She was moulded into his body, the evidence of his desire hard and fierce against her softness, and although she fought him with all her strength he hardly seemed to notice. And then, through the anger and shock and self-contempt, she felt herself respond to his need as it fired her own passion.
She hated herself even as she trembled against him, all resistance gone; she hated herself for her incurable weakness where he was concerned, but she just couldn't help it She loved him. It had no rhyme or reason, and he would never understand that it was more than mere physical lust, but she could no more resist him than fly.
As he felt her submission the tempo of his assault changed, his mouth immediately persuasive and sensual as he kissed her throat and ears, his hands removing her light blouse with experienced ease before she even realised what he was doing, and cupping her full breasts in their brief lacy covering, his thumbs running over their swollen peaks. She gasped, her body alive with sensation after sensation as he continued to kiss and caress her, making her tremble with hungry expectancy.
She wanted him—she needed him… Through the maelstrom of tormenting desire that thought was uppermost But like this? After what she had just discovered? Where was her pride? Her self-respect? But even as the warning formed it was gone in a turmoil of touch and taste, his devastating experience and knowledge in the sensual arts combining with her love to render her helpless and quivering in his arms.
'Now do you doubt it?' Suddenly, shockingly, the warmth of his body had left hers and she almost whimpered with the betrayal. He held her at arm's length, desire turning his eyes into glittering black onyx, his face hard and set. 'I won't take you until we are legally married—that's one thing at least you won't be able to accuse me of—but tomorrow you will become mine, Katie. Do you understand that?'
She was unable to speak, staring at him with great bruised eyes as he bent and retrieved her blouse from the floor. 'Put it on.' She struggled into the cotton material hastily, her cheeks burning, but when it came to fastening the small pearl buttons her fingers wouldn't obey. He watched her fumble for a few moments and then brushed her hands aside, doing up the tiny buttons with perfectly steady hands, his face expressionless.
'I hate you.' And for an infinitesimal moment she did. How could he stand there, with that iron control firmly in place once more, and act almost as though this was all her fault? It just wasn't fair. None of this was fair. He had things all his own way, far more than he realised.
The sting of tears at the back of her eyes brought her head up sharply and straightened her trembling mouth. Oh, no, she would have none of that. No tears in front of him.
'I think we can take that as read,' he said grimly. 'But you are going to sit and listen to me, Katie, whether you like it or not.' He indicated the chair with an abrupt nod of his head. 'Now. You are making an appearance at that church tomorrow come hell or high water and I'm not giving you an excuse to change your mind because nothing has altered—nothing at all.'
She sat. There was nothing else she could do and, besides, she had the awful suspicion that if she didn't she would collapse at his feet as the trembling that was situated at the very core of her body threatened to take over.
'As your evil-minded sister informed you, I do pay the rent on an apartment which Penny Staples occupies,' he continued coldly as he walked round the desk and sat down facing her in the massive leather chair he had been occupying before she had interrupted him. 'But she is not my mistress.'
As she twisted restlessly in her chair, half rising, he motioned her back with a sharp wave of his hand, his voice a bark. 'Sit, damn you! You've made one hell of an accusation tonight and you will listen to me even if I have to tie you in that chair. Now…'
He took a deep, shuddering breath and she realised, for the first time, that he wasn't quite as in control as he would have liked her to believe. It helped—not a lot—but it gave her the courage to sit still and watch his face silently as he talked.
'As I said, I intended to tell you about Penny on our honeymoon when I'd made you understand how I—' He stopped abruptly and shook his head, rising from his seat to stand with his back towards her as he looked out of the window into the mellow evening sunshine.
'I knew Penny from my university days,' he continued flatly, 'and, as your informant's already told you, we'd planned to get married one day. Then the accident changed everything. Suddenly I had the responsibility of my father's businesses and all that that entailed, plus a badly hurt younger brother who needed all my spare time and attention. Penny didn't like it.'
He paused for a moment and she saw the broad back stiffen. 'The final break came when I went round to her flat one night thinking to surprise her and found her in bed with a friend of mine. It was a surprise all right,' he added grimly. 'I called her all the names under the sun and left and that was that. But I felt bitter, very bitter, for a long, long time.
'
'Joe stabilised. I found I had a flair for business and everything I touched turned to gold, and I made sure my private life was run exactly the way I wanted it. On my terms. No commitment, no promises; I took what I wanted when I wanted it and if they didn't like it they could always walk. Not very pretty but that's how it was.'
'And Penny?' she asked stiffly, the pain that had flooded her heart at the thought of those other women keeping her back straight.
'She'd become a model—a successful one,' he said slowly. 'A different guy for each new outfit—that sort of lifestyle. I'd seen her around at a distance but then one night about five years after the split, she came across to my table in a crowded nightclub and we talked about old times. She laid it on the line; she wanted me back.'
He paused. 'But there was nothing there—nothing. It had taken me all that time to realise the girl I thought I'd loved was a figment of my imagination, an illusion. It scared me to death. How could I have been so mistaken? I'd have married the girl, for crying out loud. So I became even more determined that any relationship I had would be on my terms, that this so-called love was merely a short-lived feeling in one's imagination that died as quickly as it was given life.'
'But the apartment?' she asked bewilderedly. 'If you don't love her…'
'I haven't slept with Penny Staples since I was twenty-three years old,' he said coolly as he looked straight into her eyes, a shaft of sunlight from the window behind him turning his hair fiery black. 'But five years ago I got a call from a London hospital to say they'd got a patient who had tried to commit suicide, had no next of kin and had given my name as the only contact It was Penny. I went to see her and she was in a mess.'
He shook his head slowly. 'She had skin cancer, badly; she'd left it far too late to do anything about it because she was scaled an operation might ruin her looks for the modelling circuit. What would have been a small scar on her jaw ended up as a major operation to remove half her face.'
'Carlton…' As her face whitened he nodded slowly.
'I know. She had no friends, no money; her looks were gone and she wanted to die. But I wouldn't let her. Rightly or wrongly I wouldn't let her. The plastic surgeons did what they could but the results weren't good. But one thing came out of all the months of hospitalisation—she found she could paint Water-colours. They're damn good too.'
'So I provided the apartment when she was well enough to leave and she supports herself in everything else with her painting. She has a few close friends now among the artist community and is content in her own way, although she never leaves the apartment. Her life is her painting, her friends and her two cats.'
'Do you visit her?' she asked painfully, her head whirling. Whatever she had thought, it wasn't this. 'To see how she is, I mean.'
'Occasionally.' He gestured abruptly with his hand. 'She asked for my help knowing I didn't love her and that she didn't love me. It was an appeal from the past, in memory of two young kids who had fun for a time before it all went sour. And it was in that vein that I responded.'
'There is nothing there beyond a strange feeling of duty, not even friendship, but I couldn't have turned my back on her when she had nothing and no one. And the financial side is a drop in the ocean to me but means security and stability to her. I'd have done the same for anyone in that position.'