‘No, you can’t, can you?’ he agreed smoothly, as he put the car into gear.
He pulled her to him as soon as he stopped the car, his mouth reaching for hers hungrily. They kissed as though famished, and when he raised his head, she was gasping for breath.
‘I haven’t been able to think of anything but you for a week,’ he muttered, smothering her face with little, short kisses.
Passion flared between them like a lighted brush fire, rocking them out of control. All thoughts of fighting him off vanished in the rush of pure delight that sang through her body. They clung together, trembling, exchanging greedy, famished kisses, and when he raised his head, she brought it down to her mouth again. He fumbled at the neckline of her gown and she was frantic to help him, taking his hand and placing it on her naked breast, quivering with delight as he stroked it with slow, sensuous movements. With shaking hands, she unbuttoned his shirt, savouring the feel of the warm, damp flesh beneath her palms.
She found the flat, male nipples on his chest and they hardened beneath her probing fingers.
He shuddered and she looked up quickly, her eyes gleaming beneath her heavy lids. His face had tautened to a mask of raw hunger, and she realised he was as aroused as she was. Her blood sang with triumph and she began to cover his chest with a series of small, warm kisses.
He caught her hands and held her away, then pulled her upright, into the circle of his arms.
‘No, don’t try to move. We’ve got to talk, darling. God!’ He gave a low, shaky laugh. ‘You go to my head, beauty.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Maud is going to have to get herself another secretary, I’ll start working on it right away. But until I find someone, she’ll have to make out with the nurse she had while she was in the hospital. She can type and Maud liked her.’
Josey listened in stunned silence. ‘What are you talking about?’ she asked dazedly.
‘You’re going back to Atlanta with me, when I go home after Christmas.
I don’t see how I can wait until then, but you’re right, I can’t seduce you under Maud’s roof. I’ll have to rent a suite at the hotel—we’ll go there when we get frustrated. Like tonight.’ He groaned. ‘I can’t wait any longer to have you in my bed. I’ll call Maud, make some excuse.’
She began to pull frantically at her dress, trying to cover herself. ‘Are you crazy?’ she demanded. ‘I’m not going to a hotel with you tonight or any other night. You know, you’re unbelievable!’ Her humiliation goaded her into angry, impetuous words. ‘You storm into the club, break up my date with Brian, then tell me I’m giving up my job and leaving town! I haven’t agreed to that!’
‘But you will.’ He smiled sharply, the bite of anger in his voice. He took her face between his palms and raised it to his. ‘You know I can persuade you. In about one minute. That’s all it will take.’
Her face flamed. ‘Maybe you can—in this car! But there’s no way I’m going to accompany you to a hotel, wait while you sign the register and then go tamely to a room so you can seduce me! By that time, I’ll have snapped out of this mind-boggling orbit you put me into and I will flatly refuse to go! And this time, I won’t mind making a scene before the hotel clerk or anyone else who is around! And the next day, I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again. That’s a promise!’
He leaned back, eyes half-closed, listening while she talked. Now, he surveyed her thoughtfully. Apparently, her words convinced him, for when she finished, he said briskly, ‘Very well, my stubborn little shrew, what do you want to leave here and live with me in Atlanta? And I do mean live with me. I want you there when I go to bed at night and when I wake up in the morning. And, incidentally, I’ve never said that to another woman.’
‘Is that supposed to be an enticement?’ she enquired coolly.
‘I had hoped it might be. That and—oh, jewels, furs, a car. I’m willing to buy you anything—within reason, that is—for the exclusive use of your body for a specified length of time.’
She stared at him, astonished, and then, as his meaning sank in, she realised she was more hurt than angered.
‘Whatever gave you the idea I was for sale?’ she asked icily.
‘Most women are,’ he said drily.
‘Perhaps most of the women you know are, but Jam not! You know,’ she went on bitterly, ‘you take the cake as the most cold-blooded bastard I’ve ever known. Is that your answer to everything? Money? My God, but you are beyond belief!’
‘I’ve never known a woman who couldn’t be bought—with one sort of bribe or the other. Some just come a little higher.’ There was a tinge of insolence in the hard, cold voice that made a cold chill run down Josey’s back.
‘Did it ever occur to you that your little circle of friends include some female barracudas?’ she enquired hotly.
He shrugged. ‘I gather from all this that you’ve set your price rather high? I should have known, from that experience on the beach.’ He laughed harshly.
‘Indeed I have!’ she said sweetly. ‘My price is marriage.’
She was surprised that he answered her seriously. ‘I don’t believe in marriage—for me, that is.’
‘Sorry! That’s my price. Nothing less!’ she quipped fiercely. She looked at him with contempt. ‘No one’s twisting your arm to marry me, you know.’
She rubbed her bare arms beneath her shawl and shivered slightly. A corrosive sense of disillusionment was eroding her spirits, making her feel cold and desolate. ‘Will you please take me home,’ she added numbly. ‘I’m cold.’
He started the motor and turned up the heater until a blast of warm air poured out of the vents. Josey held out her hands to the welcome heat.
She wondered how long he was going to sit there without moving.
Probably not until he made another attempt to make her change her mind. To sell herself. She rubbed her arms tiredly. She didn’t think she could take much more of this. She was aching all over with the sort of pain that shouldn’t belong to a woman who had just proudly refused to live in sin. She should feel good, but she hurt.
He put the car in forward gear and made a U-turn, then he stopped again and sat with his hands on the wheel, the motor idling.
‘Marriage, you said? How soon?’ His voice was clipped, unemotional.
‘Shall we get the licence Monday?’
She gasped. ‘Do you mean—are you asking me to marry you?’
‘That’s what you wanted.’ He looked at her coolly. ‘As a matter of fact, things may work out better this way.’
‘Now, wait a minute!’ she protested weakly. ‘I—I never said …’
‘But you did, my dear,’ he corrected her mildly. ‘I have accepted your terms. I will marry you. I shall take a great deal of pleasure in telling Brian Marsden to get out of your life,’ he added brutally. ‘He’s lucky I didn’t push his damned face in.’
‘You mean—you cared? she asked blankly. ‘You were jealous}’
‘Like hell,’ he replied harshly. ‘Surely you’re experienced enough to recognise that? For God’s sake, did you think you were the only one who was carried away?’ He sounded almost bitter, as though Fate had played a dirty trick on him. ‘You have me climbing the walls, my dear. I’m willing to sacrifice a great deal to get you—even my freedom—but let me warn you now, don’t play me false. Marriage will give me the exclusive right to your body and I expect you to remember that and all the other cliches, such as “Till death do us part”. I’m not going into this thing expecting a quick divorce at the end. Eventually, I shall want children—so remember that, too. Or I shall make you sorry you were ever born, my beautiful little wife to be.’ He put the car into gear and added grimly, ‘Now, let’s go home.’
Naturally, Josey slept poorly that night. Exhausted by the emotional ups and downs of the evening, terrified by the necessity of making a firm decision, she tossed and turned until nearly dawn.
On the way home, she tried to talk to Thorne only to have him refuse to discuss the matter until they reached the
house. By that time, she was shivering with tension and he reached into the back seat and came up with a heavy, fleece-lined car coat.
‘Here, put this on. You’re in shock. It was sleeting today when I left Atlanta,’ he added, by way of explanation for the coat.
‘Look, Thorne.’ Her teeth were chattering as she huddled in the thick, luxurious coat, warming her with the scents from his body. ‘Let’s have an end to this thing. You can’t want to marry me just because I won’t become your mistress. It-it’s crazy! We don’t even like each other!’
He listened impassively, his stern face clearly defined in the moonlight.
When she came to an uncertain halt, he said, ‘How about if we signed a marriage contract, setting forth the terms just as though it was a contract?
Would that suit you?’
‘Oh, God,’ she said wearily, resting her head against the back of the seat.
‘You don’t even understand what I’m talking about.’
‘You’re tired.’ His voice was almost kindly. ‘Go upstairs and sleep on it. Think about what I can offer you. And, Josey, remember, I’m aware of all the objections as well as you, and I still think we can have a good marriage. You’ll see it all clearly in the morning.’
Josey stumbled to her room like a sleepwalker. She stripped off her white dress and put on a nightgown. Tired? She was exhausted! There was no thinking over anything, either—she knew her answer now. She couldn’t marry Thorne Macallan. Vividly, that day in the courtroom came back at her. He had looked at her only once—when she started screaming at him—and his face had been cruel with distaste. She had hated him; the memory of that hatred was still with her. Did she want to marry that man? A man who had proposed merely because he couldn’t get her any other way? Who had said nothing about love, tenderness, respect—but a great deal about unrequited lust. Who had actually had the nerve to mention children— children! —in a marriage like that!
Of course, if the tables were turned and she was the kind of greedy, unprincipled character he thought she was, she’d marry him just for revenge. And it would be a fine one, when he learned she was an ex-convict. He would deserve it, too, for he had made a normal life impossible for her. How could she marry any man without telling him of her past first, and perhaps run the risk of losing him? She toyed with the idea of telling Thorne who she was immediately after the ceremony. She could imagine his fury when he learned she had kept the truth from him. No— she hadn’t that kind of courage, she thought bleakly, remembering the cold rage that could turn that handsome face into a pitiless mask. It might be a perfect revenge but she would do her share of paying. Besides, she acknowledged drearily, she wasn’t that kind of person. She couldn’t do it to any man, not even Thorne Macallan.
Every time she reached this point, Josey’s emotions took over and she was hit by such a wave of depression she wanted to curl up and die. Oh, God! She buried her head in her pillow, twisting and turning, fighting the treacherous memories of his lovemaking. Pain shafted through her body, bringing an involuntary moan to her lips. She wanted him! She ached for him. She had been so confident that she wouldn’t fall in love, yet instinct had told her all along that Thorne Macallan would eventually bring her pain. Why hadn’t she listened to that voice? Although, by then, it was already too late. By then, he had already awakened those turbulent emotions that were lashing her now.
The next morning, she felt like the dead. Shadows lay like bruises under her eyes, and her head was pounding. She had an unpleasant interview ahead with Thorne and right now, she felt like she’d burst into tears the first time he spoke to her.
She dragged herself downstairs to find that Thorne hadn’t waited for her consent. In his typical high-handed manner, he had taken matters out of her hands and told Maud that they were engaged. Josey was caught by surprise, then too stunned to contradict him. By that time, Maud’s congratulations were ringing in her ears, Maud’s joyful face, damp with tears of happiness;, smiling at her. She couldn’t—it was literally impossible—to say it wasn’t true. He had counted on that, of course, the devious bastard. She glared at him over Maud’s shoulder, mouthing the words ‘I want to talk to you.’
‘You’ll have to excuse us for a minute, Maud,’ he said blandly, meeting Josey’s glare with an amused smile. ‘I think Josey wants to be private with me. Shall we go into the library, my dear?’
She turned on him in a fury the instant the door closed behind them.
‘How dare you put me on the spot like that?’ she stormed. ‘You knew I couldn’t tell her the truth after seeing her like that!’
‘Of course I knew it,’ he said calmly. ‘Tell me, Josey, if I hadn’t forced the issue, what would you have told me this morning?’
She said nothing, her face speaking for itself.
‘I thought so. I was right then, to take it out of your hands.’
She glared at him. ‘It would serve you right if I did marry you,’ she burst out sullenly.
He smiled ironically. ‘Why not?’ he drawled. ‘You say you hate me. Why not marry me, my sulky little termagent, and make me sorry for every dirty trick I ever played on you?’
All right, she thought stormily, you deserve everything you’re going to get! When you find out the truth about me, we’ll see how you like it then!
But she wanted to fling herself into his arms and bawl. She had no idea that her face was reflecting her conflicting emotions, until he pulled her into his arms in an abrupt gesture of sympathy.
‘Don’t worry, beauty,’ he murmured, ‘we’re going to make it.’ A fleeting smile crossed his face, dry with irony but oddly gentle. ‘We already know we want each other on the most basic level. Believe me, the other will follow. I promise you, it’s going to be a good marriage.’
Perhaps if she had been given time to think, she might have backed out anyway, but Thorne didn’t give her time. They were married three days later, the day after Christmas, in Maud’s living room with her old friend, Judge Pendleton, performing the ceremony. Annie and Theodore were their only witnesses.
Christmas Day had been spent quietly, with just the three of them enjoying the Christmas dinner. The red candles and the Christmas centrepiece added a festive note to the table, which was set with Christmas china. Maud’s face was triumphant as she raised her glass in a toast to their future happiness, and Josey saw that it was most definitely her day. Thorne had given his aunt a diamond and sapphire brooch, in the shape of a lark on the wing, and Josey had piled a number of small gifts under the tree for her— her favourite perfume, an amethyst bonsai tree, a book she had been wanting to read …
Josey had shopped for Thorne’s gift at the last minute, and fortunately found something she thought he might like. For the man who had everything, she had bought a framed painting— an original—at one of the little art shops on the island. The price was high enough to meet the mental price tag in her mind. It was a seascape done by a local artist, and Thorne seemed pleased with it.
Of course, it could not meet the cost of the fur coat he gave her, or the flawless topaz ring surrounded by diamonds, that he said matched her eyes. She wore it on her right hand, for her wedding ring was to be a plain wide gold band.
She had made up her mind. When the time came for their eventual parting—and it would— she would walk out with nothing but the wedding band. He had called her greedy and mercenary once, and she suspected he still thought that was her real motive in marrying him. She intended to show him she wanted nothing of his, not even the seascape she had chosen for him.
CHAPTER NINE
TWELVE hours after their quiet wedding, Josey stood on the dazzling white sand of a Caribbean beach, and gazed out at the glittering blue ocean.
The beach was private, a half-moon sickle of sand protected on both sides by an outcropping of rock which stretched out to sea. It gave them their own small, private bay.
Behind her was the house, a big white villa with deep green awnings and a trellised terrace that was dappled
with morning sunlight. The house belonged to friends of Thorne’s, and had been lent to them, complete with servants, for their honeymoon. The arrangements had been made without Josey’s knowledge.
She had been too tired last night to fully appreciate the beauty of the house and grounds. They had arrived late, after midnight, after a delay at the Miami airport, and Josey had fallen exhaustedly to sleep before Thorne came to bed.
The sound of the closing door awakened her and she sat up quickly, disorientated for a moment. She leaped out of bed and dressed hurriedly in her bikini, then picking up a towel, left by way of the sliding patio door.
As she reached the beach, she saw Thorne strike the water and start swimming strongly out to sea.
She watched his head in the water and felt wretched. The realisation had come to her in the night: she had been wrong—so wrong!—to marry him. She had been as despicable in her behavior as he had ever been.
Worse—for she had condemned him to more than a two-year sentence: she had sentenced him to life with a woman who had a prison record. A woman he could never respect. Of course, she would be leaving when he learned the truth, but he had made it clear his idea of marriage was a commitment for life. She was bound to leave scars, even on his hard shell of indifference. She slumped to the sand, white-faced. She was going to have to tell him the truth while the marriage could still be annulled. And the thought was like having a sentence of death.
Suddenly, she sat up and looked out to sea, her eyes fearful. There was no sign of Thorne. She stood up and stared, but the bay was empty.
Nervously, she looked over her shoulder towards the house. George, the elderly manservant, was placidly setting the table for her breakfast. She saw the glint of silver as he shifted the coffee pot. Running towards the terrace, she came to a panting stop before George.
‘Will you eat now, madam?’
‘I’ll wait on my husband.’
‘Oh, he had his breakfast early this morning before he went for a swim.’
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