Marriage of Convenience

Chapter Nineteen

'How much have you been able to gather from the Dexter Securities books? I take it you made a start on them while I was away?'

About to tell him she was on her way to bed the frosty words on the edge of her tongue she stared right back at him, her heart jerking. Did he have to be so cold, so unforgiving? Not that there was actually anything to forgive, but he wouldn't believe that in a million years.

If only, a desperate little voice in her mind nudged, if only they could start conversing normally again, together with about something in which they shared a common interest, then maybe she could find a way through to him and force him to accept he'd been wrong about her.

'As far as I've been able to tell, it's looking pretty good

She forced a level tone, forced herself to return to a chair. She had to stay calm. This wasn't personal, this was business, and they were perfectly attuned on that level, she had to remember that. But could she hold her own emotions? She doubted even that when he shot, smooth as ice, 'And?'

Her eyes clouded, and her hands felt clammy. He clearly expected her to have some idea of how to remedy the situation, and he was short on patience. But she hadn't been able to bring her usual concentration to the project how could she when her equilibrium had been shattered by what had happened? Not to mention her worries about what Leo Isaac might decide to do next!.'

'I'm waiting to hear your conclusions.' He had removed his tie now, his jacket, and the whiteness of his shirt contrasted starkly with the depth of his tan, his crisp, dark hair, and the close-fitting black trousers that skimmed long, lean legs. He was standing, a brandy- glass in his hand, but although he was still there was a restlessness in him she could feel, an intimation of tension in the way he held his head.

'I honestly don't know.' She was on the defensive now. 'I haven't begun to form any conclusions. I've had too much on my mind,' she qualified with a bitterness she couldn't hide.

'Like Leo ?' he came back immediately, his mouth tightening, and Freya felt drained and hopeless, her face paper-white. What was the use? What was the use?

'No, not Leo,' she told him wearily and felt her head begin to ache. It wasn't the truth, of course. Leo had been on her mind, but not for the reasons Theo Insisted on believing.

And her depression deepened when he stated flatly, 'I don't believe you. But you're going to have to get him out of your mind and start concentrating on how to pull Dexter Securities out of the mess. After all,' he slammed his empty glass down on the drinks table, making her flinch with the leashed violence of the action, 'I've a sizeable interest in the company now you signed your shares over to me as a payment for the right to get your hands on enough ready cash to satisfy your lover, remember? So when you've come up with a few ideas, let me know, and we'll discuss them.' He picked up his suit jacket and hooked it over his shoulder. 'I'm going to bed now, and I suggest you do, too.' He paused at the door, his voice cutting, 'I don't need to remind you that those shares were only a down payment for my services as your husband.

And I intend to extract what I owe. With interest.'

He closed the door quietly behind him and she stared at its blank surface. There was no way she was going to climb into the huge bed they had shared since returning from their honeymoon. No way on God's sweet earth!

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 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, 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 share his bed then he had to be out of his mind!

There was a slip of a dressing-room adjoining the master bedroom and it contained a narrow bed. Theo had used it for the first two nights after their wedding because she had required they wouldn't sleep together for the first two weeks of their marriage and He had respected her wishes. He had been a different man then, she thought miserably as she made her way upstairs. He was a frightening stranger now.

She couldn't use the dressing-room, of course, so Mary would have to draw

her own conclusions.

The bed in the guest-room was always kept made up, and the room itself was only slightly less luxurious than the one she and Theo 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.

Dressed only in a pair of midnight-blue satin underwear and tiny matching bra, she pulled back the bedcovers and viewed the cool linen sheets with less than enthusiasm.

'I prefer our bed,' Theo 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 realized exactly what was happening and began to hit her fists against his naked chest.

'What the hell do you think you're doing?' she aware of his near nakedness, and hers. He was wearing only silky pajama, and she barely covered breasts were pressed against the warmth of his skin. And, a wave 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.

'I'm taking you to my bed, where you belong,' he answered her angry question tersely. 'Scream if you like.

Pushing the bedroom door shut behind him with his foot, 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, her eyes glittering 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 attack hers.

Desperately, she clamped her mouth shut; trying to ignore the fever of need he already awakened 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, 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 moaning her rejection of the way he made her feel. He had warned her that he would make love to her until she couldn't think straight, and this was precisely what he was doing.

'Leave me alone!' It was a plea, a muted cry of despair, and she heard a rough echo of that despair in his voice as he derided, 'I would if I damned well could!'

And his mouth closed over one taut nipple, sucking moistly, making blind desire kick to urgent life inside her and she was lost in the devastating sensation of his hands, his mouth, his body, as he kissed and fondled every inch of her silky, sweat-slicked skin until she was ready to beg him to take her.

'Who am I?' Vivid blue eyes froze her soul 'Do you know who I am, what I am?' he insisted, and she closed her eyes, her body aching for the relief only he could bring, the relief he was withholding. He was playing games with her, and she shuddered hopelessly as his voice ground out, 'Open your eyes, damn you! Look at me. I'm not Leo, so don't even try to pretend I am! I'm your husband, the man who is going to make love to you, again and again, until you don't know who you are or what you are, until all you can know, feel, taste, think, is me!'

And then he took her, almost savagely, as if he would never have enough of her, as time and time again he forced her to the delirious heights of shaming ecstasy.