Imprisoned by a Vow

by Annie West

  ‘Joss. Say something!’

  His mouth twisted. What was there to say?

  Her hand closed on his shoulder, clutching. As if she knew she’d lost him?

  Damn it. He wasn’t ready for this to end. Not yet. Selfishly he wanted the pleasure to last. Pleasure with no complications.

  He surged from the bed and stood facing the windows.

  ‘We said no strings. Remember?’ His voice wasn’t his own, rasping like flint on stone.

  ‘Things have changed.’ She sounded bewildered. Joss raked his hand through his hair, telling himself it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be love. He didn’t inspire such affection. She offered what she thought he wanted to hear.

  ‘You don’t owe me. Last night—’ He hand slashed the air. ‘Last night was about setting things right, that’s all. You don’t need to feel...obligated.’

  For long seconds she said nothing.

  ‘I’m grateful for what you did with Gamil,’ she said finally. ‘But that’s not why I love you.’

  Her words taunted him. Words he’d once craved but finally learnt to despise. They dragged through his dark soul, dredging the depths as if seeking the needy boy he’d once been.

  Joss swung to face her, blocking out the emotion that rose unbidden at those lethal words. He wasn’t a naive kid any more. He wasn’t vulnerable.

  ‘Don’t...say that. I told you it’s not necessary.’ The more she said it, the further they slipped into a no-win situation.

  She clutched the sheet to her breasts and he knew it was too late. The damage was done. There was no going back. Inside him a raw howl of loss rose, a wordless tearing roar of rage at her naivety in ending what they’d had. It had been glorious, spectacular. Addictive.

  He read her hurt and knew she’d never forgive him for what he had to do.

  Even so, he wanted selfishly to buy more time. He wasn’t ready to release her. He had to try to make her see.

  * * *

  ‘It’s okay, Leila. I know you didn’t mean it.’ Joss spread his hands wide.

  Leila stared at the man she loved, wondering at the change in him. His face was grim and pale beneath his tan and he refused to meet her gaze.

  Why wouldn’t he look at her?

  Why this farce that she didn’t know her own mind?

  ‘I do mean it.’ The words spilled out, and she recognised his expression now—anger. So fierce it shrivelled the tender bud of joy she’d nursed all morning.

  It was like watching Dr Jekyll transform into Mr Hyde, seeing Joss’s expression shut down into stark lines of disapproval.

  ‘Don’t, Leila.’ Was that desperation in his voice? Leila leaned forward, looking for signs of the man who’d made love to her passionately such a short time ago. ‘You’ll regret it later.’

  She sat straighter. She regretted it now. She’d been so sure of Joss’s feelings. But far from reciprocating what she felt, he acted as if she’d done something terrible.

  ‘We’ll go on as before,’ he said, pacing the floor. His nakedness only reinforced his aura of formidable strength. ‘We can forget about this.’ He waved his hand dismissively as if her announcement was a mere nothing.

  Through her confusion anger drilled down.

  ‘I don’t want to forget it.’ Couldn’t he see how vital this was to both of them? Couldn’t he feel it?

  Joss swung round, his gaze pinioning her with a force that sucked the air from her lungs. He looked...savage. Desperate. Furious.

  ‘It’s the only way.’

  Leila wrapped the sheet tighter. Despite the room’s temperature control she was chilled to the marrow. ‘What do you mean?’

  He’d stopped pacing and stood, arms akimbo and jaw thrust forward, the image of male aggression. ‘We had an understanding, remember?’

  ‘If you mean the no-sex rule, I didn’t see you complaining about breaking that.’ Indignation bubbled inside her.

  ‘Of course not. That was mutually agreed. I’m talking about no strings attached. No emotional entanglement.’ He wrapped his palm around the back of his neck and for a moment looked like a man out of his depth, wrestling with forces beyond his control.

  Before her sympathy could stir, he went on. ‘You’re breaking our agreement.’

  Agreement? Joss was concerned about an agreement?

  What about the fact she’d fallen in love with him? That she’d bared her feelings and been rejected? Had he any concept of how much she hurt right now?

  ‘You don’t love me?’ Her voice was brittle, barely penetrating the thickened atmosphere clogging the room.

  But he heard. She could tell by the way he stiffened.

  ‘I don’t do love. I made that clear in the beginning.’

  Pain scythed through her and she wrapped one arm across her belly as if to ward off a physical blow. She hunched forward, her breath coming in short, hard gasps. He sounded cold as ice. Not the warm, generous, caring man she’d fallen for.

  Had he been a mirage?

  She’d heard his pain when he spoke of his family and the need to be alone. But everything he’d done, the tenderness he’d shown, had convinced her to hope.

  ‘We had an agreement.’ He stood before her, arms folded. ‘I give you money and you act as my hostess. Beyond that—sex for mutual pleasure, that’s all.’ His gaze bore into her. ‘I’m willing to overlook this morning and continue as we were.’

  Leila couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She swung her legs off the bed but didn’t stand. She had a horrible feeling her legs wouldn’t support her.

  ‘You’re happy for us to live together, and have sex of course—’ her voice dripped disdain ‘—as long as there aren’t messy emotions like love.’ Her voice quivered on the last word, echoing the shuddering pain in her heart.

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t look surprised. That’s what we agreed.’ He paced closer, his expression grim. ‘We do this my way, take it or leave it. That’s the deal—it always has been.’

  Leila gasped. Revulsion swirled through her.

  Deal! He had the temerity to talk of deals after what they’d shared?

  Looking up at Joss’s adamant face, his ferocious scowl and narrowed eyes, she was reminded suddenly of Gamil. Of how he’d demanded and ordered—always imposing his will, never considering anyone else.

  Could she have been so wrong about Joss? Right now he was every bit as domineering and unreasonable as her stepfather—the epitome of everything she’d learned to loathe. She couldn’t believe it. Yet surely now, if ever, was the time for him to show his true colours.

  Had she let love blind her to his selfishness? Had passion skewed her judgement so badly? She was inexperienced about men and lust—had she confused the situation?

  No! Surely not.

  Desperately she sought some sign of the Joss she knew in the steely-eyed man before her. Just a hint of softening.

  Disappointment crushed her as he stared back, showing no tenderness or understanding. One thing was clear. There was no softness in him, only selfish demands and disapproval.

  He didn’t love her.

  Suddenly Leila felt aged beyond her years. Even breathing took more effort than she could manage. Was this how her mother had felt when she realised Gamil had duped her? When she realised he didn’t truly love her? That he didn’t have the capacity to care for anyone but himself?

  Everything in Leila revolted at the idea. Not Joss! But the man before her stood solid and accusing.

  Shakily Leila got to her feet, hauling the sheet up.

  ‘You don’t want a wife.’ She drew an uneven breath. ‘You want a woman who’ll share her body and ask for nothing but money.’ Bile rose. ‘You want a whore.’

  Joss’s head jerked back as if she’d slapped him but he didn�
��t move. ‘I told you at the beginning, Leila. I never wanted a real wife. No emotions, no kids, no complications.’

  Leila swayed as the cold, hard clarity of his words struck deeply in her wounded heart.

  How had she ever imagined he’d cared? It had been convenient for him to help her overcome her fear of going out. It made her a more useful companion. Perhaps he’d even banked on gratitude making her more amenable to sex. She swallowed convulsively.

  As for what he’d done to Gamil, maybe it wasn’t about her after all. Maybe it was easier having an inexperienced, compliant wife on the board than her wily stepfather.

  No man who truly cared would treat her this way.

  Leila’s head swam as she tried and failed to make sense of this nightmare.

  One thing remained constant—the arrogance carved on Joss’s face as he waited for her response.

  ‘No emotions, no kids, no complications.’ She repeated his words in a scratchy whisper. Her lips curved in a grim smile that held no humour. ‘Too bad, Joss. It’s too late.’

  ‘Just because you said—’

  Leila lifted an imperious hand. ‘Forget that.’ She shied from going there. The pain was too raw. ‘There are other complications.’ She drew a slow breath, wondering how this morning’s incandescent joy had turned sour so quickly. ‘I found out this morning—we’re expecting a baby.’

  The last of the colour drained from Joss’s face, leaving it sickly pale. He staggered back, grabbing at the wall as if needing support.

  ‘You’re lying.’ His whisper was hoarse with shock and, could it be—revulsion?

  If she’d needed anything to convince her she’d deceived herself, seeing stark horror on Joss’s face did it. Her skin prickled and drew tight.

  She slipped a hand protectively across her stomach.

  ‘I don’t lie, Joss.’

  How she found her voice she didn’t know. Her body kept functioning even when he’d dealt her heart a lethal blow.

  He opened his mouth as if to speak but no sound emerged. The pulse at his temple pounded out of control and the tendons in his neck and shoulders stood out rigidly.

  Leila waited. Waited because even now she couldn’t believe it could end like this. She waited for Joss to haul her into his arms and apologise. To say he loved her. That he was ecstatic at her news.

  She’d wait a lifetime, she realised finally. Because she’d been mistaken in him. She’d taken casual generosity for real caring. Sex for true passion and love.

  ‘Don’t bother asking,’ she said through gritted teeth, despising herself for even now wanting more. ‘Mother and baby are both healthy.’

  With one final sweeping glance at the man who’d taken her heart and ripped it apart, she stalked out the door.

  * * *

  When Leila emerged from her room hours later, it was to the news Joss had packed his bags and left. Urgent negotiations overseas, the housekeeper said.

  ‘When is he due back?’ Leila didn’t know whether to be relieved she didn’t need to face him or furious he’d gone. They had things to sort out.

  Her blood sizzled in renewed fury that almost eclipsed the hurt gouging at her heart.

  ‘I’m sorry, madam.’ Mrs Draycott’s gaze skittered away. ‘I had the impression... That is, I...’ She wiped her hands down her skirt. ‘I believe he’ll be gone quite some time. He didn’t talk about returning.’

  Leila read the woman’s discomfort and a chill descended that froze her to the spot.

  Even after hours of digesting today’s scene, she hadn’t quite been able to believe it was the end of all she’d held so dear. Belief in the man she loved. Her dream that they’d build a life together, raise and love the child they’d created between them.

  She understood some of Joss’s reaction had been the product of shock. She’d convinced herself that when he thought things through he wouldn’t be so adamant. Whatever his hang-ups about family, he couldn’t throw away what they had.

  It seemed he could.

  He’d left without a backward glance. Without a murmur of regret or apology.

  Leila told herself she didn’t care. She and her child were better off alone than with a man like that. Yet it took a superhuman effort to ignore the shudder of pain that hit her and walk carefully back to her room.

  She had plans to make.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  JOSS SWITCHED OFF the engine and stared at the house across the quiet street. Rambling, set back from the road in its own garden, it looked solid and comfortable.

  Perhaps it was the sunlight glinting off the large windows or the mellow warmth of old brick that gave the illusion. Perhaps the ornamented chimneys or budding roses around the door. No matter how illogical that bricks and mortar should convey anything so sentimental, the place looked like home. A warm, welcoming home such as he’d never known. The sort of home he could imagine Leila living in. Leila and their child.

  He caught his breath as white-hot pain seared his chest.

  He had no right to be here. He’d given up that right when he’d turned his back on Leila and what she thought was her love for him.

  The pain twisted hard and sharp, skewering his sternum.

  He grimaced, telling himself he wasn’t surprised Leila had opted for comfort rather than a trendy apartment. He recalled her gardening magazines and how she’d reminisced about her childhood, the importance of a home.

  This would be a real home. Not because it was charming and reassuringly solid, but because Leila would make it so. Leila with her warmth and determination and optimism.

  What right had he to barge in? It was her sanctuary. She deserved it after what she’d been through.

  What right had he, who knew nothing of homes or love, to intrude?

  Joss looked again. This time the roses around the door and either side of the gate looked like thorned sentinels, keeping out unwanted visitors. The very warmth of the old house was a reminder of why he had no place here. He’d only brought her misery.

  He reached for the thick wad of papers on the passenger seat, the envelope crackling in his grasp. Opening the door and striding across that road was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

  * * *

  Leila hummed as she knelt over the garden bed, weeding. That was why she didn’t hear anything. The first hint she wasn’t alone was when a shadow blocked the sun and she looked up to see feet coming to a stop on the gravel path. Large feet wearing hand-stitched loafers.

  Emotion trembled through her. An instantaneous recognition she fought to douse.

  It wasn’t him. It would never be him. Hadn’t she learned that after two months’ silence? She’d left Joss’s apartment, left his life, and heard not a word from him.

  Nevertheless it took Leila a moment to harness her wayward emotions and don a calm expression.

  ‘Can I help you?’ She looked up, past long, long legs covered in washed denim, over a flat male belly, past a casual jacket and white shirt to wide, straight shoulders and a jaw honed from steel.

  Her heart gave a great leap and lodged somewhere near her throat. She thrust out a hand to keep her balance as she swayed backwards.

  ‘Leila!’ He lunged towards her then froze as if recalling he had no right to touch her.

  Her eyes widened as she took him in. He was as spectacular as ever—more so; the casual clothes suited him, as did the curl of dark hair brushing his collar. In the clear spring sunshine he looked like everything she’d secretly dreamed of for so long.

  The realisation stiffened her sinews and finally engaged her brain. Jerkily she got to her feet, backing from the path till she realised she was retreating and planted her feet.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Leila teetered on the brink of believing that was concern in his voi
ce. But she’d learned better.

  His gaze swept her. Did she imagine it lingered on her belly? She stifled the urge to slip her hand protectively over her baby.

  ‘Joss.’ Her tone was flat. ‘What are you doing here?’

  He swallowed hard, his mouth firming, as if he didn’t like being challenged.

  Leila took off her soil-encrusted gloves and dropped them at her feet. Bad enough to be caught on her knees, but did he have to find her in gardening clothes?

  She’d wanted, if she ever saw him again, to look cool and sophisticated, calmly unimpressed by his presence. Yet heat rose in her cheeks at his scrutiny and her breath came in uneven little pants. Valiantly she strove to calm herself. He’d be gone soon. He wouldn’t linger.

  ‘You’re looking well.’

  She opened her mouth to respond then closed her lips. She refused to bandy polite greetings. Though now she looked more closely he appeared tired, the hollows around his eyes and in his lean cheeks more pronounced. Obviously devoting himself to his business empire was demanding.

  When she said nothing his eyes narrowed as if trying to read her thoughts.

  ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’ He gestured to the house behind her. She’d bought it with the funds she’d earned by signing his precious agreement and marrying him. That house was her sanctuary and her hope for the future.

  ‘No!’ Her vehemence surprised him. She saw it in his raised eyebrows. But she didn’t want him on her territory. It would be harder than ever to eradicate memories of Joss once she’d let him into her house. ‘That’s not necessary. We can talk here.’ She folded her arms.

  On tenterhooks she watched him breathe deeply, his nostrils flaring. Would he try to force her hand?

  ‘How are you, Leila?’

  It was the last thing she’d expected. What was more, his voice held that soft gravel note she’d learnt to heed because it signalled deep emotion.