‘He went on to say he would miss me when I went to the States. But I could swear he was happy about it.’
Quinn looked shaken.
‘I can’t understand why he was so angry with you,’ she added helplessly.
‘Oh, I can,’ Quinn said slowly. ‘If what you say is true.’
‘It is.’
Watching his hard profile, Elizabeth wondered what he was thinking, whether or not he believed her. There was a long silence while, his face curiously set and sombre, he stared into the fire.
A log burnt through and, with a rustle, settled into glowing greyish-white ash.
Quinn stirred, and turned his head to look at her. His voice curiously flat, he admitted, ‘It was after you’d vanished into thin air, and he’d discovered that I’d married you for all the wrong reasons. He blamed me for driving you away.
‘He made the will shortly after that… I’m sure he never gave up hope of finding you.’
Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears. Henry was the only one who had been genuinely fond of her, who had believed in her and trusted her.
She felt deeply ashamed that all she’d cared about was herself, her own misery, her own pain and loss. If only she’d got in touch with him before it was too late…
Seeing her emotion, Quinn reached out and put a hand over hers. That gesture of compassion was her undoing. All at once the tears overflowed and spilled down her cheeks. One dropped on to the back of Quinn’s hand. Mortified, she clumsily wiped it away.
He muttered something under his breath, and a moment later he was on his feet and pulling her into his arms.
All the tension of the last twenty-four hours suddenly finding release, she began to sob unrestrainedly. Weeping not only for Henry, but for the whole sorry mess, and for what might have been.
When she’d learned of Quinn’s perfidy, she’d been too frozen for tears, and in all the long years that followed she hadn’t once cried. Now it was as if the floodgates had opened and she was unable to stop.
Gathering her to him with a tenderness that almost managed to convince her he really did care, Quinn cradled her head against his chest and held her, his mouth muffled against her scented hair.
When she was all cried out, he lifted her blotched face and wiped away the rest of her tears with his thumbs, before holding her close once more.
Completely drained, with no thought beyond that moment, she accepted the solace he offered, leaning against his strength, as if she’d come home.
One hand smoothing up and down her spine in an age-old gesture of comfort, he began to kiss her forehead, her damp cheeks, her closed eyelids, and finally her lips.
His mouth moving against hers sparked off a passionate response that she had neither the strength nor the will to fight. Her arms went around his neck and she was lost.
When he picked her up in his arms and carried her upstairs to his bedroom, she made not the slightest protest.
Elizabeth stirred and floated to the surface with a sense of euphoria, a singing gladness that filled her heart and mind and clung to her entire being, as tenuous yet strong as a golden cobweb.
Keeping her eyes closed, she lay quite still, savouring this extraordinary feeling of happiness, knowing she’d never felt such pleasure since Quinn had—
Quinn.
Memories of the previous night flooded into her mind and took her breath away. He had laid her down on his bed and made love to her with a hot, hungry passion that had sent them both up in flames and had taken most of the night to expend.
Then, some time before dawn, he had wakened her with a kiss and made love to her again, this time with a slow, leisurely enjoyment that had brought the most exquisite delight she had ever known.
The remembrance made a shiver run through her.
‘Cold?’
Her eyes flew open.
Quinn was lying propped on one elbow, looking down at her sleep-flushed face and the black silky hair spread over the white pillow. Kissing her lightly, he repeated, ‘Cold?’
‘No.’ It was just a whisper.
In the half-light she could see his hair was a little mussed, his green eyes were clear and bright, and a dark stubble adorned his chin.
She had never expected to see him like that again, and her heart seemed to do a back-flip.
He brushed some tendrils of hair away from her cheeks and smiled at her, his face holding a rare warmth and tenderness. ‘I hope you enjoyed your wedding night?’
Watching her flush deepen, he asked, ‘Do you realize that apart from the night we spent together at the Ship this is the only time we’ve wakened in the same bed?’
His hand, a hand that could be both cruelly strong and heartbreakingly tender, moved to cup and fondle a creamy breast. He added, ‘I’ve dreamt about this ever since you ran away.’ Then he exclaimed with a sudden bitterness, ‘What a waste of five years! We could have had so much, if you hadn’t left me.’
She brushed his hand aside and sat up, all her shining happiness draining away like water down a plughole. ‘After finding out that you only married me to protect your father, what else was I to do?’
Pushing himself upright, he said carefully, ‘You still haven’t told me how you found out.’
‘It isn’t important.’
‘It is to me,’ he told her shortly. ‘Though it didn’t seem to make sense, I couldn’t help but wonder if my father had had something to do with it. But if what you told me earlier was true…’
‘It was true, and Henry had nothing to do with it.’
‘Then how?’
She swallowed. ‘I don’t see any point in keeping going over the same ground. It doesn’t matter how I found out. What does matter is that it was the truth.’
‘Only partly. There were other considerations.’
‘I know.’ Then, echoing Quinn’s bitterness, she said, ‘Against your will, and in spite of everything, you still wanted me.’
‘It was rather more than mere wanting. You were like a fever in my blood. You still are. When you ran out on me I hoped I’d be cured, but I soon found I wasn’t. In fact if anything it got worse.
‘We were married, yet not married… I knew I’d never be free of that fever until I’d made you my wife in reality as well as on paper.’
‘So that was the unfinished business you mentioned?’ Without waiting for an answer, she rushed on, ‘Well, now it’s finished—’
‘Ah, but I’m not so sure it is.’
Taking no notice of the interruption, she added doggedly, ‘I’d like my freedom.’
‘If you’re talking about an annulment, I’m afraid it’s too late,’ he pointed out with satisfaction.
‘Then it will have to be a divorce.’
‘You’re not still hoping to marry Beaumont?’ Quinn’s whole body was taut, his voice cold as a winter sea. ‘No.’
Almost imperceptibly, he relaxed. ‘When did you change your mind? Was it before or after?’
Flushing a little, she asked, ‘What difference does it make?’
‘Quite a lot.’
‘Very well, it was before.’ Her voice full of self-contempt, she added, ‘Perhaps if I’d wanted to marry him badly enough it would have saved me making the same mistake twice.’
‘So you still regard it as a mistake?’
‘What else can I regard it as? Oh, why did you have to come back into my life? I could have been happy with Richard.’
His face showing his scepticism, Quinn asked, ‘What could he have given you that I couldn’t?’
‘Apart from love, you mean?’
‘Is love so important to you?’
Lifting her chin, she admitted, ‘Yes, it is!’
‘As you probably know, anybody can say they love someone.’
Ignoring the gibe, she said hardily, ‘I believe he meant it. But, even more important, with him I would have had my self-respect…’
Seeing Quinn’s mouth tighten, she went on, ‘Thinking so little of me, I’m surprise
d you still wanted me. In five years you must have come across plenty of women who were beyond reproach.’
‘Unfortunately, I found no other woman would do.’
‘Surely you’re not trying to tell me you’ve been celibate for all that time?’ she scoffed.
‘No, I’m not,’ he said evenly. ‘What I am trying to tell you is that, apart from answering a basic need, no other woman has been of the slightest importance to me. I have taken a partner from time to time, but never a lover.’
She believed him, and, though she knew it was absurd, felt a surge of relief and gladness.
He picked it up at once. ‘You seem pleased.’
‘Why should I be pleased?’ She was instantly on the defensive. ‘I really don’t care how many lovers you’ve had.’
Touching her nose with a fingertip, he commented, ‘If you’re not careful it’ll grow.’
‘I—I don’t know what you mean,’ she stammered.
‘I mean you’re lying. I believe you do care.’
Biting her lip, she looked away.
Studying her half-averted face—the pure bone structure, the lovely curve of her cheek, the winged brow—he went on, ‘I find it hard to believe you ever loved me, but after the way you responded to me last night I’m convinced of one thing. You have the same kind of fever in your blood that I do, and five years spent apart hasn’t managed to cure it.’
He reached out to take her chin and turn her face to his. ‘That being the case, I suggest we stay together until the fever’s run its course and we can both be free. Then I’ll give you a quick, easy divorce.’
Hardly able to breathe for the pain his words caused, she jerked her head away and cried hoarsely, ‘I wouldn’t stay with you if my life depended on it.’
Looking as though her words were rocks she’d hit him with, he said slowly, ‘I thought after last night—’
‘Last night was a terrible mistake. It should never have happened.’
‘But it did happen, and it proved a lot.’
‘All it proved was that I’m the world’s worst fool.’
As he looked about to interrupt, she rushed on, ‘I must have been out of my mind to sleep with a man who thinks I’m nothing but a mercenary bitch, and possibly even a thief.’
Pushing aside the duvet, she was about to get out of bed, when Quinn caught her arm and kept her there. ‘Where were you thinking of going?’
‘I’m leaving. Now.’
Shaking his head, he said with mock regret, ‘I’m afraid not.’
‘I’m leaving,’ she reiterated stubbornly. ‘If you won’t take me, I’ll walk across.’
‘You’ll do no such thing. A mercenary bitch you may be, but I’ve no intention of letting you run out on me for a second time.’
‘You can’t make me stay.’
‘Don’t bet on it.’ He gripped her shoulders. ‘Look, Jo, don’t let’s—’
‘Take your hands off me,’ she interrupted fiercely. ‘Leave me alone. I never want to see you again.’ She began to struggle frantically, hitting out in a panic when he refused to release her.
Fending off her blows, he used the weight of his body to hold her down while he captured her wrists and, transferring them to one hand, pinned them above her head.
‘I hate you,’ she spat at him. ‘I can’t bear you to touch me.’
He stiffened, danger in every taut line of his body, and when he looked at her she saw smouldering fury in the green eyes.
‘That’s tough,’ he said softy, ‘because while you’re still my wife and I still want you I’m going to touch you whenever I choose.’
‘Rape me, you mean,’ she said thickly.
‘No, that isn’t what I mean. I’ve never been remotely tempted to take a woman against her will, and I won’t be starting now…’
He bent his head and kissed her averted cheek, his lips brushing light as thistledown over the flawless skin, before tracing a path to beneath her ear.
‘You see, my love, it won’t be necessary.’
The endearment caught her off guard, and she shivered as his mouth moved to caress the sensitive place where her neck and shoulder met.
While he continued to kiss her, his mouth sending erotic messages to every nerve-ending in her body, he whispered, ‘You’re so beautiful… Truly my pleasure, my passion, my pain… I’ve waited so long to have you in my arms, in my bed…wanted you more than I imagined it was possible to want any woman…’
She had half expected an onslaught, but instead he was showing her his weakness, his need, how seductive his desire could be.
Somehow she managed, ‘I don’t want you.’
He smiled against her skin. ‘I don’t believe you. I don’t know what kind of hunger is strong enough to bind us together after so many years apart, but whatever it is you feel it too…’
His lips travelled down over the soft curve of her breast, his tongue-tip circling and laving the rosy nipple, until it firmed beneath his touch.
Then his mouth closed over it, causing such exquisite pleasure that it was almost pain. While he suckled sweetly, his hand moved to fondle the curve of her hip, the flat stomach, the long smooth line of her thigh.
She made a sound in her throat, and he lifted his head and kissed her mouth, which was still tightly closed. Releasing her hands, he cupped her face, and between little plucking kisses whispered against her lips, ‘Open your mouth for me… You know you want to.’
If he’d been rough she might have withstood the siege, but he was tormentingly tender, using every last ounce of his skill and knowledge to make her want him.
Her lips parted on a sigh, and he kissed her by right of conquest.
Signifying her surrender, she put her arms around his neck and drew him down to her. When he settled himself into the cradle of her hips, her body welcomed his as part of itself.
It seemed to be a moment of supreme fulfilment, two separate bodies melded into a single entity and sharing the purest, most intimate of all human joys.
Only a small section of her mind stood apart, unhappy and dissenting, knowing there could be no greater humiliation than to love a man who not only despised her, but despised himself for wanting her.
When it was over, and their heartbeats and breathing had returned to normal, Quinn lifted himself away, leaving her feeling suddenly cold and bereft.
Watching him, she saw there was a glow about him that could have been happiness, but which was almost certainly triumph.
He reached out a long arm and, gathering her close, settled her head on his shoulder and kissed her. Sounding, to Elizabeth’s ears, unbearably smug and self-satisfied, he said, ‘Perhaps now we can stop all this talk of leaving, and make some plans for our future.
‘During this last year I’ve had to spend so much time on Wall Street that I was considering either handing that side of the business over to someone else or moving to New York.
‘When you’ve had a chance to see both Boston and the Big Apple, and find which you prefer, it will be easier to make a decision…’
So he imagined he’d won not just the battle, but the war.
Well, he was wrong!
Feeling as though a silken net was closing around her, Elizabeth moved restively. Meeting Quinn’s questioning glance, she said the first thing that came into her head. ‘What time is it?’
He looked at his watch. ‘Almost one-thirty.’
‘One-thirty!’ she exclaimed in disbelief.
Laughing, he said, ‘Well, we did have a busy night, and in this kind of weather—’ he indicated the window, where a grey, patchy fog partially obscured the view ‘—it doesn’t really matter if we stay in bed all afternoon.’
‘It does to me.’ She spoke without thinking. Then, noting his change of expression, she continued hastily, ‘I’m ready for something to eat.’
His long fingers caressing her cheek and jaw, he suggested, ‘Well, as we’ve five years to make up for and this is the start of our honeymoon, if you want to s
tay where you are, I’ll raid the store cupboard and we’ll have lunch in bed.’
Keeping her voice as steady as possible, she said, ‘I’d prefer to get up. As I mentioned before, I don’t like eating in bed.’
‘Very well,’ he agreed with obvious reluctance, and gave her a light kiss.
Trying not to look as if she was running away, she got out of bed, and, aware that his eyes were on her, hurriedly pulled on her satin negligée.
She was heading for the door when, with a teasing sidelong smile, he enquired, ‘I don’t suppose you’d care to share a shower?’
‘No, I wouldn’t, thank you,’ she answered primly, and bolted.
Returning to her own room, she showered and dressed at record speed. The sooner they had eaten and were off the island, the better it would suit her. Every minute spent in Quinn’s company was fraught with temptation, and if she weakened once more…
But she mustn’t.
If she went back to him, knowing just what he thought of her would nag at her day and night and destroy any chance of happiness. And when his fever had run its course, and he tired of her, the final parting would be that much harder to bear.
Wearing her oatmeal jumper and donkey-brown skirt, her hair loose around her shoulders, she pushed the rest of her things back in the case and went down to the kitchen.
Switching on the lights to alleviate the November gloom, she opened the doors of the store cupboard. A hasty search produced tinned sausages, ham and tomatoes, all of which she fried while a small loaf from the freezer defrosted.
A pot of coffee was ready, and she was just dishing up the makeshift lunch, when Quinn appeared wearing well-cut grey trousers and a black polo shirt.
‘Mmm…that smells good.’ Brushing her hair aside, he dropped a light kiss on her nape before taking a seat at the kitchen table.
He ate with a healthy appetite while, wondering how best to handle the situation when they got back to London, Elizabeth merely picked at hers.
‘Something wrong?’ His question made her jump.
‘No.’ Aware she sounded flustered, she added, ‘Of course not.’
Marriage on Trial Page 10
