The Convenient Lorimer Wife

by Penny Jordan

  He lowered himself easily on to her body, one hard knee defying all the attempts of her slim thighs and locked muscles to deny it access.

  The hard muscled weight of him deprived her of breath, and Somer struggled to subdue her intense panic, reminding herself that this was what she had wanted. Chase had removed his swimming shorts and the feel of his naked body against her set off a fresh rush of alarm.

  She felt Chase move against her, his hand on her hip before it slid between their bodies. The intimate brush of his fingers against her was something she hadn’t been prepared for and she jumped, tensing her entire body, her eyes flying open as her body repelled his invading touch.

  Fierce waves of trembling heat washed across her body, sending contradictory signals to her brain. Chase realigned his weight, leaning on his side, watching her closely as his hand returned to her hip, his thumb stroking her tense muscles. A shivering sigh of relief escaped her lips, quickly giving way to fresh panic as Chase moved again, releasing her captive wrists, guiding her hand down his body with an unmistakable purpose that tensed Somer’s muscles and made her fingers curl protestingly into her palm. Her hand felt as cold as ice when Chase placed it on his thigh, her eyes sliding frantically away from his, panic and fear exploding inside her, as she struggled to subdue all her natural modesty and remember why she was here.

  It was bad enough when she had thought Chase simply intended to almost rape her, but now, knowing he wanted and expected her to touch him as intimately as he had touched her, turned her brain into a tight ball of panic, every instinct urging flight.

  ‘You want the photographs,’ Chase murmured softly in her ear. ‘You make love to me, Somer. It turns me on when the woman becomes the aggressor. Take me inside you, Somer, show me just how very good you are.’

  Numb with panic Somer could only stare blindly up at him, her strangled, ‘No, please…I can’t,’ so low that she was amazed that he heard it. ‘I don’t want the photographs,’ she added wildly, ‘I never wanted them, I…’

  ‘Then what did you want?’

  He moved so swiftly that she had no opportunity to defend herself from the probing question. ‘Well, Somer, what did you want?’

  ‘I wanted you to make love to me.’ She had no thought of lying. She felt too battered emotionally to think of even a half-way believable untruth.

  ‘You did?’ Dark eyebrows rose in sardonic disbelief. ‘Well you have a funny way of showing it.’

  ‘I wanted you to make love to me because I’m still a virgin,’ Somer admitted wretchedly, too disheartened and miserable to keep the truth back any longer. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to see the expression on his face and so she rolled away from him, keeping her back to him, her voice muffled. ‘I never wanted any photographs, I just…’

  ‘Lost your nerve,’ Chase said with heavy irony. ‘I suppose I ought to have guessed. All the signs were there.’

  Her face buried in her arms, Somer flushed dark red with humiliation. ‘Oh yes, I know how useless I am as a sexual partner; what a turn-off I can be. I know I don’t know how to please a man, how to…’ Her voice rose with each sobbed admission. She had come so far, humiliated herself so much already. Chase had shown that physically he wasn’t completely indifferent to her. She rolled over to face him, her eyes dark-bruised pansy violet in her small face. Inside she was a tightly clenched bundle of nerves, please let him say yes, she prayed earnestly, please, please. She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet the enigmatic blankness of his eyes.

  ‘Chase, please, please would you make love to me?’

  She couldn’t endure the tense silence that followed her husky question.

  ‘Somer.’ She felt the warmth of his breath against her temple as he leaned towards her, his fingers splaying across her back. ‘Somer, now isn’t the time; try to understand…’

  Oh she understood all right, he was rejecting her, just as Andrew had rejected her. He had wanted her when he thought she was experienced; but now he knew the truth he no longer felt any desire for her.

  ‘I can’t believe you simply woke up this morning and decided you wanted to lose your virginity, and to me,’ she heard Chase saying calmly. ‘We need to talk about this.’

  ‘What is there to talk about?’ Somer recognised the faint hysteria edging up under her voice. ‘You don’t want me. No one wants me. Andrew was right, I just don’t have what it takes…’

  ‘Andrew?’ Chase demanded sharply.

  ‘Yes, Andrew, the man I was engaged to until this morning, until I found him in bed with someone else, someone with the experience to give him what I can’t. Someone who turns him on in a way that I’ll never be able to. He’s like you, you see,’ she said evenly, wondering how her voice managed to seem so calm when she was being devoured, dying from the pain exploding inside her. ‘He doesn’t like virgins…’

  ‘And it was because of him that you attached yourself to me this morning.’ There was a look of grim incredulity about Chase’s face that should have warned her of impending danger. ‘You were going to let me make love to you…you wanted me to make love to you because of this Andrew? Somer, don’t you know the dangers of acting like that? I came damn near raping you earlier on this afternoon, do you realise that? You deliberately let me think you were experienced, and not just experienced, but sexually casual as well. I could even have got you pregnant.’

  His harsh words, plus the shock of his rejection had a sobering effect on her; shivering with shame and reaction Somer acknowledged the truth of his words. The plain fact of the matter was that she had made herself a vow in the heat of temper which she could never have carried out once that temper had cooled; as it had been cooling before lunch, until she had consumed the three glasses of wine which had given her the Dutch courage to carry on, but over and above her acknowledgement of the truth of Chase’s comments was a bitter feeling of rejection, worse in many ways than Andrew’s had been. Chase didn’t want her; he wasn’t going to make love to her and she was going to be left with this curious ache deep down inside her that was tormenting her whole body.

  ‘Look, we’ve got to talk about this. We’ll go back to the hotel, and then we’ll meet for dinner.’

  ‘No,’ Somer protested sharply, ‘I never want to see you again, don’t you understand?’

  ‘Oh I understand all right, probably far better than you do,’ Chase said grimly. ‘I understand that you were going to use me; that you don’t give a damn about me as a person, that you only wanted my body.’ His mouth was a thin sneering line. ‘Rather a role reversal, isn’t it, and one I don’t particularly like. Why, might I ask, did you pick me?’

  ‘Because you looked experienced…and worldly,’ Somer admitted.

  ‘You never felt the slightest desire for me as a person then?’ Chase questioned, something tight and tense about his body as he waited for her reply. Somer shook her head. How could she have done when she loved Andrew?

  ‘Get dressed, we’re going back to the hotel.’ He turned his back on her while he dressed, quickly and angrily, his shoulders tense. Shivering Somer pulled on her own clothes. Never in her life had she experienced such humiliation; worse even than Andrew’s rejection. When Chase turned and accidently brushed her skin she froze, her eyes dilating. He followed the movement, his mouth twisting mockingly. ‘How on earth did you think you were going to endure my lovemaking when you flinch away from me like that?’

  ‘I just wanted to get it over with,’ Somer muttered. ‘I…’

  ‘You were using me,’ Chase ground out, grasping her wrist and swinging her round. He was angry, bitterly angry and she couldn’t understand why. She was the one who had been humiliated; rejected, tossed aside the moment he knew the truth. ‘Experimenting like the crazy adolescent you still are.’ He released her and bent to stuff his towel into his bag, methodically packing away his camera equipment before setting out for the cliff path without another word to Somer.

  They drove back to the hotel in silence.
Judith was on reception when they walked in, and pride made Somer lift her head and stare coolly at the other girl, unaware of how fragile and graceful she looked walking at Chase’s side, her skin warmed by the sun, her lips still swollen from his kisses.

  ‘It’s four o’clock now,’ Chase told her, glancing at his watch. ‘I’ll meet you down here at eight.’ When she opened her mouth to protest he said curtly, ‘If you aren’t here I’ll come to your room and drag you out. Tonight I want the full story. Dear God, your father must be crazy to let you loose on your own. Perhaps someone ought to have a word with them.’

  Somer shrank back. ‘You wouldn’t?’

  ‘Wouldn’t I? You’d be surprised how easy I’d find it. Eight o’clock,’ he told her curtly as he pushed her towards the lift. ‘And remember, if you aren’t there I’ll come looking for you.’

  Once she had gained the sanctuary of her room, Somer stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower. Her skin was faintly bruised where Chase had gripped her, her breasts fuller than usual. As she soaped her skin she couldn’t help remembering how she had felt when Chase had kissed her nipples. Unbidden the mental image of his dark head nestled against her pale skin rose up to taunt her, but she banished it reminding herself bitterly that his passion had soon died once he knew the truth. Just like Andrew, he hadn’t wanted her; he had rejected her.

  Pain was a great tearing anguish inside her chest. She wanted to cry and scream but the emotions were all locked up inside her. Never, ever again would anyone get the opportunity to reject her as Chase had rejected her today, even if that meant she had to stay a virgin for the rest of her life. At least that way she got to keep her pride and self-respect. Judith and Andrew had been right; he hadn’t wanted her. No man would want her once they knew the truth, and that being the case it was better that they never got the opportunity to find out. As for meeting Chase for dinner—she remembered his threat about her father and shuddered. How disappointed in her her father would be if he ever learned what Chase had to say. How glad she was now that she had only told him her Christian name. Wrapping her body in a thick warm towel she made her way to the telephone, dialling reception.

  Fortunately it wasn’t Judith who answered but one of the other girls, who listened while Somer explained what she wanted, and then asked her to hold.

  One minute, two, three…impatiently, her stomach tense with nerves Somer counted the seconds.

  ‘Yes, that’s fine, Miss MacDonald,’ the girl said at last. ‘There’s a seat on tonight’s flight. It leaves at six thirty, so that doesn’t leave you much time. I’ll order a taxi for you, if you let us know when you’re packed.’

  Thanking her for her help Somer replaced the receiver with a feeling of relief. By six thirty. That meant that at eight o’clock while Chase Lorimer was waiting for her in the foyer, she would be safely back home in Aberdeen. She went white and then red as she pictured Chase returning to London, laughing about her to his friends, describing in intimate detail what had happened between them, mocking her innocence and inexperience; and they would laugh, all those glamorous people he no doubt knew.

  Swift pain pierced through her mingling with it a melancholic sadness; an aching sense of irretrievable loss; a sensation that her life had changed and would never be the same again, a confirmation of all those inner warnings she had ignored, telling her not to get involved with Chase Lorimer.

  Half a day spent together was hardly an involvement, she told herself wryly, not wanting to admit the kind of involvement there would always be between a man and a woman whose bodies had known one another intimately. Only they hadn’t. Chase had rejected her.

  * * *

  ALTHOUGH SHE didn’t know it then by the time she stepped out of the plane at Aberdeen she had made the painful transition from adolescence to adulthood. Adulthood, but never womanhood; womanhood had been denied her by a man with dark hair and green eyes, a man who had taught her body to feel desire and then had cruelly robbed it of satisfaction. A man whom she would never forget and who would haunt her for as long as she lived.

  It never once struck Somer as odd as she settled back in the cab carrying her home that it was Chase Lorimer on whom her thoughts centred and not Andrew to whom she had been engaged. Chase Lorimer’s crime was the greater. Andrew loved someone else; his rejection was in some part understandable, he had never truly desired her, only her father’s wealth, but Chase had wanted her; had told her so both in actions and words—until she told him she was a virgin. And it was then when she had humbled herself to ask for his help and understanding that he had rejected her; refused her; and that was something she could never forget.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘LOOKS good, doesn’t it?’ Somer teased her father, leaning over his shoulder to study the announcement in the paper. ‘Sir Duncan MacDonald, British Ambassador to Qu’Hoor.’

  ‘It isn’t official yet,’ Sir Duncan warned her, closing the paper and putting it on one side as he kissed her cheek. The last five years had brought many changes, not least those in his daughter. One minute, or so it seemed to him in retrospect, she had been a child, lovable, very pretty but still a child, the next she was a woman, awesome, faintly mysterious. He sighed as she slipped into the chair opposite him and began her breakfast. He had noticed the change when she came back from Jersey, her engagement broken. He had asked her if she wanted to talk about it but she had refused. It was over, she had said, and that was all there was to say. He couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t been relieved, he had never been happy about the engagement. How deeply had its ending hurt her? Not very deeply, he would have said five years ago when it happened, but now…

  Three years ago Sefton Oil had opened new headquarters in London and as Chairman Sir Duncan had moved with them. So had Somer, taking up the reins of managing his new London establishment so easily and graciously that he had heaved a sigh of relief and turned his attentions to strengthening the position of the company. His sound judgement and innate business flair had been well repaid. Sefton Oil was an extremely successful company, so successful that Sir Duncan had felt few qualms about leaving its future in the hands of the capable directors he had handpicked for their jobs. And now new horizons beckoned. It had been the Prime Minister’s idea to appoint an ambassador to the potentially troublesome Middle Eastern state, not from the ranks of the Foreign Office but from industry, and the choice had fallen on Sir Duncan. Somehow the news had been leaked to the press although his appointment was not yet official and several of the morning’s newspapers carried articles about him on their financial and gossip column pages, one or two including photographs of Somer, who was to act as his hostess at the Embassy.

  Surely one of the reasons Sir Duncan had been chosen, one of the more well informed papers opined, was because of his unblemished career record; his reputation for honesty, loyalty and tolerance; the good manners and negotiating skill for which he was famous. Somer MacDonald, like her father, possessed an unimpeachable character, important when taking into account the delicate nature of her father’s mission; Qu’Hoor was well documented as being a rigidly Muslim country; women were expected to abide by a code of morals long since out of fashion in the West, and for the new Ambassador’s daughter and hostess to be recognised as a typically Western woman used to indulging in affairs and liaisons whenever the mood struck her would reflect adversely on Sir Duncan, causing him to lose ‘face’ in his host country.

  All this had been explained to Sir Duncan when he was initially interviewed for the post, and he in turn had told Somer. There was a good deal of Foreign Office opposition to his proposed appointment, and he had added frankly that he was relieved that in this instance at least he knew he need have no fears or concerns. ‘I know it’s unfair,’ he had agreed when Somer had raised a mocking eyebrow. ‘Muslim men certainly don’t abide by the same code they impose on their women, but that’s the way it is. If you’d rather not come with me…’

  ‘It isn’t that, and even if I didn’t would i
t make any difference if it was widely known that my character wasn’t as pure as the driven snow?’

  ‘It certainly would. Even if you decided not to come with me, I doubt if I’d be selected if there was anything about my personal history which would mean me forfeiting the Qu’Hoorian Government’s respect.’

  ‘As serious as that?’

  When he had confirmed it, Somer had fallen silent, thinking ironically about the past. It was five years since that awful time on Jersey, five years since she had sworn to herself that never again would any man get the opportunity to reject her, and she had stuck rigidly to that vow. Anyone who dated her and who tried to cross the invisible boundaries she set around herself quickly found himself excluded from her circle of dates. She made it a rule never to date any man more than twice in one month, and she knew quite well that she had the reputation of being cold and unattainable. Not that that prevented certain diehards from trying. There was always the lure of her father’s wealth, she thought wryly, picking up his paper and studying the article it was running on him yet again.

  Did she really want to leave Britain? She had acted as her father’s hostess for five years now, and while she enjoyed the task, it had ceased to be absorbing not long after they moved to London. Physically busy but mentally bored she had enrolled on a course on computer technology, and now was greatly in demand writing computer programmes for various companies. In addition to providing her with mental stimulation, it also brought her in a quite substantial income—certainly sufficient to live independently from her father if she wished. Her father wasn’t pressing her to go to Qu’Hoor. Because it was a strict Muslim country she would be remaining strictly in the background of his life, ‘unless some sheikh offers me half a dozen oil wells for you,’ he had teased her several days ago.