She could feel hysteria rising within her when he at last released her, her eyes deep purple smudges of pain in her pale, tense face. She rubbed her hand across her mouth to erase his touch, uncaring of the blood she was smearing across her cheeks.
>
‘My God!’ Leon was almost as pale as she was. ‘You’re not frigid at all, you’re just plain scared.’
‘I hate you!’ she spat the words at him. ‘I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!’ Tears were streaming down her face by this time. ‘How dare you touch me! How dare you!’
Then she was running, running, desperate to get away from him. His jacket fell unheeded to the ground and still she kept on running. She didn’t stop until she was sure he hadn’t followed her. That was when she flagged down a taxi, uncaring of the sight she must look with her dishevelled appearance and the blood on her face.
She was a hunched-up ball of misery when Jenny burst into the flat an hour later. She had felt numb by the time she got home, completely unable to do anything other than collapse on the sofa.
Jenny put the light on with a flick of the switch. ‘My God!’ she breathed softly. ‘Oh, my God!’ She ran over to cradle Helen in her arms. ‘Oh, Helen,’ she choked. ‘What did he do to you?’
‘Who?’ Helen asked dazedly.
Jenny smoothed her hair back from her face. ‘Leon Masters!’ she said angrily.
Reaction was setting in in earnest now, a terrible shaking invading her limbs, her teeth chattering. ‘H-how do you know about that?’
‘Because he told me. That’s why I’m here. After disappearing for nearly an hour from his own party he came back and told me you needed me. He didn’t exactly say why, but I could guess. What did he do, Helen?’ she probed gently.
‘He—’ Helen swallowed hard. ‘He kissed me!’ She shuddered at the memory of it, once again feeling those firm passionate lips on hers. No one had kissed her since—since Michael, and she could only feel angered and sick at Leon Masters daring to do so.
Jenny searched her features. ‘Is that all?’
Helen jerked away from her. ‘Isn’t it enough!’
‘But I—well, it was only a kiss, Helen,’ Jenny chided lightly. ‘You’ve been kissed before.’
‘No! No, I haven’t. Not since—not since—Michael,’ Helen had difficulty in even saying his name. She held herself stiffly. ‘I hate him!’
‘Michael?’
‘Leon Masters!’ Helen said sharply. ‘He kissed me and it—it was horrible. Horrible!’
‘He’s certainly made a mess of your mouth.’ Jenny touched her torn lip. ‘That’s going to be swollen and sore tomorrow.’
‘It’s sore now.’
‘I don’t suppose he appreciated you fighting him.’
‘That isn’t why he did it.’ Helen took a deep ragged breath. ‘He kissed me because he said—he said I was—frigid.’
Jenny frowned. ‘Does he know you’ve been married?’
‘Oh yes,’ Helen acknowledged bitterly, ‘he knew. He seemed to think it was his duty to snap me out of my frigidity.’
‘The insensitivity of the man!’ Jenny muttered. ‘Did you tell him about the accident, about—’
‘No!’ Helen cut in shrilly. ‘No, I didn’t tell him anything. Why should I? He means nothing to me.’
‘But he’d like to. He more or less demanded that I introduce the two of you.’
’Well, I wish you’d said no.’
‘Stay there,’ Jenny ordered as she began to move. ‘I’ll get a cloth and clean your face up.’
Helen grimaced. ‘I wasn’t going anywhere, just getting comfortable.’