'Anton, please!' she begged, but her heart was beating so fast that it was an effort to speak. 'For God's sake, don't do this to me!'
'Is it hate that lights the fire of your passion until you cling to me and beg me to take you?' he demanded ruthlessly, ignoring her pleas, and fully aware of the sexual excitement he aroused within her while he undid the sash of her nightdress to gain access to the rest of her pulsating body.
'I've never yet begged you to maul me the way you do,' she protested, fighting him with every mental weapon she could find, but she shrank inwardly from the stinging fury of his glance.
'You don't know what it's like to be mauled by a man, but, by heaven, if you don't guard your tongue, I'll show you tonight!'
'I despise you!' she hissed frantically, but the next moment a cry was torn from her lips as, with one sweeping movement, he stripped her nightdress from her trembling body and raised her high in his arms. 'Let me go, or I'll—'
'Or you will what?' he interrupted with a harsh laugh, his razor-sharp eyes raking her from head to foot before he flung her on to the bed and followed her down to crush her softness with the hard length of his body. Against her throat he demanded, 'Are you going to shout for help so that Sally can rush in to witness your inevitable surrender to my lovemaking?'
She sucked her breath in sharply, a deep flush staining her cheeks. 'You're detestable!'
'I find nothing more detestable than a liar,' he said cuttingly, and then his hard mouth was bruising her lips into quivering submission. Laura fought him off with what little strength she still had left, but her struggles merely increased his desire for her, and when he finally raised his head, the brilliant blaze of his eyes confirmed this. 'You know very well that at this moment you want me so much that you're aching with the same need that's tearing away at my guts,' he accused thickly, and the devastating truth of it made her renew her struggles, but her flailing arms were grasped painfully at the wrists and raised above her head to render her harmless. 'Deny it,' his deep voice grated along tender, quivering nerves, 'and I'll have the satisfaction of proving you a liar.'
She turned her hot cheek into the pillow and a low moan escaped her as his lips and tongue explored the soft swell of her breasts. She clung desperately to her sanity, but, when his mouth finally fastened on to hers with a searing passion that seemed to set fire to her soul, she melted against him, and her hands, freed from his restraining clasp, sought the opening of his robe and moved hungrily across the warm, hair-roughened chest towards the broad shoulders where the hard muscles rippled beneath her caressing fingers. He groaned against her lips, his body now hard and tense with desire as he caressed her with a new urgency, and her flesh responded wildly to the intimacies of his touch. Desire leapt like a red-hot fire through her veins and, no longer in control of her actions, she wrapped her arms about his neck while her body arched towards his with an aching need for closer contact.
Anton raised his head suddenly, breaking her grip, and the eyes boring down into hers challenged and mocked simultaneously. 'Can you still deny that you want me?' Her eyes, dark and stormy with the extent of her emotions, gave him his answer,. and a smile of triumph touched his mouth. 'You can't deny it, and you know it.'
'You're a self-opinionated, arrogant swine, and I hate you!' she accused hoarsely when he released her and stood up to remove his robe.
He was supremely confident, and in no hurry to return to her while she lay there staring up at him, her honey-brown hair in disarray across the pillows, and her breath coming quick and unevenly across her swollen, parted lips as her hungry glance swept down the length of his tall, evenly-tanned, muscular body. She had become an alien to herself, torn between love and hate, despising herself, yet wanting him with every fibre of her being. She held out her arms to him impatiently, not caring that her action proved his dominance over her, and he came to her then, his heated flesh against her own exciting her beyond reason. He stretched out a hand to switch off the bedside light, and then, in the velvety darkness, he proceeded to prove his dominance over her once and for all.
She was tormented with feather-light, unhurried caresses until the bone-snapping tension of her desire made her do exactly what she had denied so fiercely before. She clung to him and begged urgently, 'Take me! Please, take me!'
His hard, thrusting body showed her no mercy after that, and they made love in a fury of passion that left her limp and exhausted, but utterly fulfilled.
For the first time since their marriage, Anton did not thrust her from him with an exclamation of disgust on his lips, and she lay in his arms, her love for him a pulsating, living thing between them as he held her gently and caressed her in the tender aftermath of their lovemaking. He nuzzled her ear and, with a contented sigh, she turned fully into his arms, burying her lips against his warm throat where she could feel the throbbing, rhythmic beat of his pulse.
'Won't you change your mind and come with us to Gordon's Bay on Friday?' she asked innocently a considerable time later, but the moment the words were spoken she was made to realise her mistake.
Anton's fingers bit into her flesh as he thrust her from him, and his voice lashed her painfully. 'Women are all the same. They use their bodies to get what they want, but that strategy won't succeed with me.' His hands were hard on her body, inflicting pain where moments before they had given pleasure, and his breath was ragged and harsh as he moulded her to him. 'What I want from you I will take when and how I please, and you'll get nothing in return.'
Shocked and startled by the suddenness of his attack, Laura was forced to submit to the demands he made on her. In the fury that raged through him he was deaf to her pleas while he violated her body without the slightest consideration for her feelings, and when it was over, she lay cold and shivering on her side of the bed, bruised in body and spirit.
To use her body as a persuasive element had never occurred to her, but Anton was filled with such bitter hatred and suspicion that he would never believe anything else of her. What kind of women had he associated with in the past? she wondered, choking back a sob. What kind of woman would use her body as a weapon of influence to satisfy a grasping nature?
Laura lay for hours nursing the ache in her heart, torturing herself with her thoughts while Anton slept, seemingly without a care, and it was almost dawn before she herself drifted into an exhausted sleep.
She awoke with a start some hours later to find Jemima beside her with a tray of breakfast in her hands.
'What time is it?' she asked, yawning sleepily as she gathered the sheets closer about her while she shifted up into a sitting position against the pillows.
'Almost nine o'clock, Miss Laura. Mr Anton said I was not to wake you earlier.'
Anton! His name jarred an unpleasant, best-forgotten memory, and Laura winced inwardly as Jemima placed the tray on her knees and left the room.
A bulky envelope addressed to her in Anton's bold black handwriting stared up at her from the tray, and she tore open the flap with trembling fingers to extract a single sheet of paper which was accompanied by a bunch of keys.
'Laura,' the letter began bluntly, 'Let last night be a lesson to you. I was initiated into a woman's treachery at a very early age, and no woman will ever have the pleasure of using her physical attributes to bend my will to hers. Try it again, and the consequences will be far worse than you've already experienced.
'I'm flying to Johannesburg this morning on business, and don't expect to return before Saturday. Eddie has been instructed to drive Sally and yourself out to Gordon's Bay on Friday afternoon, and I'm enclosing the keys to the cottage.'
His name, in firm arrogant strokes, adorned the bottom of the page, and, typically, there was no apology for his behaviour, only a warning which, after last night's brutality, she would be well advised to heed.
She had no appetite, and barely touched the breakfast which had been prepared with such care. She settled finally for a strong cup of aromatic coffee before she pushed aside the tray and w
ent through to the bathroom to run her bathwater. An hour later she was climbing through a gap in the privet hedge at the side of the house, and making her way through the garden up to Gina Abbot's house with a light of determination in her eyes.
If anyone could tell her something about Anton, then Gina could, and Laura had every intention of finding out all there was to know about the man she had married, and most especially the reason for his twisted attitude towards women.
'Am I in time for tea?' she asked with forced bright-ness when she found Gina coming out on to the terrace with a tray, and saw her placing it on the cane table with the glass top.
'Laura!' Gina looked up in surprise. 'I must have known you would come,' she laughed, gesturing towards the extra cup on the tray. 'Sit down, my dear. It's been some time since your last visit.'
Laura sat down in the cane chair and glanced about her appreciatively, taking in the scarlet bougainvillaea ranking so profusely on the pagola beneath which they were seated. Sliding glass doors led the way into the spacious living-room which possessed a homely atmosphere despite its elegant furnishings, and Laura found herself relaxing now that she was away from the austerity she always encountered within Bellavista's walls.
'You have a lovely home,' she announced sincerely as she accepted a cup of tea from Gina, and helped herself to a biscuit.
Gina's green eyes sparkled humorously. 'Coming from the mistress of Bellavista, that's a compliment.'
'I still can't think of Bellavista as my home,' Laura confessed, admitting to herself silently that there were many occasions when she still had the distinct feeling that she was there on sufferance.
'Time will change that,' Gina assured her, then she diverted the conversation in a different direction. 'I suppose Sally is looking forward to the school holidays. Have you made any plans?'
'We're going to the cottage at Gordon's Bay,' Laura told her casually, choosing her words with care as she added, 'Sally and I tried to persuade Anton last night that he should come with us, but unfortunately he won't be able to manage it.'
'What a shame,' Gina frowned. 'Sally must be disappointed.'
'She is.'
'And you, Laura,' Gina prompted with a teasing sincerity. 'Are you disappointed?'
'For Sally's sake, yes,' Laura replied calmly, giving nothing away as she drank her tea quickly before launching into the subject which was foremost in her mind. 'On my wedding day, Gina, you said that Anton had once been hurt badly. Was it a woman?'
'I wondered when you'd ask,' Gina laughed mischievously, then she sobered. 'Yes, it was a woman— Camilla York her name was then. They were going to be married, so everyone believed, but before the engagement could be announced, she married a wealthy German count and left the country.'
'But why?'
'Why?' Gina smiled a little cynically. 'My dear, this happened eight years ago. Anton's father had just died leaving DeVere Enterprises at rock-bottom financially. Anton never mentioned the subject, but my guess is that Camilla got out quickly when she discovered that the DeVere fortune had taken a tumble. Karl von Dissel happened to be on the scene, and he was also extremely wealthy. Added to that he was titled, and that was obviously just up Camilla's street, as they say.'
Laura smiled a quick, humourless smile. 'You don't make her sound very nice.'
'She wasn't,' Gina insisted, her green eyes sparkling with an inner anger. 'And Anton was well rid of her. If she'd been worth her salt she would have stood by him during those first few years after his father's death. He worked like a demon to put the family business on its feet once again, and today it's one of the largest firms of its kind in the country. There's no longer any need for him to work so hard—he has highly qualified people at the helm of each department—but he goes on and on, driving himself harder than he drives those who work for him. Heaven only knows what he's trying to accomplish, but Graham says that Anton will drive himself into an early grave if he doesn't slow down.' She leaned forward anxiously in her chair. 'Will you try to reason with him, Laura? Make him realise what he's doing to himself?'
'Anton is a law unto himself,' Laura smiled ruefully. 'He's master of his ship, and ruler of his kingdom. He doesn't take kindly to interference, and my reasons are quite likely to be misconstrued.'
'I know,' Gina nodded, 'but keep in mind what I said and when the time is right, use whatever influence you have.' A warm smile flashed across her face. 'At the moment he may be rather blind where you're concerned, but in time he'll realise what a gem he has for a wife.'
'You always do a pretty good job of boosting my morale, Gina,' Laura laughed, but her laughter brought her close to tears. 'Thank you.'
Gina had shed some light on the subject of Anton's cynical attitude, but there had to be more to it than that, Laura decided when she returned to Bellavista later that morning. Upstairs in their bedroom she found Anton's letter and read it through once again. One sentence stood out above all the others: 'I was initiated into a woman's treachery at a very early age.'
'A very early age,' Laura repeated the words softly to herself. When he was a child, perhaps? Or could he have been referring to himself when he had been in his teens, a time when most people were inclined to be oversensitive? Had there been someone else at the time? Someone Gina had no knowledge of?
Laura's compassionate heart ached for him, but her logical mind remained vaguely unsympathetic, reserving judgment until all the facts were known. Anton was not a fool. Surely he must know that not all women are as despicable as Camilla von Dissel, and goodness knows how many others there may have been who unwittingly attributed to his low opinion of women.
She lowered her eyes to the letter in her hands, and the first sentence sprang to life. 'Let last night be a lesson to you.' She winced at the memory of his cruelty. Last night had been a night of pleasure and pain, and the latter was something she hoped she would never have to endure again.
CHAPTER SIX
The sun rose behind the Hottentots Holland mountains with a lazy brilliance, transforming the small coastal town into a breathtaking paradise of green hills reaching out into the sea, with a stretch of golden sand dividing them. It held Laura spellbound and reluctant to climb down from her comfortable perch on the rocks in order to return to the cottage.
This was their fourth day at Gordon's Bay, and although the days had passed swiftly with Sally as companion, Laura had spent the nights in a restless turmoil, wondering what Anton was doing, and torturing herself with the memory of that last night they had spent together before his flight to Johannesburg. Her inability to sleep had driven her from her bed each morning before dawn to await the sunrise on the rocky beach, and afterwards she would return to the cottage feeling oddly at peace with herself.
The breeze moved playfully through her hair, lifting it from her shoulders and blowing it against her cheeks. In her haste to leave the cottage that morning she had not bothered to pin it up, and she flicked it back absently now, turning her face into the breeze so that it lifted her hair gently in a thick honey-brown curtain behind her.
The sea was never still, rising and falling like a living, breathing thing sending foamy breakers rushing towards the shore. It lashed the rocks beneath her motionless figure, sending up a frothy spray that left crystal-coloured drops on her cheeks like lost tears beneath shadowed blue eyes. A seagull settled on a rock nearby, cocking its head in her direction as if expecting to be fed with titbits, but when none were forthcoming, it flapped its wings and flew off with a disgusted screech.
The sound of its departure made her stir. Sally would soon be awake and wanting her breakfast before they went for an early morning swim, and Laura sighed inwardly, for after a hectic day, another sleepless night would follow.
'Don't move!' a voice ordered sharply when she was about to get to her feet and, startled into immobility, she obeyed until that same voice said a few seconds later, 'You can relax now.'
She turned her head swiftly and her cautious, yet curious glance encountered a
tall, lanky man with untidy sun-bleached hair. His denims were as faded as the blue shirt he wore, and the sandals on his feet had obviously seen several summers.
'May I know what all that was about?' she demanded, wary of strangers after some of the encounters she had had with reporters, but she could not prevent her lips from quivering in response to his flashing smile.
'My apologies,' he replied, moving a book in the air as he climbed over the rocks towards her. 'I couldn't resist sketching you. You looked like a mermaid sunning herself on the rocks.'
'You're an artist?'
'For my sins, yes,' he said, and white teeth flashed in a thin, hungry-looking face as he seated himself beside her without invitation. 'The name's Alex Muir.' He paused, grinning as he added hopefully, 'You may have heard of me?'
Laura gave the matter unnecessary thought, then she shook her head. 'Can't say that I have.'
'Ah, my ego has been mortally wounded, but no matter,' he laughed teasingly, then she was placed under the direct scrutiny of his remarkably alert hazel eyes. 'May I know your name?'
'It's Laura—Laura DeVere,' she added hastily, still finding it difficult to link her name with Anton's.
'DeVere,' he frowned thoughtfully. 'You're not related to the Anton DeVere of DeVere Enterprises by any chance, are you?'
Hearing Anton spoken of in such grandiose terms sent an unpleasant ripple of shock through her, making her see the situation from an angle which had not occurred to her before, but which was now intolerably clear. Anton was a prominent and wealthy businessman from one of the most distinguished families in the Cape, while she was a nobody from nowhere whose niece happened to be his ward—it was as simple as that! And nothing, not even marriage to him, could elevate her to a position where she might imagine herself worthy of him in any way.
She became aware of Alex Muir awaiting her reply, and said in a voice that sounded curiously flat to her ears, 'I'm his wife.'
Season of Shadows Page 9
