'Gina…' his voice was hoarse, 'you want me just as much, so stop struggling.' His mouth came down over hers, warm and sensuous, denying any harshness. 'Gina,' he said thickly, as if wryly pleading his own cause, 'I'm going mad, wanting you so much.'
Something strange stirred in Gina then and her body tingled as she wrapped urgent arms around him. Never could she remember wanting anything so much. Everything inside her seemed to be breaking up as their bodies burned and melted together in growing excitement. In another second it might be too late, but nothing she had ever done had taken as much effort. Bemused, in a fog of passion, her mind reeled. If she was hurting him she was about to hurt herself even more. This she fully understood as she suddenly pushed forcibly away from him, twisting desperately to escape his suddenly smothering weight.
'No,' she cried, 'Quentin, don't. . .' Her exhausted whisper, as she fought to be free of him, sounded deafening to her ears. 'Let me go, Quentin. I hate you!'
It seemed he would ignore her struggles, putting them down to a girl's natural fears, but her last utterance made him pause long enough for her to pull herself from his arms. Her words, she thought hysterically, might have had the same effect as an icy shower.
For a moment he didn't move, although he still breathed hard. Then he said slowly, 'Gina, I do realise you haven't slept with a man before. I was going to be gentle.'
'It's not that!' she gasped unevenly. 'I don't want you near me because of what I've discovered.' Oddly defensive, her voice rose. 'You're a thief and a liar, and I won't have you touching me!'
Eyes narrowed, he stared down at her, but made no attempt to prevent her from covering her nakedness with a sheet. 'This seems to be more than normal virginal fright,' he said harshly at last, 'Perhaps you'd better explain.'
Feeling chilled by his quick transition from passion to coldness, even if it only matched her own, Gina watched apprehensively as he swung off the bed to reach for a short robe. As he shrugged into it he turned to look at her again, his dark brows lifting grimly. 'Well? he prompted savagely. 'I'm waiting.'
Because she felt she had wasted enough time, Gina's words tumbled angrily over themselves. 'You're in financial difficulties and took money from my grandfather to settle your debts. And he's having to sell his London home because of it. You cheated to get it by making him believe you loved me. You were aware that he blamed himself that my parents' marriage had a bad start and was determined it wouldn't happen to me. You played on these feelings in order to get what you wanted.'
'Will you shut up!' Quentin snarled. Then moderating his tones with obvious difficulty, he asked tersely, 'Who told you this?'
Her sudden, wild hope that it wasn't true died quickly when she thought of the evidence. 'Never mind who told me,' she replied stonily. 'It wasn't my grandfather, and he doesn't know I know. Can you deny about the money?'
Briefly he hesitated before shaking his head, like a man in a bad dream. 'I don't intend denying anything,' he exclaimed with soft violence.
Somehow Gina had hoped he would, but as he didn't she forced down all feelings but anger. 'Why do you think I wouldn't go anywhere but here for my honeymoon? Even this, I suppose, will have to be paid for with someone else's money.'
Quentin straightened away from her and she had never seen his face so white. He looked dreadful, even his eyes were like burning black coals. Suddenly her torment was so great she could scarcely endure it.
From a distance she heard him asking bleakly, 'Charles told me you loved me. It isn't true?'
'If it was,' she choked, shocked that Charles had so betrayed her, 'you've certainly killed it. All I feel now is hate. As soon as possible I'm going to leave you!'
Quentin's laughter was harsh and mirthless, making her shrink. 'For years I've lived with your hate, Gina. I'm too used to it to let it worry me. You'll continue as my wife—and to live with me, for as long as I choose.'
'We'll see about that!' she muttered.
His mouth tightened ominously in the hardness of his face. 'I suppose your convincing little display of passion tonight was all pretence? A desire for revenge?'
Her cheeks burned and she had to drop her eyes. 'Don't you think you deserved something?'
'Not that kind of punishment,' he retorted harshly, but maybe I should be grateful you weren't more subtle—you might have kept me in suspense for days if you'd chosen to play the young, nervous bride.'
'I couldn't pretend that with a thief!'
'Be careful!' His tone was suddenly violent, and she had a frightening suspicion he would like to strangle her, but instead he turned and strode from the room. 'Goodnight and sweet dreams,' was all he said, but this so savagely that the door shook as he slammed it behind him.
Gina wasn't sure if he went out or slept in the small dressing room adjoining. She was sure she had never felt so unhappy in her life. Her half awakened body gave her no peace and her mind less. Would she have felt worse, she wondered, if she had let Quentin make love to her and pretended to know nothing of his guilty secrets?
She was so long falling asleep that she slept in and woke with dismay to find it was nine and no sign of Quentin anywhere. Hastily she scrambled out of bed to have a shower and dress. She had just finished when he arrived.
While she tried not to look at him, his gaunt, grim face caught her gaze and she couldn't look away. This morning he looked every one of his thirty-six years—he would have passed easily for forty. Swallowing a swift despair, she averted her eyes. This must be what guilt and worry did for a man. He must be terrified she intended betraying him.
She felt bitter to hear herself reassuring him, but couldn't seem to help it. 'You can stop worrying about the money. I won't tell Grandfather I know, in case you think I've changed my mind about that. Nor will I mention it to anyone else.'
Grimly Quentin took in the beautiful picture she made in her light summer dress. His eyes glittered, as he replied abruptly, 'Very magnanimous of you.'
'Perhaps I'm thinking of myself.' Before his insolent sarcasm her softer feelings faded. 'In the eyes of other people I'm still your wife. I only hope the law doesn't catch up with you.'
'Don't worry,' he retorted tightly, 'at least you can be sure of that.'
Coldly she shrugged. 'We'll be going home today?'
'Ah, yes,' he ran a thoughtful hand around his chin, which she saw in spite of his haggard appearance was smoothly shaven, 'you can't bear to think that your grandfather's money is paying for all this?' Suddenly, vindictively he swung around on her, grasping her snaking shoulders. 'Well, you can damned well stick it out for a week. If you could get through the marriage ceremony with so much hate in your heart then a few days here should be easy.'
Beneath his hurting hands Gina went cold. Put like that she seemed almost worse than he was, but just as long as he was sure it was hatred in her heart she could at least save her pride. He didn't seem to understand she had lost her respect for him. Or, if he did, he didn't care.
'Where did you go last night?' she whispered, feeling she had to know.
'Never mind,' he returned shortly. 'I wasn't lonely. No man of my questionable character ever is. Now,' he asked, abruptly letting go of her, 'are you coming down for breakfast?'
'I may as well,' she agreed dejectedly. How was she to get through the next few days, if he insisted on staying?
He did, and, as she had suspected she might, she suffered. Quentin turned himself into a polite and impersonal guide. When it came to seeing the sights, he made sure she had nothing to complain of. He knew Vienna well and took her to all the most famous places. For hours of each day they toured until she was almost physically exhausted, and at nights fell into a deep, drugged sleep, which was probably what he intended.
During the day he escorted her through numerous museums and churches, and when she grew tired of these they explored parks and gardens. Then he would take her shopping. Shopping in Vienna was very expensive, but the shops were stocked with lovely things.
At first Gina enjoyed looking around them, until Quentin began loading her with extravagant presents. It didn't take her long to realise he was doing this deliberately, but to her it seemed the height of folly. It wasn't his own money he was spending, it was money belonging to her grandfather and heaven knew how many other people, and she was sure he had no right to be spending it this way! She was puzzled that her angry anxiety, instead of restraining him, seemed to be bringing a perverse satisfaction.
She bought her own presents to take home herself from her own money. From one of the shops along the Karntnerstrasse she bought her grandfather a model of one of the famous Riding School horses. Of all the places they had visited, she had enjoyed the Spanish Riding School best. She had loved the elegant Lippizzaner horses with their equally elegant, uniformed riders who could control them so superbly. They had visited the stables, too, in the Stallburg, Reitschulgasse, opposite the Riding School. Each horse had its name on a board above its stall, telling you when it was born, and she had been especially interested in the shining harness hanging over the side. She had caught the only flicker of amusement she was to see in the whole week in Quentin's eyes as he had to almost drag her away.
If things had been different she would have been thrilled by her visit to Vienna, which had once been the capital of an empire stretching from the Balkans to Berlin. So many nationalities had lived there and left something of themselves behind, but she was unable to decide whether the atmosphere was sad or gay. The one or two Viennese whom she managed to talk to in shops hadn't been able to decide either, so she supposed it must depend on circumstance. If Quentin and she had been a normal honeymoon couple she might have had no difficulty in finding the city extremely gay.
The evenings were the worst, for always after an early dinner Quentin saw her to her room, then bade her a polite goodnight. Where he went afterwards she didn't know, but once, when, unable to sleep at four in the morning, she had peeped stealthily into his dressing room he hadn't been there. He must have been out, but she couldn't tell by his coolly enigmatic demeanour next morning whether he had enjoyed himself or not.
He was always a polite stranger, so much so that Gina sighed with relief at the end of the week when he told her they were going home. At least, at Briarly, there would be something to do and Quentin would be in London most of the time. There wouldn't be his constant presence to torment her and make her conscious of her aching needs.
CHAPTER NINE
THE journey back was uneventful, and as they neared Briarly Quentin said curtly, Td rather you didn't mention anything about money to my mother. It would only upset her needlessly.'
'I had no intention of saying anything to her,' Gina retorted, then heard herself pleading impulsively, 'Quentin, couldn't you pay the money back?'
'No,' he replied brusquely, 'I could not.'
Couldn't or wouldn't? Noting the hardness of his jaw, Gina sighed. He didn't appreciate her disapproval, but surely he didn't expect her to condone what he had done? On the other hand it grieved her that she had so little influence over him. If he had loved her he might have been willing to mend his ways—to do anything to regain her respect.
Attempting to hide her hurt, she spoke sharply. 'There doesn't seem much sense in your mother looking for a house of her own now. She may as well stay on at Briarly.'
'If you like,' he agreed coldly.
'And I can go back to my old room. It's very comfortable.'
'You'll sleep with me!'
'Sleep with you?' Shocked surprise swung her around to stare at him with angry, resentful eyes. 'Why?'
Cold mockery, and something else, lay in the idle glance he flicked over her. 'If that's a question, why not?'
'You know why not,' she said fiercely.
'Yes, I know,' she thought for a moment he sounded despondent, 'but we can't do anything about that. Perhaps you should remember how you promised to take me for better or worse—then you mightn't feel such a sense of disappointment.'
Gina gazed straight in front. 'But I didn't promise to sleep with you.'
'Now you're being childish.' He sounded indifferent, but there was no softening of his expression. 'There's a room at the west side of the house with twin beds. Twin beds, my dear,' he mocked, 'in case you believe I'm not thinking of you, provide the ideal solution. No one can be quite sure what's going on.'
'But they're in the same room!' she hissed, scarcely following his logic.
'Don't worry,' he said cynically, 'I won't ask anything of you except that you sleep there. I'm not interested in anything else.'
'Not from me.'
'Certainly not from you.'
She supposed she deserved that and might have expected it, but she hadn't been prepared for the depth of pain inside her. Quentin hadn't attempted to touch her since that first night of their honeymoon, and he'd had enough opportunity. He was unlikely to begin making advances now. His pride alone would keep him at a distance. Stealing a puzzled glance at his aloof, arrogant profile, Gina failed to understand why neither the apparent failure of his business or her scorn had managed to humble him. Then again, how would she feel to see him down? Never in her whole life could she recall him being any other than he was now. While despairing of what she considered softness, she wondered if she could bear to see him humbled and completely defeated.
At Briarly they found Mrs Hurst too taken up with her own affairs to ask why they had cut short their honeymoon. Her personal assistant, as she liked to call her, had left without warning, over a silly disagreement she had had with Mrs Worth.
With his habitual cynicism, Quentin watched as Gina made futile attempts to calm his mother, and suddenly incensed by his indifference, she offered to help Mrs Hurst herself. Speaking almost simultaneously with Quentin, who said carelessly that they would get someone else, Gina offered her services and was gratefully accepted. Ignoring Quentin's quick frown, she decided it would give her something to do, and be one way of cutting expenses. If he wouldn't make a start in this direction, then she must! It was surely dishonest to afford oneself luxuries on borrowed money.
Matthews had taken their luggage upstairs, after removing it from the car, and she asked Mrs Hurst to excuse her while she changed for dinner. It was still early, but she wanted to ring Bourne Court, to tell them she was home.
Quentin followed her up. 'I'd better show you our room.' He spoke so tersely Gina guessed he was still not pleased about her offer to work for his mother.
She hadn't been to this part of the house before and gazed doubtfully around the comfortable bedroom to which he silently escorted her. It was beautifully decorated in quiet pastel colours, but in her present mood she would have been more pleased with an attic.
As if guessing her thoughts, he said sarcastically, 'Don't let your sense of economy run away with you. As we still have it we may as well use it. Secondhand furniture has little value.'
'It might please your creditors better than nothing!'
He made no reply, but a quick glance confirmed that he didn't trust himself to. Quaking, Gina averted her eyes to the twin beds, finding little to reassure her there. Each of them looked as large as a normal double. There was nothing cramped about them to drive Quentin away, should he decide to share one with her.
'There's a dressing-room,' he announced abruptly, speaking at last, and surprising her, 'I'll sleep there.'
Confused, and oddly ashamed of herself, she had to force herself to mutter, 'I suppose, if you do decide to get rid of me, now you have my grandfather's money, it will be easier if you don't sleep here.'
He came so close she could feel the warmth from his body, she could also see the coldness in his eyes. 'Don't push your luck too far, Gina, I'm highly inflammable material right now. I don't want to hear you mention money—not that money—ever again!'
If she had been going to argue, his tormenting nearness made her change her mind. He could make her quiver just by looking at her. She knew it and so, unfortunately, did he!
'I'm going to give my grandfather a ring and then get ready for dinner,' she gasped. 'If you'll excuse me?'
'Don't let me stop you,' he retorted, jerking away from her. 'I can take a hint, and I'm sure you won't want my help.'
'No,' she agreed icily.
'Such a cool little voice,' he mocked, his eyes taunting on the agitated heave of her breasts. 'Just think if things had been different between us. I could have helped you undress. We might even have shared the same bath—it's big enough, and I could have scrubbed your back, and other places. You might even have done the same for me.'
'Will you get out!' Her face and voice both flamed with anger and heat. The deliberately jeering curve of his mouth provoked her into adding unwisely, 'If I ever do that for a man it won't be you!'
This halted his leisurely departure. He turned in the doorway, his glance slicing into her. 'That's one more thing. While you're still married to me, I won't have you going out with other men, so when the good Richard or Felix, or whoever, present sympathetic shoulders to cry on, you'd better ignore them.'
'I'll do…' she had been going to say 'what I like', but Quentin was gone before she could finish, leaving her staring angrily at the closed door.
In spite of the cooling effect of anger, she had some difficulty in controlling all the sensuous thoughts he had aroused and pounced on the telephone as if it were a lifeline. Suddenly she felt almost desperate for the soothing sanity of her grandfather's voice.
It came almost as a shock to discover neither Charles nor Liza at home. The housekeeper informed Gina that they wouldn't be back for at least another two weeks. When Gina asked if they were in London, she was told no, that the London house had been sold. They were with a friend, on his yacht. It had been an unexpected invitation.
Oh, well, Gina sighed, squashing down her own selfish regrets, it was what they both needed. They wouldn't be away that long and a holiday would do them good.
The Loving Slave Page 14
