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earth! Tight with rage, she paced the room, pouring herself a generous dose
of brandy and swallowing it recklessly.
She was seeing a side of him she hadn't known existed. She had always
admired his objectivity, his ability to see all sides of a given situation, a
given problem, his careful weighing of every angle. But in this situation he
was seeing only the side he wanted to see, refusing to admit there could be
another. And that wasn't like the man she had come to know, like and
respect. He was acting out of character, being deliberately cruel, and his
treatment of her was an insult.
Every time he killed her attempts to tell him the truth he insulted her. And if
he thought she was going to sharehis bed then he had to be out of his mind!
And if she had any sense at all she would walk out on him now and never
come back. And he could whistle for what he thought she owed him!
But walking out would point to her . guilt in his jaundiced eyes, it would!
He would believe she had gone to Fenton. And besides, she admitted
drearily, she still loved him, believed, crazily, that there was still a chance
for them. Somewhere.
But tonight she wouldn't sleep with him.
There was a slip of a dressing-room adjoining the master bedroom and it
contained a narrow bed. Jude had used it for the first two nights after their
wedding because she had stipulated they wouldn't sleep together for the first
two weeks of their marriage.
He had respected her wishes, for some reason choosing to use the tiny room
rather than the far more comfortable guest-room. And she had admired him
for that, for the way he had Obviously wanted to spare her any puzzled looks
she might have received from Meg. He had been a different man then, she
thought miserably as she made her way reluctantly upstairs. He was a
frightening stranger now.
She couldn't use the dressing-room, of course, so Meg would have to draw
her own conclusions. Because even if Jude were already asleep, which she
doubted, he would hear her and wake no matter how quietly she moved
across the bedroom. But she had to sleep somewhere and the guest-room
was the only other choice, because she wasn't sleeping with him. She had too
much pride to share intimacy with a man who hated and despised her, even if
he was her husband.
The bed in the guest-room was always kept made up and aired, and the room
itself was only slightly less luxurious than the one she and Jude had shared
until now. But she wasn't interested in her surroundings, and a sob built up in
her throat, hurting, as she unzipped her dress and reflected that her marriage,
which had once seemed to hold so much promise, was dead before it had
properly come alive.
Clad only in a pair of midnight-blue satin briefs and tiny matching bra, she
pulled back the bedcovers and viewed the cool linen sheets with less than
enthusiasm.
'I prefer our bed,' Jude said, from right behind her, and before she knew what
was happening he had scooped her up into his arms and her eyes widened
with shock, for one still second, before she realised exactly what was
happening and began to pummel her fists against his naked chest.
'What the hell do you think you're doing?' she spat, burningly, shamingly
aware of his near nakedness, and hers. He was wearing only silky pyjama
bottoms, and her scantily covered breasts were pressed against the warm
satin of his skin. And, shamingly, a sheet of heated sensation flooded her
body at the contact and she grew still, her body painfully rigid as she tried to
hold herself away from him.
Her breath caught in her throat, a dry, painful sob, as he carried her out of the
room. She would not be manhandled this way, but her renewed struggles had
no effect at all on his effortless stride as he carried her along the dimly lit
corridor to their own room.
'I'm taking you to my bed, where you belong,' he answered her angry
question tersely. 'Scream if you like. The Thornwoods are safely tucked up
in their quarters at the rear of the house. I doubt if they'd hear if you blew a
trumpet.'
Pushing the bedroom door shut behind him with his foot, he crossed the pale
ochre wool of the carpet in three long strides, dropping her to the smooth
olive green cover of the bed and was down on top of her, his hips pinning her
to the mattress, before she could move.
'This will be rape,' she warned throatily, her eyes glittering feverishly
between the tumbled strands of her silkily silver hair, her breath coming
quickly, making the rounded peaks of her breasts rise and fall rapidly.
'I don't think so.' He captured her clenched and flailing hands in one of his
and shifted slightly, making her aware of his arousal, and she moaned, low
in her throat, just once, as his lips descended to take hers.
Desperately, she clamped her mouth shut, trying to ignore the fever of need
he was already arousing within her as his tongue forced her lips apart. But,
as she had unconsciously known he would, he won that battle and she
capitulated weakly to the insistent pressure of his mouth. And then, as if he
knew he had her subdued, mindless, he trailed moist kisses down the length
of her throat and on and down to circle her breasts, tormenting the aroused
peaks until she could have screamed her frustration, her unwilling yet
insistent need.
Then, gently, he eased the fabric of her bra aside, revealing first one tautly
inviting breast and then the other, and she writhed frantically beneath him, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]