Substitute Bride (16 page)

Rick said nothing more and she wished he would talk to her about Canada, if he didn't want to discuss his business there. Or did he think that because her stay in his life was to be so brief, it wasn't worth talking to her about anything?

'You never wrote, or rang me,' she said, tears stinging her eyes along with a real sense of grievance.

'Did you expect me to?' he snapped.

'No,' she hesitated, as he rang for the next course, 'but I thought you might. It—' she swalowed, 'it made me feel lonely when you didn't.'

'And when your loneliness grew intolerable, you consoled yourself with other men.'

Helplessly she frowned. That hadn't been what she meant.

'I—I went out with Ben occasionaly, yes, I'll admit. He taught me things…'

Rick's eyes slitted to steel splinters. 'He won't again. He's off to Australia.'

'Not—not because of me, I hope?' Among other things, if Rick had blamed her, Emma shivered to imagine Rita's wrath.

'It was the sensible course to take. He was going soon, in any case.'

'But not just yet.'

'Does it make any difference?'

Hating the jeering note in his voice, she exclaimed, 'It might, to Ben. If his sudden departure was based on the wrong motives.'

'I think not,' Rick returned harshly, draining his glass which he immediately replenished.

Painfuly, Emma watched him. 'The relationship between the two of you has always been a good one. He practicaly worships you. I would hate to think I'd been responsible for any trouble, but I…'

'Forget it,' he cut in brusquely. 'Everything's been taken care of.'

'And Miles?' she whispered, suddenly frightened and made reckless by such ruthlessness. 'How did you deal with him?'

'Ah, now I detect real concern!' A cruel smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 'Miles is too besotted to do.

anything but protest your innocence, but, like you, is unfortunately lacking in proof.'

'You surely didn't accuse him of anything?' she asked holowly.

'I didn't stop long enough for that,' he rejoined curtly. 'I merely returned his bracelet and told him exactly what I thought of him.'

Imagining what that would be, Emma shivered. The pleasure Rick had derived was still written clearly on his face.

Suddenly desperate to change the subject, she looked down at her plate. 'Did you stay in Canada all the time you were away?'

'No.'

'So that's all you're going to tell me?' Glancing at him again, she hated him almost as much as she loved him because he made no effort to meet her half way. He just sat staring at her while continuing with his meal, indifferently.

'It's enough,' he raised his glass consideringly, his eyes mocking. 'How about you teling me something for a change?'

'Such as?'

'Such as how do you like living on St Lusanda?'

'I haven't been bored, if that's what you mean.'

'Strange,' his brow creased, as if he actualy was puzzled.

'What have you been doing with yourself?'

'Nothing much, I'm afraid.' She always felt guilty about having nothing to do. 'Josephine and her family take care of everything. I insist on making my own bed…'

'Ours—after this,' Rick promised softly, as her voice trailed off.

The colour ran enchantingly under her clear skin as she blushed. She knew a moment's blind panic when she wanted to jump to her feet and rush upstairs to her room. But this, as a sanctuary was no longer available and she didn't know where else she could go. Taking another quick gulp of her wine, she sensed his sardonic amusement and was aware of a sudden urge to get under his skin for a change.

'I wonder that you feel inclined to share your bed with a girl like me.'

'You asked me that before,' he sounded bored. 'Do I have to repeat I have little choice? You're my wife, after al, and there are no other girls here. Now finish your wine,' he commanded abruptly, as though the subject was closed.

Heedless with despair she did as she was told then rose unsteadily to her feet. He knew, she suspected, that she'd had a little too much. She wasn't used to anything more than the occasional glass of sherry, but he made no comment as he folowed her careful progress from the dining-room. At the farm she had never been offered anything. So, she thought mutinously, was it to be wondered at that a few glasses of wine went to her head? As she crossed to the lounge and sat down, she had no real feelings of regret.

While she did feel slightly ashamed of herself, a muzzy head seemed much easier to endure than one which registered Rick's every move much too clearly.

Giggling a little, she sank on to the sofa, vaguely conscious that Rick was staring at her again, with his permanently narrowed eyes.

The fleeting humour that had touched her disappeared immediately. 'Don't worry, Rick. I'm not drunk, just a little lightheaded. I don't suppose Veronica ever gets this way?'

'Leave her out of it,' he gave her a cup of very black coffee. 'You wouldn't be jealous?'

'A lot of good it would do me if I was,' she muttered, broodingly. 'You'd be the one to get pleasure from seeing me suffer.'

'Perhaps,' he agreed calously. 'But right now I have no wish to see you suffering from anything. It might only lead to my own frustration.' Placing his own coffee on the mantelshelf of the huge fireplace he was standing beside, he regarded Emma with cool detachment. 'Drink your coffee, that should help. It's getting late.'

That was true. She had taken a long time over her dinner, eating slowly and pushing the food on her plate around with her fork, as though subconsciously seeking to prolong the evening indefinitely, to put off the moment she didn't want to think about. Now, when Rick mentioned that it was getting late, she fixed her attention on the empty fireplace rather than him. She had gazed too long at his dark, good-looking features over dinner, stared over deeply into his calculating blue eyes. That the blue had changed often almost to black with disapproval had made little difference. Her heart beat loudly and her limbs felt weak, her whole being drugged more by his hard attraction than anything else.

'Come here,' he said softly, as she met his eyes helplessly.

'No!' She stood up, suddenly completely in control of herself, tilting her chin. 'I'm going to bed, Rick—my own bed. You can find some other girl to tease.'

'I'm getting rapidly fed up,' his eyes hardened again as they went insolently over her. 'I don't intend going through this kind of charade every evening. From now on you'll do things my way—and stop arguing!'

Feeling altogether too apprehensive of him, Emma heard herself stammering an apology which she felt he didn't deserve. 'I'm sorry, Rick, I didn't mean to be annoying, but I would like to go to bed.'

'It's only ten,' he drawled tauntingly. 'You seem very eager.'

Only a minute ago he'd been saying it was late! 'I've been in bed by ten since I came here,' she replied coldly. 'On the farm I always went early.'

'Always?' Sarcasticaly his thick brows rose. 'I can't believe Rex Oliver was such an early bird. It's not hard now to see what other men found so attractive, but you didn't always have such luscious curves.'

'Rex had nothing to do with it…'

'Hadn't he?' Rick snarled harshly, as she sought anxiously for words to explain. His hand caught her arm as she turned hopelessly away. Dragging her to him, he merely laughed when she winced, as his fingers gripped the bruise he had inflicted earlier.

As his arms closed ruthlessly around her, she cried,

'Please, Rick, let me go!'

'There's no point,' he drawled, his breath warm on her face. 'You're not going anywhere tonight, except with me.'

'Rick!' Anger gave way to a kind of desperate fear as she realised he was serious. 'How can you do this when you don't love me?'

'What has love to do with it?' he drawled, his glance going meaningfuly over her. 'Don't tell me you've loved every man you've ever slept with?'

Tears clogged her throat with despair as she stared into his hard eyes, but before she could answer he caught her up.

His arms going round her completely, he lifted her high against him, then crushed her trembling mouth beneath his own. Nor did he release her until she was trembling all over and the fists she had used to fight him with had uncurled and were finding their way blindly around his neck. Not until then did he stop kissing her, and when he did it was only to alow his lips to caress her tear-damp cheeks and her throat. Deftly he undid the buttons at the top of her dress, taking no notice of either her tears or pleading cries.

Feeling his hands gain their objective, she almost died with shame. It proved useless to struggle, so she had to endure—hadn't she? Endure, while she tried to ignore the flickering flames of desire which appeared to be igniting in both of them simultaneously. Rick had scarcely moved, but there didn't seem any necessity for hurry. He was letting everything happen slowly, but it was all the more potent for that. Then he was striding with her towards the door, carrying her through it, up the stairs to his bedroom. She might have weighed no more than a few pounds, and there was no help for her in the silent, sleeping house.

Inside the room, he dropped her to her feet and quietly closed the door, but just as she was thinking he might intend letting her go, he caught her to him again. Again she tried to fight as she felt him puling her towards him, as she felt the hard muscles of his legs tense against the slimness of her own and he made no attempt to hide his rising desire. Though shocked at her own overwhelming response she was unable to resist him and stood shivering within his embrace, her head bent. As his hands slid from her ribcage to her hips, her body seemed to move towards him of its own accord. Then there was nothing but the warmth and hardness of him as his arms tightened and his mouth brushed her half hidden cheek.

The touch of his mouth brought reason back briefly.

'Rick,' she whispered, 'please don't!'

Harshly he laughed. 'That isn't what you said to Miles Ray.'

'Why won't you believe me, Rick?' Emma looked up at him, her eyes full of tears.

Again the harshness of his laughter made her close her eyes against it, as his hands went ruthlessly to her full breasts.

'There are certain signs that you've already given yourself to him. Signs I'd be a fool to ignore.'

Confused, she bit back a sob, half believing she would wake any moment to find this was all part of a bad dream.

Surely none of this could be happening to Emma Davis, who had never been out with a man in her life? Apart from her husband, who was convinced she was a girl who slept around.

'I know,' she gulped, 'that the evidence against me might look black, but if you'd only trust me!'

'Trust you!' his teeth nipped her earlobe derisively. 'You'll have to do better than that, I'm afraid.'

Fire leapt with pain from his teeth, making her cry out wildly, 'Why don't you ask Miles, Rick? He'd tell you the truth.'

'You must think me a fool,' he snapped. 'He's already had you and now he'd like to marry you, but don't imagine it's because he loves you.'

'What other reason could there be?'

'He might just wish to fulfil a lifelong ambition to get even with me.'

'Why should he want to do that?' she frowned.

'Because I've always managed to do better than he has, or so he thinks. To steal my wife, who he no doubt imagines is my pride and joy, would give his self-confidence a hellof a boost.'

'But why me?' Helplessly Emma shook her head. 'I'm so plain…'

'Not now, you aren't, my love.' Rick's voice was silky again as his eyes went over her. 'You've developed mysteriously while I've been away into quite something, even if your particular kind of beauty doesn't appeal to me. You still have that look of untouched innocence, and I hate pretence!'

He certainly knew how to wound! Tears ran down her face as he began ruthlessly to slide her dress from her shoulders, burying his mouth in her bare skin as he did so.

She made one last attempt to raly some strength to fight him as her body went weak. 'Don't do anything you might regret, Rick.'

'To hell with that!' he said curtly, his mouth burning the vulnerable curve of her young throat. 'Aren't I entitled to demand my rights, take what I've already paid for?'

'You're taking…' she choked incoherently, 'and you aren't entitled to anything.'

'I won't take anything you aren't prepared to give.' His breathing had deepened, but he still spoke suavely.

Her heart racing, Emma realised it was the devil in him talking, the pitiless, cynical business man against whom she would never stand a chance. Already he had her subdued by his experienced caresses while her foolish body clamoured for more. She was dazed by the feelings it seemed he could so easily arouse in her. With a sense of dismay she acknowledged that she wanted him to make love to her, in the fulest sense of the word.

Foolishly, as such wanton yearnings began to realy frighten her, she tried again to escape him. This brought his anger immediately down on her head. His jaw muscles tensed and his eyes hardened.

'Don't try me too far,' he rasped, his mouth claiming hers inexorably.

Determined to fight on, she clenched her lips tightly, which appeared to madden him. Lifting his hand, he caught her chin, holding her still while his cruel mouth forced hers open under his, controling it so ruthlessly she couldn't do anything but submit. For a moment she managed a token resistance, raking his shoulders under his unbuttoned shirt, but he was too strong for her. He held her implacably until her mouth softened voluntarily and she went limp in his arms. Until the hands which attacked him began to cling instead of wounding, and the whole of her slender, shaking frame became helplessly responsive.

It was then, with a grunt of satisfaction, that he lifted her, laying her on the bed. Another minute and he was lying beside her, threading his fingers through her long, shining hair, his kisses hardening and lengthening into passion. He had all the expertise, while Emma was completely at the mercy of her emotions. As she dimly realised this, like someone drowning and coming up for the third time, a wild sob of protest choked in her throat and she twisted franticaly away.