she wanted him, needed him to touch her.
What a dreadful mess, she thought wearily as she made her way to the bathroom, her feet dragging lethargically. She showered quickly, then dressed in blue denim jeans and a pale yellow sleeveless blouse, leaving her hair loose.
Apprehension gripped her as she walked silently down the stairs in search of some breakfast, but the kitchen was empty, no sign of Max.
He had
made coffee and she poured herself a cup, savouring the rich refreshing flavour as she sipped it slowly. She was not at all hungry, so after washing her cup, she strolled through to the lounge. Also empty. Max must have gone out. A glance through the front door confirmed this, the black Mercedes was not there.
Feeling lonely and deserted, she went back into the lounge and sat down. Max. She longed for him to come back.
At midday there was still no sign of him. Jassy nibbled halfheartedly at a leg of roast chicken she had found in the refrigerator, while gazing out of the window. The day seemed to be dragging by very slowly. With a conscious effort, she pulled herself together. She would not mope around waiting for Max, she would put her time to good use.
A thorough exploration of the house came first. She had found it difficult to concentrate the day before, glancing over the rooms quickly and nervously, beneath Max's intent gaze.
Today she took her time, stepping inside every room and closing the door behind her, her observant eyes missing nothing.
It was another beautiful day, so she opened all the windows wide, leaning out over the sills and looking down into the gardens that surrounded the house.
Reaching their bedroom, she stopped in her tracks, her eyes on the disorderly bed, her face hot. Max's pillows bore the imprint of his head, and she buried her own face against them with an aching heart.
She should collect her belongings and leave now, she knew that, but something strong and unknown held her in this calm and beautiful house, waiting for the return of her husband.
It was ridiculous—to marry a man who she knew was only using her for her body and for what would be hers in two years' time—that had been her first mistake. To imagine that she could wreak revenge on him by marrying him—well, that was laughable! She wondered with a faint smile whether a divorce could be obtained on the grounds of temporary insanity.
But having made all these mistakes, she did not cut her losses and run. No, on the contrary, she stayed in his house, missing him like hell and waiting for him to come home. Perhaps her insanity wasn't all that temporary, she thought wryly.
Life with Morgan, if nothing else, had made her fairly resilient. Max would hurt her, but she loved him, and a shock of insight told her that deep in her heart she still did not quite believe what Morgan and Rene had told her about him. She was still hoping that he would come to love her.
It was all totally confusing, her emotions were mixed and changing, the only constancy being her love.
Sighing deeply, she got off the bed and tidied it. Memory of the night spent in this bed, in Max's arms, memory of his expression as they made love, would not be driven from her mind, and she felt dizzy with longing for him.
Her suitcases stood on the floor, and the bed made, she decided to unpack them—a small burning of bridges. She peeped inside the fitted wardrobes, finding to her surprise that a number had been emptied for her.
She unpacked her clothes and hung them up, coming across the black silk dressing gown, still carefully packaged. She placed it gingerly on the dressing table, unsure of what to do with it. She could not give it to Max, not now. She remembered how happy and full of hope she had been when she bought it, and her hands trembled as she stored away the rest of her clothes. That done, the room was tidy and her eyes skimmed over it as she stood by the door, her glance falling on a piece of paper that had obviously fallen off the bedside table.
She walked over to it, picking it up absently. It was a folded newspaper cutting and she was placing it back on the table when a name, her stepfather's name, caught her eye.
She unfolded it curiously, her face freezing with shock as she saw what it was—a photograph of Morgan and herself, taken at Kennedy Airport, some years ago. She remembered the occasion well. Morgan had been involved in a controversial land deal at the time and the American press had been waiting for them, hoping for a story, when they flew in late one night.
She read the caption beneath the old photograph without really taking it in, her thoughts chaotic. Then she looked at herself in the photo. She had been nearly eighteen, having just left school, she looked young and tired, her eyes wide and startled.
Why did Max have this cutting? Unless, and she fought against the thoughts forming in her brain, he had been planning this despicable trick concerning the shares for some time. It suddenly struck her that her engagement ring had come in a box from a New York jewellers, so Max must have had it long before he proposed to her. It was too unbearable to think about, and as though the piece of paper was burning her fingers, she quickly opened the small drawer in the bedside table and thrust it inside. To leave it on the top of the table would be to reveal to Max that she had seen it, and she did not .want that.
With the small amount of housework done, Jassy found herself at a loose end again. She wandered into the garden, amazed to see a row of beehives in a secluded spot beneath the trees. Homemade honey—her face lit up at the thought. There were vegetables and fruit trees and masses of flowers, just how a garden should be.
She sat down on a tree trunk, lifting her face to the sun. She had never lived anywhere with a proper garden before and it was heavenly just to sit in one as perfect as this. She felt drawn to Oakdene, already she felt as though it was her home.
Damn—her eyes were filling with tears again— why couldn't Max love her?
She heard the telephone ringing from where she was sitting and ran quickly into the house, praying that it would be him. It was Roxanne.
'Hi, Jassy, I hope I haven't called at an inconvenient time!' she laughed.
Struggling with her disappointment, Jassy answered, 'No . . . no, I was in the garden.'
'How are you?' Roxanne asked, her voice sounding overwhelmingly friendly and warm to Jassy.
'I'm fine,' she managed.
'Good. And Max?'
'He's . . . out at the moment, but I'll tell him you phoned. How are you, and Tomas and Rafael?' Jassy asked quickly, hoping that her voice had not given anything away.
Roxanne paused for a second.
'We're all great. Tomas is coming down with a head cold, though—he can't get used to the British climate. Jassy, is anything wrong?' Her concern was almost Jassy's undoing.
'No—there's nothing wrong, why should there be? Please don't worry,' she said hastily.
Roxanne was not really convinced. 'If ever you need someone to talk to, you know where I am,' she said slowly. 'But what I really called for was to ask you and Max for dinner. Some time soon, before we go back to Madrid. Will you come? I realise that it's hardly the time to be asking, you'll want to be alone together, I know!'
If only that were true, Jassy thought sadly, then realised that she had not answered Roxanne.
'We'd love to come to dinner,' she said honestly. 'I'll ask Max, when he gets back, and ring you about the details.'
She felt unsure whether or not Max would want to be seen socially with her, so she could not make any definite arrangements.
Roxanne rang off soon afterwards, and Jassy lit a cigarette from the ornate silver box on the mantelpiece. She had felt like blurting everything out and confiding in Roxanne. Only common sense had held her back. Roxanne was a good and special friend, but she was Max's sister, and they were close. No good could possibly have come out of such confessions.
Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was after six. The afternoon had spied by. She would prepare dinner, perhaps using some of the fresh vegetables from the garden.
As she tied on an apron, she wondered why she could not hate Max when she was fully aware of what he had done and why he had done it. His championship of her against Morgan, she knew now, had been far more personal than she had imagined. It had been nothing to do with her at all—she had even felt that during the dreadful final row at the hotel. Two men fighting for a business, and she had been caught in the middle, a useful pawn. Her stepfather had used her for so long in that role, perhaps it was all she expected. She could not blame Max, she loved him. His intell
igence, his strength of character, his gentleness, everything about him attracted her deeply. It was a hopeless situation. Damn him!
She was just sliding a perfectly made beef pie into the oven when she heard the front door slam. Her heart raced away and her whole body tensed nervously. A moment later Max appeared through the kitchen door, taking her breath way, as she looked at him.
He stared at her with unfathomable green eyes, taking in her small bare feet, the apron and her loose golden hair.
'You have flour on your face,' he said expressionlessly. Some greeting! Jassy thought ruefully, wiping her face carelessly with the back of her hand. Max leaned indolently against the door jamb.
'You've missed it,' he said, referring to the flour, his mouth a straight uncompromising line.
Jassy sighed, weakened by his fierce masculinity as he stood there with his arms folded lightly across his broad chest. She strolled over to him, keeping her eyes firmly on his shoulders. 'Show me,' she invited, flashing him a small gende smile. He hesitated, then reached out, trailing his fingers lightly across her cheekbone.
'It's gone.' His voice was deeper, softer, his fingers not leaving her face but moving, seemingly of their own volition, in slow caress to her small, pointed chin.
His touch shivered through her and she pulled away involuntarily. His mouth tightened. 'More games, Jassy?' he enquired stonily, his meaning crystal clear. She turned away, hurt.
'I've made a beef pie for dinner,' she said in a small voice.
Max raised a dark eyebrow. 'You really are turning into the "little wife", aren't you?' he said bitterly, his voice cold.
Jassy turned on him, her eyes brilliant with unshed tears. 'Yes, I am, but that's what you married me for, isn't it?' she snapped.
'Is it? I wouldn't have said so.' He was infuriatingly cool, angering Jassy further.
'Perhaps it was my business interests that appealed to you, then,' she said furiously, daring him to mention the shares in her stepfather's company.
'Business interests?' he questioned smoothly, his hard face totally blank.
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